Guts & Glory: Walker (In the Shadows Security Book 4)

by Jeanne St. James

  “Eat,” he finished for her with a grin.

  Heat flickered in her eyes. “Yes, eat.”

  Now he was tempted to push back dinner for an hour and a half. Before he decided to do that, he said, “Forty-five minutes,” more to get himself in motion than to remind her.

  Fuck.

  If he wasn’t going to work out at the gym, he at least needed to run to keep his leg muscles in condition.

  He forced himself to turn and walk away from Ellie and go for a fucking run.

  Chapter Ten

  His running blade was made from carbon fiber. That’s what he had said while she stood in the kitchen staring at him.

  He had walked in the front door and headed to the kitchen first thing to grab a glass of ice water.

  Ellie had pretty much lost her tongue and her breath as he stood by the sink downing the water so quickly that some of it didn’t make it into his mouth but instead dripped off his chin onto his chest. Which was also shirtless and glistening with sweat.

  Seeing him standing there, his head back, gulping cold water, his throat undulating as he swallowed, she just took in everything that was right in the world when it came to Trace.

  If it wasn’t for his carbon fiber running blade prosthesis that made up his left leg below the knee, he’d be perfect.

  No.

  That wasn’t right.

  Even with that, he was perfect. From the damp blond hair on his head, his intense blue eyes, his handsome face, his body...

  Oh yes, his body.

  All muscle goodness wrapped in a tight tan package. The man even had a six-pack.

  Who had the kind of six-pack that didn’t belong in a fridge?

  Not George. No, George wanted to live the easy life. Socializing and making money. He only did the minimum not to get fat by playing a lot of golf and tennis. That was it.

  His body certainly hadn’t been honed like Trace’s was. She’d never complained because true attraction and love were never only about someone’s appearance. With Trace...

  He had it all.

  And when he finally put the glass down on the counter, he was looking at her with concern.

  Probably because she hadn’t said a damn word since he walked into the kitchen and started explaining about his running blade, though she hadn’t asked.

  It wasn’t like she wasn’t interested, she was. And she was glad he told her, but right now, it wasn’t about the running blade.

  No, it was all about the goodness that was Trace.

  Especially since he was standing in the kitchen looking sexy as hell in silky olive green short running shorts that clung perfectly to everything that was Trace.

  Everything.

  Even though she knew what he looked like without those shorts, something about them emphasized his assets.

  She swallowed hard, then raised her gaze from those assets to see an amused expression and a grin on his face.

  “I’m assuming by the look on your face, you like what you see.” His low voice rumbling made her insides clench.

  She finally found her tongue. “I can’t complain about the view.”

  “You’ve seen me naked.”

  “Yeeessss,” she drew out, “but it’s not the same.”

  “Want to explain that?”

  “You’re not a woman, so I can’t explain it. Just trust me, it’s not the same.”

  He grinned and shrugged. “Gotta shower, then we can eat.”

  She raised a brow. “Is it going to be a long one?”

  His grin widened. “No.”

  She nodded and turned toward the stove where she’d been keeping dinner warm. “Okay, I’ll get stuff ready.”

  He said nothing, nor did he move toward his bedroom.

  She lifted the lid of the mashed potatoes to give them a quick stir, then gathered some dirty cooking utensils to put in the sink.

  Only Trace was still blocking it.

  And watching her.

  Once again, he had a look in his eyes that reminded her of a hungry predator with his eyes on his prey. That made her nipples bead instantly but she ignored it, saying, “Excuse me,” so he’d get out of the way.

  He only moved enough so she could put the items in the sink to wash later but before she could step back, he had her trapped. His chest pressed against the top of her back and his hands were on either side of her, planted on the edge of the sink.

  He pressed those damp silky shorts and the hard package beneath them against her. Her being so much shorter meant that it pressed mid-back.

  “Ellie,” he whispered into her ear. A shiver ran through her at how he said her name and the fact that his warm breath swept over her skin. “Did you come when you were listening to that book?”

  Shit. She’d hoped he’d forgotten that. Of course he didn’t. She hadn’t but it was very close with a few involuntary twitches and a splash of wetness.

  “No,” she sort of fibbed.

  “But it got you wet?”

  That she didn’t mind admitting to. “Yes,” hissed softly out of her.

  “Are you still wet?”

  “Not from the book.”

  “From what?”

  She tipped her head back slightly to give him better access. “From you.”

  He traced the tip of his tongue around her ear, his long fingers wrapping around her waist, as if he was trying to see if he could circle it with his hands.

  He used to be able to do that. He no longer could. A few inches separated the tips of his left fingers and the tips of his right.

  He said nothing, instead sliding them up her ribs and around to cup the undersides of her breasts. Both thumbs brushed back and forth over her hard nipples.

  “Hold your hair up, El,” he murmured.

  Oh, God. She knew what was coming next.

  She reached behind her, gathered her hair and pulled it to the top of her head, exposing her neck. With his thumbs still lightly caressing the tips of her nipples, he ran his tongue up her neck from the top of her back to her hairline. Then his warm breath caught on the wet he left behind.

  He used to mark her there. Where she could hide it under her hair. A place where they both knew it was there, that they belonged to each other. Forever and always.

  Though, forever and always turned out to not be true.

  She wasn’t his for always. He wasn’t hers forever.

  Dreams and reality were two different things.

  She was quickly brought back to reality when she bit back a whimper as one of his hands slid down her belly and into the waistband of her yoga pants. Since she wore nothing beneath them, his palm brushed along her skin until he reached the top of her pussy. Then a finger separated her slick folds and caught on her clit.

  She shuddered and her hips twitched. The touch so light, it drove her insane since it wasn’t enough.

  “More,” she moaned.

  “When I give it to you,” was all he said. He cupped her mound and squeezed. With his middle finger, he breached her folds, sliding through her wetness from back to front and on the return, he slipped it inside her.

  Her breath caught and her head tipped back. Still not enough.

  “Head up, sweetheart. You know what I want.”

  Yes. Yes, she did. She wanted that, too.

  “So fucking wet. Fuck.” His thumb pressed on her clit while his middle finger glided in and out of her slowly. “Ready for another one?”

  This time she could only answer with a soft whimper.

  He slipped another of his long fingers inside of her and curled them.

  Yes. Perfect.

  “Close your eyes. Whatever scene in that book was getting you off, picture us doing that. Me and you. Take us there.”

  She closed her eyes and took herself back to the sexy part she was listening to in the book which had scorching hot scenes. It wasn’t a struggle to imagine the two of them taking the place of those characters because it was what she had done while listening. Imagined Trace doing the s
ame things to her the hero did to the heroine in that romance novel had caused her reaction. And she also imagined it was Trace talking into her ear instead of the male narrator, just like he was doing now.

  Not only had his body matured over the years, his voice had deepened. And it was perfect for the storyteller of an erotic dream.

  So, she replayed that scenario in her head as his thumb strummed her clit, his fingers slid in and out of her, now faster, no longer as gentle as when he’d first started. With his other hand, he slipped inside her cami and captured her nipple, at first tweaking it, then twisting. Again, not so gently.

  His breath was coming as quickly as hers, his cock rock hard against her back. And when he placed his lips at the top of her neck, her head fell forward making sure he had unencumbered access.

  The suction against her heated skin made everything inside her quiver and her knees buckle, but he managed to keep her on her feet without stopping his sensual onslaught.

  Short puffs of breath escaped her as he sucked her flesh into his mouth with the intent on leaving his mark on her.

  His claim.

  She whimpered again and squeezed his fingers deep inside her when his teeth made contact.

  Yes, that would definitely leave a mark. A mark she wouldn’t have to hide like she did when they were teenagers.

  Heat rushed through her at the thought of someone else seeing that mark, that claim, and knowing who gave it to her.

  Whoever would see it would know she belonged to Trace Walker. Though, in truth, she didn’t. Not anymore.

  But still... It made her heart skip, her stomach flip and a few seconds later, her slight tremor grew to an intense climax.

  She ground into his fingers, riding out the ripples of orgasm as he kept his mouth to her skin, his teeth in her flesh.

  And when those waves ebbed, every part of her quivered like jelly.

  His hand stilled and with a last brush against her now overly sensitive clit, a tweak of her nipple and kiss to the mark he left behind, he slipped his fingers from her, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him.

  His breathing was ragged, his cock throbbing so hard she could feel it against her. But he held her there. Not moving. Not doing anything to take his own pleasure.

  As soon as her breathing slowed enough, she asked, “What about you?”

  “I’ll wait.”

  He’d wait? He had to be suffering. “Trace...”

  “Gotta shower.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’ll wait, El.”

  Her eyebrows pinned together as he released her, turned and walked away. Holding onto the counter so she wouldn’t collapse into a pile of jelly, she watched him.

  When he hit the edge of the kitchen right before the hallway, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “Back then you had said you wanted to watch how I dealt with not fucking you until you were eighteen. Give me a few minutes then come watch.”

  Heat rushed through Ellie at not only his rougher than normal voice, but the anticipation of watching him in the shower as he made himself come.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  With a single nod and a slight grin, he turned and headed down the hallway.

  She gave him the few minutes he needed, then, with her heart thumping in her throat and her legs still weak, she followed him.

  Ellie couldn’t think of anything more beautiful in the world than Trace with water running over every inch of his body, with his muscles flexing and his long fingers sliding back and forth over his hard cock.

  Pure beauty.

  So hot and sexy, it made her struggle to breathe as she watched him. He had removed his running blade before getting in and had one hand planted against the shower wall for balance, his ass and hips flexing as he pumped into his own fist.

  The acoustics in the bathroom amplified his low grunts that accompanied each thrust.

  She thought she was wet in the kitchen. Now the crotch of her yoga pants was soaked.

  As much as she wanted to join him in that shower, she forced herself to remain where she was. She would join him in another way.

  She did so by pulling her yoga pants off and perching on the bathroom’s vanity, spreading her knees and stroking the outside of her pussy with her fingers. She knew it wouldn’t take much for her to come, so she only touched herself enough to take her to the point of no return but not past it.

  She wanted to go at the same time as Trace.

  Deep in his own head, she wasn’t sure if he was aware of what she was doing right outside the shower stall.

  If he was, he gave no indication.

  She watched as every muscle in his body locked and his mouth parted. He was ready.

  So was she.

  She kept her eyes focused on him as he threw his head back and grimaced. And at that very moment, she only had to circle her throbbing clit twice to make herself come when he did. Long spurts of his cum shot out, mingled with the spray of water and quickly disappeared.

  After a few seconds, he dropped his head forward, his chest heaving, his spent cock still in his hand.

  Then he turned his head, his blue eyes pinning on her. Once again in predator mode.

  His gaze dropped to where she stroked herself lightly, enjoying the occasional aftershock of her orgasm.

  His eyes, as intense as her orgasm, rose again and met hers. “On the bed, back to the headboard, knees cocked and wide. Wait for me.”

  Every part of her body tingled, every nerve ending popped. From her toes to the roots of her hair. The spot on the back of her neck where he marked her began to pulsate.

  “Ellie, now,” he growled.

  She nodded, pushed off the vanity, leaving her yoga pants behind, and rushed into his room to do what he demanded.

  Then she waited.

  Walker took his time shutting down the shower, getting out, toweling off, even knowing Ellie waited for him in his bed. Especially knowing she waited for him.

  He didn’t rush because he wanted her in there by herself, wondering what he would do next.

  Whether she knew it or not, he didn’t miss what she had done while he did the same in the shower.

  It was hot as fuck.

  She had come at the same time he did, but he wasn’t done with her yet.

  No, he was going to eat her. Then they would eat dinner.

  After that, he was taking her to bed and fucking her until they both had nothing left to give each other. Until they were both ready to pass out and sleep.

  She would sleep next to him tonight, wrapped around him like last night. Something they never had a chance to do in the past because they had both lived at home. Her with her mother and stepfather. Him with his parents until he left for boot camp. Because of that, they never had a chance to spend a whole night together. At the time, he hadn’t worried about it since he thought they’d have a lifetime of nights together.

  He was wrong.

  So, he missed out on years of waking up with his Ellie next to him.

  That ended last night.

  Tonight and every night until this job was complete, she would be in his bed. She wanted to be there, he wanted that, too.

  He stared at himself in the mirror seeing a man who hadn’t been whole in a long time. Her being in his house, in his bed, made him feel whole again. It shouldn’t and it bothered him that it did.

  He would do what was needed to be done to help her, to get her out of the jam she was in, but once he achieved that, he had no idea what would happen from there.

  Would he remain whole or would he go back to being a man with missing pieces?

  He couldn’t think about that. They had tonight. Then they had tomorrow and the next week to figure things out.

  Right now, Ellie waited for him in his bed.

  He had no doubt she had set herself up exactly as he ordered. And after grabbing his nearby crutches, he left the bathroom to find exactly that.

  His Ellie. Her back against his
headboard, pink filling her cheeks, her eyes dark and hooded, her sweet lips parted.

  As he moved closer to the bed, he could see everything. Her knees were bent, and her thighs spread. She was completely exposed.

  He caressed her with his gaze as he stopped at the end of the bed and dropped his crutches to the floor. Her pussy lips were plump, swollen, and a dark pink, the hair above it now trimmed to a small patch. She had to have done that when he was working earlier. It wasn’t that neat last night.

  Not that he complained. Bushy, trimmed or shaved bald, he wanted her no matter how she came to him.

  Her hands were pressed to her knees, holding herself open for him.

  An offering he’d accept.

  “Did you touch yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wanted to wait.”

  He hid his grin as he climbed onto the bed and walked on his hands and knees until he was between her feet.

  “You remind me of a lion.”

  He paused. “How’s that?”

  “You remind me of a strong predator. Powerful, but graceful.”

  Graceful. He never thought of himself as that. Especially after the accident.

  “A protector. But also a leader. Full of courage.”

  “Sharp teeth,” he added, nipping playfully along her inner thigh.

  “That, too.”

  “And a skilled tongue.”

  “Do lions have skilled tongues?”

  “You tell me...” He pushed her legs even wider and ran his tongue from her knee to the apex of her thighs. He hovered above that small patch of hair and the scent from her orgasm in the kitchen and the second one in the bathroom made his mouth water.

  Fuck yes, he was hungry. But for her.

  He would normally tease her almost to the point of orgasm and pull back, wait for it to wane before starting again. Then once she was completely out of her mind, he would let her come.

  But most likely, she was already at the point after two orgasms—one by his fingers, one by her own—that it wouldn’t take much to draw a third from her.

  He could wait until later to play as he liked to.