Gannon flipped on the bathroom light, set her on the counter, and pulled up the back of her bloody T-shirt. She wiggled around to see the nearly five-inch gash in the meaty part of her lower back.
“Awesome. I’ll have almost matching scars.”
“Christ, Margo, that’s the opposite of awesome.” He ran his fingers over the raised skin opposite her new cut. “What happened?”
“A barroom fight ended with three people being loaded into the ambulance. While we were at it, one of the victim’s boyfriends took a broken bottle to the instigator, who happened to be my patient.”
“And you got in the way.”
She shrugged. He growled and ducked in the cabinet under the sink.
“On the top shelf in the cabinet over the laundry basket.”
While Gannon moved stealthily to the other set of cabinets, everything locked into place for Margo; his calm ability to control a situation, the way he moved and observed, and his ability to kick ass without blinking. “You’re in the military?”
His body stilled while reaching inside the cabinet for a second before answering. “You help people for a living. I kill them for a living.”
“You’re not a mercenary.”
“I’m a Lee.” He returned to the counter with the large kit but refused to look her in the eye. “Killing for money would be right up our alley, according to this town.”
“You’re not talking to Combine.” Margo grabbed his hand, and he finally met her gaze. “You’re talking to me.”
He chewed on the corner of his mouth for a second and then nodded. “Yeah, the girl I abandoned at the most vulnerable, terrifying time in her life.”
“It was the most vulnerable time in your life too. You lost one of the two people in this town who believed in you, and your brother lost the only person who kept him teetering on the straight and narrow.”
“It was a mistake to leave that way.” His head shook, slow and steadily.
“We all make mistakes.”
“You don’t.” Gannon moved behind her, tucked her shirt into her bra, and wiped antiseptic pads over the damaged area.
“If you believe that, we’re worse off than I thought.”
Plastic ripped behind her. Gannon opened the antibiotic cream and rubbed it over her cut, covered the wound with a large piece of gauze, and then taped the edges. His fingers grazed her skin firmly, gently. Gooseflesh soared up her spine and over her shoulders.
“Is there a we?” he asked hesitantly.
Margo stared into the face of a man tortured by the past and his perceived part in all of it.
“There has always been and will always be an us. I don’t know what form it will take from here, where you’ll go or when, but you always have a place right here.” She faced him, grabbed his hand, and pressed it over her heart.
A fine sheen of moisture glazed Gannon’s spectacular blue eyes. His fingers curled into the front of her shirt, and he pulled her forward. Margo leaned her head on his chest. The furious beat of his heart thudded in her ear. The warmth of Gannon’s free hand cuddled her face while his thumb caressed a line down her cheek.
“I’m not leaving unless you ask me to.” Rumbling through his torso, his voice sounded deeper.
Margo didn’t know whether he meant tonight or ever, but she refused to shatter the moment. She nodded and enjoyed the feel of Gannon under her cheek.
“You get ready for bed. I’m going to check the grounds and get my weapon out of the truck.” Gannon stepped back, but his hand continued to hold tight to her shirt. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
When she expected him to turn away, his scruff scraped her jawline. His lips pressed to the cheek that he’d caressed and then pulled back.
More.
Margo wanted more. She wanted everything, but right now, everything was raw, for her, and it seemed Gannon too. He released her and pulled the door closed as he left the bathroom.
“Holy shit,” she breathed.
Gannon Lee was spending the night in her house. She double fist pumped the air. Pain lashed back, and she winced.
Bittersweet, as always.
She ran a bath and washed everything as best as she could without getting the gauze wet and then moved giddily through her nightly moisturizing ritual. Like the girlie girl she used to be, she ducked into her closet and stood in a towel—where she’d dry humped Gannon hours ago—and toiled over what to wear to bed. A threadbare oversized T-shirt won out over the teddy. What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like Gannon …
Margo opened the door to her bedroom.
He stood next to her bed, his bare chest resplendently exposed. Boxers hugged low on his lean hips, and every plateaued abdominal muscle stared back at her. His hair hung wet to his nape and forehead, looking near black in the dim room. Those eyes … they reflected the lamplight in the closet. He held his hand out without a word. His gun on the nightstand told of his intent. Her chest thundered headlong into her sternum repeatedly, urging her forward. Instead of questioning it, she followed its lead on quaking feet.
Finally, she stood in front of Gannon and all his near-naked glory. She took his hand. He released a weighty breath. His lips grazed her knuckles. The white comforter had already been turned down and the geometric-pattered throw pillows set on the armchair beside her bed. Again, birds flapped their wings as though they meant to take flight with her stomach.
“I need to hold you tonight.”
She wanted to say, “What about tomorrow or the night after that? And what about the fact that I’m not wearing panties?” but she held her tongue and climbed onto the mattress. Gannon eased in behind her and pulled her back gently to his chest. His big hand curled around her left side and tucked them into the valley of her breasts.
“Breathe, Margo.”
“I’m afraid if I do, I’ll wake up, and you won’t be here.” God, she hated the desperation in her tone, but hiding it wouldn’t help either of them.
“I’m here. I’ll be here.” Gannon’s mouth grazed the back of her neck and then drew a deep breath.
Several minutes passed in silence, but she knew he lay as wide-awake as she was. Margo swallowed her pride and pressed her lips to Gannon’s hand. Tears seeped from her lids, and she pressed them together to keep him from noticing.
“Talk to me, Margo. If you don’t, you’ll never get any rest.”
“Are those guys the reason you’re in my bed?” Her heart quaked.
“They’re my excuse, not my reason.”
“What’s your reason, Gannon?” Every cell in her body stilled, awaiting the answer.
“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. You’re allowing me to be here, and for the first time, I’m allowing myself.”
Margo turned to him and buried her head under his chin. Gannon draped a heavy leg over her, wrapped her in his arms, and breathed against the top of her hair. She fell asleep to the beat of his heart in the security of his arms.
She woke to a front row view of the golden expanse of Gannon’s stunning chest. Her cheek lay on his shoulder, and her hand rested over his heart. Never before had she been able to sleep while touching a man, but Gannon was no mere man. He was her best dreams and most real nightmares cocooned into an enigma.
Her palm flattened over his heart as he’d done to her last night. Soon, though, her fingers explored the smooth skin and hard lines around it with slow strokes.
“You’re toying in dangerous territory.” His sleepy morning voice rumbled over the crest of her bare hip and down to the tips of her toes.
“These days, danger excites me.” She continued tracing the veins in his neck and worked her way over his chest.
When her cataloging of his abdomen reached the apex of his hips, Gannon’s chin arched toward the ceiling. His already closed eyes clamped hard. Fine lines formed at the edges.
“Margo.” Her name held warning and a promise.
Keeping her touch light, she leaped the waistband of h
is boxers. Her fingers traced the outline of his fully erect cock, but she was careful not to touch him yet. She’d waited for this for so long, and she intended to relish every moment. The head tented the fabric covering him, jerking in time with her gentle touches.
Scared that words would break the fragile balance in the bed, Margo kept her mouth closed and her fingers exploring. Between her legs, her clit pulsed. Her nipples pressed needy peaks into the gray cotton of her shirt. Desire threatened to overtake her craving to give Gannon the release he so desperately needed—from his past and from his mind. She yearned for him to live only in his body for a blissful moment, and she wanted to give that to him.
Her hand glided over each of his thighs. His hairs tickled the tips of her fingers. Gannon drew deep breaths, but none relaxed his taut frame. Every muscle exposed his attention to her progress.
Margo’s fingers slipped under the leg of his boxers. His breaths stilled. She wrapped her palm around his thick, smooth length and relished the juxtaposition of sleek and hard.
“Breathe, Gannon.” Her body coiled under the pressure of desire. She pressed her breasts against his hot chest, her thighs to the side of his, and worked her hand slowly up his cock to the wide bell head.
A breath hissed from his lips.
She hooked a thumb over his tip and smeared slick pre-cum over the crown before sliding her grip down to the base. Her heart thudded. Her mouth watered. Back and forth, she tortured them with gentle exploration. Finally, her hips broke protocol and rolled in time with the increasing rhythm of her hand.
Gannon’s arm banded around her back. Margo’s clit swelled. Each rotation pressed the excited nub against his column thigh. The cotton of her shirt abraded the sensitive skin, driving her frenzy.
“Margo.” He hissed her name.
“Yes.” It was all she could say, all she wanted to say.
“Things are complicated without the physical.” He grabbed her hand, moved it from his shaft, and held it tightly in his.
She stuttered to a stop and nearly choked on her tongue but managed a graceless, “What?”
“Before we get lost in each other … again …” His ragged breaths filled the silence between her thundering heartbeats. “There are things we need to work through.”
“Are you worried if we have sex, we’ll be too all consumed to deal with life?” She wiggled her hand free from his grasp and sat. He looked stunning in the morning light with his flushed cheeks and red lips.
“Look at what happened last time our bodies led us.” His arms went limp at his sides.
“Was it only your body last time? Did you feel nothing here?” Margo straddled his lap, pressed his erection against her damp folds, and leaned forward. She kissed the skin above his heart.
“You’re lucky if you find someone you get lost in, Gannon.” She framed his face. “You weren’t the only one with guilt about that night. Do you think Griffin never felt it or me? If I’d just told my family that I loved you and that you were mine, we wouldn’t have been sneaking.”
He sat up, driving his cock against her clit. Her breath hitched. “No, we wouldn’t have.” Her need to spread her legs wide and welcome him inside her wet pussy muffled his words. He pulled her chin up and found her gaze. “They’d have sent you to a European boarding school the moment the words love and Lee were out of your mouth.”
“They wouldn’t have been able to, any more than you can stop me from giving myself to you. I’m here, as I’ve always been, for you. I don’t accept what the town thinks they know about you or what my parents thought about where you lived. I know you, even after all this time, and I still want you.” Margo lifted the loose-fitting shirt over her head and tossed it to the side.
“You can accept the town’s judgment of you, you can choose to believe the past has ruined us forever, or you can love me. It’s your choice.” He moved to speak, but Margo pressed her hand to his mouth. “This isn’t about jobs, locations in the world, gossip, or the past. I choose you, in spite of and because of everything we’ve lived through, but I need to know. What do you choose?”
A series of poundings reverberated through the house. She was sure they came from her heart until they came again insistently from the front door. Margo’s heart slingshot through her chest cavity and smacked her in the face.
“Get dressed.” Gannon snarled, set her to the side, grabbed his gun, and ran from the room on silent strides.
Margo stared at the ceiling, naked in her warm bed, and gasped. “Whoever’s at the door had better be armed.” She jerked her shirt from the pillow and wrestled into it, before jackknifing from the mattress and running to the closet for some shorts. “Because I’m going to fucking kill them.”
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, adding to her mayhem. Every nerve ending she possessed was exposed. Frustration. Anger. Fear. They all grappled for the lead. Her shaking hands missed the drawer pulls twice. By the time she’d tossed enough clothes on to be considered decent in a strip club after midnight and hadn’t heard gunfire, fear took a backseat to anger.
Margo hurried down the hallway and stopped at the top of the stairs. Gannon’s gun fit stunningly at the small of his back, and he spoke cool and calmly to Griffin. Her feet planted on the top step. Not wanting to interrupt the surprisingly civil and almost understanding interaction between brothers so often at odds, she backpedaled to the bedroom and eyed her phone.
An all units alert flashed across her screen.
The buoyancy that carried her to the room and the excitement at Gannon’s return died a swift death. A shot of adrenaline quickly edged into its place. People needed her, and they needed her fast. She dressed, called in for an update, and descended the steps at a sprint in less than five minutes.
Both men stopped talking and looked at her like the house was on fire. Well, it had been days ago, and she’d moved just as fast for her fire extinguisher and hose.
“What’s happened?” Gannon’s gaze raked over her uniform.
“Pileup on I-20 between 45 and 175.” Margo skirted the men and opened the door.
“Give me two. I’m coming with you,” Gannon called out.
“No.” She stopped and turned to find him in the doorway. “It’s Dallas Fire and Rescue’s job. We’re good at it. You don’t need to save people to prove you’re a hero. I know you are. There’s just one person you forgot to rescue in all your do-gooding, and it isn’t me or Griffin.” With that, she ran to her car, flipped on her emergency lights, and rushed toward the accident scene.
It took six hours to clear the highway and move the gridlocked traffic. Luckily, no fatalities were discovered among the seventy-three collisions. The same couldn't be said for cuts, bruises, and broken bones, which all required paperwork. Sweat, oil, gas, and who knew what else covered Margo as she sat at her desk in the station. Her hand cramped from all the typing, and she’d lost feeling in her ass cheeks twenty minutes ago.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Elise smacked down a pile of papers atop her already heaving stacks.
“Well, it’s good to see you too, sis.” Her sister’s blue eyes kept company with dark circles and road maps. She looked nothing like the perky and carefree girl she knew and loved despite her give-no-shit attitude about all things in the responsibility column of life. Her blond hair sat on her crown in a messy bun. She wore no makeup—a first for Elise, to Margo’s knowledge—and her always hip outfit slid closer to homely than funky.
“Have you been crying?”
“What do you care?” Too thin arms crossed over her full, fake bosom.
“I give you a hard time because I care, Elise.” Margo leaned back, allowing blood flow down one leg.
“Right. If you cared, you’d get on the insurance company to sign the papers. I refuse to live in a fire-ravaged dump. I mean we pay our bill. Why is it so hard for them to pony up when we need it?”
“What papers?” She figured Elise was talking about the papers she’d slapped onto her desk
, but she didn’t have the mettle to read through them. Also, she could have pointed out that she was the only one who paid the insurance bill, but if she’d learned anything from Jax and Dane, it was the old motto Don’t Feed the Fire.
“You have to file these before they pay or even think about paying.” Her sister shoved the papers off the stack of reports to cover her keyboard.
“I know, Elise. Before we can file, we have to wait for the arson investigation’s final report.”
“Why?”
“Why is it such a big deal to you? You haven’t spent a night at home in months. If you had, you’d know the damage was being repaired.”
“How are we paying for it?” Elise propped her hands onto her hips.
Margo didn’t want to tell her sister about Gannon for so many reasons. Hell, she didn’t want to tell herself about him, but there was no forgetting that man. “Look, I have it under control.”
“Do you?” Her sister opened her mouth to continue but stopped. She fished her phone out of her pocket and studied the screen. “I have to go.” Without another word, Elise practically ran down the hallway.
Concern mingled with the irritation gnawing on the back of Margo’s neck. Instinct had her up and chasing after her sister.
“Wait! Elise!”
Her sister only maneuvered the maze of corridors faster.
Margo put on the burners and caught her just outside the door. “Wait, would you? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Go back inside.” Elise turned to leave, but Margo caught her wrist. “Please, I need to go.” Her sister’s gaze searched the parking lot in a near panic.
“Why? You were so hard up for answers, and now, you’re—” Elise’s still gaze and corresponding gasp cut off Margo. She followed her sister’s line of sight to a tall, lanky man leaning on a beat-up muscle car. The guy was supermodel hot if you liked the greasy-haired, strung-out look. It did nothing for her.
He did the opposite. The sight of him made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and her stomach hit her heels. “Do you know him?”
“He’s my boyfriend. Gah, I know you don’t know what those are.” Elise twisted out of her grip.
Dallas Fire & Rescue: Relentlessly Mine (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Base Branch Series Book 11) Page 5