Angel: An SOBs Novel

by Irish Winters

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Suede woke to the scent of a freshly showered male body sliding into bed and under the sheets behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she held her position on her side facing the door, feigning sleep. Even though her entire body, down to her toes, thrummed with an irrepressible need to roll over and touch him, now was not the time to maul Chance Sinclair. She clenched her fingers into fists, fighting the itch to smooth one hand up that toned muscular thigh that had just come to rest behind her leg, so close yet so far away.

  His knees bent, aligning themselves with hers, but her thigh still ached from the tremendous wound. Not as badly as before, but enough to keep her aware. As long as she got enough rest, her lungs seemed to be clearing. The antibiotic was working, as was all the bed rest. But damn. She had on nothing but his shirt, and he was wearing only boxers.

  And that chest. That marvelous, muscled chest. A woman shouldn’t be tempted like this. Squeezing her eyes tight, she let a trembling sigh go. As broad and powerful as Chance’s chest was, it was also her soft place to land, and damn, had she landed. She’d never grow tired of rubbing her nose through the dusting of chest hairs across his pecs, or the way his nipples hardened when she accidentally-on-purpose let her fingers wander. It didn’t seem to take much to get his attention.

  But she needed to be the strong one in this bed tonight. She was the one who needed to change, not Chance. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, remember?

  He must’ve thought she’d fallen asleep, since he picked that moment to align his body more fully with hers. Chance cupped one warm palm to her shoulder, his thumb light and easy on her shoulder blade, gently massaging like he’d done the first night. The scent of peppermint from his breath spilled through her hair, delighting her nose. He seemed to enjoy burrowing his face into her messy locks, and that was fine with Suede. She loved the unique intimacy she shared with this man. There was no roughness or cruelty involved. No bullying and no name-calling.

  Like a gentleman, he kept his cock away from her backside, but there was no way to pretend sleep, not with her soul vibrating to be let loose and free. Every nerve ending in her body wanted Chance. If he kept this simple contact going, she’d be glowing in no time.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  Thank Heavens! Suede rolled over to face him, carefully adjusting her bandaged thigh as she rotated her body. The wound had healed considerably. “How could you tell?” she asked in the dark, waves of excitement coursing up from her belly. How could he not?

  “I’ve known all along. Your breath hitched when I opened the door.”

  He had her there, but honestly, how could she sleep with him in the same room? The same bed? “Where’s Gallo?” she asked, still avoiding the elephant in the room. “I haven’t seen him much tonight.”

  A lighthearted rumble purred out of Chance. “He’s sound asleep at the foot of the bed. The mutt never made a peep when I came in. What’d you do? Put a spell on him, too?”

  “I’m no witch,” she told him. Wiggling one arm out from under the covers, Suede snaked it around Chance’s shoulder, letting her fingers come to rest at the back of his neck, her thumb aligned at his ear. What’s this? He shaved? Oh my.

  This man had a delightful neckline now that he’d reduced the beard on his face to mere scruff and tidied up his shaggy hair. Her nostrils flared with the coconut-lime scent of a clean male body. The outdoorsy scent of wind and sunshine that was unique to Chance still lingered, but if she wasn’t trying so hard to be a better woman, she would’ve licked his neck and kept going over his chin and all the way to those warm, manly lips. Damned if her tongue and lips didn’t jump to the challenge and bathe each other, just in case.

  I’m trying to be better than that, she reminded her aching physical self.

  Then kiss him and get it over with.

  Oddly, that worthless piece of advice sounded perfect. I want to, she admitted despite her wavering resolution.

  And he wants you to or he wouldn’t be back in bed with you now, would he?

  “Chance?” she asked, her fingers threaded into the soft curls of his hair. “Just one goodnight kiss?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he growled as his mouth covered hers, and Suede forgot that other woman she was trying to be. Who cared? Heat flared between her body and his, but he gave her no quarter. With one broad hand splayed to the small of her back, he pulled her against his bare belly, and she knew where they were headed.

  It had to stop, but how does a woman with no moral compass stop a man she truly cares about at a time like this? How does a girl who’d never said ‘no’ to a man in her life, say ‘no’ now? Chance was unlike any other she’d been with. Okay, so there’d only been two, and Suede was sure that nerd in high school didn’t count. York didn’t really count either, but Chance was—oh wow, he was worth waiting for.

  His fingers dipped down her spine to her backside, squeezing life into yet another wound even as he slowed his own freight train. “Am I hurting you?”

  ‘No! Not at all!’ sprang to her lips, but Suede forced a reluctant, squeaky, “Maybe we should stop.”

  Shifting his hand from her ass to the flare of her waist, Chance shuddered. “I’m sorry. I’m no better than my dog when it comes to you.”

  “Not true. You’re just...” Everything. “…tired, and it’s been a long day and…” I’m rambling.

  “You do things to me, Suede. When I’m with you I want to be a better man,” he breathed into her face. “I know we just met, but there’s something about you that gets me. I’m sorry. I’m not making sense. I’ll shut up.”

  “No, don’t. I love listening to you,” she said earnestly, wishing there was a nightlight in his room so she could watch the way his eyes sparkled and how the skin between his brows pinched into three distinct lines when he frowned. Little things like that. But mostly, I lo… I like you.

  “You shaved,” she told him, her fingertips on his chin and her wayward heart up high in her throat at the word that had sprung to her mind. “At least, you thinned,” she corrected, her voice uncommonly hoarse and her pulse pounding.

  “About time,” he admitted with a hard swallow. “I keep it on the long side to conceal a couple scars. You know how it is.”

  “What scars?” Suddenly nervous, she let her fingers tiptoe through what facial hair was left, just enough to distinguish a couple ridges. Several marked his chin. One ran from high on his cheekbone to his ear and along his skull. Long and thin, it was as if a metal claw had raked him. Some were just as long and thin while others were shallow divots where flesh had been carved away. “What happened? Tell me,” she urged.

  “IED,” he hissed. “Nails and explosives. Plastic surgery. All that crap.”

  “Did this happen when—”

  “Yeah. My last deployment. The day Mom—”

  She couldn’t let him say it. Suede arched into him, aching to kiss every one of those scars away, to make the pain disappear with them. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well...”

  Smoothing her fingertips through his scruff and over his face, she mapped his rugged features, growing more aroused with every subtle nuance defining this gentle warrior. He held still while her fingers skated gently over the ledge of his brows and eyelids. His straight nose. His lips. She’d never known a man who’d fought for his country and still lived by its code. There wasn’t a soft or feminine thing about him.

  Pride swelled in her heart for him. “I don’t feel scars, Chance; I feel badges and medals of honor. Each tells me that life tried to kill you, but that you’re tougher than you know. You survived. You’re still here.”

  His eyes narrowed. “That’s it? You’re not disgusted with the way I look? The way my skin feels?”

  Suede pressed her forehead to his lips, inhaling the scent of him, aroused at this intimate exploration he’d allowed. She had no business caring about this man like she did, but how could she not? He’d cut himself off from
the world,andt he was just as alone as she was. Maybe more. He needed her. She knew it to her soul. “You’re like a Timex watch, Chance. You might have gotten run over, hammered and dented, but you’re still ticking.” And I’m so thankful you are.

  “That’s something Mom would’ve said. Who told you that?”

  Her shoulders lifted, but Suede kept her nose in his neck. “Pagan. Your baby brother.”

  That earned a delighted masculine chuckle. “Guess he listened to her more than I thought he did.”

  “You guys had a very unique relationship with your mom. You know that, don’t you?” Suede whispered, relishing the heat from his body. His gentleness. Her hands slid to his chest, and she couldn’t help but turn her head to listen to his heartbeat. To the steady in and out of his lungs as he inhaled and exhaled. That particular miracle from Mother Nature held a special fascination for her now. The breath he’d given her had become a gift she could never repay.

  “No, we didn’t. It was pretty much the normal mother/son relationship,” he said, his voice rich and rumbling under her ear. “We gave her a run for her money, but she always knew how to get each of us to turn around and listen up.”

  Suede sensed that talking about his mom was Chance’s favorite subject the way he wrapped his arms around her. “How was that?” she asked to keep him talking.

  “Well, with me, all she had to do was take away my bike-riding privileges. A kid on a bike in San Diego could ride forever. I used to ride down to Mission Bay, when I could get away with it.” He inhaled, filling his lungs. “There’s nothing like the ocean breeze in your face and an ice cold Peach Nehi in your hand when you’re twelve and think you know it all.”

  “A Peach Nehi?”

  He arched back from her, so she looked up. Peppermint wafted over her face like a blessing. “You’ve never had a Peach Nehi? What’s wrong with you, girl?”

  Now it was Suede’s turn to laugh. “I guess I didn’t have any brothers to get in trouble with. I’ll bet you guys had great times together.”

  He nodded. “We did, but we fought a lot, too. The whole ‘boys-will-be-boys’ thing. We were competitive little guys, but Mom had a way of turning us into a team without us knowing it. I credit her with instilling that skill set into all of us. Knowing how to get along with others, how to work together, helped me become a SEAL.”

  “So you’re the oldest?”

  Another nod. “Kruze is eleven months younger, then the baby came along eleven months later.”

  “Pagan. He’s at least as old as I am.”

  “Nope. He’s twenty-five and Kruse is twenty-six. I’m the oldest at twenty-seven.”

  And I’m twenty. Seven years difference. For some reason, that number seemed like a sure sign that she was in sync with the universe, or something. “What’d she look like?

  Another deep sigh wafted over Suede before Chance said, “Mom was beautiful. Black hair. Long. She liked to let it dry into natural curls. Happy. That was Mom to a T. She always found a way to make lemonade out of the lemons life gave her. She had the prettiest green eyes.”

  “Like Pagan’s?”

  “Like both Pagan and Kruze. I’m the only one who got stuck with my dad’s eyes.”

  “Where is he?”

  Another sigh. “Don’t know and don’t care. He left after Mom hit the big time, just walked out on us after dinner one night. He had the guts to sit there and eat what she’d made before he hauled his sorry ass up and told her to get a divorce on his way out the door. I was three at the time. Can’t remember one damned thing about him but that.”

  “He never kept in touch?” How dreadful.

  “Some guy told us he moved to Hawaii. I heard he died, but I never confirmed the story. Seemed like a waste of time tracking the jerk down.”

  “Why’d your mother marry him?”

  “He was another writer. She thought they had a lot in common. Didn’t work out that way.”

  Suede had nothing to say to that. She’d never had anything in common with York. If anything, he was just another distorted father-figure in her life. The only difference between him and Dad was she’d slept with York. Even that was blasé. Sex had been exciting at first, a forbidden taboo for the young woman she was, but during the past year or so, it had devolved into an endurance test she dreaded. Once he’d stopped coming to her bed, she’d been relieved.

  “What would you say to holding a press conference once this weather moves out?”

  Whoa. That came out of the blue. “Me? Why would I do that?” Just the thought of more public humiliation sent icy ripples of terror up her spine. “York would know where I am. So would my parents. They’d…” A shiver wriggled up from her toes. “They’d all come for me.” And not in a good way.

  “No, they won’t. You’d be with me and I wouldn’t let anyone get near you,” Chance explained, his fingers splayed at her waist. “I’ll keep you safe, and by then you’ll know how to shoot and defend yourself.”

  “I will?”

  “Sure. We’ve got a practice range downstairs. I’ll show you. It’ll be fun.”

  “Hmmmmm,” was all Suede could come up with. Me with a weapon? In my hands? The notion terrified her, but it came with a tiny shoulder bump of empowerment, too. No one could slap her around if they knew she was qualified with a gun. She wouldn’t have to take crap from York ever again. Better yet, the next guy who tried to throw her off a cliff would be in for a big surprise. “I would like to learn about guns,” she admitted, swallowing hard at this brave direction her new life had taken. “You’d teach me, and you wouldn’t yell at me when I missed the bull’s head or whatever it is I’m supposed to aim at?”

  The hug she found herself enveloped in was pure heaven, especially when he dipped his head and chuckled in her ear. The joy in that masculine sound went straight to her core, dampening her when she was trying her best to be a good girl for the first time in for-evvvvv-er.

  “It’s called a bull’s-eye, Suede, and no, I won’t be angry if you miss. That’s why it’s called practice. When you’re up for it, we’ll spend as much time at the range as you want. Trust me, once you’re comfortable handling a pistol, and as long as you follow gun safety, you’ll do fine.”

  “What kind of gun? A six-shooter?”

  “Most likely a nine-millimeter. I have a couple others that would fit your grip. My .44 Magnum’s probably too heavy for you, and it packs one helluva recoil. It’ll knock you on your rear if you’re not careful, but whatever’s mine’s yours, babe.”

  Did he have any idea what he’d just said, or how he’d said it? Suede froze. Was he this generous with all his girlfriends? On second thought, was there another woman in his life besides his mother? Her mouth opened, but she hadn’t any idea what to say, so she snapped it shut.

  He made it worse then. He leaned his forehead to hers and bumped noses. “I mean it, Miss Tennyson. As long as you live in my house, you’re welcome to anything except what’s in the control center, my office. I keep it locked, but when I’m in there, you’re welcome to join me. Any time. Understood?”

  This man was too good to be true. “I have a bank account,” blurted out of her big mouth before she could stop it. Like proving she wasn’t a complete sponge made her Chance’s equal.

  “Good, so do I.” He cocked his head. “This isn’t about taking over, Suede. I’m only here to help you get back on your feet. You know where the door is. Anytime you’ve had enough of us Sinclairs, just say the word.”

  “I didn’t mean that, I just meant…” She chewed the inside of her cheek, not sure what she meant. “I can pay you back for taking care of me, and I will.”

  “That’s up to you. It’s called personal power. Money in a bank account certainly helps you feel empowered, but being able to stand on your own two feet and defend yourself goes a long ways, too. You told me York made you believe he owned you, but that crap doesn’t go ’round here. You don’t owe me anything, and if you’ve got a problem, I’m here to talk it out,
but in the end, the decisions are all yours. Like this press conference. Think about it, but if you don’t want to do it, then it’s a no-go. No pressure. No hype. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Suede relaxed in the arms of her knight in shining armor, his hand tangled in her hair as he cupped her to him. “Chance?”

  A warm breath of peppermint skated down her arm. “Yes,” he asked, his voice gone rough and hoarse.

  “Shut up and kiss me,” she begged, her soul on fire for this incredible man.

  He tipped her chin up with one finger and swallowed her mouth, and this was wrong on so many levels. She’d just escaped York’s clutches. Why was she drawn to Chance? They didn’t know each other. Not really. And love at first sight just Did. Not. Happen.

  A deep-seated fear niggled at the back of her mind that all men were dogs. They chewed on a woman for a while, and then moved on. But could she break away from the tenderness he’d ensnared her with? Not tonight.

  He was the one who broke contact first, his pulse racing beneath her fingertips. “Get some rest,” he growled, “or I’ll take you nine ways to Sunday.”

  Then do it! her heart cried, but her mouth whispered, “Okay.”

  A groan lifted out of him, but he muttered, “Goodnight, Suede.”

  “Goodnight, Chance.” To prove she could do it, that she could wait for sex until she was a better woman, Suede rolled over, her back to Chance. Liquid fire still sizzled in her veins, but now she knew for sure. He was that one in a million. She could wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Distraction, thy name is woman, Chance thought as he steadied Suede’s right arm while she took careful aim at the paper zombie fifty yards down range. Last night he’d barely slept with the feel of her warm body snuggled against him. Spooning was torture, pure torture! But this morning she’d awakened bright-eyed and eager to get on with her life. At the moment, she was working with her newly acclaimed favorite weapon, a sweet little 308 Ruger that fit her palm perfectly.

  The girl turned out to be a damned good shot. Her fingers had healed enough that she’d discarded the bandages, and she paid attention to everything he’d told her, from how to cup her left hand under her right to steady her aim, to marrying her thumbs like lovers at the left of her piece so they didn’t get in the way. She cleared the chamber of her pistol like a pro, racked it without pinching her fingers or the heel of her palm even once, and already she’d killed more bull’s eyes than Chance had on hand. Hence the zombies. They were Kruze’s idea of a joke and the only targets left.