by Imogen Wells
“Jessica. Do you mind if I have a word with Rick?”
“Sure. I was just leaving anyway.” She picks up the box, turning slightly. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of making friends now, would I.” She arches a brow at me, the barb more than clear. Stepping toward the door, she turns back to us. “Oh and, Ryder, if you’re going to throw any more punches, can I suggest you aim a little lower and hit him where it really hurts.” And with that, she leaves.
Ryder barks out a laugh as the door closes behind her, and even though I’m still pissed at him, I can’t help but grin and shake my head.
I sit back at the table, dragging my hands through my hair and down my face, wincing as I touch the cut on my eyebrow.
Ryder joins me, and we sit in silence for several minutes. It’s not the first time Ryder and I have come to blows over the years. Ninety-nine percent of the time was because I was acting like an arsehole, and this time is no exception.
“I’m not going to apologise for what I said. You know I’m right—” He holds a hand up when I go to interrupt. “But I could have said it better.”
I get up and grab the whiskey I know my dad keeps in the top cupboard along with two glasses. Pouring Ryder a measure, I push the glass his way before filling mine.
“I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with wanting more than just a taste, more than just sex.” I knock back my drink and quickly pour another. “Why her? Why now for Christ’s sake? I’m not ready for this, and the fucking timing couldn’t be worse.”
Ryder downs his whiskey, then says, “Yeah, well, God or fate, whatever the fuck it is, doesn’t give a shit about timing. You just get the hand that’s dealt to you and have to suck it up. You might not be ready, but you better get ready ‘cause someone has decided it’s time. And that woman right there, she’s got trouble written all over her.”
“Thank you for your words of wisdom. But like I said before, I don’t want or need a woman in my life. I had my shot and God saw fit to rip it all away from me, so I’m out.” I pour myself another glass, knowing that Ryder wants to say more, but he sensibly keeps his mouth shut. I don’t want to talk or think about it anymore. Instead, we sit together and finish off my dad’s whiskey.
Later that night, I make a decision to stay the hell away from Jessica. Eventually, this craving for her will fall away, and we can both move on.
Everyone thinks I’m the solid, dependable one of the group with a cool facade that’s unshakable, but the reality is, I’m good at hiding it. Good at misdirection. If I help people with their problems, I don’t have to face my own. Since Jessica came on the scene, that cool, calm and collected exterior shell is beginning to crumble. The weight of my demons has increased ten-fold and is slowly cracking the surface, reaching for the soft underbelly that will rip me wide open and lay me bare for the devil to take his pound of flesh for my sins.
I thought having my body tortured and pushed to its physical limits was hard—that watching my friend and army brother dehumanised, degraded, brought to his knees and slaughtered in front of me was beyond hard—but nothing hurts more than the realisation that while all this was going on my wife was in hospital giving birth alone. Dying alone, after giving me the greatest gift any woman can ever bestow upon a man. The most precious and treasured gift of all. A child. A son. One who now must grow up without her presence, her gentle mothering nature and her love.
Whatever comes my way now, whatever life throws at me or the crosses I have to bear, I will do so gladly if it means I’ll earn even an ounce of redemption.
Redemption I don’t truly deserve.
Seventeen
Jess
It’s been two days since I saw Rick and Ryder tearing strips off each other, and I’ve gone out of my way to avoid running into any of them.
I’ve even avoided Eleanor for fear she’ll ask me to go over to the Taylor’s on some errand, but today my hiding away ends.
I’m a coward, and those are words that I never thought I’d say. The woman who never shies away from any kind of confrontation, is never afraid to have her say and is always ready to fight her own corner and stand her ground has become a yellow belly plain and simple.
It ends now.
If I can face off against my father, the great Archie ‘The Archer’ Collins, or my even more charmingly abhorrent ex-husband, Alistair Croxley, then I can face a man I barely know and ignore the way my body reacts every time he’s near.
Whilst my temporary self-imposed exile from the world is over, it has been beneficial in allowing me time to sort my affairs.
Starting with Tobias’ lawsuit against me. My solicitor sent me through an unimaginable amount of paperwork. Not surprisingly, Tobias managed to bypass the usual protocols and serve me with papers, and my solicitor wants to make a counter claim against him for defamation—which given the recent articles printed and online slandering my name—I’m more than down for it.
I’ve managed to secure several viewings of my flat, which the agent is handling, and even though I’m loathed to return to London at all, I need to attend the annual charity ball and auction hosted by my parents this coming weekend.
However, I don’t have a car, and I’m not likely to get mine returned before then, so I’ve secured a hire car through my insurance until then.
Having given myself a major headache with all the paperwork, I decide to take a walk and head up to the main house to collect Rocco.
Two hours later, with Rocco sufficiently worn out and back at home, I’m just about to jump in the shower when my phone rings.
“Jessica Fisher?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“It’s Gaz at DP Autos. I’m calling ‘bout your car. It’s gonna take a bit of time, love. You made quite a mess of the front end.”
“Shit. Okay, do you have a rough idea of how long?”
“Well, there’s a couple of parts I can’t get delivered till early next week, so probably end of next week. Hope that’s alright for yous, but to be honest it’s the best I can do.”
“That’ll be fine, Gaz. Thank you.”
“No worries, love. I’ll be in touch.”
Looks like I’ll be rolling up to the auction in some shitty hire car after all. Can’t wait to see my father’s face. I let out a laugh knowing how much it will irritate him.
For as far back as I can remember, if there was something I could do to piss my father off, I would do it without thought for the repercussions. Getting married at twenty was one, or so I thought, but my biggest fuck you to my father was becoming a cop. He wanted me to become some hotshot lawyer or even better, a damn judge. The marriage, as it turns out, wasn’t as big of a fuck you as I first thought.
A year after our wedding, Alistair and I were meeting up with an old friend of his, and after several drinks, his friend, Miles, let slip that actually us getting hitched wasn’t really anything to do with meeting and falling in love, but more a marriage of convenience. One that I wasn’t privy to and was never meant to be.
Stupidly, I stuck it out for another year, still naively believing that even if it started out that way, Alistair loved me. Right? The only thing Alistair loved, more than himself, of course, was the leg up my father gave him in the force, and the nice down payment for taking his unruly daughter off his hands.
Aside from his constant need to stick his dick in anything that had a pulse—including men, as I discovered late one night after coming home early because I was sick—Alistair wasn’t averse to laying his hands on a woman in a less than loving way.
Having endured more than a beating as a teen, there was no way I was becoming a victim again. So, after the first time he hit me, the blinkers were well and truly off, and I left him. But not before outing his predilections for guys to the world, well, attempting to. Unfortunately, my good ole Dad managed to prevent too much damage. That’s another black mark against my father. There are many.
After Christian’s death, I stayed on the force long enough to gather a
s much information as I could, which wasn’t all that much. Trying to uncover intel on an operation that never existed is like trying to break into Fort Knox.
A little over a year ago, Tobias’ name came up as a person of interest whilst I was looking into another soldier that was in the same platoon as my brother. Unfortunately, he died before I was able to speak to him, leaving me with no answers and the name of a man who, on the surface, appeared to be a respectable self-made millionaire.
Tobias is certainly not as squeaky clean as he appears, but in the time that I worked for him, I didn’t find anything linking him to my brother.
Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place, and I need to dig a little harder, especially now the bastard is suing me. Someone obviously has it out for him, or why kidnap his daughter?
Grabbing my laptop, I go straight to the list of Tobias’ employees, which I was able to get my hands on thanks to a friend still on the force, but nothing jumps out at me initially. Pushing it aside, the edge catches Christian’s file, knocking it to the floor. Reaching down to pick it up, I see the name of the soldier that inadvertently led me to Tobias. Snatching it up, I quickly type his name into the search bar. The top result is a small article from his town’s local paper reporting on a memorial service on the anniversary of his death.
Scanning the page, I find the name of his sister. When I do a search on her, I discover that she lives just round the corner from my flat in London. I add ‘visit Adam Webster’s sister’ to my list of things I need to do while I’m in London at the weekend.
I’m coming down from upstairs, when there’s a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone, but as I near the door, the aroma of something delicious has my stomach growling. I haven’t ordered takeaway, not that you’d get delivery out here anyway, so the only other explanation is Eleanor. That thought is shattered to smithereens a second later when I open the door to find Rick standing there, head bowed, holding a glass dish with foil over the top.
“Rick! What are yo—” My words are cut off as he pushes past me and places the dish down. “Come in, why don’t you,” I mutter before giving the door a push and following him to the kitchen. “Did I miss the memo about your impending visit, or do you always turn up uninvited and barge into people’s homes?” I demand, leaning a hip against the counter with my arms folded across my chest.
Rick has his back to me at the sink, and I watch as his muscles flex while he washes his hands. My mind immediately conjures an image of me raking my nails down his back as he—I shake my head as the tinkling of running water comes to a stop, and I look up to see Rick facing me, hands resting on the counter behind him with his head slightly bowed and a knowing smirk kicking up the corner of his mouth.
My eyes trace his body, landing on his jacked forearms as he grips the edge of the countertop, and every muscle in my body tenses at the sight. My chest rises as I draw in a deep breath before finally pulling my eyes up to meet his vivid jade ones.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, only it comes out breathy and wanton and not at all how I intended. Damn you, libido! I clear my throat, ready to try again when Rick stops me.
“Come here.” The words are a gruff order dripping with lust, and I force my feet to remain where they are while my traitorous body screams at me to go to him and bathe in the unspoken promise of pleasure.
“Screw you, Rick,” I bite out as my body trembles with arousal, and I cling to the last thread of restraint. Before I can blink, he’s in front of me and forcing me against the counter, his forehead resting on mine. With a sigh, Rick’s whiskey-laced breath fans across my face, and I close my eyes against the need to press forward and taste his lips.
As though the bastard can read my mind, he leans in brushing his lips over mine in the barest of touches that has me holding my breath in anticipation.
“Don’t toy with me, Rick.”
He chuckles, nuzzling into my neck, and my head drops back, opening for him. His lips scorch a path down my neck, setting my flesh on fire, and drowning me in desire.
“I told myself I needed to stay away from you.” He nips at my collarbone, eliciting a whimper that has him doing it again. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Reading between the lines of his statement, I say, “So, this is a goodbye fuck.” He doesn’t answer, just gives a small nod before his hands find their way to the waistband of my joggers, and mine find purchase in his thick black hair. I can’t think straight as he pushes my bottoms down over my hips, following along with his mouth.
Reaching the apex of my thighs, he breathes deeply, letting out a growl that ripples through my whole body, and I yank hard on his hair in warning not to tease me.
His only reply is to swipe his tongue over my already damp underwear before looking up at me wearing a devilish smirk. His eyes have darkened, pupils blown wide with arousal, and I bite my lip as he slips his fingers beneath my knickers, slipping them down and off at a slow, torturous pace. Every brush of his fingers against my skin lights me up, but I don’t want gentle. My body craves something more from this man.
“Enough,” I grit out, pulling him up my body. He releases a hiss of pain at my hold on his hair, but I don’t care. “You came here for one thing and one thing only; to fuck. So, let’s fuck, Rick.”
As if my words have broken some invisible spell, he lets out a furious growl before picking me up. My legs wrap around him as he spins us, smashing against the wall and taking my lips in a savage kiss.
The deviant inside me purrs at being manhandled.
Pinning me with his hips, he rips my top away from my body, leaving me bare, and immediately bends to suck a nipple into his mouth. I writhe against him, digging my nails into his shoulders as his teeth sink into my flesh.
Now it’s my turn to hiss, sucking air through my teeth as my back arches, and my hips buck against Rick’s hard length. Desperate for more, I drop my hands to his belt as Rick’s tongue flicks my beaded nipple, soothing the sting from his bite. Struggling to undo his trousers, Rick lowers me to the floor, tearing them open and freeing his erection. Grasping the base, he gives it a firm stroke causing pre-cum to bead at the tip. The sight has me dropping to my knees wild with the need to taste him, to feel his cock fill my mouth.
I swirl my tongue over the crown, savouring the salty tang as it hits my tongue, before wrapping my lips around him and taking him down to the root. His cock pulses as it hits the back of my throat, drawing a grunt from Rick. The tortured sound has me humming my approval and repeating the action.
Suddenly, Rick pulls back, reaching his limit for my teasing, and I get to my feet, swiping a thumb across my lips before sucking it into my mouth. His eyes spark, and a growl rumbles free. Within seconds, I’m back in his arms against the wall as he thrusts inside me, ripping a shrieked gasp from me as I stretch around him.
Every thrust is a mirror of my heartbeat—fast and erratic but controlled and on target, hitting that sweet spot inside that has my eyes rolling in my head and a cry bursting from me as my orgasm builds uncontrollably.
“Fuck…fuck! I…” My back thuds against the wall, cutting off my words as the first tremor of my climax cascades over my body. My pussy convulses, squeezing his cock as it swells with the beginning of Rick’s own release. His grip on my thighs tightens painfully, and I unleash a barrage of colourful curses as my orgasm tears through me.
“Rick, Rick, fucking hell!” I pant, as Rick’s body stiffens before shuddering out his own release and spilling inside me.
Both of us breathing heavily, his knees give out, and he drops to the floor, shifting his hold to my back as I rest on his thighs. He lifts his head, looking to me, and I watch some sort of battle behind his eyes. Not wanting to see that look in his eyes, as if he’s broken some unspoken promise, I drop my lips to his. He’s hesitant at first, but then his mouth begins to move against mine in a slow, languid kiss that conveys more than the ‘just sex’ I think we were both aiming for.
Eighteen
/> Rick
My arms wrap around her back as I drop to the floor with her on my lap, and my cock still inside her. Lifting my eyes to hers, I know she sees too much, and I’m almost grateful when her lips meet mine. I say almost because her kiss isn’t just a kiss. It’s the promise of more. It’s the idea of a second chance and something I never ever expected.
Shaking the thoughts away, I allow myself to fall into this moment, moving my mouth against hers. With each stroke of her tongue, another dent appears in my carefully constructed steel walls. And I know without a shadow of doubt that this won’t be the last time I seek her out. I’m fucked. Well and fucking truly.
Breaking the kiss a few minutes later, and before it goes any further—because let’s be honest, that’s where it was going—I grip her thighs and get to my feet. I can’t resist one last kiss as I drop her to her feet.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she gathers her clothes, but she doesn’t make a move to put them back on, perfectly comfortable with having her body on display. I silently curse as she bends down in front of me, picking up her top. I quickly look away before I change my mind and take her again.
“I’ll be back in a second. There’s beers in the fridge,” she says, heading for the ladder to the mezzanine floor. The implicit question of whether I’ll still be here when she returns is loud in its silence.
Jess is a woman who knows her own mind, knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to show it or go after it. I know very little about who she really is outside of the information Tobias gave me before her rescue and what I’ve learnt over the past few days.
So far, I’ve managed to resist the temptation to dig deeper into her background. Not because I’m worried about what I’ll find, but for fear it will only pull me to her more. I know she has secrets, harbours a darkness not too dissimilar to mine and keeps her heart locked up tight.