Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18)

by Irish Winters

  Beau crooked a finger and repeated, “Come here.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “And David and Nancy Tao? They’ve got seven kids—seven! How do they keep the romance alive?”

  “Come. Here,” he said with more authority, pointing to the floor at his feet and wanting her on her knees. Okay, maybe not on her knees, but definitely straddling his knee or bent over it, he wasn’t picky.

  “Then there’s Maverick and China. I’m not kidding you, the minute he came home—”

  “McKenna!”

  She had the nerve to shake her pretty little head, which sent a cascade of golden, reddish curls spilling over her shoulder, and a rush of hot, molten lava straight to his manhood. “Did you want something?”

  “Do. Not did,” he told her, still indicating the floor between his knees.

  “Me?” she asked, all innocent and clueless—not.

  “You,” he growled, his blood on fire for the one person in the world who held any power over him.

  Losing the coy routine, she came straight to him, but dropped to her knees instead of climbing onto his lap. Snuggled between his thighs, she wrapped her arms very carefully around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest, which put her breasts on his belly. What a sublime moment. “Sorry, but I had an emergency, and couldn’t get away this morning. But why aren’t you at the hospital where you should be?”

  “First things first. What emergency?”

  “One of my favorite patients. Sweet little Walter. The chemo and radiation haven’t worked, and he’s not strong enough for a bone marrow transplant. Even if he were, we’ve run out of time.” She raked her fingers over her forehead and through those silken tresses, smoothing them away from her face, her voice soft and sad against him.

  “How old is he?”

  “Three and a half,” she replied, then sighed in frustration. “Kids always tell you they’re so many years old and always a half, like they can’t wait to grow up and do all the things big kids do. Only Walter...” Her voice trailed away. “What’s sad is his parents won’t accept the oncologist’s or my opinion. They want to pursue every last option, and I don’t blame them. I would, too. But Walter’s at the point where all those experimental procedures amount to torture. I know they don’t want to hear that their son is dying, but…” She shook her head. “I hate this part of my profession.”

  “I can understand why,” he murmured, stroking her upper arms. “Which hospital’s he at?”

  “Children’s National.”

  He took hold of her jaw, his still bandaged and very useless hammer hand in her gorgeous raspberry blonde hair as he drew her to his mouth, needing to comfort her. “Missed you, baby.”

  McKenna melted against him and took command of his mouth. That kiss ignited into a full body press. With his blood pounding in his veins, he dragged her onto his lap. Not straddling him, but ladylike with her legs still together. Any straddling to be done was up to her.

  But fingers were everywhere. His. Hers. Their teeth clashed as their tongues made wild, slick love. This was all he wanted. This woman. This moment. “I’ve got a bed in the next room,” he muttered around her wet, luscious lips.

  “I’m thinking this is a bad idea,” she breathed into his open mouth. “You’re still recovering and—”

  That earned her a soft slap on her ass. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  She sighed, and that was the answer Beau needed. Groaning, because he was in pain he’d never admit to, he lifted to his feet with McKenna in his arms. “I’m taking you to bed, so speak now if you’re opposed to the idea.”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tucked her head under his chin and murmured, “Lead on.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “More,” McKenna urged as Beau sank into her rigid body, this insertion not as painful as the first time they’d made love. The second they’d retreated to his bedroom, they’d stripped each other bare. Yes, she’d been a virgin until that moment back at Maverick and China’s ranch, and yes, she and Beau had had a quick, but terse discussion about her failure to share that pertinent detail the first time they’d made love.

  He’d been so shocked to learn he was her first, she’d almost felt guilty for not telling him sooner. But that first time had happened so quickly, and right now, he was balls deep in make-up sex and forgiving her. The man was a gentle giant in the art of lovemaking, so worried he’d hurt her that his callused fingertips barely scraped over her sensitized nipples. He held her as carefully as a one-handed man could, his left forearm alongside her head as his hips thrust forward.

  Loving the intimacy of his rugged body sliding over hers, she threaded her fingers into his lush, dark hair, cupped the back of his head, and drew him closer. Tighter. Like that was in any way possible. In truth, she strived to be as careful of his bandaged wounds as he was of her entire body, but she needed more. More thrust. More power. Just more, damn it.

  All this cautious lovemaking was getting her nowhere, and she’d been on the verge way too long. It was time to take control before the friction between them turned painful and before Beau succumbed to his weakened condition. Grunting, she bucked him onto his side, then eased him onto his back before she climbed aboard and straddled his hips. “Is that okay? Am I hurting you?”

  A truly beautiful smile blossomed over his handsome, rugged face, lighting those beautiful eyes up like a homing beacon in a dark and dangerous night. The man really was pretty in a rugged, sexy way. “Baby, everything you do is okay, and no, you’re not hurting me.”

  He wiggled his hips, adjusting his position until he was once more breaching her very feminine defenses. “I like you right where you are,” he growled, his voice so throaty that her heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

  Lost in the tangy scent of his masculine body, she dropped to his lips and sucked the lower one between her teeth. Tugging at him to open up and give her what she wanted. Rubbing her chin against the exquisite scrape of his whiskers. His hands smoothed down her back to cup her ass, and she was certain his left hand had just squeezed just as hard as his right.

  “You’re getting stronger,” she murmured as she trailed kisses from his cheek to his forehead, then stopped with her breasts poised over his mouth. With one sure lunge forward, his good hand slid up her bare ribcage to assist his mouth. Ever so gently, he squeezed, then consumed the tip of it.

  “Yes, there,” she mewled, her stomach tightening as he suckled, lighting the explosive link between her breasts and her needy, quivering core.

  “You’re dripping wet,” he growled.

  “Always. For you.” She lifted just enough to impale herself, taking him into her body to his hilt. “Ah,” she ground out as the burgeoning pleasure of this coming together seared her from the inside out.

  “You like the top,” he noticed.

  “I love you,” she clarified, her eyes closed tightly as the sweetest fire roared up her spine and— “Yessssss!” she hissed, her toes stuck into the mattress, launching her soul heavenward. The very foundation of the world exploded into fireworks. Stars! Her body turned into one giant feminine muscle that propelled her into the universe, her heart breaking at the sublime pleasure of mating with this once-in-her-lifetime, oh, so yummy male.

  Beau arched into the pillow and roared, his long, callused fingers cupping her full breasts as he joined her in her—their—release. Panting and sweating from the ecstasy, she tipped her forehead to his chest and licked up the delicious canyon between his massive pecs. Loving the salty, sultry, musky scent of his skin. “Hmmm. Let’s do it again.”

  Still breathing hard, he moaned, his fingertips fluttering over her backside. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

  A giggle escaped. “Like you would ever hurt me.”

  He cupped her ass in both hands, and a spark of worry for his still-healing finger flittered through her very satisfied mind but was lost to the overwhelming pleasantness of the moment. This was so
worth waiting for.

  At last, she settled comfortably to his right side, tucked in under his good arm, her head on his shoulder, and his bandaged hand on his pillow where she couldn’t bump it.

  “Did you mean what you said?” he asked quietly, his chin up and his gaze on the ceiling.

  Startled at the timidity behind that question, McKenna lifted to one elbow to see him better. “Did I mean what?”

  His hand slid to her waist, but his gaze seemed fixated on something overhead. He shrugged, not answering, and just that fast, she knew. He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t. Yet he wanted to know if she really loved him. If she would keep him.

  There was still a lost child looking out of this handsome rugged warrior. Expecting another rebuff. Already prepared for rejection. Maybe ready to shove off before she tossed him aside. Like she’d ever let him go now…

  Ah-ah. Not happening. Slyly, she licked her fingertips, then scrubbed them over his magnificent chest, taking extra time to moisten his nipples. Resting her chin on the back of that same hand, she blew on those unsuspecting flat discs, thrilled when they puckered in response.

  “Did you mean what you said?” she asked instead of answering.

  Still not meeting her gaze, his brows slammed together as he grunted, “What’d I say?”

  Slowly, she let her fingers slide down his centerline. Taking firm hold of him, she said, “I’m pretty sure you just told me you love me. Maybe not with words, but with your entire, sexy body, and with all the times you risked your life to protect mine. Am I right? Huh? I am, huh?”

  Tension hissed out of him like a balloon that had been filled to bursting. Yet he shrugged, not admitting. Not denying.

  McKenna scooted up until her breasts lay on that magnificent chest, yet she still maintained possession of his now hardening manhood. “Say it for me, Beau. Come on. I know you can do it. You love me. Say it,” she teased, turning this confrontation into a lover’s game instead of a power struggle.

  She didn’t really need to hear those three words. She already knew. He’d proven his rough brand of love these last weeks. In the ways he’d protected her. In the ways he’d nearly died for her. Yes, a few of those times he’d deserted her, but every time he’d only left for the purest of reasons. What woman tossed that kind of courage away just because of a few missing words?

  Instead of tapping her toes like some prima donna, she dipped her lips to his chest and kissed a trail up the strong muscles of his neck to his scruffy chin. Over that chin, until she angled her head and took his stubborn mouth by storm. Licking him. Nibbling those defiant, full lips. Loving the sweet-salty taste of the man she loved with every beat of her heart. Breathing him into her soul like she was, her willing body amped up and was ready to go again.

  His left arm shifted over his eyes, still hiding. Still not trusting. And that was okay. Baby steps. This lonely man who’d fought the world all his life, loved her, and she knew it.

  “I love you, Beau,” she told him sincerely, needing to pour her heart into him the only way she could. “I love you for your courageous heart, and, news flash, I’m never letting you go. Not today. Not next year. Not. Ever. If you let me, I’d move in with you tomorrow. If you’d rather not, I’ll stay at China’s, and I’ll understand. Because it doesn’t matter to me where we live, as long as I get to live for you. Because…” She tapped her fingertips over his heart. “I already do.”

  Wide manly palms smoothed up her spine until he squeezed her against him. McKenna was very sure there were tears in his eyes. That was why he refused to look at her. Pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat, she gave this tender, broken warrior what he needed to live. She gave him herself... over and over again.

  A man’s not much without the woman of his heart at his side. The right woman. How well Beau knew. Lying in his bed with McKenna softly snoring in his arms, he knew damned well he was half of a whole, but not the better half. Yet with this woman beside him and with his real parents now safe and sound with Alex and Kelsey, for the first time in his life, Beau felt like more than just a tossed out, broken piece of garbage.

  Turned out he wasn’t Bass Jennings’ guttersnipe after all. Thank you, Jesus! He was Benjamin Beauregard Villanueva, the son of a proud, hard-working man and the best mother ever. Come morning, Beau meant to legally change his name. And with that proud new name, he meant to ask Maverick how the hell a dumb Army guy should propose to a fine upstanding woman like McKenna without making an ass of himself. She deserved nothing but the best, and Beau meant to be that man. He wasn’t nothing, damn it. He was good enough. Complete. Finally home from the battle of a lifetime.

  His pulse throbbed every time he looked down into her lovely, innocent face as she snuggled tightly against him. The white sheets and comforter flowed like a cloud around her. Lifting one crimson-blonde tangle, it curled instantly around his finger, just like she’d done with her long legs when they’d made love. Like a sweet seductive vine, she’d intertwined her fingers and legs with his, her heart and her soul as well. Like a warm ray of the purest sunshine. Like the holiest kind of celestial love. She’d seeped into the dark depths of him and shone light where none had been in a very long time. But the very best part? She had loved him when he was as close to gutter trash as any man could get.

  There were no words to describe how much he adored her. Was the Grand Canyon big? Was the Pacific deep? The tidal wave of love welling inside of him was that immeasurable, that deep and that wide. Maybe wider.

  The enormity of her declaration had humbled him. He couldn’t have looked into those pretty green eyes then if he’d tried. Who was he that Jesus had sent this heavenly angel into his wretched cesspool of a life? Who indeed...

  Pressing a tender kiss to the satin expanse of her forehead, Beau locked his heart against the violence of his past. Bass Jennings would scourge him with a cat-o-nine tails no more. Never again would that bastard have the power to take one blessed thing away from the child he’d kidnapped.

  It was time to start over. To be the better man Beau knew he could be. To let go of the lies he’d dragged with him every dogged step of his days. All except sweet Almond Joy. Her memory alone he would keep. He would cling to.

  “I love you, baby,” he told McKenna from the deepest depth of his broken heart. That had to be how she’d sneaked into his life. Through all those cracks and crevices. All those breaks. Past the lies and ambushes. “I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never leave you again unless you’re in harm’s way. I’ll spend the rest of my life in your service, foremost and forever. I promise.”

  Arching her back, she pushed her breasts into his hands as a tiny smile tweaked the corner of her mouth. “Okay,” she breathed drowsily.

  He wasn’t sure if she’d heard what he’d said, or if she meant what she’d said. Didn’t matter. He finally had what he wanted, and this courageous woman had given it to him. Forgiveness. Trust. Her innocence and her love. The rest of her life.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Beau watched McKenna sidle into the pew alongside China and Kyrie. She’d gone ahead of him into the crowded chapel to make sure they’d have room to sit together for the commencement of Dempsey’s celebration of life, whatever that was.

  Once McKenna nodded back at him, he began his arduous trek forward. It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’d been hurt worse before. Maybe it was the accumulation of injuries. Whatever. He walked like an old man. Past Harley, Judy, and their two boys. Past Adam and Shannon and their little guy. Then past the Stewarts. “Hi!” Lexie whispered loudly when she saw him.

  Beau nodded silently at her quick smile despite Alex’s disapproving head shake. Man, that guy could chill an iceberg. Well, let him be pissed. Mother needed her entire team here today.

  “I saved two places,” Kyrie was whispering to McKenna as Beau approached. “Isn’t Beau coming?”

  “Probably not,” China answered, then frowned over McKenna’s shoulder. “What are you doing
out of bed, Agent Jennings?” she hissed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Cautiously, Beau lowered his butt alongside his future bride. Backs could heal, but Mother’s broken heart would not. “Please. It’s Villanueva if you don’t mind, Miss China. And I’m here to honor my friend.” He tipped his head to Kyrie. “How’s the kitten business?”

  Kyrie beamed, reaching past her grouchy mother for his hand. “I’m so happy you’re here. You scared the heebie-jeebies outta me! Thought I’d never see you again.”

  When her pretty eyes brimmed, Beau swiped a quick hand over his face to keep from bawling with her. Holy fu… um, heck. Most folks didn’t miss a guy like him, much less admit it out loud. Yet the mental shifts he had to make for these kinds of emotional displays were kind of—nice. He shook the tips of her outstretched fingers and told her, “I’m too tough to die. You’re not rid of me yet.”

  “I don’t want to get rid of you!” she replied enthusiastically.

  “But you should be home,” China insisted as—

  Damned if Maverick didn’t pick that moment to limp stiffly, albeit leaning heavily on a cane, into the other end of the pew. Breathing hard, he took up residence alongside Kyrie.

  “Dad! You came!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “Of course,” he growled, wincing as he bowed his chin to the top of her head. Pale and sweating, he’d dressed all in black from his slacks and button-up shirt to his suede vest. But man, he looked like shit.

  Beau spiked a brow at the dumbass. Maverick had no business being there. Yet he offered a crooked grimace, then tipped two fingers to his forehead in a silent salute that clearly said, ‘We’re both dumbasses.’