Trusting Love

by Billi Jean

  Eric was no fool. He sat back down. He’d seen a few of the new soldiers on Duke’s drug. They were high performance hot rods, and he was still working on an older model Mustang engine. He nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Duke grinned and brought his little woman’s hand off his lap to his lips. “See my dear. I knew Mr Walters was the right choice.”

  Right choice?

  She nodded, and slid one long leg off the other with a slow smile as the silk rubbed and made a sexy sound. Right when she went to cross them back over, Duke reached between her legs, and shifted her skirt up enough that Eric spotted the lace at the top of her thigh-highs and swallowed.

  “You see, the modifications have taken into account the high sex drive the original formula provided the subject and used it to create a duplicate, one that not only enhances a sex drive but releases a pheromone to attract possible matches.”

  Eric frowned over a sip of coffee.

  “It was rather simple really. Chung unlocked the how of modifying DNA and enhancing speed, power, and an ability to not only withstand conditions most men and women cannot, but gift those same individuals with the need to mate unlike other, less enhanced and modified individuals. I believe, Eric, this is one reason why you fixate on Sonya. Not because you want this woman, but because she also excretes the pheromones of enhanced genetics.”

  Eric set his coffee down and tried to wrap his brain around that one. “So you think that because Sonya has been given the same drug, that I’m sensing that and want her because of it.”

  “Yes. When you are at your highest, and need sex, any woman will do, but satisfied, you can only think on Sonya, am I right?”

  Eric glanced at Duke, then his wife, not sure how to tell the man he also had a hard-on for his wife.

  He didn’t have to.

  Duke laughed and eased back in his chair, Victoria playing with his hair. “Ah, well, you are hard now, are you not? For my wife, but you see, Eric.” He paused and caressed Victoria’s thigh. “Victoria and I have both taken the modified drug. She too is enhanced and her pheromones are very present on the air, I assure you.”

  “You’re saying any woman on this drug will give me a boner?”

  Duke laughed so hard he tipped his head back, obviously not offended. Victoria smiled and shook her head, also not insulted.

  After laughing, Duke sighed and shook his head. “My dear man, maybe. I have read your file after all. You had a high sex drive prior to the drug, and now, with it in your system your drive is even higher, is it not? But my point is not this, Eric. My point is that there are not only other women out there who will give you, as you said, a boner, but in fact, one perfect woman specifically for you.”

  Eric snorted. “I don’t doubt that you think that, but for me, one woman would never do. No offence meant, but none could keep up with me.” Even as he said it, he watched the way Duke stroked Victoria and she pressed her face to Duke’s neck, no doubt kissing him there as the man stroked her to arousal.

  “Ah, I see. But you are missing the point, I think. I’ve designed a new formula, one that gives a woman pleasure like you’ve never dreamed she could experience. Women like Victoria. Women who are able to orgasm from the right command. And because of that, she is, I can assure you, able to keep up with me. She is, in fact, very demanding. But,” he waved his hand between them, appearing excited, “I can talk and talk, but I believe I don’t believe you can understand the reality of it, Eric, until you actually see how she comes for me when I order her.”

  “You mean she obeys you when you tell her what to do?”

  Victoria smiled, but Duke laughed again, not as hard, but the man seemed to be enjoying himself at Eric’s expense. “I’m sorry, I apologise. No, in fact, I wouldn’t want such blind obedience, and after a while, such a thing would become dull and unsatisfying.” Duke leant forward, excitement plain on his face. “But think of having a woman who would come from you telling her. A woman that would enjoy her passion so much she would instigate it often, and give you what you wanted every time you wanted it?”

  “Does such a woman exist?” Eric asked, snorting at the idea. Besides, he came close to that every time he met a woman. They fell all over themselves to do whatever he asked. Mostly.

  “The enhanced DNA I’ve created for myself and Victoria makes us a perfect match. My voice, while it cannot order her to do the dishes or suck my cock, excuse my coarseness my dear,” he said to Victoria with a slight smile, “does allow me a certain control over her body. A unique, perhaps primitive control our ancient ancestors once had to control their mates. But whatever the reason, with my words alone, I can bring my wife to orgasm.”

  Eric frowned but didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Duke sounded like he was pulling some parlour trick out of his ass.

  “Victoria, come for me.”

  As Eric watched, Victoria gasped, her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened on a silent oh of surprise. Her arms shook and he could see she was clearly climaxing.

  “Come again,” Duke commanded.

  She shuddered, digging her nails into the polished surface of the desk and dropped her head down to pant into the wooden surface. Eric nearly blew his load.

  “You see, Eric, with one word, a man can give this much pleasure to his match. For you, I think, Sonya wouldn’t be that woman. But I do have another in mind for you, one that can keep up with you and satisfy more than merely carnal desires.”

  A woman who could keep up with him, not only keep up but come on demand?

  Hell fucking yeah.

  “I think, Duke, I’m all up for trying anything you recommend,” Eric said, not bothering to hide the envy in his voice.

  Chapter Six

  Kristen contemplated the closed door to her bedroom and the man behind it with such a feeling of frustration that she flung her hands up and turned to the kitchen sink to stare out of the window.

  Why is this happening? All this time, she’d stayed safely insulated from wanting anything, from even thinking of going on with a life, and now, right in the middle of a snowstorm mounting up enough snow to keep her trapped inside for days, if not a week, the one man in all this world whom she’d cried for as many nights as she’d cried over the loss of her beautiful child, appeared from the dead. She’d cried for him, not because he’d hurt her, but because she’d lost the dream of being with him when he’d died.

  No wonder I thought he looked familiar.

  But then again, Robert McNeil had never come that close to her for her to completely memorise every facet of his unique features. He’d stayed away from her, but she knew it wasn’t for lack of interest. It was because of the attraction that burned between them that the honourable Robert McNeil had stayed away. Even when she’d wanted him not to, she remembered.

  What am I going to do? He was here. Hurt, but so real, so alive and warm, and here, she felt all those broken pieces inside her shattering all over again. She wanted him to make love to her. At the same time the thought scared her so badly she shook.

  She bit down on her lip, worrying it while she tried to think of a way out of this nightmare. It wasn’t a dream come true. He’d not stormed in days before Daniel had taken her little angel on that drive, he’d not stopped Daniel from drinking and driving and he’d not brought her Angelina all safe and sound out of the wreckage of Daniel’s truck.

  Her heart dropped to her stomach and a shudder of pain made her tears overflow at her crazy thoughts.

  Nothing could bring her daughter back, nothing could heal the loss. A parent should never outlive her child.

  Robert wasn’t to blame. He wasn’t a hero set on saving her.

  Why should he? I was married to someone else. I had no business even thinking of him the way I did. And now, it’s too late. I’m broken and I’m never going to be whole again. Never going to be the woman I once was.

  She turned away from the sink. Exercise. She needed outside. The cabin felt too small with the demanding man behind th
e closed door.

  Feeling wooden inside, she put on her winter gear, letting the tears fall as she shoved her feet into her boots. The first blast of freezing dark air took her breath away and she wiped the tears off before they froze. Her lashes grew icy and she tightened the scarf around her lower face to block most of the wind. Snow had fallen to cover her path up to her calves. It would be to her knees in hours if she didn’t move it.

  And Robert wanted to drive in the storm and face possibly dying, which in her opinion he’d been way too lucky so far to have evaded if he acted like that. No wonder everyone believed him dead. He was either insane, delirious from the loss of blood, or in such a hurry to get away from her he was willing to risk his life again.

  She was betting on all three.

  He looked so different. Still she’d seen parts of him in his face. The angle of his blue eyes, even with the lighter coloured right one, looked to her the same. The firmness in his features, the way he never seemed to really smile, but cautiously half grinned when something did amuse him.

  Robert McNeil was in her home. The man she’d been too afraid to marry was even now in her bed. Busted up and shot, but still, in her bed. He was all sexy lying there on her sheets, with enough strength to sit up, but probably not enough to do anything wonderful with the bulge she’d noticed under his cargo pants. She couldn’t believe she’d noticed, but then again, what woman wouldn’t notice such a thing? She’d even peeked and wondered at that bulge years ago, when she could have broken things off with Daniel and survived her family’s displeasure, to actually find out just what life could be like with a man who watched her like he couldn’t stop.

  But that was then. In the past. She’d been too young, and too scared to reach out and take what she’d wanted then. Now?

  She shovelled another pile of snow and thought on that. Now, she decided, she was too broken. Robert needed a woman who was able to stand by his side, not fall apart every time she looked in a mirror or smelt something that reminded her of all she’d lost.

  The sex would be amazing, she was certain. Just the firm angle of his lips and the strength in his body told her that, but what would happen after? After he realised what a mess she was? How little control she had? Or that she held in her tears—the constant sorrow and pain—by a thread. One slip, one show of tenderness from him and she’d probably never be able to stop crying.

  She stopped shovelling, breathless from all the lifting and tossing and rested her forehead on the handle of the shovel and thought about how long she’d hidden here.

  Two years.

  And still, I can’t stop myself from crying until I’m sick every night. Until I have to drink to simply stop my brain from bringing up the image of my baby, broken and silent in my arms.

  Another shuddering breath shook her, making her chest tighten painfully.

  What person could live through such a thing and survive?

  Not her. She wasn’t living, she knew that. Sam was right. But she couldn’t just—what? Pick up and start over?

  She wasn’t going to be able to survive the pain and live like everyone else, pretending that she was whole. She could accept that and for all her pain, she’d done damn well.

  Until she had stared down at Robert McNeil’s half smile and all those dreams she’d once had came back like a slap in the face. All those years of wondering, of half hoping to see him come walking down a street, or, better, to knock on her door, had risen on a tide of despair so high she’d been unable to say a word past the jagged feeling in her throat.

  But it really didn’t matter, did it?

  She couldn’t get attached to Robert McNeil. Not now.

  She wasn’t going to let herself get within ten feet of him and she certainly wasn’t going to remove bullets from his chest and hip. If she did that she’d have to doctor him, and care for him. Grow attached to him all over again.

  A rush of anger fired her temper and she jerked herself into action and cleared the left side of the path before she slowed.

  She did owe him, though. He’d helped her once with her troubles with Daniel. The troubles she’d let him know about at least—the drinking and gambling.

  But she’d seen the way Robert had stared at her and she knew when a man wanted more. He’d wanted more. Only they’d met when she and Daniel had been on base at a party, not yet married but in that after high school love that seemed to catch and hold onto a person stronger than fly paper. She’d been stuck tight by everyone else’s expectations for her—for them. No one, especially her folks, wanted to hear that she wasn’t in love with the big, strong solider. No one wanted to help her when they’d caught on he wasn’t the perfect man he presented to the world either.

  Robert had.

  Daniel had landed in jail and called her for bail money. She’d already left him, already secretly started the divorce proceedings, but she’d not mentioned that to Robert, somehow hoping that he’d already known and would finally make good on the awareness she’d seen in his blue eyes.

  He hadn’t. But he had helped her get Daniel out of jail and into gambling rehab. It had been too little, too late. But that was her fault.

  What would my life be like now, if I’d simply cornered Robert that night when he’d come to tell me he’d had Daniel all settled and I’d had the nerve to make the first move?

  The rush of tears that flooded her eyes and tightened her throat filled her with even more anger.

  She cried so often now, she made up for all the years of keeping them inside.

  She’d not made the first move because after years of Daniel cheating on her, she hadn’t possessed enough self-confidence to make a move on what she thought might be there. Instead she’d thanked him and he’d left her alone.

  Now she was stuck in her home with the man. For how long?

  She rested her head on the wooden handle again, realising her mind was doing circles on a problem she wasn’t going to be able to solve, but was unable to stop—like a sore tooth, she knew she’d worry this until something broke. Until either he forced her to do something, or she did something on her own.

  The horses were silent, the barn eerily so. Only a snowfall made the world feel this insulated, this empty, she thought, brushing her cheeks. She wished suddenly she could walk back in the cabin and find this to be all some sort of alcohol-induced nightmare.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t that be great.”

  Misty stuck her grey muzzle over her stall door and shuffled her feet. No doubt she’d woken the horse with her self-pity party. Sighing heavily she walked over then leaned against the stall door and rubbed Misty’s nose.

  She had to go back inside. She could only hope Robert was asleep and not up and still wanting her to cut open his wounds. Maybe he’d been delirious.

  He hadn’t looked that way, though. He’d looked serious—real, real serious.

  She couldn’t hide out here forever. Already she was cold and it’d only been minutes since she’d stopped working up a sweat. She had to face this, and head on was the only way with a man like Robert McNeil, she guessed.

  She headed back to the cabin, the soft crunch of her boots on the snow overly loud in the silence. Were there men out there right now, looking for Robert? She stopped in her tracks. The thought took hold and wouldn’t go away. He’d not answered her. Did that mean there were? The blowing snow around her turned into something eerie and frightening. She hurried up the path, the steep sides of snow she’d piled up now menacing instead of merely sheltering her from the worst of the wind. Anyone could be right there, behind the snow ready to grab her when she reached the porch.

  Stupid, no one is out here. I’m overreacting from lack of sleep and sex when there’s a sexy man in my bed.

  The thought sounded good, but she still gripped her shovel harder and took the porch steps at a quick run. She shoved the door open, turned and shut it, breathlessly.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  At the angry demand she screamed an
d turned around to find Robert two feet behind her, his eyes wide and hands up.

  “Damn, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle—”

  She swore at him in Spanish, switched to English when he gave her that half grin and added on a few choice threats to his anatomy too. Like a light bulb had suddenly turned on, she took in his appearance. He was shirtless and wore only his loose cargo pants way down on his hips. He looked like Hugh Jackman from the Wolverine movies except he didn’t have wild dark hair with side burns, but who cared about that, when a man had a hard body like Robert’s? Who cared about being frightened out of their minds either?

  “Kris?”

  She blinked and focused on his face then scolded him, “If you ever do such a thing again—”

  He raised his hands higher and she glued her focus on his face because she knew his cargo pants had slipped down a little bit, enough that she could almost see a dark line of hair from his flat navel to way, way lower.

  “Kris, you can do everything you just threatened and more, but right now, I need these bullets out so I can heal.”

  She spluttered on a swear word she normally didn’t use.

  His eyebrows rose and she swore he was fighting a grin.

  “So you can heal?” she repeated, fascinated by him all over again. “What makes you think it’s that easy?”

  “Do you think I should be standing here, in your kitchen, after this much blood loss? Or the two bullets ripping into my body? Think.”

  She winced at the graphic image that popped into her mind, then thought about what he was saying. “No, you shouldn’t be able to stand, let alone argue with me.” She backed up and looked him over again. He’d always been a muscular, fit man, always worked hard and kept himself in shape for the military. But he was bigger now. His chest was wider, deeper and his sides bulged at his hips with even more muscle. He fisted his hands and his biceps rounded out and his stomach tightened to hard rounded muscles. “You’re bigger, I guess.”

  That earned her a snort. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Kris. I’m talking about the fact that I’m not hurting. That the bullets aren’t doing much more than irritating me,” he growled.