Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  She gazed at him and Keegan saw genuine entreatment there. She was begging him to stay focused and he fought to stay in the moment because really, the point wasn’t that the assholes were running around loose, as bad as that was. No, the thing to talk about now was her headspace because if Keegan was the first man to touch her that way after whatever the hell had happened, Trish might very well need understanding and patience from him tonight.

  Talking about the two loser pricks could wait. Making her feel safe couldn’t.

  He took a calming breath and as he exhaled, he felt his self-mastery just slide on back into place. If there was one single thing to be said about special-ops training, it was that it taught you total control over your thoughts, emotions and physical reactions, and it did that damn well. He called on that training now and was unsurprised that it wasn’t even slightly challenging to snap back to full control. Some things in life were so deeply ingrained, they never left and could be brought forth as easy as blinking. No matter how he lived now, Keegan was still that man when he called him out – the highly-trained killer with ice-water running through his veins.

  “OK,” he said gruffly. “OK, sugar. Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, I’m gonna give it to you. You wanna talk about what happened over a glass of wine? You wanna stay here on this sofa fully dressed and watch a movie and not talk about what happened? You wanna go to bed and curl up against me and go to sleep, ‘cause I’ll hold you all night if you tell me that’s what you need right now. I’ll make love to you, I’ll sleep sittin’ up in the chair and watch you sleep all night, I’ll sleep out here if you need space. You decide. It’s your call.”

  Trish gazed at him, her eyes a cloudy purple-grey; clouds just after a violent rainstorm. She hesitated, then said, “I don’t – I can’t talk about it. Not because I don’t trust you but because… because I can’t remember.”

  “You can’t remember? At all?”

  “Bits and pieces. Flashes. Like less than a second, maybe a face or a bit of the room, and then it just gets away from me. Nothing much at all. They drugged me so I was mostly unconscious through the whole – the whole thing.”

  Keegan paused. “Is that – are you happy that you can’t remember?”

  “Yes. Yes, I really am. Even from the little bit that I recall, I know that it was awful.”

  Trish stopped talking now, twisted her fingers. If ever there was a time to tell Keegan the whole, ugly, unvarnished truth, this was it.

  Because the entire truth was that even though she only had sharp, bright flashes of memory that somehow managed to force their way through the heavy, paralyzing haze of the Rohypnol, Trish did actually know everything that had happened to her. She’d watched while battling the post-drug nausea through tear-filled, bruised and blackened eyes, every inch of her battered body screaming in pain. And the whole time, she’d been in total disbelief that it was her, it was so clearly her, but she had no solid memory of any of it.

  She’d seen it with her own two eyes because Dragon had videotaped the whole thing – and he still had that video.

  It was this video that kept her chained to his hateful existence, and which gave him total control over her life. It was the source of all the blackmail, of all the fear and rage and anxiety. It was the thing that Trish was fighting to keep contained in Dragon’s safety deposit box and to keep off the internet.

  It was the one thing that she should tell Keegan about, because if she did – if just one person in her life and on her side knew about it – she’d have backup. He couldn’t do a single goddamn thing about that video, but somehow that didn’t matter. What mattered was telling him the truth, being honest and open. Trusting him with the truth that she found both enraging and shameful.

  But tonight wasn’t meant to be about Dragon and the other guy whose name she’d never learned and the videotape and the blackmail. It was supposed to be about being with Keegan in this stunning place and embracing her femininity and power. Trish wanted nothing more than to shake off all the ghosts and shadows of the past, to just step into the warmth and sunlight of the here and now.

  In this cabin with this man.

  Not in that disgusting studio on the filthy mattress with those asshole monster rapists.

  So she made a decision in those few seconds of silence as she twisted her fingers, and although it felt like the right one in that moment, it was one that she’d come to bitterly regret soon enough.

  But Trish had no idea of that yet, so she opened her mouth and she repeated:

  “I remember enough to know that it was awful, Keegan, and I don’t want to say any more than that. I mean… there is nothing more to say than that. I can’t change it and I can’t erase it from my mind totally, so what I’ve been trying so damn hard to do is move past it somehow. Just – just keep getting up every single day and fighting to build a new life when I don’t have that many chips to play. It’s like I told you that night we first met: I’m a fucking mess and a disaster area, but I’m trying to have better. Be better.”

  Slowly, watching her face the whole time, Keegan extended his hand and took hers. She didn’t tense up or pull away, didn’t even flinch, so he held her hand more strongly.

  “And like I told you in my café over our coffee date, I know that I ain’t the one buildin’ your life and takin’ your journey away from all that hell you lived through. That’s all down to you, sugar, and you’re doin’ that. I’m truly honored to walk next to you as you build and travel and at the end of the day, all’s I really want to do is hold your hand.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a small, blazing kiss on her delicate wrist. And then, just like that, Trish wanted him.

  No. Trish needed him.

  She needed his touch all over her, his lips and hands and cock. She needed his warmth and weight pressing down on her as he moved inside her body, fucking the ugly memory out of her even as he coaxed a shuddering response. She needed to be naked in his arms, wild and without any thoughts beyond more and without any words beyond please. She needed to find bliss and release with him, to give freely and take greedily and then both give and take more, without that faint tinge of shame that sex had always brought her – because in the whole of her life, she’d never had sex that was sweetly raw and brutally honest.

  Trish needed him.

  Without a word, she reached for him with her free hand, resting her palm on his cheek. Right away, those eyes turned a shimmering silver, like ripples of moonlight on waves.

  “You sure this is what you want, baby?” he asked. “Totally sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can stop everythin’ with just one word. You know that, right?”

  “I know that.”

  “Will this help, Trish?” he said quietly. “Help you… I don’t know. Claim back somethin’ of yourself that they tried to take from you? Maybe did take from you for a while?”

  Trish paused, astonished that he’d once again seen things about her that she was barely aware of herself.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I think it will.”

  “Will it be enough? Enough for you to get back whatever it was those fuckers stole?”

  “It will be more than enough, Keegan.” Trish brushed his mouth with her lips, a delicate little touch that felt like flames. “It will be everything because I’m with you.”

  He took a shuddering breath, amazed at the relief that washed over him at her calm, clear words. “Really?”

  “Yes. You’d never hurt me. Not for anything and not in a million years.”

  “I want to be everythin’ for you,” he said softly, almost afraid to say his deepest desire out loud; in some ways, it felt so soon and he’d promised her repeatedly not the rush her. But somehow in other ways, it also felt like exactly the right time. “Everythin’ that everyone who’s ever let you down never was. I want to be a good man for you, the best that it’s possible for me to be. Your breath and blood and heartbeat – ‘cause you’re becomin’ those things fo
r me, a little bit more each day.”

  She paused, touched and amazed that such tender words could be expressed in a voice like gravel. “And I want to be everything that all those women failed to be for you. I want to be honest and open and accept you – all of you. I want you to see yourself the way that I do, because you’re gorgeous, just pure gorgeousness, and I mean inside and out.”

  “We’re workin’ on all of that.” He stood now and started to lead her to the bathroom. “Me and you, we’re works in progress Trish, and there’s some real fuckin’ beauty in that, huh?”

  Trish blinked back tears at his words. What this man gave her – gave her freely and openly – was nothing short of a gift. A tiny miracle, all for her. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe it. Sometimes she thought she had to be dreaming it.

  Slowly, holding their heated gazes and taking their sweet time, they shed their clothes and let them fall to the bathroom floor in a messy, careless pile. Trish watched as Keegan removed his prosthesis and leaned it against the wall next to a massive and sumptuous chaise lounge. She licked her lips as she saw him fully naked for the first time, all carved muscles and dark tattoos; she noted that his cock was rock-hard already – and he was huge. Big enough to give her a slight pause, but also big enough to guarantee that she’d be filled to complete satisfaction and beyond.

  Their cabin had a roomy walk-in shower, one with no tub lip to step over, one with a non-slip bath mat across the entire tile floor, and Trish suddenly saw all the possibilities that were laid out before them. She smiled to herself as Keegan started the shower and checked the temperature before hopping in. He turned, one hand on the glass door to keep his balance and the other extended to her.

  “Come on in, darlin’. The water’s just fine.”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him in that way that always made him laugh and accepted his hand. She sighed as the water pummeled her shoulders, massaging out some of the residual tension from talking about the hell that had been L.A., and burrowed close to Keegan as he rested his broad back against the shower wall. His large arms were just holding her right now, nothing more. They caged her, made her feel safe and protected. When she was right here, it seemed ludicrous to worry about anything for the whole of the rest of her days. He’d never let anything get close to her, never let anything or anyone hurt her ever again. Trish closed her eyes and relaxed totally, let her body go limp and soft against his.

  Keegan poured some fragrant body wash into his palm. “Come here now, sugar. Let me wash you.”

  She sighed again, more deeply this time, as his hands moved over her, making soapy circles on her breasts, her back, her thighs. His touch became sensual, slow, and she suddenly found herself spreading her legs wider, giving him access to her hot center.

  “Hmmm,” he said in that amused tone that she adored. “Someone wants to be touched, I see.”

  “Not just touched.” She arched against his rough fingers as he slipped into her warmth. “Kissed.”

  “Yeah?” He was breathless with the urge to make her come on his mouth again; doing that just once was not enough with Trish, he needed to experience that wild abandon and sweet honey over and over until he died. “You sure?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sure.”

  He lifted her chin, needing to see her eyes. “Say it again.”

  “I want you to kiss me, Keegan.” She flushed under his intense stare, but didn’t look away. “Kiss me until I come… make me come.”

  Without another word, he dropped to his one knee in front of her, using the wall for balance before placing his hands on her hips. He gently shoved her back until she was against the wall, trapped between the cool of the tile and the heat of Keegan. He kissed her flat stomach, the tops of her curvy thighs, the delicate area just above her slick entrance. She sucked in a breath and he glanced up at her, checking in.

  “OK?”

  In response, her hands went to the back of his head, urging him to come closer. He complied, using his fingers to open her lips. He spread them carefully and when he saw her clit nestled in there, all pink and wet, he groaned.

  “I have to taste you,” he said, his voice guttural. “I promise to take care of you, Trish, make you feel good. Take care of every single fuckin’ need that you have.”

  “I want you to.” She pressed on his head again. “Please, babe. Please taste me. Take care of me.”

  Without another second of hesitation, he was on her. Trish had no control over the deep moan that rolled out from her chest when his tongue found her taut bud and went about slowly and methodically making Trish lose her goddamn mind. With long, steady strokes he teased her, first attacking her clit, then leaning back to suck every drop of arousal from her folds. She was so fucking sweet and pure, and he drank her in like a man who’d crossed a desert under a blazing sun. He was parched and starved – and the only thing that could slake his thirst and need was her.

  Trish felt the sensations build in her steadily, one hungry lick at a time, one teasing flick after another. When he groaned against her, the sound torn from deep in his throat, she felt the vibration all the way to her toes. Carefully, watching her eyes the whole time for her silent assent, Keegan lifted her leg and dropped it over his shoulder, spreading her even wider to him. When he slid two fingers inside her, she threw her head back against the tile and rode his mouth, totally enslaved to the feelings and her own growing need.

  “Oh, God,” she said, her voice high and strained. “Keegan… that’s so good. So fucking good.”

  He pushed deeper, stroking her inside even as he stroked her outside. The pressure grew, got out of control, and she held onto his shoulders for dear life. He felt her shaking and dug his fingers into her hip, holding her up. Trish was sure that if he didn’t, her leg would give out beneath her and she’d be on the floor next to him in a soaked, begging heap.

  Higher and tighter, deeper and wider, the pleasure was all she knew anymore. There was nothing else, not anywhere else, and she gave herself over to it more fully than she’d ever yielded in her life. When the wave broke, it broke hard and her cries of release echoed around the bathroom. He stayed with her, her clit between his lips and on his tongue, until the clenching on his fingers buried so deep inside her slowed and then stopped. Trish kept her eyes shut tight, still locked in a haze of pleasure, dizzy and panting and already aching for more, for everything. Keegan slid his fingers out of her slowly and she tensed as he grazed her swollen bud, moaned again.

  He gently lowered her shaking leg, set her foot on the shower mat. He used the gleaming silver shower bar drilled into the wall and pulled himself up, then leaned against her, holding her upright with his frame of solid muscle. She clung to him, her face buried in his chest, knowing that there was nowhere better on earth to be right now. The water ran over their flushed bodies, calming and cleansing. At last, she opened her eyes at last and looked up at him.

  “That was amazing,” she said, her voice a bit hoarser than usual. “You’re so damn hot. So… good.”

  “Yeah, you said that, darlin’.” He grinned down at her, loving the lingering taste of her sweetness on his tongue. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Hmmmm.” There was that throaty sound again, the one he’d come to crave, and his cock hardened even more. He’d been so damn close to exploding when he felt her come, but somehow he’d managed to stay in control.

  Fuckin’ barely, though. Close goddamn call, man.

  “I do think so,” she said pertly and pushed her soaking hair back off her face. “You know what else I think?”

  “Nope. Enlighten me.”

  “I think that I want to taste you.”

  He started. “Trish… you don’t have to… are you sure… you…I’d love…”

  She smiled at his stuttering and stammering. Nothing like watching an ice-cool ex-special-ops guy go to pieces a little bit; it made him absolutely endearing. “Is that a yes?”

  “Oh, Christ. You’d better believe that’s a yes – bu
t only if you’re sure. You don’t have to do nothin’ you don’t want to…”

  Her response was to sink to her knees now, all elegance and grace. Keegan held his breath as she took him in her hand and stroked him gently. She dropped her head back and met his eyes before licking his length, up and down, her tongue swirling around the tip in a sassy little move as she released him.

  “So. Does it look like I’m sure?” she said. “Like I’m doing exactly what I want to do, here with you?”

  Literally unable to speak, Keegan nodded.

  She nodded back, then in one swift movement, she took him in her mouth. Keegan exhaled hard, suddenly realizing that one of his dark and dirty fantasies had just roared to life. At the thought, his back arched and he slammed his palms flat against the glass shower door behind him to regain his balance. “God, Trish. I’ve dreamt about this, baby. Wanted it for so long… imagined it… you have no fuckin’ idea.”

  Her answer was to take him deeper. With a groan, he gently grasped her hair with one hand, pulling her closer and tighter, loving how his cock just disappeared into the softness of her sweet mouth. He wanted to thrust as hard and fast as he could, but he somehow managed to maintain a degree of control.

  She pulled back a bit, her hand still stroking him. “Tell me how you dreamt it.”

  “What?” He goggled down at her. “Uh – what?”

  “When you imagined me doing this… how did you want it?” She mouthed kisses on the head, licking at the salty pre-cum. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t know…” He stalled, sure he’d scare her.

  “I won’t give you anything you don’t ask for, honey cake.” She grinned up at him, clearly enjoying his visible torment. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I’ll show you,” he said hoarsely.

  “Show me.”

  Gently, he eased her back a few feet on the floor, pushing her back closer to the tile wall, the one with the silver handle. He grasped the bar firmly in one hand and leaned on his massive forearm, making sure that he was steady and centered. Then so slowly, Keegan took her slim wrists in his free hand and raised them above her head slowly, pressed them against the wall, held them there in a loose grip. Leaning hard on his fingertips so as not to bruise her delicate skin, he briefly released the handle and gripped her long hair again. He tugged her rosebud mouth back to his cock, smiled at the smoky desire in those purple eyes, then released her and gripped the handle once more, clinging on for dear fucking life. Christ, the way that she was kneeling and gazing up at him, totally supplicant and eager, was the hottest thing that Keegan had ever known.