by KB Winters
“Yes. We have a whole list of ideas on themes and advertising and setup.”
“Great,” I forced myself to infuse cheeriness in my voice. I regretted snapping at her on the patio outside Carly’s, especially with the entire staff peering at us through the windows. “Listen, Lana, I’m sorry about before. A lot is going on and I lost my cool.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Rosen. I understand. And I’m sorry about what I said at the meeting. I was out of line.” Her voice was small and pinched like she was holding back tears.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of guilt ran over me, hot and smothering. “It’s all right, Lana. Already forgotten. I shouldn’t have shouted like that.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Rosen. I didn’t take it personally,” she replied, her voice brightening. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not right now. Please apologize to everyone. Let them know their pay will continue as long as the investigation runs. I don’t want them worried about money on top of everything else.”
“Okay. Will do.” She paused and I could imagine her scribbling the notes on her clipboard. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Rosen. And remember, I’m only a call away.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant but I decided to take it as a show of support instead of an insinuation. It was no secret that Lana had the hots for me, but she’d never made an attempt at a move before, or even anything that could really be considered open flirtation.
Then again, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she knew how to flirt.
I pushed all those thoughts from my mind. “Thank you, Lana. I’ll get in touch when things are wrapped up and we can start planning the reopening.”
I clicked off the call and pocketed the phone once again. The silence fell back over the cul-de-sac like a thick blanket. In the distance, the ocean waves provided a faint backdrop of white noise, with gulls crying out every few minutes, but other than that, there was nothing. No passing cars. No pedestrians. Not even any noise or movement from the other houses in the small circle.
I flattened my back against the side of the car, trying to adjust to a more comfortable way of standing. My eyes came to rest on Gemma’s small house and I wondered what about it had caught her eye. It was a bungalow-style home with a small porch in the front. It was painted a light green, but from the looks of it, that had been at least a decade ago. It struck me as odd that the previous owners hadn’t thought to spruce it up before putting it on the market. Holiday Cove was quickly turning into a ritzy little town. A sleepy small town retreat for the wealthy.
If O’Keefe got his way, that would all change. Maybe that was his overall vision. To build the West Coast version of the luxe beach town. I had to give him credit for a brilliant idea. If he could pull it off, it would make a shit load of money.
Too bad he was such a piece of shit. Otherwise, I might have actually been interested in investing.
I crossed my arms and scanned up and down the sidewalk, though I hadn’t heard any change in activity around me, and sure enough, nothing was happening.
Where was Gemma? She’d mentioned it would take a while, and while logically I knew that not that much time had passed, the silence made the time pass at a deceptive rate.
I peeked at my phone and groaned when I saw that only seven minutes had passed since we’d clicked off the call. It was going to be a very long afternoon.
32
Eventually, I gave up on standing vigil by the side of the Jeep and parked my ass back in the driver’s seat, where I spent the next hour tapping out a beat with my thumbs on the steering wheel, scanning the street, and trying not to fall asleep.
Nearly two hours later, Gemma’s car pulled into the cul-de-sac and curved into her driveway. I hopped out of the cab and hurried to meet her, expecting that she’d have a lot of shopping bags in tow from her busy afternoon of errands. But when I reached her, she was stalking up the driveway flipping through the ring of keys in her hands without so much as a nod in my direction.
“Gemma!” I barked, all of my impatience and frustration over waiting channeled out into a single word.
She ignored me, but her shoulders bunched up closer to her ears as she stomped a few more steps toward her front door.
“What the hell? You’re just not talking to me now?” I matched her steps and took a firm stance beside her on the porch as she worked the key in the lock for the deadbolt.
She cut a glance to me and I swear an arctic burst hit me in the chest.
I reached over and stopped her hands that were still twisting the key. “Gemma?” I softened my voice. “Let me help—”
“I can do it!” She exploded, flinging her hands up, pulling the key from the lock.
“Why the hell are you pissed at me?” I demanded, reaching for the keys anyway.
She whirled to face me, her eyes blazing and dark. “Fuck, Aaron. This is insane. Literally insane!” The keys flew from her grasp at the jerky movement and clattered down to the welcome mat at our feet.
I whipped a look around the quiet neighborhood, doing a quick sweep. “Hey, hey, calm down. I know you’re upset, but we gotta keep it together, okay?”
She stared at me another beat, her glare sparking with fire, before jerking over to snatch the keys from the welcome mat. She flipped a couple more keys, muttering something indiscernible under her breath, then jammed the keys back into the knob, twisted, and practically kicked the front door open as soon as the lock clicked free.
I stared after her for a moment, stunned into silence at her tirade, and then followed behind. I shut the door.
“—call me and expect me to drop everything—never even asked—hospital is going to think—” she was ranting and raving from the kitchen and all I could catch were fragments of her mutterings.
I followed the sound of her fury and found her stalking into a room off the kitchen. To my surprise, she stripped her scrub top off over her head and reached behind her to unclasp her bra as she stomped ahead.
My temperature—and my cock—rose at the sight of her bare back.
“Gemma! I get that you’re pissed off. Believe me, I am too. But you gotta slow down and let me explain.”
She had disappeared from my sight, deeper into the dimly lit room, and as much as I wanted to follow and see the rest of her as she stripped out of her work clothes, I knew it wasn’t the best plan. There would be time for that later. When she wasn’t so angry with me. Although, the idea of her fired up and passionate sounded like fun.
I shook my head, clearing the swarm of images and longings away.
She reappeared seconds later, wearing a black tank top that was suctioned to her every curve and line and left a good two inches of her flat stomach above the waist of her low rise jeans. She was in the process of tying her hair up into a short ponytail on the top of her head and looked at me expectantly as her fingers worked to secure the hair tie. “I’m listening. Explain.”
With a sigh I launched into the full story about the call with O’Keefe and his threat—disguised as a throwaway comment—and by the time I finished, Gemma had plunked down at her small kitchen table. All of her wrath and fury had dampened.
Instead, she just looked tired.
“So he knows my name?” She asked, her voice small.
“No. Or at least if he does, he didn’t use it.”
She gave a shallow nod, her eyes drifting to some point on the wall, staring, unblinking as she processed everything I’d told her.
I closed the gap between us and squatted down in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Gemma. Believe me, never, in a million years, would have knowingly dragged you into this shit storm.”
Her eyes flicked back to mine and for a minute we stared at one another in silence. Passing understanding between ourselves without words or movement besides the frantic searching of our eyes as they met. “I believe you.”
“I’m going to figure a way out of this,” I told her, reaching for her hands. “And in the meantime, I’ll keep yo
u safe and make sure nothing happens.”
Gemma stared at me for another beat, and my lips parted, readying to kiss her, but then just like the shifting of the wind, her eyes rolled and she blew out a frustrated puff of air. She stood and sidestepped me on the floor and stalked to the kitchen sink. “See, Aaron, right there, that’s the kind of shit you need to stop doing.”
I straightened faster than the stitches in my side wanted and my hand went to the spot at the stab of pain before I could turn to face her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“This whole macho protector thing, like I’m some kind of dainty ass flower who can’t handle herself. I’m not some party girl you picked up at a bar who’s had one too many and needs a big strong guy to take her home and make sure she doesn’t get mugged or worse. Hell, I’ve never been that girl. All right? I’m a capable fuckin’ woman who doesn’t need a babysitter.” She stared at me, her eyes ablaze again, daring me to cross her. “So, if you’re looking for a damsel in distress to rescue, like if that’s what gets you up, then you’re in the wrong place.”
I took a menacing step toward her, my blood pressure spiking, and my heart slamming into my ribs so hard I was afraid it would cause permanent damage. “You’re my woman and it’s my job to protect you. So, back down and let me handle this.”
She squared her shoulder. “Your woman?” She scoffed. “Last time I checked this was the twenty-first century. So, unless you have a cave to stomp off to, you need to check yourself. I’m not your possession or property so you don’t need to defend me. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a soldier too. I’ve been to war and seen shit that very few people could even comprehend. I know how to use any gun you put into my hands. And if you weren’t injured, I’d knock your fuckin’ ass to the ground right here just to prove my point.”
My hands twitched at my sides. I didn’t want to strike at her. No, not at all. I’d never hit a woman. But it was tempting to wrestle her to the kitchen floor and pin her to show her that no matter what her training was—she wasn’t big and bad enough to take me down.
Instead, I threw my hands into the air. “So, let me make sure I understand. You think that if I want to protect you and keep you safe that it must mean that I’m some kind of underdeveloped Neanderthal? It couldn’t possibly be because I’m falling in love with you and couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you?”
Gemma reared back like I’d slapped her across the face and put a hand to the counter to stabilize herself. My heart skipped and sputtered as my words echoed back to me.
The craziest thing was that even though they had been wrenched out in the heat of the moment, I didn’t regret them.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Gemma finally said, shaking her head. “You’re just caught up in the drama.”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” I grabbed her hand and held it tight, forcing her attention back to my eyes. “Gemma, please pack some things. I need you to come back with me. I need to know you’re safe.”
She stared up at me, her face a mix of confusion and the slightly dampened urge to fight with me. “Aaron, I’m—” Whatever she started to say flitted away as I slipped my fingers along her jawline and cupped her face in my hand, careful not to scratch her with the edge of my cast.
“Don’t make me ask again, Gemma. Please just do this for me.”
After another long moment, she nodded. “Come on.”
She tugged on my hand and led me into the room she’d changed in. It was a small room, possibly intended to be used as a den or an office, since it didn’t have a closet, but Gemma had it set up like a bedroom with a queen-sized bed wedged against the wall, a nightstand with a metallic reading lamp, and a dresser on the other wall with barely a foot of space between the drawers and the end of the mattress.
“The upstairs is being remodeled,” she offered as an explanation as I perused the room. “I’m knocking down one of the walls to expand the master and add an en suite bathroom.”
“You’re knocking down the walls?” I shifted my gaze up to the ceiling, curious to see the construction site above.
“I started it, but I have a team coming in next week to finish the job. It should be another couple of weeks until it’s all done. And in the meantime, this is my bedroom.”
“Cozy,” I said, grinning at her.
“Cramped is more like it.” As though to prove her point, she stepped over a cardboard box of clothing that looked as though it had been rummaged through on multiple occasions, and yet never fully unpacked. I chuckled softly as I watched her gather some clothing from the overflow. She shot me a dark look. “I could stop packing at any moment, ya know.”
I chuckled and held up my hands. “I’m not judging. I’m just thinking I’ve seen barracks with a hundred enlisted and they might have been more organized than all this. I guess the Army doesn’t teach efficient packing techniques.”
She chucked a tank top at my head. Followed by a balled up pair of socks. “Pack away, Navy boy.”
I grabbed the items, still smiling, and looked for a bag to put them in. Within a few minutes, she’d tossed—hurled—a pile of clothes at me and fished an Army duffel from under the bed for me to pack them into. While I finished packing the item, sarcastically offering her hints and tips on proper packing techniques, she left to go to the next door bathroom and grab her toiletries.
“See,” I said, my voice teasing, as she handed me the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, “look at all this space. That’s how the Navy packs a bag.”
Gemma launched herself at me and pinned me down flat on the bed. “Ya wanna keep running your mouth, sailor? Or you think you can find something better to do with it?”
“I’d rather find something better for you to do with yours.” I grinned up at her.
She tightened her grip on my wrist. I wrapped my casted arm around her and pulled her down closer. When she was close enough, I raised my head from the bed and captured her mouth.
Every emotion and remnant of fear and frustration channeled into the kiss that went from zero to sixty in three seconds flat.
Gemma moaned softly as I parted her lips with my tongue and ran it over the surface of hers. She loosened her grip on my wrist and I took advantage of her distraction to flip her over onto her back. She grinned up at me. “So it’s like that, huh?”
“I’m The Player, baby. I always win.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes, but her mocking quickly dissolved as I seared her lips with another intense kiss. Within minutes, we were stripping one another, and our bodies melted together like hot wax. I was in no mood to go slow and tease and caress her. I wanted to be buried inside her, working out my frustrations in a fit of hot passion.
When Gemma’s clothes were all lying on the floor, joining the mess of other clothes, she managed to wrangle me out of my jeans, jacket, and shirt, and was working on tugging down the waist of my boxers.
She was in just as much of a hurry as I was.
I grinned up at her as my cock sprang free from my boxer briefs and she let them drop to the floor. “Now, what was it I was saying about keeping your mouth busy…”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure…” she teased, stroking her fingers up my dick. I shuddered at her feather-light touch that set my skin on fire.
“Gemma,” I hissed, as her fingers closed around my balls and caressed them slowly. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Why not? It’s fun watching you squirm.”
“I’ll make you regret it,” I warned, smiling at her.
She took a step closer, her perky nipples brushing against my chest. “Oh, now I’m worried.”
“A glutton for punishment, huh?”
She shrugged but licked her lips slowly. “Depends on the punishment.”
Fuck, she’s sexy.
My cock twitched against her thigh, and she smiled up at me, her hand still wrapped around my balls, stroking them absently. I reached behind her, sliding my flat ha
nd down her low back, over the curve of her ass, and then raised it a few inches. “Last warning, Gemma.”
She flashed a devil may care smile and I took the invitation to slap her bare ass. It was a light, playful slap, but enough to make her shiver.
With a smile, she climbed up onto her bed and got on all fours, positioning herself for me to continue.
Which I gladly did.
I smacked her ass again and she moaned. When I slipped a finger between her cheeks, and through her folds, I grinned at how drenched and ready she was. I grabbed a condom from her bedside table and slipped it on before I delivered another slap.
“Harder,” Gemma said, her voice delirious with lust.
I teased her with the tip of my cock and then slapped her ass again, with my flat palm, this time leaving a red mark on her fair skin.
To my surprise—and delight—she continued begging for more and when I entered her, she spasmed and contracted so much I thought she came with the first thrust. I gave her a new spanking before each thrust and her ass cheek was bright red from the repeated slaps. I hadn’t hit her hard enough to make it bruise, but the mark would likely remain red for the rest of the night. The thought excited me and made me want to mark her in other ways.
“Are you going to behave, Gemma? And let me take care of you?”
“Uh-huh,” she groaned.
I thrust deeper inside her and her groan became more urgent and needy. “Good girl.” I rubbed the tender spot on her bare ass, massaging the mark. She spread her legs wider and I thrust harder and deeper still. She arched, begging for release, when I felt myself thicken. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. I didn’t want to.
Before I came, I tore off the condom and pulled out at the last second and shot my load all over her bare ass. Gemma was moaning from her own release as I rubbed the jizz onto her skin. She sank down to the mattress and blew out a puff of air and I lay down beside her, for the first time feeling the stitches in my side protesting against my vigor.