Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3)

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Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3) Page 15

by Alexa Padgett


  I kicked back to the edge of the pool and hauled myself out. Grabbing my towel, I slung it around my body.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  Hank was pale and he swayed on the bench. His once-pristine shirt slicked with something dark. “You’re bleeding.” I pressed the towel to the center saturation point. “Not arterial,” I muttered. “Good.”

  Hank hissed, pulling his arm tighter to his chest. “It’s not bad. Grazed my ribs.”

  “Stay still,” I said. “I don’t know if the bullet’s still in.”

  “Passed through,” Hank gritted.

  I raised my gaze to Lew, but he continued to sweep the area, gun still drawn. “We need to get you out of here. But I don’t want to move you until I know the property’s secure.”

  “You didn’t hear us calling,” Hank muttered. “He shot into the pool, too.”

  Everything in me stilled. No. Security crawled all over this place along with cameras and extra police. No way Jordan just walked into the hotel, pretty as you please. I collapsed onto the bench next to Hank, my legs shaking too much to hold me up. “Jordan was here? In the hotel?”

  “He was here,” Hank said. He groaned softly. “On the pool deck. Dressed in maintenance attire.”

  Murphy slammed into the room, only stopping when he gripped my shoulders, hands sliding down my arms as his eyes tracked their movement. “Why is there blood on your hands? Where are you hurt?”

  “I-I’m not,” I said. “It’s Hank’s. Wh-what happened?” My teeth chattered. Shock. I was sliding into shock.

  “Jordan’s gone,” Kevin said, stepping forward. “Through the underground garage.”

  “Where you were?” I asked, gripping Murphy’s shirt in response. I gasped, taking in the bits of glass on his hair. “Oh, God. Call another ambulance! We need to get you to the hospital,” I said.

  “I’m fine, but Jordan did take some shots at me.”

  I fell into Murphy’s arms, clutching him tight even as my mind whirred with scenarios.

  “A gun. He’s never used a gun before.” My teeth chattered harder and I shivered.

  “Cold?” Murphy asked, voice soft.

  I nodded. “Mostly scared.”

  “Come on. We’ll go upstairs. You can have a shower.”

  “But Hank—”

  “Needs to go to the hospital,” Lew said smoothly. “The wound isn’t life-threatening. Kevin will accompany you upstairs and stay in the room while I take care of this down here.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but I was too scared, felt too exposed. I wanted to check Murphy over, see with my own eyes he was in one piece. When Murphy pulled me up, I stumbled, my vision hazing toward black. Murphy wrapped an arm around my waist and without any thought, I burrowed in closer, finding my spot.

  He exhaled hard, pulling me even tighter against him so that I felt the fine tremors wreaking havoc with his body. He dropped a kiss to my forehead, an unconscious gesture, sweeter for its thoughtless response. “You have to stop scaring me,” he muttered as he walked forward.

  “Believe me, I want to.”

  Kevin, gun in hand, stepped out in front of us. Seeing the weapon caused me to shake even harder. Murphy tightened his grip and we clung to each other, our forward progress hindered by my inability to peel my arms from Murphy’s waist.

  Two other guards flanked us. My hair dripped water all over the carpet, and I shivered in my wet suit. We took the stairs up, not waiting for the elevator. My lungs were laboring by the time we got to the top.

  “We lost him again,” Kevin said, scowling at Murphy, his frustration palpable. “If you’d waited another minute before jumping from the car, I might have been able to corner him.”

  Murphy scowled back at his guard. His fingers tensed at my waist. “I had to know Mila was safe.”

  Kevin turned toward me. “He didn’t wait to hear any more. He just leapt from the car and started running. I covered him up the stairwell.”

  Tremors ripped through Murphy and his fingers dug into my skin. Murphy had always been impulsive—too much so, clearly. “I shouldn’t have left you. I can’t . . . Mila, you have to stay safe.”

  I let him wrap me in a hug as my eyes met Kevin’s exasperated ones. He shook his head, irritation oozing off him. But he smiled at Murphy’s arms around me.

  I couldn’t see Murphy’s face because it was buried in my dripping hair. He cared about me. I sucked on my lip as I considered both his words and his raspy tone. To test my theory, I rested my wet head against his chest and brought my hand up to his abdomen. His muscles clenched and he hissed. I set my hand lower, nearer the button on his jean. The fear, the frustration, the anger . . . Murphy could help me forget all those emotions. Just let me feel again.

  “You need to stop.”

  I started to pull back, my cheeks flaming at the thoughts of what must be going through Kevin’s mind but the guard wasn’t paying attention to Murphy’s softly spoken words. He was on his phone and after a few intent moments, he said, “Got it.”

  “Staff security and Lance from our team walked the suite. Everything’s secure,” Kevin said. He opened the door to the suite and I clutched tighter at Murphy, practically dragging him into my room. I shut the door behind us, locking it.

  “What’s wrong, Mil?”

  “I shouldn’t have gone to the pool,” I said. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, for insisting on going down there.”

  “It’s the lack of pills, too.” Murphy stepped back. His eyes drifting up and down my exposed skin. He paused and I tensed. His callused fingers reached forward, touching the large, ragged scar on my shoulder.

  “This is from the accident?”

  “They grafted skin from my calf up there. I was pretty banged up.” I pulled down the strap of my suit so he could see the full extent of its ugliness—the raised, bumpy skin ran from my shoulder to the top of my breast and down part of my side. So he could see how broken Jordan left me. Jumping out of that car proved once again Murphy wasn’t taking this situation as seriously as he needed to.

  “I can’t believe he did that to you. No wonder . . .” Murphy pulled me close and kissed the scar, a soft brush of his lips. “This is where you landed? After you fell off the pushy.”

  I nodded. Murphy pulled me closer, resting his head on my chest. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what you went through.”

  I slid my fingers through his hair, loving the way he felt pressed against me. He was gentle as he touched each one, learning the new, ugly parts of me now as he accepted these less-perfect additions.

  He kissed the scar again and my blood heated. I wanted him. With the way my life was going, I might be shot or stabbed at any moment. Better to take this opportunity. I might not get another.

  I sifted my fingers through his hair again before moving my fingers down over his eyebrow. I traced his eyebrow ring.

  “I would’ve thought you’d get rid of that.”

  “Reminded me of good times.” He sighed, his warm breath washing over my sensitive nipples. “I missed you, but thinking about you hurt near as much as the missing. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes. I understand. I kept mine, too. I just moved it.”

  “What do you mean.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped out of his arms. He’d seen the worst of my scars, but that didn’t mean the rest of me would measure up to the sculpted, perfect bodies of his more recent bed partners. Still, I started this and Murphy’s intense gaze told me he wanted me to continue.

  I slipped off the other strap and pulled down. My breasts sprang free and Murphy murmured a sound of pleasure. I wiggled the suit lower, loving his low moan, and my breasts jiggled. I left the suit bunched low on my hips, not quite having the courage to strip nude in front of him. I sucked in my stomach and stood tall. My hand just above my belly button.

  “I wanted to share you. With Kyle. So I pierced my belly button. That’s the ring you bought me.”

  Murphy swall
owed, his throat working as he struggled to contain some emotion. I sucked on my lip. The silence built as he stared. His hands fisted on his thighs, and I shivered as the air conditioning kicked on, blowing its frigid air over my exposed skin.

  “Are you mad?”

  In one motion, his arms were wrapped tight around me, his mouth pressed against my navel ring. “Thank you for including me.”

  I stroked his head again, loving the feel of his silky hair in my hand. “I always planned on you being part of his life, Murphy.”

  “I would have, Mil.” He rained kisses on my abdomen, rubbing his scruffy beard against the sensitive skin. I sucked in a breath as my stomach and sex clenched. He placed a kiss at the dip toward my hip, and I whimpered. His eyes lit as he slid his whiskered cheek across my belly to kiss the other side. I gripped his forearms, shifting closer so my thigh straddled his.

  He dipped his tongue into my belly button. His hands wrapped around below my bum to grip the back of my thighs. I arched into him, my skin thrumming as he played me. My thighs and bum clenched as he tightened his hold. He remembered. That spot always drove me wild.

  But I knew his secrets, too. I leaned back a little further and pressed my palm against his abdomen, just above his jeans. I rubbed my hand back and forth as he pressed into my hand, wanting me to lower it, his breathing turning ragged.

  “You always did like to deal with big emotions this way,” I murmured. I pulled my hand back.

  “That feels amazing, Mila. Don’t stop.”

  “Is this how you dealt with the stress and frustrations? By screwing some woman?”

  He ignored me, but I wasn’t sure why. Because I was right? Because he was so wild with lust for me? I tensed, needing space. But he slid his cheek up, over my ribs to the underside of my breasts where he pressed hundreds of tiny kisses, moving toward the shadow between them. I couldn’t help running my fingers through his hair as I arched closer. My hands trailed down the back of his neck and over his shoulders, still covered in his t-shirt.

  “Like that, do you?” he asked. His voice always edged lower with desire, and the gravelly tone of his speech pumped up my need. It had always been like this—as his desire built, it fed mine, and we spiraled upward into a conflagration only mating could satiate. “I might just die if I don’t get us both naked and I get to drive into your warm, wet heaven.”

  His words doused my desire. I didn’t want to be another of Murphy’s conquests. I hated thinking of myself as one of the hoards. Sure, we’d talked about our former lovers when we’d been together before, and his list was more extensive than mine then. But now it felt like we were comparing a simple script to a full-fledged health workup.

  “I can’t!” I cried, covering my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a tease, but I can’t do it.”

  The idea of being nothing more than another cheap screw in Murphy’s dissertation of sexing up the ladies . . . that broke me.

  “Hush, love.” Murphy crooned.

  I shook my head, adamant, shoving his shoulders to put more space between us. “I can’t be on that list. You don’t even care about those women.”

  He cupped my cheeks, forcing me to stare into his gray eyes. “You’re not, Mila. You’ve never been a fuck buddy.”

  I choked, the giggles making my crying seem even more hysterical. “You’re right. But only because I haven’t fucked you yet.”

  “Stop it,” Murphy kept his voice low, his eyes intent, captivating mine as surely as he held my chin in his grip. My giggles stopped and my eyes dried.

  “What?” I asked, my consternation coming through loud and clear.

  “You’re not a passing fancy.”

  I nodded, my heart constricting. “Because I’m old news.”

  20

  Murphy

  I clenched my jaw, wishing the ache in my dick would die now that my heart hurt. Her eyes were shadowed, so sad. Even with her pulling away from me, I wanted Mila more than I’d ever wanted another woman. Not a shocker. I always wanted Mila even as I freaked out about how she could break my heart again.

  What was shocking was how quickly her scorching response turned ice cold. My desire didn’t quit burning that quickly, and I didn’t want to stop. Bloody hell. Trying to think with a raging hard-on wasn’t easy.

  “What’s wrong, Mila?”

  She struggled, trying to climb off my lap. I didn’t let her.

  “I told you. I’m not one of your groupies.”

  “I know that,” I snapped. “You were the love of my life.”

  The green swirls in her eyes dimmed, her face crumpling like a pavlova left out in the heat. “Were. Now I’m nothing more than a dependent. You don’t want my death on your conscience. I understand, Murphy. But I can’t be one of your dick-wicks.” She pulled her small frame up to attention. “If that means you want to leave me to fend for myself, then—”

  “Stop right there,” I growled. Black tinged the edges of my vision. I forced my fingers to relax, to let her go. “I’m not leaving you alone whilst Jordan is out there. End of discussion.”

  “He shot at you today. Because of me.”

  She appeared so lost. Bollocks. Didn’t matter which way I turned, I screwed up and hurt her.

  “And he shot at you, too. He’s going to keep coming until he’s caught.”

  She dropped her head into her trembling palms. “I want to see my patients, Murphy. I built a life here. My days aren’t what I expected, but they mean something. And my whole life is crumbling, and I hate that you’re here, because you’re just going to leave, and then I’ll . . .” She stopped. Moving to the bathroom, she pulled a robe from the hanger and slid it on.

  I sighed, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut and just continued to worship her so we’d both be naked in the bed now. Stifling a groan, I aimed for nonchalance I didn’t feel. Leaning back against the edge of the headboard, I raised my brows.

  “You’ll what?”

  She didn’t want to answer. But this was one area I wasn’t willing to even entertain the idea of playing the gentleman. I had to have Mila again. She was mine in a way no other woman ever could be.

  “Honesty, remember?”

  She grimaced. “Fine. I’ll be crushed when you break my heart.”

  Better than I thought. Scarier though, too. My heart pounded and my mouth went dry.

  “Why’s that, Mila?”

  That earned me a full-on glare. She walked toward the bathroom, intent to put another barrier between us.

  Not happening. Jordan shot at me today. Wanted me dead. I refused to allow any fake obstacles like pride and fear get in the way—for either of us. I scrambled forward and caught the door with the toe of my boot.

  “Come here.”

  Her mouth compressed and she shook her head.

  “Please, Mila. I want to show you something.”

  She sighed. “Fine. But I want to take off my suit first.”

  Heat slammed back into my groin. “By all means, go commando.”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “Mmm, but it does have its merits.” I opened her robe, forcing myself to ignore her creamy flesh. Time for that later. Soon, I hoped. I tugged her suit down her hips, managing to dodge her hands and ignoring her squeal of surprise.

  The wet Lycra pooled at her feet and I got my first view and Mila’s nakedness. Before I knew it, I’d pressed a kiss to that slight curve just below her belly button. The skin gave a little. She smelled of chlorine but also desire.

  I clenched my jaw and stepped back, pulling the edges of her robe together. Her eyes widened. I loved that look. Like I was a bloody magician, capable of anything.

  Not quite, sweetheart. I wasn’t capable of loving you right last time. I brushed a tangle of hair from her forehead but didn’t press the kiss there I wanted to. I had reason to be hurt but so did she. The question was how we moved on—together or apart. I cinched and tied her robe’s belt and took her hand.

  She
whimpered a little as our palms connected and caressed, its own sensual dance. I pulled Mila from her room and toward the piano. Kevin stood by the door, talking to someone. Mila tugged at my hand, trying to get free. Probably to scurry back to her room and hide again.

  Nope. I was intent on this—a gesture to alleviate some of the hurt I’d caused her. I could’ve planned the moment better. Ordered up candles, a bottle of wine. But Mila knew me, which was part of the allure here. She knew I was spontaneous. Unable to control my runaway mouth.

  And her heart would break when I left.

  Some of my hurt melted away as I eased her down onto the bench next to me. Her brows were pulled tightly together.

  Alpie stared at me from her cage, her hot-pink crest rising from her head, but she remained quiet. Maybe she, too, understood the importance of this moment.

  “You don’t like to play the piano.”

  “Not often. But then, I’ve always compared myself to Hayden.”

  I took a breath and settled my fingers on the keys. “Before I do this, I want to tell you something. It’s important.”

  “Okay.”

  “I haven’t written a new song in over a year. Not because I didn’t want to. Really, it’s the thing I’ve wanted most. But I just couldn’t.”

  “Okay,” she said, confusion marking the word and swirling in her eyes.

  “I thought about you this morning. About how I’d planned to play you a different song that night. I’ve never performed that one, by the way.”

  Her lips parted, forming a little O.

  “I’m not playing that song now either. One day, maybe, and just for you. But now isn’t the time.”

  “What is the time, then?”

  “I want to play this instead.”

  I closed my eyes and started on the melody Hayden and I worked out earlier today. Mila shifted on the bench next to me, giving me space to work the keys. And I did. I sang the lyrics that flowed effortlessly.

 

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