And she had to live with the man. Well, she didn’t have to, but the offer of two hundred dollars a month seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up. She had been paying more than that to live in that shitty boarding house.
Plus, for the most part, she would live in a house by herself. One with two bedrooms and one and a half baths.
With a big tent in the backyard that came with an asshole.
“Don’t worry. I can’t have any.”
One breath, two breaths, and then he finally turned to face her, his brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
She blinked. “Now, I know you’re not stupid.”
He frowned, his eyebrows drawing even lower.
She sighed. “I can’t have children.”
His expression became blank. Totally unreadable. His gaze locked on her for a moment, then dropped to his coffee mug.
She waited for him to say “I’m sorry,” because tended to be the typical response when someone found out. Not that they had anything to apologize about, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. But he didn’t. Though, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Are you sure?”
Did he ask out of concern for her or out of relief for himself?
“It’s why my husband left me.”
His nostrils flared slightly. “I didn’t know you had been married.”
“How would you?” she asked softly.
He inhaled deeply, his patience seemingly thin. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.”
She pushed herself up from the table, scraping the chair back. “So, you can keep your money. You won’t be saddled with a child by mistake. At least by me, anyway,” she clarified.
She didn’t quite know why, but anger suddenly ate at her. Whether from the all-too-familiar pain of being unable to conceive, even though she desperately wanted to. Or because he seemed clearly…broken.
Working in the medical field she saw plenty of mental health issues, so she recognized the signs. Though, she didn’t know how to help him, or even if she wanted to.
He wasn’t her responsibility.
And she wasn’t his.
They had fucked once. That’s it.
And now, strangely, kind of lived together.
He turned around to leave, but hesitated, once again not facing her. “How are you getting to work?”
Good question. She no longer had a vehicle and hadn’t had time to contact the insurance company about a rental.
“I’m not sure,” she finally answered.
“There’s an old Buick in the garage. The key is hanging on a hook by the door. Use that.” Then he strode away, not looking back.
Well, damn. Sometimes he was a thoughtful asshole.
5
She ran behind on her appointments all day, so she dragged her ass back in the house a lot later than she wanted to. Her stomach growled and her head pounded with a headache that wouldn’t quit.
Today, she had to tell one of her patients that she, too, wouldn’t be able to conceive a baby. She felt horrible and actually started to cry along with the woman and her husband.
Carly remembered getting her diagnosis as well. It became one of the reasons she concentrated her medical training on becoming an OB/GYN. She became determined to bring children into the world one way or the other.
However, her field was never all puppy dogs and glittery unicorn farts.
Her patient’s devastated expression remained burned into her brain.
She parked the Buick back in the garage and noticed Matt’s silver 4Runner parked alongside the driveway. So, he was here somewhere on the property. Whether in the house or hiding in his tent, she didn’t know.
Nor, at the moment, did she care.
When she stepped into the house from the garage, she heard the music. It was hard to miss since it blared so loudly the windows shook. What a wonderful way to end her day and help her headache.
She walked through the house, not finding a soul, and then stomped up the steps. A light came from the open doorway of the master bedroom. The room she had made hers. As she stepped inside, she saw Matt shirtless and barefoot, wearing the same camo cargo pants from this morning. His deeply tanned skin had a fine coating of white dust over it as he scrubbed sandpaper over the new patch on the wall.
How he could think with the music so loud?
But then, maybe that was the point. He didn’t want to think.
She would to have to do research on PTSD.
Fuck. No. No, she wasn’t. She reminded herself that he wasn’t hers to worry about.
Watching the play of muscles under his skin as he moved the sandpaper violently over the seams of the patch, she wouldn’t be surprised if he ripped a new hole in the wall with his angry movements.
She studied the tattoo on his back for a moment before shaking her head to stop the fantasy that formed in her mind. Though she needed to get his attention, she knew not to approach him unawares. The music had drowned out all the noise she made coming into the room, so he had no idea she stood behind him.
After a brief glance at the stereo and the very large speakers he had set on the floor temporarily while he worked, she went over and hit the power button. Suddenly silence surrounded them, but her ears still rang. She’d be surprised if he had any hearing left at all. Especially after listening to that horribly depressing country music at deafening levels. He could have at least picked a better genre of music if he wanted to kill off one of his senses.
He turned slowly, the sandpaper in his hand. The light from the work lamp illuminated his side as he turned. It was then she spotted the scar along his ribs. She hadn’t noticed it the night before. But then, they had taken little time to explore each other. Fast and furious had been the name of the game.
He noticed where she stared, and his hand automatically came up to his side, his fingers brushing along the raised scar.
“Shrapnel,” was all he said before turning back around to finish sanding. Slower this time and more methodical, not so frantic. “I’ll try to finish this as soon as possible. I’ll paint it tomorrow after you go to work so you don’t have to sleep with the smell of fresh paint.”
“I could always sleep in the spare bedroom.”
He nodded, yet didn’t answer.
She tilted her head and couldn’t help but study his body as he moved. The man appeared powerful and in excellent shape. He could probably hurt someone very easily. She wondered how many people he had hurt. How many he had killed.
While, in contrast, she had done everything to save people. To help them live or be born. She had taken the Hippocratic oath to help people. He had taken the pledge to defend his country and his fellow Marines, no matter what it took.
Her heart ached for him. For everything he’d seen, for everything he had done. For everything he had to live with for the rest of his life. His memories, his nightmares.
He’d dealt with death.
She dealt with life.
Such total opposites.
“Why are you still standing there?” he asked without turning around.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
His arm fell to his side, his head dropped, and his body heaved when he took a deep breath.
She wanted this man more now than she did last night. She wanted to heal him, even though she knew it was most likely impossible.
She was crazy, certifiably insane to even get involved with him. “When you’re done, we can take a shower together.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, the shadows in his eyes darker, deeper than she’d seen yet.
Excitement ran through her. He was dangerous.
In more ways than one.
Matt watched as she stripped her clothes off slowly, throwing them onto the bed. He turned off the work light and glanced at the mess on the floor. Dust, drywall, spatulas, a tub of patch. The need to clean up ate at him, but his desire for Carly pulled stronger.
He had been preoccupied all day while on patrol. Even
to the point of almost running a stop sign. He couldn’t get her softness, her wetness, the heat of her when he sank deep inside her, out of his head.
She was a distraction and maybe not a good one.
She was no delicate female and he liked that about her. She seemed tough and she liked to take charge, which excited him. Nowhere near petite or weak, she could take the pounding he gave her last night. The furious sex made him forget a lot of things. Even if only for a short time.
And anytime he could forget he was grateful.
Hell, he had even forgotten a condom. Enormous relief overcame him when she told him this morning she couldn’t get pregnant. He could fuck her without worry. Especially now she would be close and convenient, and…
Apparently willing. He regarded her as she stood naked in the center of the room. Her hair was still up from work and she didn’t wear her glasses. He assumed she had contacts in instead.
His cock twitched, reminding him that he’d just been standing there staring like a fool. No wonder she thought him an asshole.
She was not shy and didn’t cover up, as if she didn’t care what he thought. She probably didn’t. Matt liked that about her too. It seemed like a big “fuck you.”
The thought made him smile.
“Are you just going to stand there with a dumb grin on your face, or are you going to get naked?”
Her bossiness widened his smile. He unfastened his cargo pants and pushed them down his legs. His boxer briefs fit snugly due to his erection and he cupped himself momentarily before snagging the waistband and pushing them down as well.
When he bent over to pick up his discarded clothing she made a noise, making him glance up.
“If you take the time to neatly fold up those filthy clothes, you’ll be taking a shower by yourself.”
He straightened, leaving the clothes where they laid, and started to head out of the bedroom door when he stopped abruptly. Spinning towards her, he grabbed her face, and crushed his lips against hers.
He took advantage of her surprised gasp to plunge his tongue deep into her mouth. Exploring the inside, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sparring with hers.
She groaned against his lips. Her hand played along his ribcage, the other wrapping around his impatient cock.
Grabbing her ass, he pulled her closer and thrust into her hand. Hers felt so much better than his own. She pumped him hard, almost frantically, and he broke the kiss. He needed to step back before he embarrassed himself by becoming undone. “Now you’re just as dirty as I am, so you have no choice but to join me in the shower.”
Her eyes widened and she looked down to see the front of her body smeared with drywall dust. She lifted her head with a confident tilt, placed a finger under his chin, and looked him directly in the eye. “I always have a choice. Don’t you ever forget that.”
He released a ragged breath and followed her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom like a stray puppy. She started the shower, checked the water temperature, and then turned to him.
“Get in.”
His hard-on bobbed at her command and he pushed past her to do what she said. The warm water sluiced over his head and down his body, rinsing away the dust while she still stood outside of the shower, watching him.
Her nipples had become hard peaks, but she didn’t smile. Hell, he couldn’t even get a read on what she was thinking. Did she consider this whole thing a mistake? That he was too fucked up to want to get involved with him? Even if it was only physical?
He wiped the water out of his eyes and offered her his hand. Without hesitation, she took it and stepped into the tub, facing him. The water drenched her hair, darkening it, flattening it along her head, over her shoulders. The long, wet strands stuck to her breasts.
He lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, brushing his lips over her belly, kissing each hip bone, running his tongue down to the V between her thighs.
She caught her balance by grabbing his shoulders as he parted her plump lips, testing her wetness. He reached out blindly to slide the glass shower door shut, so they wouldn’t flood the bathroom floor. Turning her hips, he pushed her back against the wall. He lifted one leg up and braced her foot on his shoulder before burying his face between her legs.
She tasted intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of her. He wasn’t gentle with his mouth, his lips, his tongue…his teeth. Though she didn’t tell him to stop. She didn’t say no. She moved her hands from his shoulders to wrap them around his head, pulling him closer, tilting her hips to give him better access, spreading her thighs wider.
His balls tightened and precum trickled from the head of his cock, but the stream of warm water quickly washed it away. The intense desire to be inside her, fully enveloped in her heat, made him shudder. Her fingers flexed against his scalp when he refused to let up. He wouldn’t stop until she fell apart.
A low, needy moan escaped her as he plunged two fingers inside her. He fucked her hard and sucked even harder. Her legs trembled around him and then tensed. He didn’t let up until a scream ripped from her, her nails digging into his scalp, holding him still until the orgasm subsided.
He looked up her body, slick with water, rivulets running off the hard tips of her nipples. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, her lips parted, as she attempted to catch her breath.
When her eyes slowly opened, she met his gaze. “Holy shit, you’re good at that.”
He rose to his feet, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her thoroughly. After he pulled back, he whispered, “Do you see how good you taste?”
She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip and gave him a fleeting smile. “I haven’t had a chance to taste you yet.”
Matt’s palm braced against the shower wall. The image of Carly on her knees, his cock in her mouth, weakened him. If he wasn’t so impatient to drive himself inside her at the moment, he’d encourage her to take him between her lips right now.
But he hit his limit. Her responsiveness to his touch had brought him too close to the edge already. They needed to get out of this slippery, tight shower or she’d have another lump on her head.
And he did not want to hurt her…ever.
Turning off the water, he helped her climb out of the tub, both of them soaking wet. He grabbed a towel off the rack to wrap it around her. Not having the patience to wait for her to dry her hair, he hoped she didn’t balk at not doing so.
“Are you uncomfortable?” she asked, indicating his erection.
“Not for long,” he answered, grabbing another towel and drying himself off quickly.
She smiled as he took her arm, pulling her from the small bathroom and back across the hall to the bedroom. Struggling to ignore the disorder on the floor, he did his damnedest to concentrate on the bed instead.
He directed her to the side of the bed farthest from the mess and took her towel from her grip to gently dry her off, patting the excess water from her dripping hair. She said nothing, yet he couldn’t help but notice her eyes soften as she watched him take care of her.
The urge to stiffen and pull away came over him. He couldn’t have emotions involved in this.
He didn’t want any ties. Or expectations.
He just wanted to keep things neat and orderly.
He should walk away and leave the bedroom now. Go down to his tent and have a quick session with his own fist.
A much safer option.
But he couldn’t. And that scared him. He couldn’t walk away from her. She freely offered herself to him and he desperately wanted to take it.
He placed his forehead to hers and whispered, “Please. Please. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” came her soft question.
“Like you want more than I can offer.”
“I expect nothing from you, Matt. Other than an orgasm. Or two. Can you give me that?”
“Yes. But just so you know, I have nothing else to give. I want to be clear about that.”
Her silence became deafening.
After a moment, he pulled away to look at her. “Tell me you understand that.”
Her expression became sad. Whether it was because she might expect more or whether it came from pity, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know, either. He just wanted—needed—the physical part. The mindless sex and the release that came along with it.
Maybe that sounded cold. However, it was all could give at this point. And most likely ever.
Last night, sex with Carly made him forget and he wanted more of that. He needed more time out of his broken mind, his damaged thoughts.
She had to agree with it remaining as such. Just sex. Nothing more.
Because, again, he would never want to hurt her. And emotions could be painful.
“Tell me you understand that.”
Carly watched him shut down right before her eyes, but not before she noticed a fleeting glimpse of fear. Then he withdrew inside himself. To a safe place.
She weighed her two choices. To accept his terms of a physical relationship only. Or to stay away from him completely.
She didn’t need a man. Though the physical part was nice.
More than nice.
And he was a pro with his tongue.
However, she knew sex could get messy. Very messy. Would it be worth the risk? “Like I said; I don’t expect anything from you. How could I? We barely know each other,” Carly finally said, hoping she didn’t eventually eat her own words.
“Promise me you won’t want anything more.”
Who could promise that? Was she so desperate for him, for the physical contact, that she could make such an unrealistic promise? “How about I promise you this… I will never expect anything more than you’re willing to give.”
His nostrils flared and something flashed in his eyes. Fear? Relief? Suddenly his whole body relaxed and he nodded.
Seriously. Did she really just have to negotiate with him to simply get laid? Since when had she become that desperate?
She hadn’t. However, something about the man pulled at her.
Maybe being a doctor drove her to want to help people, to save him.
Brothers in Blue: The Complete Trilogy: Brothers in Blue Boxed Set - Books 1-3 Page 44