Our skin sticks together as the strength seeps out of my muscles. She wraps her legs and arms around me, and I kiss her once more before I use a hand to tilt her ass up and push the slightest bit forward. The head of my cock presses in and we both groan in unison at that first breech.
“Holy shit,” she whispers against my throat, and I chuckle. “Don’t stop.”
Her walls ripple around me and the smartass remark I was going to say turns into a choked sound. “Don’t you dare come,” I warn her.
She draws me forward with her legs around my hips, nudging my cock in another inch toward heaven. “I can’t help it,” she gasps. “You feel so good.”
She isn’t wrong. Having her tight, wet heat wrapped around me is the best thing I’ve experienced in years, but the last thing I want is for it to end just when we’ve gotten started. Intent on making this good for her, I push the rest of the way in and try to focus on anything but the constant clench of her around me. I withdraw and give up on breathing altogether.
I cover her mouth with mine as instinct takes over, swallowing her whimpers with each increasingly forceful thrust until we’re both breathless. The bed squeaks with each motion, but neither of us seem to give a damn. Her cries grow more desperate and her limbs tighten around me. Everything narrows to the moment she throws her head back and gives herself over to the spiral of pleasure beneath me.
Seeing her go over the edge, feeling her response ripple around my cock forces my own orgasm, and I tangle my hands in her hair, my face pressed to her throat as it consumes me.
Seconds—or hours—later, I resurface at the sensation of hands running through my hair. I lean up on my forearms and find Faith smiling up at me.
“Hello,” she says, her voice warm and eyes sparkling.
“Hey, there.” I frown. “I’m not squishing you, am I?”
She transitions to admiring my beard with her fingers. “Not at all. I’d pretty much let you do anything you wanted at this point.”
My lips quirk. “Oh, really?”
“Really.”
I mentally evaluate my body and sigh, but I’m too satisfied to be disappointed at the heaviness that fills me. “Anything you want . . . in a couple hours.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Anything?”
I manage to get to my feet to dispose of the condom. That taken care of, I collapse onto the bed next to her and wrap the blankets around us. She fits herself next to me and rests her head on my arm.
“It’s Christmas after all,” I add in a drowsy voice.
She laughs and then gasps. “Look, it’s snowing!”
I manage to pry open my eyes and find thick sheets of snow falling just outside my window, but that’s not what has me feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
Faith turns to look at me, her face flushed with pleasure and excitement. “What?” she asks.
“Nothing. I’m just happy.”
She lays a hand on my cheek and reaches up to kiss me again. “Me, too.”
Another Year Later
Faith
The day passed and Scott didn’t say a word.
Not one word.
At first, I thought it was typical male forgetfulness, except Scott’s been incredibly thoughtful since we started dating last Christmas. Granted, we’ve passed the honeymoon stage so he’s bound to make a mistake every now and then, so I decide not to mention it.
I have my own plate full with preparing for exams and gearing up to finish my first year of grad school. Grad school. It wasn’t long ago I thought I’d never make it through undergrad let alone think about suffering through college for three more years.
Life is funny like that.
My phone lights up on my desk, and the name on the caller ID brings a smile to my face, even if I’m a little sad that he forgot Valentine’s Day.
“Hey,” I answer and push away from the physio homework I’ve been trying to finish but can’t focus on.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says.
My body warms even though he’s a couple hours away. If my roommate wasn’t coming back from a night class, I’d have to resort to some blistering hot phone sex. Living hours away from each other is torture.
“What’s up?” I ask as I cross the short distance to my bed.
Since last Christmas, this had become a routine. Scott would call sometime after his own long day of volunteering with other veterans, and we’d talk for hours. About everything. He told me in more detail about the explosion that took his leg and the man who saved his life. During the year we were apart after that first Christmas, he’d visited Ben, and they’d both started to heal after that, I think. Ben’s little boy has a birthday coming up soon, and Scott wants me to go with him to the party.
“Nothin’,” Scott replies in a growly voice that makes me want to melt. “Just thinkin’ about you.”
I bite my lip to contain my sound of pleasure. “Oh, really?” Maybe he hadn’t forgotten Valentine’s Day after all. Last year he made it a whole deal. Dinner, wine, a romantic walk through a park, and hours of dirty sex that makes me eager for a repeat.
“Always. But I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
There goes my steamy Valentine’s repeat. My heart dips, but I force myself to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Oh?”
“I won’t be able to come up to visit this weekend. I have to help a friend move.”
“That’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t be able to come every weekend.”
We’ve both been traveling back and forth to see each other on our breaks and off days. Last weekend, I gave him an extended tour around campus and the local haunts, then brought him into my apartment. My roommate tactfully stayed somewhere else for the evening, and he and I did things on a twin-size bed that I didn’t know were possible. I should invest in something bigger, but I’ve liked having the excuse to keep him as close as possible.
“I know,” he replies. “I just hate not seeing you.”
I cross my leg and bounce my foot to keep myself distracted. “Me, too, but it’s only for a few more months. Then we’ll have all of summer break.”
The sound of a blinker and the low hum of a car radio fills the moment of silence before he says, “It’ll all work out. I’ll make sure I make up for it.”
“You don’t have anything to make up for,” I tell him. “I’ll just drive down to see you next weekend.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I could try to get out of it, if you want me to. Just say the word.”
I look around the empty room and try to make my voice as sincere as possible. “No, don’t you dare. It’s not a big deal.”
“All right, baby, well I’m almost there. I wish I was spending the weekend with you.”
Me, too. “Next weekend. We’ll do something fun,” I say.
“Count on it.” There’s the loud slam of a car door, and he says, “I’ll call you later, okay? Study hard.”
I withhold a sigh and force out an, “I will. Later.”
So much for a romantic date night. I glance over at the stacks of books and papers I should be diving into, but I can’t seem to make myself get off the bed and get back to work. Not even physiology can distract me from the buzzing beneath my skin. Becoming a physical therapist has been my dream since the car accident. One of my friends had severe breaks in her leg and needed months of physical therapy. When I saw how much they helped her, how they saved her, I knew it’s how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I’m willing to admit seeing how it’s also helped Scott reclaim his life has also cemented my decision.
Even considering all of that, I ignore my books and go for the emergency hot chocolate I keep stashed in the tiny room we call a kitchen. It’s barely more than a closet, but it works for two broke college students. As it heats up in the microwave, I allow myself two minutes of wallowing, and then I’m going to forget the disappointment, drink my hot chocolate, and get back to work.
The microwave bleats, and I retrieve my mug. On the way back
to my room, the doorbell rings. Most of my friends are out on dates with their significant others, and my roommate is as much of a recluse as I am, so I look through the peephole before I answer and nearly spill the hot contents of my mug all over myself in an effort to open the door.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaim.
Scott’s smile is so wide all I can see is teeth. “Surprise!” he says with his arms open wide.
I rush into them without thinking, even though it’s awkward with the hot chocolate still in one hand. I’m so overwhelmed with excitement, tears leak out of the corner of my eyes.
“Aw, baby, don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” My words are punctuated by a pathetic sniffle.
“Sure you’re not,” he says with a laugh and guides us back into my living room, shutting the door behind us. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“Of course I’m happy. I just can’t believe you’re here. What about your friend?”
He nudges my chin up and wipes away the moisture from my cheeks. “There was no friend, I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“I think it worked,” I say in a dry tone.
He holds out a handful of white daisies. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I promptly burst into tears, and he maneuvers us to the couch so he can hold me on his lap. “I’m s-sorry,” I say.
“I take it you’re happy to see me,” he comments.
“Happy tears. I was pretty bummed you weren’t coming.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
When I manage to get control of myself, I snuggle into his shirt and the circle of his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I can tell,” he says with a laugh. “Ford said I shouldn’t have tricked you.”
“Well, Ford does know women.”
“Then I hope he was right about the second part of your surprise.”
That catches my attention. “What do you mean?” I glance down at the pajama pants and ratty T-shirt I’ve been studying in. “I’m not exactly dressed for a fancy restaurant this year.”
“It isn’t a fancy restaurant.”
He leans down to kiss me, trying to distract me. It works for a second, and I don’t pull away until we’re horizontal on the couch with him nestled between my legs.
“Well if it isn’t a fancy restaurant, then what is it?”
“Me,” he says and then arranges me so we’re lying side by side on the couch.
Confused, I look to at him as he runs his hands through my hair, much like he did that Christmas night two years ago. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know I haven’t been working the past couple years. My parent’s life insurance took care of everything, but now that I’m back to myself—or my better self,” he adds with a smile, “I’ve been thinking about what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
It’s been a question hanging above our heads—what we’re going to do once I graduate in two years. I haven’t wanted to push because he’s been dealing with so much, and I’ve been content to simply be with him. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered.
“I was taking classes while I was in the Marines. Basic shit. I was too messed up after I came home to worry about it, but I’ve been speaking with an advisor the past couple months.”
I break my self-imposed silence, unable to contain the words. “You have?”
He nods. “An advisor here.”
Dumfounded, I say, “Here? At State?”
“Yes, here.”
“You’re going to go to school here? When? How?”
His fingers still trailing through my hair, he says, “Yes, here. I’ve got about two years left until I get my bachelor’s. They’ve got to see what credits transfer, but I can start this summer to catch up and get into the hang of things.”
“This summer. Here.” I can’t seem to make the words sink in.
“That’s right. If it’s okay with you.”
“Okay with me? Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?”
He shifts so he can look into my eyes. I smile up at him, my hand going to his cheek. I can’t seem to get enough of touching him.
“I got you this for Valentine’s Day,” he says, ignoring my question, and reaches in his back pocket. He places a small, thin black box in my hands. “Now keep in mind, you can say no if you want to. This is in no way an obligation.”
When a girl gets a black box for Valentine’s Day, she’s allowed to freak out, but I manage to keep calm, barely, and lift the lid. Inside is a plain gold key. I look up at Scott in question.
“I want you to move in with me. I found a nice house near campus. It’s got two nice bedrooms and a yard.” His cheeks color underneath his beard. “I thought maybe we could get a dog or a cat or something. I mean, if you want.”
The words lock up in my throat, and all I can do is nod. His smile returns full force and he kisses me soundly. Then I remember the yard, and his present. I push him back and his brows draw together.
“Time for your present,” I tell him as I get up from the couch.
I wasn’t sure if I was getting him the right thing when I picked it out, but now I have no doubt. I retrieve his present from my room and, heart racing, I walk back to the living room where Scott’s now sitting on the couch.
The present in my arms barks and his head jerks to me.
“I got you this guy because I didn’t want you to be in your house alone. So he could keep you company. But now, he can be in our house. He’s ours.” The dog barks, as though he’s agreeing. “He’s a rescue from the shelter, but I just knew he was ours from the second I saw him.”
I lift the puppy up to hand him to Scott, and the look on Scott’s face when he realizes the dog is missing his right front paw is indescribable.
Over the head of the wriggling bundle of fur, we kiss, and I know this is one of those bright spots that will light up the darkness.
Did you enjoy Honor? Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in the series, Traitor!
Peyton
It’s a sad, sad day when you realize you don’t know the name of the naked man in bed with you.
The incredibly muscular naked man in bed with you.
Seriously, I didn’t know a guy could have so many muscles.
I lose a good ten minutes just staring at the plump curve of his ass and wondering if I should rouse him for round two. Based on the soreness in my own body and the satisfied throb between my legs, he was entirely worth the morning-after awkwardness that I’m about to go through.
As I’m debating if I should smother myself with my own pillow or roll out of bed for a shower, he lets out a groan and the arm that’s slung over my waist shifts off, freeing me. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I slip off the side and stumble to my feet. My cat, Leopold, winds around my ankles as I pick my way through a maze of boxes and to my bedroom door. When he starts yowling, I pick him up and cradle him to my bare breasts.
Once I’m in the hallway, I let out a breath and say to Leopold, “What the hell did we get ourselves into, Leo?” He meows and I scratch his ears before pouring him a bowl full of food.
After I nab my robe from where I tossed it on the back of my recliner and brush my teeth, I consider the war zone that is the open concept kitchen, dining room, and living room of my new house. Moving was no doubt the best and worst part of my job. Sure, I loved the idea of seeing new places and experiencing new cultures, but the actual packing and lugging around my life every few years left a lot to be desired.
Then again, it did come with perks like a new crop of men to sample, which couldn’t be discounted. Speaking of men, I peered down the hallway, but there was no peep coming from the bedroom. As I pour myself a cup of coffee, I wonder how long I should let the guy sleep before I kick him out. Not that I didn’t enjoy our late-night aerobics, but I’ve only got a couple days before my new job starts and I want to get most of these boxes unpacked and the house in order before it does.
/> After I suck back the thick brew, I place the coffee cup in the sink along with the single plate, set of silverware, and drinking glass that’s served as my dinnerware for the past few days while I’ve gotten settled in. I decide to take a shower and hope that my mystery man will be awake and out the door by the time I’m done.
I pilfer through the dryer and snag a pair of running shorts and a sports top that I’ve worn almost religiously while unpacking the never-ending stacks of boxes. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear the tell-tale sound of the toilet flush just feet away.
Even though I’m no stranger to the one-night-stand, my heart does a little shimmy and my stomach threatens to reject the coffee sloshing around inside it. After all, the sex was really good. If I had time to have a personal life, he’d be at the top of the list for an around the clock lover. He sure has the stamina for it.
With that in mind, I lean against the wall until the bathroom door opens and holy shit does he look better in full daylight. I’m into fitness, but this guy practically has abs on his abs and damn if his shoulders don’t make me want to climb right on him and go for another ride.
“Mornin’,” he says as he scratches his head. He stifles a yawn, then grins. Warmth stirs in my belly and I forget the reasons why I should be pushing him toward the nearest exit. “Sorry, had a late night.”
My own responding smile feels decidedly feline. “Yes, you did.” I consider the way his unbuttoned jeans droop around his hips and then I say, “Want a shower?”
His own grin darkens and a hand shoots out, quick as a snake, to capture my waist and jerk me against his hard body. My eyes zero in on the ink on his chest that I didn’t notice the night before. I have an urgent need to trace it with my tongue…along with other parts of his body.
I crowd him, angling us both back to the bathroom, my robe slipping off my shoulders as we go. His lips find the sensitive skin there and I flick back the curtain and turn on the water as his hands palm my ass.
First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 83