Finding Purpose (Colorado Veterans Book 1)

by Tiffani Lynn

  I sit without moving for several minutes, willing my body to relax before I finally get up and pull my shoes back on. I walk through the kitchen and snatch my purse and keys off the island and call out a hasty goodbye to Ms. Polly. Then I drive to the hotel where Judson’s staying, circle the lot twice and notice his truck isn’t there.

  I roll out of the parking lot and drive straight to The Golden Leprechaun, hoping he’s a creature of habit. When I arrive I see his truck and I breathe a sigh of relief. After I park in the empty spot next to his truck I take a deep breath and will myself to relax. Once I’m settled I get out of the car and hustle to the entrance. When I reach the old wooden bar door I pull it open and step inside and immediately assaulted by the pool balls breaking, a jukebox blaring an old country song and the elevated sound of conversation. The other night I was so focused on getting drunk Judson out of there the clink of beer glasses didn’t bother me, but tonight may be a different story. It’s been many years since I’ve had a drink, but there are times when someone near me has one and all I can think about is pounding one back. Followed by another and another. Times of high emotional stress make my mouth water for liquid stress relief. Right now certainly qualifies as one of those times. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing by being here, but on the off-chance Ms. Polly is right, I need to try.

  As the scent of stale cigarettes and beer fill my nose I keep telling myself to find Judson and get out of here. This is the last place I should be, but I’m not leaving until I see him.

  It doesn’t take long for me to spot him. He’s on the far side of the bar again and as I round the corner about 10 feet from him, a buxom, trashy blonde approaches and climbs right into his lap like she belongs there. I stop dead in my tracks. If he kisses her, I’m out of here. I don’t care what Ms. Polly says, I won’t be the sad, spineless woman chasing after a man who doesn’t want me. The closer her mouth comes to his, the harder my heart pounds in my chest. My feet freeze in place as I silently beg him, don’t do it, please don’t do it.

  His head turns away from her and he spots me standing in the middle of the bar, and without a second thought he shifts his legs, dropping the woman from his lap so she tumbles to the floor. My eyes grow wide with shock as this plays out in front of me. The woman yells a plethora of cuss words at him while she climbs back to her feet. With closed fists, she pounds on his back and shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. He strides away from her, to me, his limp barely noticeable tonight.

  When he’s right in front of me, standing closer than a normal person would, he questions, just loud enough to be heard over the music, “Why are you here?” His cheeks are flushed red and his narrowed eyes tell me he’s angry I’m here. My heart sinks and an invisible vise squeezes my chest.

  “Um… Polly, uh, you, ah, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” I mumble and stutter, embarrassed.

  I spin to run back out the door when his hand clamps down on my arm pulling me back against him. The rise and fall of his chest is dramatic at my back. He pushes the hair away from my neck with a gentle sweep of his hand. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Why are you here?”

  Everyone in the bar fades out of focus. I clench my eyes closed, gathering all of the courage I can as I take a deep breath and say, “You. I came for you.”

  “Why?” he demands, his breath hot as it flows over my ear and exposed neck. A warm damp kiss is placed under my ear and I shudder.

  “It doesn’t matter. I can see you’re busy. I’m going to go.”

  His grip on my arm tightens as his other arm slides around my waist pulling me closer to his body. His erection digs into my back. Is that from me or the trashy blonde?

  “You aren’t going anywhere. Tell me why you came.”

  People are taking notice of what’s going on with us, observing like we’re a sideshow at a circus. “For you,” I say, not elaborating.

  “Tell. Me. Why,” he grinds out, his nose tucked behind my ear.

  Ms. Polly’s words come back to me. Show him he’s worth it.

  I turn in his arms so he can see my face and I say, “I came here because I want you. I have for years. Isn’t that reason enough?” I want to tell him I’m here because I’m in love with him, but I can’t. There’s too much room for humiliation and he hasn’t proven to me yet that he deserves for me to present my heart on a silver platter. For now I’ll give him my body if he wants it.

  Glancing around I wonder if I’m about to be humiliated anyway, but before I can finish the thought his mouth crashes over mine and consumes me instantly. His lips, his tongue, his hands, all of it. I respond with a passion I’ve been hiding for years. No one else I’ve dated has drawn this kind of response from me. We’re devouring each other and I should be alarmed that I can taste the whiskey flavor in his mouth, but I’m too busy eating him alive.

  He breaks the kiss when the whistles and catcalls get loud enough to penetrate our passionate haze. I’m a little kiss-drunk and dazed when he leans down and says, “I’m paying this tab and you’re coming with me.”

  I don’t question it. I nod my acceptance and follow behind him as he takes care of his bill. The next thing I know he’s pulling me through the parking lot towards my car. “You have to drive, I’ve been drinking.”

  By the time we reach the hotel my nerves are live wires again, sensitive, electric, combustible. We get out of my car and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in close. The parking lot is deserted so there’s no one to interrupt this little moment.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks against my hair.

  I take in a deep breath, searching for his manly scent under the leftover smoke from the bar. When I locate it, I relish it for another moment before I answer, “Yes, I’m sure.”

  His lips meet mine in a frenzy that hasn’t cooled since the bar and I forget we’re in a parking lot until he lifts me and places my ass on the hood of my car and steps in between my legs to continue the kiss. His hand burrows up under the sweatshirt I’m wearing and grazes my breasts, teasing me. My fingernails run along his scalp, through the short strands of his dark hair. He shifts his hips so his erection pushes against me forcing my moan into our kiss. I reach between us and grip him through his jeans, causing him to groan. I’m thinking about the million and one things I’d like to do to him when I hear a woman’s laughter closer than I’d like. I pull away and whisper, “Room, we need to get to your room.”

  All of his muscles relax for a fraction of a second as he says, “Okay, follow me, Daisy.” My heart does a somersault at the old endearment. I smile to myself as I follow him through the parking lot, across the lobby and into the elevator. He steps up behind me in the elevator and slides his warm calloused hand under my shirt to touch the skin of my belly. His thumb teases me as it grazes the underside of my breast. When the door slides open he steps in front of me again, grabbing my hand, this time pulling me to his room.

  Once inside, he shuts the door and slams my body against it. His mouth is on mine in an instant. Oh my God, a kiss from Judson Rivers is a mind-bending experience on a regular occasion, but too many years of pent-up sexual frustration takes the rating off the charts. He’s devouring me. All lips, tongue and even teeth. This isn’t an ordinary romantic kiss, no, it’s like he’s feeding on me and trying to climb inside me all at once. It’s the hottest kiss I’ve ever had and I’m giving back as good as I’m getting.

  The nip of his teeth on my lower lip forces my eyes open. He pulls away, panting. His cerulean eyes are hooded as his tongue snakes out and licks the sting. Before I can say or do anything, he grips under my thighs and pulls up. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist and lock them at his back. He lightly adjusts his stance for better balance and grinds against me. I throw my head back, smacking it into the wall and moan, half in pain, half in pleasure. I’ll have a knot there tomorrow, but for now I need him to keep up the friction.

  “Are you okay?” he breathes against my
mouth.

  “Yes, don’t stop,” I hiss at him and flex my hips. He grinds again and again, sending me higher. I kiss my way across his jaw and down the column of his throat, tasting the salty sweat on his skin. My mouth returns to his and my frenzy is more pronounced as I get closer to the peak. “Judson,” I whimper. “Judson.”

  “Come on, Daisy. Don’t hold back,” he growls and grinds harder. I come apart, screaming his name loud enough for everyone in the building to hear and flop forward against him. He’s rock-hard between us as my sensitive core pulses before he backs off enough for me to lower my legs. Then he kisses me again, this time pulling me toward the bed as he backs up. Our mouths separate as he stumbles over dirty clothes, typical man, leaving his stuff in the middle of the floor. When we reach the bed he turns and tosses me on it. I bounce twice, still boneless from the fully clothed orgasm he gave me less than a minute ago.

  I take a second to peruse his body from his cropped dark hair, over his long-sleeved T-shirt, down his jeans and to his shoes as he removes his shirt and drops it. His pecks are perfectly muscled, as are his shoulders and abs. There is a little bit of weight around his waist but it certainly doesn’t detract from the physical perfection of the rest of his body. He unbuttons his jeans and slides the zipper down slowly. He’s commando and he’s teasing me now. My eyes follow the happy trail down to the neatly trimmed dark curls at the base of his thick, hard cock. Sweet mother of God, I’m ready for that.

  With his jeans pushed to the top of his thighs, I see a small area of roughened, scarred skin on the top of the left one, but my eyes are drawn away as his hand slowly strokes up and down his shaft three times. I prop up on my elbows and watch the show he’s giving me. I rub my legs together restlessly as a new ache forms at my core.

  As I turn my attention to his face, he commands, “Shirt and bra off, now.” He’s smirking at my obscene perusal of his sexy body. God that smirk! I don’t hesitate. I strip them off and toss them to the floor. He groans and licks his lips. My breasts now hang heavy in front of me, commanding his full attention so I reach up and wrap my hands around them, tweaking my nipples lightly. He groans again and strokes himself once more. “Jeans and panties.”

  I squeeze my nipples again before I lie down, unbutton my pants and shimmy them down my lifted hips. He reaches out and pulls them the rest of the way off and drops them at the end of the bed. His eyes glide up my body and over every inch of visible skin. I shudder at his wicked smile and scoot forward, gripping his pants and pulling them down. He flinches and makes an irritated face, grips my hands and moves them away. Maybe he likes control. The further down his pants go the more scar tissue is revealed and I can’t help but stare. It’s the first time I’ve seen it. Even when I was at the hospital I didn’t see it. I left the room for bandage changes because they were so painful for him. I can tell his demeanor has changed a little as I stare because his once raging cock is softening.

  Afraid he’ll stop this too soon, I switch my gaze to his and then I reach out and stroke his cock, encouraging, “Hurry up, honey. I’m ready for you.”

  Leaning forward, I swipe my tongue across his hot flesh, starting at the sensitive underside of the head, finishing with a twirl of my tongue on the head of his cock, and he returns to full mast. He backs off a little and sits on the bed almost next to me. He drops his pants to the floor and twists his torso like he’s attempting to shield himself from my view. Then he removes his prosthesis and the fabric barrier that protects the skin from the plastic and lays them both on the floor.

  He seems a little unsure of what to do now so I run feather-light hands over the skin of his back and watch goose bumps spread in their wake. There are scarred areas scattered around his back where the shrapnel was removed but he’s still sexy. Even more so now. Probably because I know what he survived.

  “Still the most beautifully muscled body I’ve ever seen,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear.

  He flips and crawls over top of me. Within seconds we are tangled in each other, our bodies skin to skin, his weight resting on me. My legs are wrapped around his waist as my hands explore the long lines of his body. My mind catalogs every part of his masculine form. I release my right leg and lower it to the bed so I’m able to reach down across his ass cheek and as far down as the back of his thigh. The lower my hand goes, the more rigid his body becomes above me.

  “Don’t,” he commands.

  “Judson,” I plead in a whisper.

  Aiming to relax him again, I skate my hand back up over his ass and squeeze. “I want you,” I say quietly against his cheek. He sits back a little and pulls a condom from his wallet on the bedside table. Once it’s on, he stays upright and lifts my hips, impaling me with his length. His back bows and a groan escapes from his throat. I clench tight around him and lock my legs behind his back. He thrusts again, slower than the last time, pulling back, almost all the way out and thrusting again. The feeling is amazing and overwhelming. With his body still upright, his eyes watch as my breasts bounce with every thrust. He plants his hands beside my shoulders and powers in harder. When I feel him slip a little, like he lost traction, he grumbles something unintelligible, readjusts and goes back to making me feel good.

  “Ahhhh!” I yell, and he does it again. “More!” I call out. His hips drive into me as I pant and beg for more. Without warning and with a little bit of awkward motion he flips us, seating me on top where I plant my hands on his chest and roll my hips against his over and over again.

  His husky voice growls, “Faster, Daisy!” and I lose my rhythm as the need in his voice distracts me. “Daisy, please,” he begs and my concentration is further blown. Realizing this, he rolls me to our sides so we are facing each other this time and slides his thick shaft into me on repeat until I scream his name again. Every muscle in my body locks up tight and I’m suspended in complete ecstasy. He pushes me to my back, thrusts a few more times until he lets go and I feel his cock swell and explode. His body collapses onto mine and I hold on tight, afraid if I loosen up or let go he’ll be gone. We lie here for several long minutes until I get brave enough to release my legs and plant them on the mattress. I carefully explore his lower back with my fingertips, over his ass and down his thighs. I know he stopped me during sex, but surely he doesn’t expect me not to touch him at all. The lower I go, the more tense his muscles grow.

  “No,” he barks at me.

  “Judson.” I try to calm him with a soft tone.

  “Don’t go there,” he commands, his voice unfriendly. He shakes his head no against my shoulder and I remove my hand from his skin. His relief is instant as his body relaxes against mine.

  “Look at me, Judson.”

  He doesn’t respond and doesn’t comply.

  “Come on, look at me.”

  Slowly, he draws back from my neck as his infuriated eyes meet mine. He’s angry. Not just a little, a lot. That makes no sense to me.

  My hands move up to his cheeks, holding him there. “Don’t stop me from getting to know you again, please. I realize you’re not the same man you were all those years ago. I want to know this man, the one that’s here with me now. I want to know you inside and out. Every single inch of your body.

  “What’s been stored in my memory bank is different than what I’m feeling now. You’re bulkier all over, your muscles more defined, you have tattoos that I’ve yet to dissect and scars I want to touch. All of this is part of the new you, a man I’m insanely attracted to. If this was a one-time thing then I’ll get dressed and leave, but if it wasn’t then I want to be able to appreciate all of you.”

  He huffs and rolls off of me to his back, removes the condom, tossing it to the floor, and tugs the sheet up to his waist, effectively hiding his lower half from me. “I don’t know if I can do this, Quinn.” His tone is irritated and clipped.

  “Do what?” I ask as my heart rate picks up speed again. My stomach knots at the change in his demeanor. I’m praying I didn’t just make more out of us sleepin
g together than what he meant for it to be. He’s quiet for a very long time.

  “Any of this.” His hands pull down on his face like he’s trying to wipe away the memory of what just happened.

  I prop up on my elbow and peer down at him. “You didn’t mean for this to happen, did you?”

  He looks away, can’t even face me, and my humiliation is instantaneous, rushing over me like water from the showerhead. I’m such an idiot. What the hell was I thinking? If he were interested in me, he would have come after me. I know how that works. I’ve cautioned my girlfriends against this very thing for years. I just chased him down and begged him to sleep with me. I never should’ve listened to the ramblings of a well-intentioned, but misinformed old woman.

  My cheeks burn with shame so I turn my body to the side and sit up, facing away from him. I clear my throat and scoot to the edge of the bed, looking around for my clothes. I keep my back to him as I say, “Wow. Okay, that’s all I needed to know. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll be out of here.” I wish I could slap the shakiness from my voice. I don’t want him to see the shame I feel at this moment. “I don’t think there’s anything left at the Colonel’s we have to do together, so you won’t have to worry about that being awkward.”

  In an instant I’m up and tugging on my jeans and sweatshirt. I grab my purse and pause in the doorway, facing the hall, unable to just walk out.

  “I had a good time. It was nice to see you again. Take care of yourself and please keep in touch with Ms. Polly, it means a lot to her.”

  He says nothing further so I pull the door closed behind me with shaking hands. I want to slam the damn thing and punch a wall, but I don’t want to be any more open about my feelings than I already have been. There’s a hollow burning in my chest, making it hard for me to breath. This feeling is worse than the day he left for the Navy. It’s comparable to the morning I heard Marcus on the phone with Gwen after we slept together back in college. It’s a physically painful culmination of embarrassment, sadness and stupidity, and I never want to feel it again. As the elevator door closes with me inside, I lose the fight to hold in my tears.