But then again, that could be the concussion still making my stomach woozy. Landon had said that was a symptom.
“How do you know what it feels like?” he asked. “Have you ever been pepper sprayed before?”
Damn. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t pick up on that. “Mm-hm,” I answered.
I could feel his gaze on me. “Mm-hm as in yes? You’ve been pepper sprayed?”
“Sure have.”
“When? What happened?”
His eyes were all dark and stormy, and for the umpteenth time since I’d met Landon, I found myself wishing I was a better liar. If I could make up some cool story to explain away the experience, it would make me sound a lot less like a dork. Unfortunately, I was just a curious nerd who liked to try things first-hand.
“I’m kind of a scientist,” I said in an effort to set up my excuse.
He blinked. “What does that mean?”
“I like to research and collect data. I learn best by experiencing things for myself.”
His eyes widened. “Please tell me you didn’t spray yourself with pepper spray.”
He made it sound so awful. “It was just a drop, really. And only in one eye.” And now I felt like I’d done something stupid and was trying to save face. “It was for educational purposes, and I learned a lot from the experience.”
His jaw dropped. He forced his mouth closed and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, no doubt trying to come up with a politically-correct response.
Before he could tell me how stupid I was and piss me off, I plunged ahead, willing him to understand. “There’s a sting to it, and it’s a little disorienting, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as this bump on my head. I had to try it out for myself.”
“You could have watched a YouTube video about it, you know?”
I nodded. “I did, but it’s not the same as experiencing it.”
“But it’s a lot safer.”
“I disagree. I think a real-life education is always safer. I needed to know how long someone would be incapacitated if I sprayed them, how much time I would have to get away and get help. Knowing exactly how it feels and what the recovery is like is important to me. If I’m going to willingly hurt someone, I want to know the level of damage I’m doing to them. Now when I use this spray on someone, I understand the pain and recovery they’re going to experience and I’m consciously deciding to inflict that on them.”
He was staring at me like I was crazy.
“Police officers do the same thing,” I defended.
“No, they don’t. Police officers get maced or pepper sprayed because there’s a chance they could get sprayed by a suspect or catch some from the air and they need to know how to do their job while afflicted. Not so they can empathize with the bad guy.”
“Well, it’s practically the same thing.”
He shook his head, chuckling. “No, it’s not. And I now understand why you go by Mercy instead of Mercedes. It fits you a lot better.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment. Shit.” He was full on laughing now. “I still can’t believe you sprayed yourself.”
I wanted to be offended, but his laughter was so warm and throaty it made me feel all sorts of other emotions. His face softened as he laughed, and I saw a hint of the adorable boy from the photos hanging on Beth’s walls. It gave me hope that he was still in there under all of the man’s layers of regret, guilt, and self-loathing.
Finally, Landon stopped laughing. “You think real-life education is always safer, huh? You’re never getting a gun,” he said.
Fighting the urge to snap back and ask him who he thought he was to tell me what I wasn’t going to do, I considered our conversation. Based solely on my reasoning for pepper spraying myself, I couldn’t deny that buying myself a gun would be a moronic move. “Fair enough,” I replied. “But for the record, I wouldn’t shoot myself.”
Shaking his head, he barked out another laugh. “It’s the fact that you even have to give me that assurance that concerns me.”
He had a point. Shrugging, I pulled my hand away from him to snatch back the remote and resume my movie. Landon went back to filling out his volunteer application.
“Done,” he said after a while, handing the paperwork to me. I took it and slid it back into my laptop bag to process after Christmas. “Also, I’ve been thinking, and what I said about Mercy fitting you better than Mercedes, that was a compliment. I appreciate that after all the shit you’ve been through, you’re still willing to take chances. Even on someone like me.”
His words were heavy and serious. I met his gaze, finding a different kind of darkness in his eyes. The storm clouds were gone, replaced by something more intense. Something that made my pulse race.
Landon leaned in. “I don’t need a Mercedes, but Mercy… I could use some of that in my life.”
I was still trying to figure out a response when his lips landed on mine, robbing me of the ability to think. He licked at the seam of my lips and his warm, hard body pressed against me. I knew I shouldn’t let him kiss me—that the clock was ticking, and he’d be gone before I knew it—but I wanted it. I wanted him. I knew it didn’t make sense, but I opened my mouth and let him in. He was tentative and cautious at first, as if waiting for me to pull back or push him away, but as my hands roamed to his back, he unleashed himself.
His hands slid under my sweater, wandering over my stomach before roaming up to my bra. His kiss deepened as he palmed my breasts over the thin lacy fabric. I felt my nipples pebble beneath his heated touch. I couldn’t remember the last time hands other than my own were on my breasts, and it felt so good I wanted to cry out for him to keep going.
I wanted to feel him—to feel all of him—and there were far too many clothes between us. My hands dipped under his shirt, settling on the defined muscles of his back before meandering forward. I took my time, reveling in every dip and curve of his hard obliques and abs, before making my way up to his pecs. His torso felt every bit as good as it had looked, and I couldn’t wait to see and feel the rest of him.
My hands slid down to his jeans and I unbuttoned the top button.
Someone knocked on my door.
The effect was almost humorous. It was like we were a couple of teenagers who’d gotten caught making out beneath the bleachers. Landon jumped away as I pushed off the sofa. His shallow breathing matched my own. “I’m sorry,” we both said at the same time.
His brow wrinkled. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Your head.”
“What did you do to my head?” I asked, confused.
Another knock sounded on the door.
“I should get that,” he said. “It’s probably the food.” He stood, tugging his T-shirt down over the top of his unbuttoned jeans. It did nothing to hide the fact that he was sporting one hell of an impressive erection. I tried not to stare but it was super obvious, and I was kind of proud that kissing me had that effect on him.
While Landon dealt with the delivery driver, it dawned on me how close we’d come to having sex. I wasn’t a prude or anything, and knew sex was natural and healthy. I also wasn’t a virgin. When I was sixteen, I’d wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I arranged to lose my virginity to one of my guy friends, Dwayne Smith, who was also a virgin. We’d kept the experience as scientific as possible, but neither of us really knew what we were doing so it wasn’t anything impressive. He came the second his condom covered cock entered me.
I’d tried again with my most recent boyfriend, Josh, but he was nothing to write home about either. He could make himself come at the drop of his pants, but I never did find that “release” I’d read about. Sex hadn’t been much of a priority since.
But every time Landon got close to me, my body responded in ways that had nothing to do with science and everything to do with lust. He just turned me on. There was no commitment between us. How could there be? We’d known each other for a whopping three days and his d
ays in Seattle were numbered. Sure, this thing between us could grow into a relationship, but it would be long-distance with sporadic in-person visits.
It probably wouldn’t last.
And, although I’d told him I didn’t do casual sex (or any sex, really), the man had me reconsidering my position on the matter. I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt to him. The instant his lips had landed on mine, my brain short circuited and my libido took over. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I had no doubt I would have let him go as far as he wanted.
No, I would have wanted us to go all the way.
The idea startled me. Then it worried me for a whole different reason. Landon was pulling paper cartons out of a plastic bag and lining them up on my bar. Watching him—and appreciating the way his biceps bulged with every move—I blurted out, “I’m going to go take a shower.”
He looked up at me, pausing in his food display task. “But what about dinner?”
“I’m not really hungry right now. Maybe later?”
His gaze went from me to the food, and then back to me. Then his eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Are you okay, Mercy?”
“Yes. It’s just been a long day and I could really use some hot water to work out the kinks in my neck.”
“I could give you a massage,” he suggested. Then his face screwed up like he was angry at himself for suggesting it. “A platonic, healing massage. I didn’t mean anything sexual by that.”
If I let him put his hands anywhere near me, I was done for. And there were things I needed to take care of first. “Thanks, but I’m good.” I turned and dashed down the hallway before he could say more.
Grabbing a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top from my room, I hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. Then I stripped out of my work clothes and climbed into the shower. As water cascaded over my head, I took a gander at my real reason for escaping from Landon, unsurprised to see that it was even worse than I’d expected.
I hadn’t had a boyfriend in more than a year, and I’d let things get a little out of control downstairs. Some women had a landing strip, I had more of an overgrown airfield. Thank God Landon hadn’t put his hand down my pants; he might have gotten it stuck and been grounded for good.
And then I’d be left high and dry.
Wax would never do, even if I had any. No, clearing away this much pubic hair called for a match and a controlled burn. But since I didn’t want to set off the building’s sprinklers (or end up in the hospital), I grabbed my razor and went to work. While I lathered and shaved, I thought about Landon. Knowing he’d only be in town for a month, I’d been determined to protect my heart from him. But now, that didn’t seem so important. I was lonely, he was lonely, I needed a distraction from the fact I could have been shot today, and he needed a little healing of his own.
We could help each other.
Besides, the scientific part of my brain was all too curious about what sex would be like with someone I was so attracted to. Would it be all passion and power? Or would it be sweet and loving? Would he help me finally understand what the big deal was? Would he help me find that fabled “release”?
Washing between my legs, I grazed my folds and was surprised by how sensitive they were. Just thinking about getting it on with Landon was doing a number on my body. So, I got out of the shower and dried myself off, freshly shaved and all too ready to pick up where we’d left off.
Chapter 11
Landon
I was an asshole. I knew this, because only an asshole would try to get into the pants of a woman who’d been through what Mercy had experienced today. She was vulnerable and scared, and fucking her would be like taking advantage of those emotions. I knew this in my head, but my hands wouldn’t stop touching her. My lips wouldn’t stop kissing her.
And her body was so damn responsive.
As her tongue danced with mine, my fingers lingered on her neck, feeling her pulse quicken. I expected her to push me away—to put an end to this insanity—but instead, her hands explored my chest, her touch making me impossibly harder.
I knew it was wrong, but the launch sequence had started.
Her body was sending out the appropriate signals, letting me know she wanted this as much as I did. Then she undid the top button of my jeans and I knew we were going all the way.
Takeoff seemed imminent.
But then the food arrived, saving us both.
Mercy was a wreck. Her chest heaved with deep breaths as she leaned against the wall, watching me collect the food and sign the credit card slip for the driver. Disgusted at myself for how close I’d come to ripping off her clothes despite her injury, I could barely stand to look at her. I was supposed to be there to help—to protect her—and I couldn’t stop thinking about the way her skin felt beneath my fingers. About the way her lips had tasted.
I wanted more. And I knew the second I got the chance, my hands would be all over her again. As would my lips, my tongue, and any other body parts she allowed to touch her, to invade her.
Fuck! Get it under control, Welch.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” she announced, surprising me out of my thoughts. I’d been taking my time laying out the food, trying to force my thoughts toward basketball, or medical procedures, or anything else that would get my dick to calm the fuck down.
“But what about dinner?” I asked, afraid to let her out of my sight. What if I’d scared her? What if I’d misread her body language and she wasn’t interested in me at all? I needed her to sit and talk to me, so we could get this all worked out.
“I’m not really hungry right now. Maybe later?” She sounded almost frantic as she inched toward the hallway, away from me.
I liked Mercy, and I wanted more than just sex from her. A lot more. We’d only known each other for a few days, but she’d already shown me her passion, her strength, and her sense of humor. She was a good person, and I wasn’t just blowing smoke up her ass when I said I could use a little of her in my life. I wanted all of her, and I was terrified that I’d blown this thing developing between us.
“Are you okay, Mercy?”
“Yes. It’s just been a long day and I could really use some hot water to work out the kinks in my neck.”
“I could give you a massage.” It was like I couldn’t stop the desperation and stupidity from spewing from my mouth. “A platonic, healing massage. I didn’t mean anything sexual by that.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She practically sprinted down the hall to escape from me.
Left staring at several cartons of food I no longer had an appetite for, I barely resisted the urge to splatter them all against the wall. She’d trusted me enough to let me into her apartment, and I’d broken that trust by practically attacking her. Disgusted with myself, I took a deep breath and packed up the food. Then I stuck it all in the fridge before settling on the sofa and waiting for Mercy.
Since last night, I’d been doing so good at keeping my distance. But seeing her lying on the floor of that preschool… it had triggered me, made me realize how important she’d become to me in such a short time.
Seeing her in danger had changed everything.
But hearing her talk about the ordeal… That fucked me up.
I tried to stay calm and collected, but listening to her admit that she thought she was going to die had taken me over the edge. Death was in my face every day, and I handled it. No, I compartmentalized it. But as I stared into Mercy’s gorgeous blue eyes and heard her fears, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I wouldn’t want to exist in a world without her.
Mercy was passion. She was fire, hope, and joy, all the things my life had been lacking. Her admission that she wanted to fall in love and start a family had awoken something inside of me that I’d never known was there.
For the first time in a long time, I knew what I wanted from life.
I wanted Mercy, and there was no fucking way I’d let some asshole with a gun take her away from me. I just needed to play it cool and gi
ve her some time, at least wait until her head felt better before I came on to her.
Though I’d resolved to do better, it was even more difficult to control myself when she emerged from the bathroom wearing pajamas. They weren’t sexy, that wasn’t her style. Instead, they looked comfortable. Soft. Kind of cute. Her bottoms were black, tight through the hips and flared out at the feet. Her tank top was fitted and the same bright blue color of her eyes.
And she wasn’t wearing a bra.
The natural sway of her lush, round breasts drew my attention immediately and held me captive, as she entered and sat on her side of the sofa. The outline of her pebbled nipples created little circular tents in the fabric of her shirt. Hints of jasmine and vanilla tugged at my senses, beckoning me closer. Determined to stay right where I was, I turned my attention on the still paused television, trying not to notice the way her wet, dark blonde hair framed her makeup-free face, highlighting her big blue eyes and plump full lips.
Everything about her drew me in, but I wanted Mercy whole, unhurt, and thinking clearly. I didn’t want to be some mistake she regretted. I had thirty-eight days to spend with her, and I couldn’t afford to screw this up so she spent them avoiding me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. My voice was deeper than normal, but I couldn’t help it.
“Good. Better.”
I expected her to pick up the remote and start the movie, but she didn’t.
My watch dinged. Grateful for the distraction, I jumped to my feet. “It’s time for more ibuprofen. Where do you keep it?”
“I can get it.” She started to get up, but I knew that watching one more sway of those perfect tits would do me in.
“No!” I said a little more forcefully than necessary. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you. Let me do something.”
She watched me from beneath her lashes. “Bathroom. In the medicine cabinet.”
The bathroom was still warm and steamy from her shower, and the air smelled strongly of Mercy. Breathing it in felt like both punishment and a reward, bringing back the hard-on I’d done my best to get rid of. I rifled through the contents of her cabinet, absently cataloging the contents: peroxide, bandages, acetaminophen, condoms…
Rescuing Mercy (Special Forces: Operation Alpha): A Dead Presidents MC Spinoff Page 11