by Skye Warren
Erin had given him a list of low cholesterol meats and whole grains to replace the cheap noodle packs and high-sodium soups currently stocking the kitchen. With little money and even less time to cook, Erin’s mother had a pantry full of high-sodium foods. That had to change now, and it would, especially with Erin there to cook for the next couple of weeks.
They hadn’t discussed beyond that yet.
Had she ever planned to return to Tanglewood permanently? If so, no wonder she’d been uncertain when he’d asked her to move in with him. She might have planned to move into this ramshackle apartment with her mother, to get a job in this small town.
What if she still wanted that?
He let himself into the back door using the key Erin gave him.
The upstairs was still quiet, so he set about putting the food away. Despite the dinner hour, he suspected the two women would sleep through the night, which would probably do them more good than a bite of food. He himself was bone-tired and chugged down a glass of water before climbing the stairs.
He took a pit stop for a hot shower in the hallway bathroom, dressing in a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants he’d packed in a backpack shortly after hearing her voicemails.
He already knew which was the master bedroom from when he’d gotten Sofia’s clothes while she was still in the hospital. And he knew which room was Erin’s. The door was closed. That was probably a sign that he wasn’t allowed inside. They hadn’t discussed where he would sleep. There wasn’t a guest room, but there was a couch in the living room.
A gentleman would take the couch.
Blake wasn’t a gentleman. Maybe he had been, once. That had changed when the IED blasted away half his face. He became something different, more animal. And he had been kept away from his mate for too long.
He opened the door.
Erin was sprawled on the bed, naked. God. Almost naked. Above the hem of the sheet, he could see the beige tone of her panties. Her breasts were small and pink-tipped in the dim light. Her jeans and T-shirt lay in a pile beside the bed. His chest swelled with tenderness. She must have dropped into bed, too tired even to change into pajamas.
Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed in behind her.
Her hair fanned across her pillow, reflecting the dim light like a still lake at midnight. Her even breathing was too quiet to hear—and yet he felt each soft exhale in his soul. Pale lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she dreamt. She was, in all ways, the epitome of peace. The opposite of him in every way. A balm to his battered soul.
When he’d first met her, he’d been sure he never deserved contentedness. He was too broken, too shameful, too horrified by what had been done to him and what he’d done in return.
On the day before they’d been rescued, Joe had stopped responding to external stimuli completely. Blake had kept his hand on Joe’s wrist, feeling the weak pulse and waiting for them both to die.
When the SEAL team had shown up, mayhem had ensued. A saner man would have lain low until they had neutralized the threat. But Blake was out of his mind with grief and pain. He’d gotten hold of a gun and shot as many of his captors as he could find, until an American soldier had disarmed him.
How could he come back from that? He couldn’t.
Survival. That’s all he had ahead of him. Nights filled with pain from skin he no longer had. It burned again and again, despite the grafts and the medicine. Despite the months.
He’d never planned to recover, but the damned doctors were persistent. They’d pounded away with their surgical meat tenderizers until his body was functional again, but it had taken Erin to revive his heart. She’d done more than that, she’d become his heart.
Wherever she went, whatever she felt.
It was lovely and excruciating.
The delicate base of her neck peeked from her outswept hair.
The line of her spine was sinuous as her body twisted in sleep. Shadows pooled at the base of her back where the sheet rucked against her skin. His fingers twitched to trace the soft muscles and gentle lines, but he didn’t want to wake her.
She stirred anyway, moving restlessly. Her face turned toward him, eyes still shut. He tried to soothe her before she came fully awake.
“I’m here. Just sleep.”
As her body turned over, soft breasts pressed against his arm and drew his low groan into the air. His body responded, cock thickening, heart pounding. He felt the same carnal urge to claim, to mate, to please her. But above that sang a new melody, one he recognized as ancient—the desire to care for her. To nourish her, body and soul. That secret wish had imbued his actions at the grocery store, feeding her. And now as he ignored the demands of his body to let her sleep. Small gestures for feelings that ran impossibly, unendingly deep.
She flung her leg over him. Her calf touched his erection, the throb of selfish male flesh, and she stilled, coming awake enough to realize his condition.
“Never mind,” he murmured. “We won’t do anything. Just rest.”
She didn’t, though.
Half asleep, she fumbled beneath the sheet until she grasped his cock in her small palm. He made a coarse sound, his whole body stiffening. Her eyes remained closed as her soft, clumsy caresses drove him insane. He wasn’t even sure she was totally awake, even when she slipped her panties off beneath the sheet.
He was two seconds away from pushing her away when she slid over him and centered her core above him. His mouth went dry as he stared at her breasts swaying slightly with her motion. Her nipples were dark brown and puckered with arousal, or the cold.
“Erin? Are you sure?”
The sound she made was muffled and indistinct, but it told him what he needed to know. Shh, it said. I know what I’m doing. Let me take what I need. He was, would always be helpless to refuse her. His arms fell to his sides, trembling with the effort not to hold her, touch her, make her move. He wanted to clasp her hips and force her down.
By tiny degrees, she slid around his cock.
The heat of her felt electric, sending shocks of pleasure through his balls and up his spine. He gritted his teeth and resolved not to come. She was exhausted, wrung out emotionally and physically. She needed comfort, not the rough, greedy fuck his body required.
Her eyelids still fluttered softly, lashes brushing her flushed cheeks.
She draped her body over him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
He allowed his hands to hold her then, to stroke her sides in uneven, soothing gestures—though it was really him being calmed, a backward caress. Her hips rolled, setting up a sleepy rhythm that had him ready to shoot in three subtle strokes.
Heat raced down his spine. The need to come felt like pinpricks all over his skin, but no, he wouldn’t. Not while she needed him—not yet, not yet, not yet.
She nestled her nose under his chin, resting her face against his neck. Despite the torrent of sensation in his cock, he felt her breath against his skin. He rocked his hips up to her, meeting her on every stroke. Better than anyone, he knew about the bone-deep relief that could accompany sexual release. He would give that to her, even if it killed him.
Use me, he thought. Take me. Fuck me.
He forced himself silent, and she was quiet, focused. The only sound was skin pushing together, her cunt sucking him in and the insides of her thighs over his hips. He couldn’t see straight, could no longer think with the intensity of her sex surrounding him, her slight weight blanketing him. He was lost in a haze, a fog of pure bliss.
Her orgasm clamped down on his cock.
Her hips jerked to a stop, shuddering on a final, lingering thrust. He didn’t have the fast friction he needed to come, so his cock remained hard and throbbing within her. She stopped moving and made a contented sigh against the side of his neck.
He realized she had drifted off to sleep again.
With him still intensely aroused.
Tense, and drowning, he could still feel the velvety walls of her around his cock. Just thinking about her
made his cock flex. But she was completely still over him, her breathing steady and slow. Gingerly, he moved her just enough to slip his cock from her slick heat, wincing at the cool sandpaper sheets on his sensitive flesh.
She was sleeping, and he wouldn’t wake her, wouldn’t fuck her, wouldn’t give himself relief even if the alternative felt like pinpricks on his aching cock.
Gently he settled her against his side, and she nuzzled against his chest with a contented sigh. He swallowed, forcing back his desire and failing. It was going to be a long night with his cock throbbing with nowhere to go.
With one arm he cradled her close. With the other he reached for his phone. Maybe reading some of the doctorate theses would help him sleep. Even though he was interested in them, there was no denying the language was usually dry.
He tapped the email Jeremy sent him.
There were plenty of options, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening Erin’s thesis. He was so fucking proud of her. He almost wanted to wake her up and have her read it to him, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole. So he scrolled down, enthralled, captivated, until he got to the part about a senator from upstate, and it felt like a punch to the gut.
Erin
Erin woke up with a long, lazy stretch, hearing the gentle clink of pans and dishes in the kitchen. Rumpled sheets twined around her ankles, leaving a bare expanse of bed beside her.
Which meant Blake was out there with her mother.
A jolt of alarm went through her. What would they talk about? Would they get along? Blake was the most competent, charismatic man she’d ever met. She suspected he could charm a bird out of a tree if he put his mind to it, or in this case, charm a wary, protective mother into giving her blessings. But it was too important for her to relax.
Throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, she stumbled into the kitchen to find Blake standing at the stove and her mother chatting away with a conspiratorial smile.
Oh yes, the overprotective bird had most definitely left the tree.
“Telling all my secrets, hmm?” Erin asked, sitting at a place that had been laid out with a chipped plate and glass of orange juice.
“Of course not,” her mother denied, the barely suppressed amusement belying her words. “Just that time in fifth grade when you had discovered Robin Hood.”
Erin groaned. “Oh God. That’s even worse than I expected.”
“What? It’s cute.”
A smile played at her mother’s lips. It was good to see her enjoying herself, even if it was at Erin’s expense. “Can we just show him pictures of me as a baby instead? That would be less embarrassing.”
“You were adorable with your hair pulled up into that felt green hat. Those neighborhood boys didn’t know what to make of you. You should have seen them staring.”
“That is not a compliment, Mom.” She sneaked a glance at Blake, who watched the byplay with undisguised amusement.
“I heard there was a bow and arrow,” he added, his voice teasing.
Her mother sighed with pleasure. “The arrows had glittered feathers glued on.”
“Okay, look,” Erin said, finally rising to her own defense. “They were taking money out of the community center’s donation box. It’s not right. You can’t fault my motives.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Blake said solemnly. “Not with you armed and dangerous.”
She narrowed her eyes, promising retribution when her mother wasn’t in the room, but the effect was ruined by her grin. Oh well, it had been funny. Not at the time, when she’d been sure that injustice could be cured with a curved stick and some twine.
And somehow, it had worked, because like her mother had said, the boys had been too freaked out by her Robin Hood routine to really argue the point. They’d never touched the donations box again. Though she’d learned later in life that good intentions and bravery and a green felt hat weren’t enough to right every wrong.
The thought stopped her cold. When had she become so jaded? During high school, with Doug? She wasn’t sure, but none of that was true. Good intentions and bravery were enough. Maybe that was what had drawn her to Blake. He embodied both ideals.
Not even fire could stop him; his scars were a testament to that.
He seemed to recognize the change in her mood, because he sobered. The playful light in his eyes gave way to a studied concern. Without taking her eyes off Blake, she spoke to her mother, who was sipping the last dregs of her coffee.
“If you’re done here, I can set you up on the couch. You can watch some TV.”
Her mother huffed. “I don’t need help to make it to the living room.”
“All the same, I’ll walk you there.”
She set her mother up with pillows and a glass of water too. Even with the doctor’s blessing, she worried for her mother. And despite the urgency to return to Tanglewood, to pick up her relationship with Blake, she would stay until her mother would be fine on her own.
Sophie leaned on her arm as she stood from the table and crossed the short distance, proving that Erin was needed here for the time being. She found a blanket for her mother’s feet and also a few beloved books for her to look at. She told herself she was just taking care of her mother, but at least partly, she was distracting her.
A burning, aching need had formed inside her—to talk to Blake, to hold him, and she couldn’t very well do that with her mother looking on in the small space.
The television roared with laughter and voices as a morning talk show flickered on and captured her mother’s attention. Erin bustled back into the kitchen under the pretense of cleaning up to find that Blake had already done so. He cooked, he cleaned. For her sick mother.
God, if she weren’t already in love with him…but she was.
Completely, hopelessly in love.
He glanced up from the sink of soapy water. “Why are you smiling?”
She went to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and resting her head against his back. “Just imagining doing this in your house when I get back. In our house.”
He tensed in her arms, his muscles locking. “Erin.”
She laughed at the note of warning in his voice. It was a sensual threat, the way his body readied for hers. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about me moving in with you.”
“Does that mean you’re going to move in with me?”
“It will probably be a couple of weeks until I can come back. I want to stay and make sure my mom is okay. But then…yes. If you still want me.”
He turned around and pulled her in for a hug. His hands were wet and slippery on her arms, her hair, and she didn’t care. “If I still want you. As if I could stop.”
She nuzzled her face into his hard chest. “It’s been forever.”
“Forever and a day,” he agreed, his voice hoarse.
“When will you drive back?”
“To Tanglewood? I’m staying here with you.”
“Of course not. You need to go back and prep for the fall semester.”
“How did you know I was accepting the job?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure,” she admitted. “But I am now.”
He huffed a laugh. “Very nice, my little socialist.”
She groaned, remembering the Robin Hood story. Of course he would latch on to that. “You’re going to actually call me that from now on, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. And I might need to see a costume. With tights.”
“Fine, but you’re playing Maid Marian.”
“As long as you ravish me, I’ll wear anything you want.”
She laughed. He probably would wear anything she wanted him to. His masculinity could hardly be threatened when he stood there, so strong and solid, smelling of soap and a faint musk she could recognize in her sleep. And had recognized in her sleep, she realized, thinking of last night. A blush stole up her cheeks, remembering the feel of him.
His gaze honed on the color, and he bent to nuzzle against her neck. “Were you serious? You’r
e coming to stay with me? Forever, Erin. I won’t let you go after this.”
“I couldn’t joke about that,” she said honestly. It meant too much. She felt too much. And she’d resigned herself to the fact that it wouldn’t change anytime soon. Love had turned her into a raw, exposed nerve, and the only choice left was to seek the shelter of his embrace.
Tension ran through him, though he was silent. For a long moment, he said nothing, pressing light kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. “I’m grateful,” he said thickly, and she knew she wasn’t the only one who needed shelter.
She wrapped her arms around him, barely spanning him at all, but she felt him shudder. Her eyes half-closed, she blindly sought his mouth, finding it warm and firm against hers. She was in a daze, but he guided her, commanded her, until she found the sweet rhythm of their kiss and knew herself to be home—with him, holding him and being held.
“Go back to Tanglewood,” she whispered. “Wait for me.”
“Forever,” he murmured. “You understand that I wouldn’t stop. I’d wait for you forever. Though if you came back sooner, I’d make it worth your while.”
She smiled before tugging him closer for another kiss.
Chapter Nine
Erin
Three weeks later
Despite the number of times Erin had undressed in Blake’s bedroom, it felt strange to do so without his solid, sexy presence. And really it had been months.
The draft from the air-conditioning raised goose bumps on her skin.
The slim light from between the closed curtains painted yellow light across her bare skin as she shucked her skirt and top. She paused with her thumbs tucked into her panties.
Was she really going to do this?
For all she knew, she’d look ridiculous splayed out on the bed. Blake hadn’t, but then his body was hard, masculine, and completely unyielding. Hers, she admitted ruefully, was soft. He seemed to like her curves, but that didn’t mean she needed to display them.
No, what was she thinking?
He was far more on display every single day—to strangers, no less. And on that unlikely afternoon when she had caught him masturbating, he had exposed himself to her. His pleasure, his body. His heart. It was only fair she return the favor.
