I looked over. Emmie had a finger marking her place, a small frown on her face.
“Have I told you about my service?”
She frowned, closing the novel. “You were SAS, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What was it like?”
“Hard. Fucking horrible. The best.” I chuckled. “Seriously some of the best fun I’ve ever had.”
“Fun?”
I stood, moving to the couch, and settling beside her. “The brotherhood. The friendship. War, for all they say, is mostly periods of boredom interspersed with shit going wrong.”
She reached out, pressing one of my hands between hers. “Why did you leave?”
I rubbed my shoulder. “Paxton mostly. Do you know about the IED?”
She shook her head.
“We were on a recon run. Nothing crazy. They’d supposedly cleared the road, intel got that wrong. Our vehicle hit an IED, blew our gunner, Brick, clear of the Bushmaster. When we tried to get to him, Limo stepped on another IED. He and Brick died immediately. Pax and I took on fire from a sniper. I took a bullet to the shoulder. A damn airstrike was all that saved our arses.”
I struggled for a long moment, the memories overwhelming. “Watching Pax lose it, dealing with Limo and Brick’s widows. The funerals. Pax spiralling into a depression while he recovered… It was time.”
“That’s why Pax limps?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you get hurt?” Her hands squeezed mine.
“One to the shoulder. You haven’t seen the scar?”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “Can I?”
“Have at it.” I pulled off my shirt, tossing it on the coffee table. Emmie raised up, shifting closer. Her fingers traced the puckered skin.
“Does it still hurt?” she whispered, eyes on my scar.
“No,” I whispered back. She smelt like coconut and maple syrup. My dick twitched.
Down boy.
“Are there more?”
I turned, offering her a view of my back. I had a few scars here and there, mostly from shrapnel. Nothing serious.
Still, her fingers traced each one. I felt her breath brush the skin of my back.
I twisted back, capturing her hand. “The letter is from Marie, Limo’s widow. She’s kept his ashes since the incident. She says it’s time. She’s gonna let him go.”
She melted into me, pressing close, offering comfort. “Are you ready for that?”
“I said my goodbyes a long time ago.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No.” My lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “But he’s not a bunch of dust sitting in an urn. Limo was laughter and love. He’s living in his two girls.”
“That’s lovely.” She let me be silent, processing. Her fingers gently brushed my chest. “Luc?”
“Mm?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I tilted my head down. “You don’t have to ask.”
Her lips met mine, offering comfort and a small amount of heat. I took. The longer we kissed, the more her fingers roamed, becoming daring.
I eased her down on the couch, covering her with my weight, feasting on her mouth, relishing the greedy sounds she made as we kissed.
Her hands danced along my sides, finger nails scraping up my back.
She slanted her head, pressing kisses to my cheek and down my neck. I rolled to my side, granting her access.
“Okay?” she asked, pulling back a little.
“Perfect.” I pressed a kiss to her delicious mouth. “Just giving you better access.”
She grinned, hands roaming again, dancing across my stomach and up over my chest.
My cock was rock hard, and I wasn’t prepared to do a damn thing about it. I’d googled sexual trauma and called my sister, asking for advice. Sophia was a psychologist who loved dishing out advice. She’d offered me resources, explained what triggers looked like and then advised she was available to recommend colleagues should whoever I’d called her about require it.
Emmie needed to be confident and trust that I wouldn’t press her for anything she wasn’t ready to give. That was one promise I could keep.
“Luc?”
“Mm.” I tilted my head down, pressing my forehead to hers.
“Thank you.” Her hands stilled, laying flat against my chest. “I know what you’re doing.”
I smiled. “Getting ready to suck your blood?” I gnashed my teeth at her. She pretended to bite my nose in retaliation. I laughed pulling back.
“No.” She sobered, a little crease on her forehead. “Taking it slow.”
I ran my palm down her side, flicking the bottom of her shirt up an inch, lightly tickling the soft strip of skin at her hip.
“Well, I don’t know about you but−” I bent my head, lips grazing her collarbone. “−I’m not in a rush.”
She shivered, moving a little bit closer. “Me either.”
I traced small circles on her skin as we lazily made out, kissing, and nibbling on sensitive skin. I bit her earlobe, grinning as she shuddered. Her hips shifted closer, pressing into mine. She squirmed, panting just a little.
Fuck yes.
I dipped my hand down, sliding into the top of her pants a fraction. She froze.
“Shit.” As I started to withdraw, her hand gripped my wrist, halting my movement.
“No, it’s not…” She coughed. “It’s the scar.”
I frowned. “It still hurts?”
“Not normally. It’s just that it’s ugly.”
“Keys…” I sighed. “There is not one goddamned thing that is ugly about you.” I pointed at my shoulder. “You think this is ugly?”
“No, of course n−”
“Then don’t spew that nonsense.” I moved my hand back, resting my fingers on the raised scar. “This says you’re alive. And I’ll always be thankful for the visual reminder.”
She blinked, eyes glassy. “You may be the messiest man I’ve ever met. But you’re also the sweetest.”
“Sweet?” I shook my head, shifting my hand to palm her butt and tightening my grip, pressing my body into her. “No, Keys. I’m spice and everything not nice, that’s what Lucien’s are made of.”
She giggled, raising her chin for a kiss.
A knock at the door interrupted our play. I sighed, pulling back, rolling over her to drop off the couch. I pushed up, heading for the door.
“This better be good.”
Addie stood on the other side.
I leaned against my doorway, crossing arms. “What can I do for you, Miss Addie, on this fine Saturday?”
She took one look at me and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt, but you have a gig tonight.” She held up a bag. “And I have a Cinderella to get ready for the ball.”
I glanced at my watch. “We don’t leave for another three hours.”
“Just enough time, then.” She barged past, calling, “Emmie! It’s your fairy godmother!”
I spent the rest of the afternoon practicing for tonight’s gig and trying to stay out of their hair. Whatever Addie was doing had Emmie in fits of giggles. I found I liked the sound ringing through my house.
Hours later, the van was packed and I was getting pissed.
“Yo.” I knocked on the bedroom door. “We gotta go.”
Addie opened it, grinning. “She’s ready.” She popped on to tip-toes, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Take care of her.”
I didn’t notice her leaving. My eyes were locked on the woman in the bedroom.
Jesus, Mary, and Kevin Bacon. I’m in fucking love.
Em tugged nervously at the shirt, fidgeting. “Is this okay?” she asked, her hair bouncing as she moved to the door.
“Oh, yeah.” I stared at her, watching her tits move, watching her hips sway, watching the grin decorate her full red lips.
“Do we have to go?” she prompted, glancing at my watch.
“Yeah.” I turned abruptly, leading her down to the garage as I tried to subtly adjust my junk.
<
br /> Jesus. I mean… fuck.
Emmie chatted as I plotted. This was like every fucking wet dream, teen movie come to life. I knew she was gorgeous, but when she looked like this?
Magnif-eee-fucking-cent.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Emmie
“Where is this again?” I asked as the van rolled to a stop down the back of a dark alley. Despite the reassurances, I felt uncomfortably exposed, in more ways than one.
The first issue was my outfit. The shirt was black, light-weight, and low cut. Way more low cut than anything I’d ever owned. The jeans were tight and dark, accompanied by a push-up bra and soft boy-cut underwear. She’d paired it with black converse and a leather bomber jacket. While I had to admit I looked fantastic, I still found myself tugging at the shirt regularly to ensure I wasn’t flashing anyone.
Sex bomb I am not.
The second issue was the venue. As much as I looked forward to watching Luc play, I was having a minor anxiety attack about being in public. The risk increased in public places. Luc and Pax had worked out a protection plan, ensuring I’d be covered at all times but I still felt naked.
“This is Falling Glass.” Luc slid the van door open, jumping out. I shuffled across the seat, taking his hand as he helped me down.
He squeezed, then let my hand go, moving to the rear of the van to assist his band mates in unpacking the equipment. He picked up an amp, and flashed me a smile.
“Lead on, my lady.”
I grinned and walked towards the door marked Staff Only. Inside we walked through a maze of backrooms, headed for the stage.
“We’re the only band tonight. We’ll set up, do a check, then grab some dinner,” Luc told me as he connected cables and repositioned equipment the guys were bringing in.
“Can I help?” I ran sweaty palms over my jeans, standing awkwardly while Luc crouched on the stage.
“We’re good. We’ve got this down to a fine art.” He flashed me a grin. “But thanks.”
I hovered, moving this way or that as the guys came in, handing items over when directed. I felt like a seagull at a picnic, mildly annoying, but someone was always willing to throw me a chip.
Dinner was chips and a burger at the bar. Luc snagged one of my remaining fries as I swatted at his hand. He gave me a wink as he chewed. He took a swig of beer, then glanced at his watch.
“The crew should be here soon. We’ll be wrapping up about eleven. You good with that?”
I nodded, mouth full of burger.
He watched me for a moment, tapping the side of his beer absently.
“What?” I tilted my head giving him a squinty look. “I know that face.”
He grinned. “This one?” He pointed at it crossing his eyes.
I threw a napkin at him, laughing. “No, the deep-thought one.”
He shrugged. “I think sometimes.”
“Oh really?” I grinned, taking another bite of my burger
‘’Mm.” He settled back in the chair, feet stretched out to touch mine under the bar. “Trying to work out if we’ve reached late teens or early twenties just yet.”
I raised an eyebrow.
I enjoyed this wooing experience. Aside from glitter-bomb cards and playlists, he’d given me flowers, texted me cute messages, and sent me more pictures of his abs.
The ab pictures were slowly getting lower and, I’ll admit, I was more than ready for something a little sexier.
I finished my dinner, throwing the used napkin on my plate with a happy sigh. “I’m stuffed.”
“We still have some time before our set…” Luc’s voice trailed off suggestively. The corner of my mouth tilted up.
“Did you have something in mind?”
His lips curled up, his eyes twinkling as he lent towards me, hands moving to my knee. “Trust me, Em?”
I ducked my head, hiding a blush. “Of course.”
“Come on.” He caught my hand, entwining our fingers. Luc slid off the stool, leading me through the backrooms out to the van. He slid the back open, gesturing for me to climb in.
I scrambled, settling on the back seat. He climbed in beside me, sliding the door shut, sealing us in.
The weak winter sun left long shadows in the dark alley. Inside the dim interior my eyes slowly adjusted to find Luc turned towards me. Legs clad in dark-wash jeans, his top a stone-grey long-sleeved shirt, he’d shoved the sleeves back to his elbows. Everyone knew that made a guy 1000% hotter. How was I meant to resist all his forearm hotness?
I couldn’t. I really couldn’t.
Beside me, he shifted. One arm came up to drape over the back of the seat.
“What are we doing?” I whispered in the quiet hush.
His teeth flashed as he smiled in the dim light. “University.”
He reached out, fingers finding my hand. Slowly he rubbed circles along the back of my clenched fist where it rested on my thigh.
“Are we going to make out?” Breathless, I simultaneously relaxed into his touch and tensed at the possibility of what came next.
“Oh yeah,” he growled, his voice hot with want. He made a rumbling sound in his throat. “Come kiss me.”
I shuffled over, hands hovering for a moment as I hesitated. I didn’t know where to position them.
He huffed out a chuckle, taking over. One hand was placed on his shoulder, the other on his thigh. He dropped his hands, clasping them loosely in his lap.
“You’re in control,” he whispered, breath brushing my cheek. “If I do anything you don’t like, just say no or push me away.”
I nodded, unable to speak. This was different to all the other times we’d kissed; granted we’d only had a handful of moments, but each had a layer of distance. When I wanted more, he’d slowed us down. He’d built the passion to a boil, then maintained it with an ease and experience I had no chance of meeting. When I wanted us to explode, to go higher, he’d withdrawn, gently, but making it clear it wasn’t going any further.
Tonight, I wanted more.
All week, living in his house, breathing in his scent, my freedom to look at him whenever and however I pleased. I’d burned to do more. I felt frustrated. So damn frustrated.
Now, in this moment, I could see his desire. Could feel the tension of his muscles under his clothes. Could see how he held himself back.
I wanted to break that restraint.
My thumb gently swept up and down his shoulder, my hand creeping closer to his neck. We were staring at each other, breath mingling, gaze hot with unspoken words.
My thumb hit the skin of his neck, and I sucked in a breath.
Could I?
I slowly moved my hand up until my fingers tangled in his hair. Slowly, oh so slowly, I drew him down to me.
Our mouths met and for one moment the kiss remained chaste. Then I flicked my tongue against his lips and it was game over. The moment of romance broken as heat and want clashed with unfulfilled desperation.
His hands came up, one going to my neck, the other to my good hip. His mouth greedily devoured mine, our lips clashing as we clung together. He tilted my head, granting him access to my neck. His lips feasted on sensitive spots, dragging moans from deep within me. My fingers tightened, drawing him closer, pressing his lips to my neck as hot delicious shots of raw energy spiralled through my body.
“Luc…” I groaned his name, moaned it. “I want…”
My other hand, the hussy, began her ascent. Slowly, ever so slowly, she inched up his leg. His big thigh felt hot under my palm. I hesitated for a moment, only a second as his lips left my neck to return to my mouth. Hot, hard, and wanting.
Fuck slow.
I brushed fingers against his crotch. Luc reared back, panting, his dark eyes molten as he stared at me, my face clasped between his hands, my palm now solidly pressed against his bulge.
“I…” I didn’t know what to say as I started to withdraw. He made a noise, a hot harsh sound of protest. One hand pulled me back to his mouth, the other shifted down to pr
ess my hand against his length.
It was my turn to moan.
As I stroked him through his jeans, his hand let go of mine, shifting to the hem of my shirt. I bucked, ignoring the twinge in my side as my need overruled any concern for my body.
I needed him to touch me. I wanted his hands, his mouth, his tongue on me. I wanted him to feel and touch every part of me.
He drew my shirt away from my body as his tongue danced with mine. Hot, wet, I wanted more.
His fingers brushed the sensitive curve of my hip. I moaned, scrambling to get closer. He pulled back, our gasping breaths loud in the van.
“I need–” I panted.
“I know.” He settled back in the seat, then helped me shift to straddle him, my butt firmly in his lap. “Okay?”
“Yes.” I nodded, hands moving to grab both of his. “Definitely.” I pulled one of his hands, pushing it under my top. His grin flashed as he took over. His other hand I pulled up, forcing his fingers into my hair. He got it, tangling his fingers in my strands.
“Greedy,” he whispered, still grinning.
I ignored him as I dropped a hand to his crotch, the other going to the belt buckle that prevented full access.
“Emmie…” He groaned, eyes closing, head dropping back as I stroked him through the material. “You don’t have to…”
His hand met the edge of my bra and I stilled, waiting.
His eyes opened, head coming up as his fingers gently pushed up the bra. “Okay?”
I made a small sound of affirmation.
His eyes flashed as he palmed my breast.
Holy fuck. Holy Jesus. OHMIGOD.
I pushed into him, unconsciously grinding on his lap as he played me, his expert fingers creating a symphony of sensation.
“More,” I demanded, eyes closed, mouth panting. “More.”
He shoved up my shirt, mouth closing over my nipple.
Hot. Mouth. Wet.
“Oh God!” I whimpered.
He licked and sucked my right breast as his clever, clever fingers teased my left. I’d dissolved into a puddle of wet wanton desire.
“Luc,” I panted, my pursuit of his cock long forgotten as both my hands kept him pinned to my breast. “Luc!”
His spare hand unzipped my jeans. He drew back, grunting. “Lift.”
Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Page 15
