Keegan (Wounded Hero Book 1)

by Marysol James

  “Is that so?”

  “Mmm-hmmm. You’ve done me in.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Maybe I need to lie down now.”

  “That’s what you think, huh?”

  “Yep.” She cocked her head. “I think maybe I need to be fully horizontal.”

  Without a word, without even a sound, he flipped her off his lap and over onto her stomach on the lounge. Trish gasped, the wind knocked out of her for a second, and she lowered her forehead to the cushions. By the time she’d raised her head and looked over her shoulder, he was rolling on a condom. Right away, she started to turn to face him, and he shook his dark head at her.

  “You stay where I put you,” he grated out as he placed himself behind her, his foot planted firmly on the floor. “You said that you wanted to lie down baby, so down you get and don’t you move even one inch unless I do the movin’.”

  Roughly, he hauled her lower body up, tilted her hips up higher. She leaned forward, her weight on her elbows, her fingers gripping the elegant lounge arm, and held her breath in anticipation of that first thrust. And when it came – oh, dear God, when it came – she was thrown forward by its sweet force.

  Keegan held her hips tightly as he moved inside Trish’s lovely, curvy body at long last. He plunged deeper with every thrust, moved deeper into her snug, soaked warmth with every push. He wanted to last, he wanted to have it go on forever, but it wasn’t going to happen. Not with the way that she was moaning and pushing back against him, impaling herself on his cock; not with the way that her hot little pussy tugged and pulled on him, her internal muscles tightening and releasing on him, still hungry and pulsing from her two orgasms. It was better than anything he’d ever known before, better than any fantasy that he’d had of Trish. It was sheer, mind-blowing perfection and he never wanted it to end.

  He lowered himself over her back, his hands clenched into fists on either side of her and digging into the lounge cushions. She whimpered as this new position rubbed his length against her clit with every slide in and glide out.

  “Sugar,” he muttered into her ear, his movements turning almost savage in their intensity as he gave all his pent-up desire permission to break free. “You need to come again, and you need to do it now. ‘Cause I’m so fuckin’ close, but I ain’t going without you.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, struggling to brace herself up on her hands, wondering how she’d lived as long as she had without knowing how it felt to have Keegan’s cock inside her. “I don’t know – I can’t –”

  “You can,” he rasped. “You sure as hell can… and you will.”

  He slid one hand around her body, back between her legs. He rolled her clit between his fingers, and when she cried out and bucked against him in wild abandon, he pinched that tender pearl. Just a bit; just enough. And Trish’s whole body dissolved in the molten lava of her release.

  “Fuck, yes,” Keegan growled, and let himself finally take his own pleasure. He pushed deep – as deep as he could go – and then held himself there. His large body strained, tensed… and he rode the undulating, pulsing waves, just let them wash over him, crash over him, over and over, before slowly relaxing.

  Trish’s strength failed her now and she fell forward onto her elbows, her forehead against the lounge arm. Right away, Keegan curled himself around her shaking body, just clasped her to his heaving chest. He kissed her shoulders and the back of her neck; he murmured soothing words in her ear as she slowly recovered. And when she took a deep breath and turned to look into his eyes, his heart burst wide open at the dazed sweetness he saw in her own.

  “God,” she said, still panting a bit. “That was incredible.”

  “It wasn’t bad,” Keegan said teasingly as he pulled out of her body with nothing but regret, already wanting her again.

  “Wasn’t bad?” she echoed. “You think it can get better?”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Yeah, OK.” She gave a small laugh as his eyes sparked with a competitive flare. “It’s a challenge, honey cake.”

  He turned her in his arms, pulled her to him and under him. She squealed in surprise and clung to his neck as she sank into the deep cushions, trapped under his massive body and weight. He wrapped her legs around his waist, his cock already hardening as he felt her slick softness. She smiled and rubbed herself against him, watched those incredible silver eyes turn hot and intense once more.

  “Challenge accepted, baby,” he said as he lowered his head to kiss her, a sweet and gentle kiss “Challenge sure as hell accepted.”

  They stayed like that for several minutes, kissing and murmuring, too exhausted to move, too comfortable to want to separate. Keegan’s fingers were stroking the curve of her hips and her lips were on his shoulders, licking the last few drops of water from them.

  He raised her chin. “OK?”

  “Uh-huh.” Trish looked down at her heated, flushed body. “But I think we need another shower.”

  He groaned. “I can’t stand up.”

  She laughed, ran her hands over the tattoos on his upper back and shoulders. She touched the raised marks left by her nails and paused when she saw a bit of blood. “This OK? Where I clawed at you like a damn wildcat?”

  “Oh, yeah. No problem, baby.”

  “You’re indestructible, right?”

  “Well, I thought I was.” He kissed her, slow and languid, feeling like every muscle and bone had disintegrated. “But you may be the one to finish me off.”

  “Maybe.” She grinned. “But just imagine how much fun we’ll have while I try, honey cake.”

  “But if you carry on like that, on your mission to polish me off, how will I have the energy to make the cinnamon rolls tomorrow mornin’?”

  She cocked her head at him, her hair spread out on the lounge around her. “Really? You brought all the stuff to make cinnamon rolls?”

  “I promised, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So.” Keegan dropped a tiny kiss on her nose. “I brought all the stuff.”

  “Ohhhh,” she said, blinking those eyes in angelic blue innocence. “And I’m to stay in bed tomorrow morning and wait to be served?”

  “Damn straight you stay in bed, but it ain’t to be served,” Keegan growled. “Remember what I said about the icin’? Doin’ what I did with the maple syrup?”

  At his words, the still-hot spot between her legs twitched, got hotter. “Yes.”

  “So. You know what I’m plannin’ to do to you.” Those silver eyes held her whole, paralyzed and breathless. “And if you’re a good girl, you get coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls after.”

  They smiled at each other, genuine affection and heat between them, so real and solid that it was almost tangible.

  In this moment and this time, all wrapped up in Keegan’s arms on this decadent chaise lounge, Trish could almost forget all of her troubles and worries. And when she curled up against his broad chest in bed later, cocooned in the warmth and safety of his massive body, Monday and its wretched meeting with Bulldog seemed very, very far away. So far away that it was insignificant, like it involved someone that she didn’t even know.

  So when Trish shut her eyes with a happy sigh and drifted off to sleep at Open Skies, she didn’t know that she was floating on a cloud in a fool’s paradise.

  She had no idea what was about to enter her life.

  **

  Paul Villiers saw all the lights go off in Thalia’s cabin, lowered his high-power binoculars and shook his head. Jesus Christ. Callum was going to lose his goddamn mind.

  OK, sure, Paul hadn’t actually seen the dumb slut fucking the big dark-haired guy, but Paul really didn’t have to: he’d seen them kiss outside Thalia’s place back in Denver, followed them up here to Open Skies Ranch set in some dead-end place called Clarity, seen them kissing after horseback riding, watched them enter a cabin alone.

  So, yeah. He could put the puzzle pieces together, even if a few were unclear (like, who the hell was the other woman, the one
with the kid? It didn’t really matter, though, so Paul had no plans to figure it out). And he hadn’t had Thalia and her stud in his sights all day, simply because Open Skies had a gate all around it and a security guard in a little booth at the entrance. Paul had spotted cameras everywhere around the road and on the buildings, and even though the cabins and main office backed directly on to the mountains, Paul wasn’t about to attempt an approach that way.

  First, he wasn’t kitted out for mountain climbing and second, he was 100% sure that there would be cameras facing that way too. The place was a goddamn fortress and so he’d been forced to park in a patch of trees way the hell away from the ranch and rely on binoculars. He couldn’t attract the attention of the guard, after all.

  But the fact that he hadn’t seen every single little thing, that he hadn’t actually crept up to the cabin and peeked through the windows, didn’t mean jack-shit right now and he knew it.

  Callum’s gonna lose his motherfucking mind.

  Still staring at the darkened cabin, Paul lit a cigarette and took a deep pull, thinking back to the phone conversation he’d had with Thalia two mornings before. It had been very, very weird from beginning to end and that was when Paul had had nothing but suspicions, just a nagging and niggling little feeling that Thalia was hiding something. The idea that she was, in actual fact, hiding someone was not going to fly with Callum. Oh no, not even a tiny bit. It was the one thing that right from the beginning of this miserable assignment, Paul had thought was a serious trigger for Callum to do something apocalyptic. Quite possibly the only one.

  And now it was here.

  He flicked the cigarette out into the road, pulled out his cell, and braced himself for the call to Callum. He knew Callum ‘Dragon’ Decker well and had done for a long time, and the one thing to be said about the man was that he always had a plan. The Dragon was the master of the end game and he never set foot into anything without one eye already on the exit, the goal, the whole damn reason for engaging in the first place.

  Callum had plans for Thalia and a single phone call from Paul was going to set them in motion. Whatever happened next, Paul hoped against hope that his part was over and he could get on a plane soon. He wanted out.

  Paul was a hard man, a man who’d kicked the crap out of an uncountable number of others on Callum’s orders – but he had the feeling that whatever was coming for Thalia Flame, Paul didn’t want to be anywhere close to it.

  He sighed and pressed the number ‘1’ on his cell, all set up to speed-dial Callum. As he heard the ringing in his ear and his disquiet grew exponentially, he shot the cabin one more look.

  Thalia Flame, I actually pity you.

  Chapter 13

  Four days later

  Trish moaned as Keegan’s large hands skimmed the length of her body. She was naked and wild under his touch, her every nerve ending on fire, her every thought completely focused on what he was going to do to her next, her every feeling a helpless yearning wail for more more more.

  He always had this effect on her – even when she was reliving these moments in her mind. Her body was his, utterly and wholly, and she’d surrendered herself to the beautiful inevitability of it. She felt no fear, no hesitation, no shame. She was where she was meant to be, at long last.

  A faint buzzing noise intruded on her bliss, but it stopped and she relaxed back into the warmth of Keegan’s body. Then another buzzing sound – and another.

  Keegan paused, looked over at her purse on the chair. They’d made it as far as his living room sofa before they’d fallen on each other with hunger and need. Trish followed his look, blinked as yet another buzz brought her fully back to reality.

  “Your phone?” he asked her. “You think you’d better get it?”

  “It’s a bunch of texts for sure.” She sat up with a sigh and her hair tickled her hardened nipples. Damn, she wished it was Keegan’s lips doing that, so she hoped that they could get back to what they were doing soon enough. “It’s probably Nora asking about Meredith’s new medication. She hasn’t gotten the hang of the dosage yet.”

  “Well, then, call her back, sugar. Nothin’ more important than Meredith’s health. And anyway…” He gave her a saucy grin. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  She laughed and accepted her purse from his outstretched hand. She fumbled around and fished out her cell as Keegan ambled off to the kitchen in just his boxers.

  “A glass of water?” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, thanks.” Trish gave him a sassy, teasing grin of her own. “We’d better hydrate, huh?”

  “Damn right, darlin’.”

  She paused to appreciate Keegan’s broad, tattooed back, then returned her attention to the phone in her hand. There was a box telling her that she had five new text messages from a number that she didn’t recognize, so she tapped on the notice and then stared in horror at the first message:

  78 WARRING STREET UNIT 4. NO MONEY. YOU HAVE FORTY MINUTES.

  With trembling fingers, she opened the next message and it said:

  DON’T KEEP ME WAITING. YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU DO.

  Then with nothing but dread she read:

  HI TO KEEGAN AND PLEASE TELL HIM THAT HE MAKES A MEAN CUP OF COFFEE AND HIS CROISSANTS ARE FAB. TRULY.

  Trish didn’t even bother to read the last two messages that surely had to be from Bulldog (who else could they be from? He’d obviously changed phone numbers to fuck with her head. Also, why this meeting so soon after the one on Monday, when she’d dropped the money into his oily, slimy little hand); she knew what the last messages would say and that was nothing good. Without a word, she shot to her feet, looked around for her discarded clothes and started to pull them on at roughly the speed of light.

  “Hey.” Keegan surveyed her panicked dressing with alarm. “What the hell, baby?”

  Calm, calm. Get out of here but without him.

  “Yeah, it’s all OK,” she said, fighting to sound unworried as she zipped her jeans with trembling fingers. “Nora has to go help her daughter and grandson with something, so she has to leave. But of course, she can’t leave Meredith on her own.”

  “Shit.” He came back from the kitchen, a concerned look on his face. “Is the grandbaby sick?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She pulled her shoes on, stared hard at her feet as she tied the laces to keep her thoughts focused enough to lie convincingly. “Nora’s daughter just got called into work and needs Granny to babysit. It’s the domino effect, you know? Her daughter has to go, so Nora has to go…” She got to her feet and gave him what she hoped was a normal smile even as she gazed just beyond his shoulder. “So I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, no.” He gave her a quick hug and she held her breath to stop her trembling. “I get it. Duty calls, and that’s the deal.”

  “I guess an ex-soldier type understands that, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “OK, so…” Trish took a deep pull of air, continued to avoid those silver eyes. “I’ll call you later? We can reschedule?”

  “Do that, sugar. I’ll be waitin’. Hi to Meredith.”

  She flashed him a smile then bolted for the door. Keegan watched her go, knowing that his expression and body language were giving nothing nothing away – he was quite the expert at the poker face, thanks to years of black-ops undercover work – then as soon as the door shut behind her, he grabbed his own clothes and boots. He dressed at warp speed, put his coat on as he dashed to the truck out back, started the engine and waited until he saw Trish’s car heading down the street – in the opposite direction from Meredith’s place.

  Mmmm-hmmm. Thought so. I knew that she was lyin’ through her pretty little teeth. The woman has more tells than anyone I’ve ever known.

  Slowly, with nothing but a bad feeling, Keegan followed her. He kept his distance and his cool… but there was no way that he could have prepared himself for what he was driving towards. Not in a hundred years.

  Chapter 14

  T
rish pulled up at 78 Warring Street, stared at her GPS coordinates, then around at the group of wrecked and falling-down buildings. Number 4, the one that had been specified in the text, looked like a large, abandoned warehouse of some kind and it definitely wasn’t even remotely similar to one of their usual meet-up and drop-off places. That asshole Bulldog liked to switch things up sometimes, though, so she shrugged a bit and got out of her car with a sigh. She pulled her collar up higher against the biting late-autumn wind, hurried into the second-last building on the left at the end of a long, dilapidated row of brick facades.

  As she walked through the empty concrete and brick space, she reflected on all the unusual things about this meeting, beyond the fact that Bulldog had always preferred cafés and parks with bars nearby. Warring Street was far, far out of the way, out of the city limits and quite a distance off the highway. That was weird. Also – and this was the oddest thing of all – the texts hadn’t mentioned money except to say to bring none. Since the main reason for showing up to see Bulldog was the cash (and the thrill of her panic, naturally), it was bizarre that he’d demanded her presence empty-handed.

  Whatever the hell this new game was, Trish was definitely not a fan. She had zero choice about playing, though, and she knew that all too well.

  She paused now and looked warily around the massive room. She assumed that there were more open spaces, interlocked and leading into one another naturally, like the layout that a factory or storage place would have. Trish hesitated, not sure which way to go: the large room had several arched doorways heading off in all different directions – and so far, she’d heard nothing at all to indicate the presence of another human. Bulldog was probably skulking in some dark corner from an elevated position, enjoying her rattled nerves and uncertainty. She wouldn’t put it past the asshole to jump out of the shadows and yell “Boo!”

  “Hello?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, turning in a slow circle as she tried to see if idiot-face was peeping out from behind a shelf or something equally creepy. “Hello – ummmm…” Not knowing the prick’s name was a real issue in situations like this. “I’m here. It’s – it’s Trish.”