The Problem with Peace: Greenstone Security #3

by Malcom, Anne

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man muttered.

  “Likewise,” Heath replied.

  “Oh, and I’m Polly.”

  The man smiled. “Course you are,” he muttered. “Spence,” he added.

  “Well, Spence, I’ll answer Heath’s phone since it’s now mine until I get another one since that’s yours now.” I held up my hand as he began to protest. “And I’ll hear no arguing because if I didn’t give it to you, I would’ve lost it in a few weeks anyway,” I said. “So you’ll use it. Call Heath. Then we’ll talk about this awesome place, where, if you feel like, you can visit me. I can cook a mean veggie lasagne, and you could even stay for awhile, you know, if you felt like it. No pressure.”

  I was going easy because I knew a lot of people were insulted when well-meaning people tried to help them off the street.

  “I’m asking this for mainly selfish reasons,” I continued. “Because a lot of people would’ve ignored me before. And if they didn’t ignore me, they were less likely to treat me with kindness like you did. So I want to thank you,” I whispered. “So if you call, if you come down, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

  Spence was silent for a beat. “On one condition,” he said.

  “Anything.”

  “I want lasagne with real fuckin’ meat. Who eats veggie lasagne?”

  I laughed then.

  Actually laughed.

  I would’ve thought such a thing was impossible in proximity to my horror. But I did so.

  Heath’s arms tightened around me while I did.

  And then I figured maybe I might be okay.

  Maybe I might be able to go back to Polly.

  A version of her, at least.

  Chapter Twenty

  Heath had carried me up to my apartment.

  The apartment that I realized was now his apartment.

  How it took me two months to realize was beyond me. Then again, I hadn’t been known for noticing such things. But it was hard not to notice the fact that I fell asleep on Heath’s chest every single night. He came straight home from work to the apartment every night. His clothes were in my closet. Aftershave neatly placed amongst the clutter of my various beauty products.

  “You live here now,” I whispered as he sat down on the sofa, me still in his arms and he positioned me so I was in his lap. My stomach jumped as I brushed right against his crotch, the fabric of my leggings far too thin to work as any kind of barrier.

  A small spark of carnal hunger came with that contact. One that I hadn’t felt in months not without something else tainting it. One I didn’t think I’d ever be able to feel. It was mingled with something off, something rancid, something that would always be there, tainting me. But there was something else. That need. That want. For Heath.

  The way his eyes flared and his hands settled on my hips a little tighter than he usually touched me these months told me he felt it too.

  “You just notice I live here?” he asked, voice thick and a little rough as the flame grew with his hardness pressing against me.

  “Well...yeah,” I said, my voice throaty and breathless.

  “That a problem?” he asked, eyes searching mine.

  I searched his right back. “Is it permanent?”

  Heath’s hands moved to the side of my neck, pulling me down so our foreheads touched. “Baby, it’s us. You know it’s permanent.”

  My stomach flipped for a completely different reason than our current position.

  “That scare you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “But after months of feeling fear that what was inside me, eating at me, it’s a nice kind of fear. It’s a good kind.”

  His face changed, a mixture of joy and dread.

  “You wanna talk about what made you walk today?” he asked, voice soft.

  I swallowed. “I haven’t been talking,” I whispered in response. “At the meetings you take me to. I haven’t been talking. I haven’t been strong enough to talk.”

  “You’re strong enough to walk through those fuckin’ doors,” he hissed. “You’re strong enough to carry the weight of the world.” His hand tightened. “You’re strong enough.”

  I smiled. “Today I was strong enough to talk. To tell the truth. What I haven’t told anyone. Not you, not myself, not really. I’ve just been pretending it wasn’t real, and if I didn’t admit it. Didn’t vocalize it, maybe it would decay my insides.”

  Heath knew. I could see it in his face, the way his entire body braced like someone would seconds before a car accident. “I could lie and say that I haven’t pushed you to tell me because I wanted to handle you with care.”

  His grip relaxed as if he was now just realizing he’d been pressing his fingers into my skin hard enough to bruise.

  He brushed a curl from my face. “I could lie and say I wanted you to feel safe enough to tell me when you were ready,” he said, voice rough. “But I can’t fucking lie to you, Polly. Not after everything. Not even to protect you from my weakness. And that’s what it was. I was too fucking weak to handle the truth. And that’s my greatest fucking shame because you handled it for yourself, and everyone else.”

  Pain ricocheted through my body as a tear trailed down Heath’s cheek.

  A tear.

  For me.

  The strongest man I’d ever met was being brought to tears.

  Because of me.

  “You’re so strong,” he rasped. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever fuckin’ met.”

  I framed his face with my hands as his words became strangled with the depth of his emotion. “No. You’re strong. Because you knew, Heath. I know you did. I lied to myself and said that you didn’t. But you knew. You knew even if you didn’t admit it to yourself. Because you know me. Every inch of me. Every inch of me is yours. And he couldn’t take that. It’s taken me a long time to see that.”

  I brushed at his cheek, wiping the tear away.

  I didn’t have to say that ugly word that I’d finally uttered aloud today. Which was good, since I didn’t know if I could pass it through my organs without it tearing them. Because Heath knew. He knew without me having to say. His tears told me that.

  “I’m ready,” I whispered, leaning toward his mouth, my eyes not leaving his. “I’m ready for you to show me I’m yours again.”

  I subtly moved against him, touched my mouth to his, my intention clear.

  Heath froze.

  “Sunshine,” he growled against my mouth. “We don’t have to. I’m willing to wait ‘til you’re ready. If it’s too soon—”

  I shut him up with a kiss.

  A real one.

  He was hesitant at first. Not because he didn’t want me, no the hardness pressing through my leggings was evidence of that, but because he was worried I was doing my Polly thing, jumping into something without thinking. Jumping into something that might damage me, us in the future.

  This was the one thing I was sure about. It wasn’t jumping blindly when I knew Heath would catch me.

  My tongue slipped into his mouth and that’s when he responded. That’s when he unleashed his hunger. A low growl vibrated through his body and into mine as he clasped the back of my head and tore into my hair.

  My grinding became a lot less subtle.

  In fact, it could only be described as desperate.

  Violent.

  Heath was standing, still kissing me, hands still tearing my hair from its ponytail. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, my entire body jerking when his hardness pressed against the thin fabric of my leggings.

  He moved, and every movement was torture, creating a new friction, building a new fire, driving me wild.

  He didn’t stop kissing me.

  Not until he put me down on shaky legs, my calves pressing into the side of the bed.

  He stopped touching me.

  Moved away from me so his back was to my dresser.

  “Heath,” I whispered. “What—”

  “Take off your clothes,” he orde
red.

  I froze.

  Well, I didn’t truly freeze, since my heart was in my throat and my breathing was rapidly trying to find room around it.

  Fear was a living thing running over my skin.

  But my thoughts froze as the words echoed from the past into the future. The words spoken in a different apartment, when Heath had been pressed against an entirely less cluttered dresser, I’d been pressed against a bed with military corners, and I’d been a different Polly entirely.

  But he was giving me something with that command.

  The past.

  He was showing me how much had changed.

  But also, how much hadn’t.

  His eyes were still bursting with fierce desire. His fists were clenched at his sides communicating the force of his restraint.

  He still wanted me now like he did then.

  Even though my body had been defiled, my soul ransacked. He still wanted me, exactly how he’d wanted me when no one had ever touched me.

  “Take off your clothes, Sunshine,” he murmured, voice gentler.

  I didn’t hesitate this time, though my hands were shaking when they grasped the bottom of my tee.

  The air whistled through the open wounds that were hidden by my skin when the tee fluttered to the floor. I ached to cover myself, my wounds, the dirtiness on my skin.

  But Heath’s gaze stopped me.

  His harsh intake of breath stopped me.

  I’d been very careful to change in the bathroom. To wear his tees to bed, and leggings underneath them, since I always sprawled my body all over his. I didn’t want to risk bare and broken skin being exposed for him to see.

  Because I was scared of his reaction.

  No, I was terrified of his lack of reaction. Of him seeing that filth etched into my skin, of it disgusting him. Of not seeing the want, the need for me that he used to have.

  But I saw it.

  I saw more of it than I’d ever seen.

  So I kept going.

  I peeled my cropped sports bra off, exposing my aching nipples to that same air. The air Heath owned.

  “Fuck,” he hissed when my breasts were exposed fully to him.

  He was shaking with the force he was keeping himself in place.

  I was shaking with my need for him. For him to touch me. Worship me.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Polly,” he murmured.

  I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Instead, I hooked my fingers around the fabric of my leggings, pulled them down and stepped out of them.

  Again, I ached to cover my body, only standing in front of Heath in my panties and my pain.

  But I didn’t need to cover myself. To protect myself.

  Heath’s stare did that.

  So I went to do it. The big and terrifying thing. Step out of my panties.

  “No,” Heath hissed, crossing the distance between us, his hands on top of mine at my hips.

  “Your memory fails you,” he murmured, inches away from my mouth. ”That’s my job.”

  My stomach clenched with the sex in his voice. The promise of what was to come.

  “Lie down,” he ordered.

  I did so immediately, the comforter rubbing against my bare skin.

  Heath knelt at the edge of the bed. Lifting my leg up.

  Then he focused on my foot. The one I’d forgotten about. The one with torn skin and open blisters.

  He froze.

  Ah, great way to ruin the moment, Polly.

  “Baby,” he demanded, voice full of concern.

  “They’re fine,” I said.

  “They don’t look fuckin’ fine,” he hissed. “You need me to take care of them.”

  He started to stand.

  “No!” I cried.

  He froze with the desperation in my voice.

  “I need you to take care of me first,” I said. “Please.”

  His jaw was hard as he cradled my feet gently. I knew it was cruel of me to ask. Knew all of the protective and alpha cells in Heath’s body were crying out for him to try and heal the things he could.

  “That can wait,” I pushed. “This can’t.” I moved my hand down the center of my chest to trail the tops of my panties.

  Heath let out a low hiss. “Fuck,” he rasped circling my ankle and yanking me forward so he came face to face with my aching core.

  He breathed me in then focused on me. “You’re gonna be the end of me,” he hissed.

  “You’re the beginning of me,” I replied.

  He paused at my words. Then he moved.

  Then he ripped my panties right off.

  I flinched from both pleasure and pain at being exposed to him, so exposed. All of my scars, all of my damage. I struggled with that. The panic rising in my throat, with the brutal way he’d ripped off my panties.

  He wasn’t to know that’s what...he did.

  My stomach roiled.

  But I forced myself to look at Heath. To remember that he wasn’t the first one to do that. It was Heath, the night he gave me my first time. The first night he gave me his heart. And no way could Craig take that.

  Heath was watching, waiting, bracing for me to fall apart. I could see that concern mingled with the desire in his eyes.

  But then he saw me relax, I knew he saw it because his eyes moved.

  And then his mouth moved.

  Right there.

  My hands fisted the covers and I cried out in pure pleasure as Heath tasted me. As he devoured me.

  Worshipped me.

  I’d thought my first climax...after would be hard. It would take work. Concentration in actively not thinking about...before.

  But there was no work.

  No concentration.

  Just Heath’s mouth on my pussy.

  And my climax was not hard. It was soft, warm, and then it was an explosion.

  It melted me. Completely and utterly melted me.

  I didn’t even realize that I’d blacked out until Heath pulled me up the bed and his weight settled on top of me. His naked weight.

  I frowned. My hands trailed his pec. My spot. “That was meant to be my job.”

  He grinned, it was full of dark desire. “Yeah, well, you were otherwise occupied,” he growled. And then he pressed against me. There.

  I jerked, because I was sensitive and because I was thinking.

  Remembering.

  Heath cupped my face, hands gentle, grin gone. “Sunshine,” he demanded. “Don’t go there. Don’t go anywhere.” He pressed his mouth to mine, coaxed it open, kissed me gently, achingly. “You’re here. That’s the only place you ever need to be.” He kissed me again. “And we don’t need to do more. Not if you’re not ready. Tasting your pussy...” He trailed off. “Fuck, babe, that was heaven. I don’t need more.”

  My thighs jerked with his words. “No, I want to give you more,” I replied, my voice husky. “I want to give you everything.”

  “You already do.”

  I wrapped my leg around him, pressing him harder against me.

  He hissed through his teeth.

  “Fuck me, Heath, please.”

  He growled. “As if I could say no to you.”

  And then he did.

  He didn’t go slow, gently. No, like last time, like the first time, he surged into me.

  And like the first time, there was pain.

  But not just physical.

  No, there was a searing emotional pain that threatened to tear me in two.

  “Polly?” Heath demanded. “You’re here. With me.”

  His words chased away the worst of it.

  Then he moved.

  And there was still pain.

  There always would be.

  But we both found pleasure in it.

  A lot of pleasure.

  Heath

  It was three in the morning.

  Heath knew this not because he glanced at a clock, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, Polly didn’t keep clocks in the apartment. Something that should’ve bothered h
im since his home had always had clocks in every room since he’d become a Marine.

  It didn’t bother him because he hadn’t had a home until this cluttered, colorful, chaotic, clockless apartment.

  He didn’t glance at his phone to know either. Polly did not allow phones in the bedroom.

  “We’re too connected. We should be allowed to have a sanctuary where we’re not accessible,” she’d said, snatching it from his hands the second week he’d been staying here after her kidnapping. Her face had still been bruised, swollen.

  And it killed him every time he looked at it.

  But he did his best to hide that.

  Because he knew his pain at her injuries would add another bruise to his beautiful Polly, just one he couldn’t see.

  “Plus, the light’s bad for your eyes right before sleeping,” she added.

  Then she’d stomped into the living room, placed his phone in the fruit bowl, next to a banana and her own phone, stomped back, climbed into bed, rested on her spot and promptly fell into unconsciousness.

  He didn’t tell her that he needed his phone handy as part of his job. He didn’t have set hours. And if he did, they would be closer to midnight till four than nine till five. He didn’t tell her that because no way in fuck was he saying no to her in any way shape or form.

  He’d quit his fucking job if she asked. If it meant he’d get every single night of her laying on his chest and sleeping.

  He planned on getting every single night.

  But as she healed, as they got into a routine, he’d had to gently tell her about the need for his phone.

  “Well, you’ll have a separate ringtone for work emergencies,” she decided. “One loud enough to hear from the living room. And though this apartment isn’t as small as yours, we’ll still hear it,” she decided.

  He agreed.

  Because he’d agree to anything with her, to get her back to her.

  He didn’t tell her that ‘his apartment’ was no longer his. He still had the lease, of course, but was planning on breaking it. He wasn’t planning on sleeping another night in that fucking place. And not because he couldn’t physically sleep another night without Polly in his arms.

  Because this was home.