by Zoe Dawson
More. He needed more of Kia. Needed to touch her and taste her and savor every nuance that was uniquely her.
With only that thought in mind, he tore his mouth from hers and trailed his lips along her jaw, licked his way down to the base of her throat where her pulse beat strong and steady. He savored the life of her in the palpitations, knowing what a knife could do in the hands of a professional.
His hot blood ran cold. That was reason enough to not only bring in a buffer, but to keep his mind totally on point. Except she moaned softly and sifted her hands through his wet hair, twisted the strands around her fingers and guided his mouth lower, to the firm swells of her breasts. He followed, his resistance breaking under her dark magic, wanting to make one of his fantasies a reality.
He drew a taut, pierced nipple into his mouth, flicked the rigid tip and metal with his tongue, and sucked her deep and hard. With his hand, he squeezed and kneaded her other breast, traced lazy circles around her areola with his thumb before lightly pinching and rolling the firm, aroused nub between his fingers. She cried out, urging him down.
“Make me feel alive, Wes.” Her voice was nothing but a sensual puff of sound.
With his large hands, he traced the dip of her waist, careful near her cut, the bandaged section and the angry red shallow slash uncovered and marring her delicate skin. He kissed it softly and she pulled at his hair in response to his tenderness.
He cupped her hips, sliding his hands around to the base of her spine and down her perfect ass to the back of her thighs. The feel of her smooth, sleek skin against his palms was a luxury he’d denied himself too long, and he memorized every sensual curve of her body, along with the sweet, uninhibited sighs that accompanied every stroke and touch.
If he thought touching her was pure bliss, then allowing his mouth to follow in the same direction as his hands and tasting her warm, wet skin was like dropping down into heaven. He licked and gently bit his way down to her stomach, and dipped and swirled his tongue in her navel around the iron cross belly button ring. Another erotic moan echoed in the shower, and the slender fingers still wrapped in his hair tugged him lower still.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, his heart racing a mile a minute as a heady surge of desire tore through him. Knowing what she wanted, what she needed, he took one of her hands and wrapped her fingers around the small metal bar built into the shower to help keep herself steady and balanced, then draped one of her legs over his shoulder to give him better access to her.
The water poured down on both of them, and curls of steam immersed them in a sultry warmth as he leaned forward and laved the inside of her thighs, slowly, leisurely, until he reached the very heart of her femininity, he used his tongue to increase her pleasure, her fingers knotting in his hair, her pleasure moaning and sighing out of her. His dick flexed and he fondled himself unable to handle the overwhelming need to be inside her.
That wasn’t going to happen. He took her with heat and possessive intent and she inhaled sharply, jolted against him in shock, then gave herself over to his erotic assault. Before long, he felt her come. He kept her from collapsing with a strong hand pressed to her uninjured stomach. After giving her every last bit of pleasure, he stood back up and braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head, not trusting himself to touch her when he was harder than granite and there was just enough of a thread of his self-control intact.
He lifted his head and looked into her face, expecting to see her sated, but it was clear that he wasn’t the only one who’d had fantasies.
She reached down to his waistband, but he caught her wrist. “Let me,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to his chest.
He shook his head and placed a kiss to the top of her head. “No, Kia. You’ve still got drugs in your system, your reacting to me saving you and this is going way too fast. Do you think you can finish up okay? I’m about at the end of my rope. Don’t push me, darlin’.”
She dropped her head and looked up at him. “You are so honorable. I’d never think about pressuring you.”
Those words hurt. He cupped her face and kissed her long and hard. Then stepped out of the spray.
He opened the linen closet, realizing that this is where she’d hidden herself.
If that guy decided to come finish the job, his life was going to be over.
He pulled out a towel and reached down for his jeans. While she watched, he shucked his boxer briefs and dried off. Then he wrapped the towel around his waist. It was going to be some time before his erection went down enough for him to actually get them on.
Shutting the bathroom door on Kia when he wanted her beneath him was harder than anything he’d done in his life.
Hell, the only easy day was yesterday.
He settled in a purple cowhide chair in the corner of her room, wanting to be close to her. He punched in a number and waited.
“Give me a good reason why you’re calling or I’m busting you down to seaman.”
Cowboy couldn’t help the smile that curved up one side of his mouth. Ruckus sounded like he’d been in some deep REMs. But when he explained the situation, Ruckus was concerned. When Cowboy mentioned Tank, his LT was all for it.
The next call got him the same kind of response. “This better be a fucking emergency,” Tank growled.
“It’s Cowboy, and I need you here in Reddick. I cleared it with LT.”
His voice was immediately clear and intense. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
“What’s up?” Cowboy explained what happened. “I’ll be on the road as soon as I talk to LT. You need anything from your apartment?”
“My shotgun,” he said, his voice flat. Specifically, it was a pistol-gripped Mossberg 12-gauge Cruiser 500 shotgun.
“Got it. I’ll be there by tomorrow.”
“Thanks, man.”
He severed the connection and sat back, trying to relax, working on getting the sensuous memories of Kia out of his head. Dang he wanted her. Knowing he needed to take the edge off, he wrapped his hand around his dick and jacked himself off, hard and heavy into the towel. He was so primed, it didn’t take very long, but the powerful orgasm was all about Kia, the intense pleasure making his back arch as he continued to pump up and down until he felt wrung out. Standing, he slipped into his jeans, the fly snug over his semi-erection. Still aching for her, he went downstairs. He grabbed his case and headed back to her bedroom.
He set the case on her bed and opened it. Nestled inside was his personal Glock. He removed it from the case along with the clip. He jammed it into the magazine and cocked the weapon just as she came out of the bathroom.
Her eyes went wide and dipped from his face to the gun in his hand. Chambering a round signified that he meant business, and she was well aware of that.
“I called a SEAL buddy of mine. He’ll be here tomorrow. In the meantime, you need to get some sleep. How is the pain?”
“It hurts.” He tucked the Glock into the small of his back and walked past her into the bathroom. He dug in her pocket and pulled out the pill bottle they’d given him. He filled a glass at the sink and popped the top, shaking out the prescribed dosage.
He set the pills into her palm and snugged her other hand around the glass.
“Get some sleep, darlin’. I’ll be downstairs.”
Then because he couldn’t look at her without wanting her, he left the room. Triton stayed where he was on her bed, his tail wagging.
Thank God Tank was coming. He really needed a buffer.
He built a fire and got comfortable on the couch, the Glock now in his hand. A few minutes later she came into the room with an oversized T-shirt in her hand. On the front was lettered: Feminine. Beautiful. Powerful.
She reached out, offering the garment. He set down the handgun and pulled the shirt over his head in silence. She had on a pink top depicting a donut and coffee lettered with: Donut Disturb, the shorts a mosaic of donuts and coffee cups. She was freaking adorable.
She
bit her lip and stood there, and he sighed. All he wanted to do was take her upstairs, strip her out of that freaking cute get up and make love to her, lose himself, mind and body and soul, in her giving body, her sweet, drugging kisses, and forget about a killer out there stalking her. She was more than a one-night stand lady, more than a body to guard. It was emotionally complicated and freaking personal. And as a result, he couldn’t take the chance that he would lose his edge and his ability to remain focused. Lose those instincts that kept his senses sharp and honed, enabling him to keep her out of danger.
But he also couldn’t refuse her any comfort either. She was still a little out of it, scared and trying to deal with her own trauma. Making room for her on the spacious couch, she came over and plastered herself against him. He reached for the purple fuzzy throw and covered her up.
“Did you take those pills?”
“Yessir,” she said with a salute in her voice. He smiled slightly. “You are very pushy when you’re in protection mode.” Then she snuggled deeper into his embrace and promptly fell asleep.
He tightened his arms around her, listening to the coyotes howl in the distance. Tank would sleep while Cowboy guarded her, and he would sleep while Tank guarded them. He would keep her safe, use every ounce of training he possessed, go the extra mile. They would find out and neutralize this threat.
Then he’d go back to San Diego. Back to duty.
6
Tank’s phone rang as the sun was coming up. “Hey, you need to make an appointment with my vet.”
“Do I need my distemper shots?”
His little brother Jordan laughed softly. “Rabies more like it.”
“Hey there.”
“No, Doc’s part of the Working Military Dogs network and doing great things. I thought you could meet, give Doc a real chance to see you guys in action. It’s just a little bit of your time. Doc’s all about this brochure to outline and promote the MWD program. Some people still think MWD’s are euthanized as a matter of practice. Will you do it?”
“All right,” Tank said, never able to say no to Jordan. I’m heading out of town to help a buddy, but when I get back, we’ll hook up. Deal, little bro?”
“Yeah, really? Oh, man, Doc’s going to be over the moon. Thanks, Thorn.”
“You bet.”
“While you’re there, do get the rabies shot.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
He smiled as he disconnected the call. He and his two brothers grew up tough, simply because nothing came easy. His family lived in East Los Angeles, where his parents were associated with gangs and divorced when Tank was young. Their mother, who was Puerto Rican, cared for them as best she could; his father, came and went. One of Tank’s earliest memories was of the car accident that spared everyone, but had killed his little sister. He was six, she five. The rent was often overdue, and sometimes his family simply abandoned the current residence and it was onto another house, another school—fifteen in all. He was always the new kid, the outsider. In high school, he lived in his garage, pumping heavy metal. He played drums in a band. He wore his hair in a mohawk and pierced his nose.
But even the extremes of Tank’s rebellion were relatively tame: ditching class, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, playing video games. Living in a violent world of real and wannabe gangsters, of random shootings, of drug dealing, a lifestyle they all wanted to escape. What he wanted most was the opposite of that world. He wanted to be a Navy SEAL.
At eighteen, he enlisted and found himself at BUD/S. Having grown up rootless and without boundaries, he immediately fell in love with the military’s sense of tradition and ritual. He was nicknamed “Tank,” for his big body, but he often felt isolated like a tank, a one-man killing machine. After several assignments, he was a standout not only in combat but in class. He was offered the chance to go to Lackland Air Force Base to begin training as a dog handler.
Tank had always loved dogs. During his erratic upbringing, they’d been ballast. At various times, he’d owned a Rottweiler, collie and a black Lab named Bruiser. But Tank understood that a military dog was an instrument to master, just as a soldier had to understand his weapon or a diver work the water.
The military with its sharp edges and unyielding discipline—the thing that was saving him from the streets and his parents’ life—gave him purpose and when he worked with dogs, a sense of accomplishment because he was damn good at it. He instantly loved the work, inspired by its higher purpose. Even one IED, an improvised explosive device, sniffed out by a MWD’s nose would equate to many saved lives.
He’d had many dogs through his career, but when he got Echo, he knew the Malinois was special. His assessment had gone fine, and he was cleared for his next deployment, but Tank knew that Echo was getting older and just a fraction of a second slower. He shook off his worries. That mutt had plenty of good years left in him.
His older brother Daniel had become a firefighter and well, Jordan had gone for the animals and worked as an assistant in a vet’s office. He had always been the most sensitive of the three of them. They had all gotten out of that life scot-free. To Tank, it was a miracle.
He had some clashes with his CO’s over the years, but once he’d been assigned to his current team, with Ruckus at the wheel, it had been so much better. LT understood Tank and often gave him his head. In fact, Ruckus understood each one of them. Tank’s biggest worry was the guy would get promoted. The brass had to know that their LT was admiral material.
He got along with most of the guys, but to be honest, Cowboy rubbed him the wrong way. That guy was always so damn calm, always in control. In the field, he was LT’s right-hand guy and maybe Tank was a little jealous of that, too. But, he was part of the team, and when one of their members asked for help, he would drive twenty hours straight to lend a hand.
This Kia Silverbrook must be a babe, Tank thought. Cowboy had a hard on the size of California for her but had never sealed the deal. What was that about? Tank wanted a woman, he got her. Done deal, rocks off and everybody was happy.
He and Hollywood were of the same mind. Fuck them, but let them go, except Hollywood never slept with the same woman twice, ever.
Tank wasn’t the kind of guy that stole a buddy’s girl, but pulling Cowboy’s chain did have its appeal. He’d just like to see that guy lose control. Just once. It would freaking make his day and show him that stoic, laid-back competent SEAL was just like the rest of them.
He’d heard still waters ran deep, and he wanted to stir the surface a bit to see if that big Texan bit. Would be real fun to reel him in.
He chuckled and stepped on the accelerator.
Get ready Reddick, Texas. Tank was coming to town.
It was well into morning when Cowboy woke, a heavy lethargy swimming through him, the weight in the middle section of his body anchoring him to the soft couch.
Then that pleasant feeling was suddenly dominated by a sensation of enormous responsibility. With the heaviness of accountability his whole life, he’d taken it in stride wanting to do his father proud, wanting to live up to what his dad had said to him on that tailgate when he’d been young, not sure if he’d fulfilled it.
His doubts shamed him as much as his bitterness and resentment at what his dad had done, had humiliated him, his family, tarnished their name. Nothing after that had ever been the same, and Cowboy struggled with the weight of his emotions, keeping them hidden, moving on stoically and calmly to put the pieces of his life back together.
He wasn’t sure what that would look like if he could get past the fact that he’d been labelled by association in this town.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to be logical or practical. For once, he just wanted to follow his heart as he recalled how hard it had been to turn away from Kia yesterday. He was screwing up his second chance, and he couldn’t seem to help it. His actions were dictated by his strict code of conduct.
He opened his eyes and wished he’d kept them closed. But then he wou
ld have missed this. Her dark hair was everywhere, silky swaths had tumbled with a mussed-up, just-in-bed look. Then he was stupid enough to look at her face. She was so arresting with her features relaxed in sleep, her mouth just as soft and lush, exotically full, begging for his lips. She was beautiful in a quirky way, her looks compelling, but not standard, not run of the mill. Her chin was delicately angled, but he loved it when it was set with determination. Then, because he wasn’t foolish enough, he let his gaze travel down her body. One shoulder was bare, her little shorts tight over her sweet backside. Her pelvis was nestled right against his erection which had already made its early morning appearance, and the sight of her only made him harder. After his unfulfilling encounter last night or early this morning, he was aching with a set of blue balls that would put hypothermia to shame.
He hadn’t realized he could physically hurt for a woman. Self-control was supposed to be his middle name. But damn, she’d sorely tested him in the shower.
His gaze travelled back up, and she shifted. He released a soft groan as the movement sent waves of pleasure from the tip of his dick all the way to the base, clenching his stomach muscles and riding him hard. The cute top had ridden up as she’d slept, showing her creamy midriff and her bandage. That doused the heat in him and with careful, controlled movements, he slipped out from under her, away from the torture and the danger. Triton lifted his head from his prone position on the rug and gave him a quizzical look. He crouched and patted his head.
Slanting a look at Kia, he wanted to devour her whole. Start at her cute hot pink toes with his mouth and just not stop. Instead, he stood, rearranged the throw over her and collected his Glock from the coffee table, tucking it into the back of his jeans.
There were many things they needed to accomplish today, including telling her he was now going to guard her with his life, interrogate her about this situation and get his luggage from her rented rooms. But first coffee, then breakfast.
