Her Soldier (That Girl #3)

by H. J. Bellus

  Beau’s touch causes me to open my eyes. He swipes tears away from under my eyes with his thumb.

  “He’ll never leave your thoughts, Jenni. You’ll have to find a way to cope, but I can guarantee he’ll never hurt you again.”

  Beau leans down, and I make the first move, kissing his lips with urgency and hunger. His strong arms pull me into him under the full shower stream. His lips retreat for a second and then come back down in a slow and thoughtful way, totally changing the pace and mood surrounding us.

  With each kiss he affirms I’ll be all right. I feel his reassurance as he touches me. Beau finally begins to wash my hair and rinse it out. The water has a slight chill when he turns it off. I wait in the shower as he climbs out, wraps a towel around his waist, and then snags another. Water droplets run down the length of his body, starting from the strands of his hair. He’s still sopping wet, but doesn’t seem to care because his full attention is on me. Using the thick maroon towel, he runs it up and down my body, drying my skin. However, it’s a losing battle with my soaking hair dripping more water down than he can keep up with.

  “Do that girl thing with your hair and towel and then I’ll finish drying you.”

  I giggle at his very boyish description. My side doesn’t allow me to fully bend over to gather all my hair and bundle it up in the towel, so I just do my best. To my shock, I’m actually able to get it all tied up with the towel.

  Beau makes good on his word and is right back tending to me. He dries every single part of me before he picks me up from the tub and carries me to his bed.

  His scent covers the lush, black comforter. I feel guilty for making him sleep with me on the couch when his bed is so nice. Beau walks to the single dresser in the small room and pulls out a couple drawers and gathers some clothes. He supplies me with a fresh white tank and a new pair of Garfield undies. I’m so overheated from the shower I gently slip the two items on and feel very cozy in his bed.

  His towel drops to the floor, instantly gaining all of my attention. The man is tall and lean with the perfect amount of muscle. His back is a glorious perfection. Strong and shielding from anything dangerous within feet from him, it’s almost like he was born to protect. There’s something very protective about the man. My eyes don’t stop at his back. They roam further down to his ass, and, oh my god, his ass is more than glorious. I mentally berate myself for not groping it in the shower.

  My eyes go even lower to the back of his thighs. Trails of scars mar every inch of skin. Not just any scar, but raised, nasty looking scars. My heart stops beating while I take them in. Beau bends over slightly, giving me the perfect view of his ass, but my eyes can’t leave his legs. I watch as the scars vanish and reappear while he slides on boxers. Then they are hidden in an instant when his jeans cover them.

  “I’ll go get us some breakfast if you want to do your girly shit.” Beau waves his hand toward the bathroom. “I bought some things the other day when I was out. Hope it’s the right stuff.”

  I can only nod, unable to form words from the sight I just witnessed. He’s been beaten, or tortured, or both. I make my way back into the bathroom, and this time the cold tile below sends a stinging sensation into the bottoms of my feet. Mindlessly, I brush out my hair as I try to process what I saw. Beau knows about my parents, my aunt, and a bit about my friends and social life. I know nothing about him except for his gram and his obsession with food. The man eats like it’s his last meal every time. I’m pretty sure if you got into his way, he might bite your hand off and add it to his plate.

  Could the scars be from his occupation? Wait, what does he do? My blood goes cold as I realize I know nothing about this man. He could be prepping me to be his next murder victim. The pink Disney princess lotion sitting next to all the girly supplies he bought me catches my attention, and I suddenly know my answer. He’s not an ax murderer.

  My hair gets thrown up into a very wet and messy bun while I use the princess lotion to hydrate my skin. All the cuts have healed, making it nice to run lotion all over without threat of stinging pain. Peeking my head around the corner into the living area, I spot Beau busy in the kitchen, whistling away. I’ve noticed the man can whistle all sorts of tunes.

  “Hey, any pants?”

  Beau is startled by my voice and it makes me giggle.

  “Everything is in the wash. Sorry, undies will have to do for now.”

  Undies for now? The statement makes me uncomfortable. I’m not sure I can just waltz around his living room in underwear while making small talk and eating breakfast. But then I’m reminded of showering naked with him minutes ago.

  “Your pizza pocket is ready to go.”

  Well, here goes nothing, in undies and all. Five steps into the living room I realize I’m not even wearing a fucking bra under this tank. The thought of it instantly causes my nipples to pebble up. I cross my arms to try to hide the obvious obtrusions poking through my top.

  “Bad case of the headlights, huh?” Beau leans on the table as he sets down my food.

  “What?”

  “Headlights.” He gestures toward my folded arms.

  What the fuck is he talking about? Headlights. So clueless, I even turn and look behind me, searching for a truck or car. Beau’s loud laughter jolts me and I turn back to him.

  “You’re nipping out. Headlights, you know?” Beau places both his pointer fingers on his nipples and wiggles them.

  At the realization of his joke, I slap at his imposter nipples and he laughs even harder. I finally catch one of his fingers due to him laughing so damn hard, and I use it to my advantage and pull him down to my level. I promptly kiss his lips and whisper thank you. Knowing he saved me and the scars on the back of his leg, I just feel the urge to love him. Pour all of me into him. At this point, I don’t care if it’s an unhealthy addiction. I need every single ounce of Beau surrounding me.

  His lips press back onto mine, kissing me hard and with more passion than ever. My hands are dainty compared to his chest when I place them there and push him back down into the other chair. I climb into his lap and cover his mouth again. I bite down on his bottom lip, asking him gently but firmly to open up to me.

  Beau pulls back, breaking our seal. “This is so wrong.”

  “I don’t care, Beau. I want you. I need you.” My lips go straight back to his, warming him up to the idea and kissing him with ease while running my tongue along the seam of his lips. “Let me in.”

  My teeth again bite his lower lip, wanting him to open up to me. This time his bottom jaw drops open and I don’t waste a moment. I enter, exploring his sweet, warm mouth. His scent hits me hard and leaves me wanting more. I push down hard on him, asking for more, needing more from him.

  “I can’t do this, Jenni. It’s wrong.

  “Then let me. I need you now. I need to feel something good again, to know everything will be all right.”

  I reach down and undo his button and then his zipper. The length of him is very obvious through the thin material of his boxers. I slip my hand in and lose my breath when I grab him. It’s not that he’s unusually huge, but it’s the touch and sensation of holding him. His eyes fill with pleasure as I begin stroking him. A cautious expression still flashes between his looks of pleasure. His large hand takes my face gently with another warning glance, and I ignore all of it.

  “I’m not stopping, Beau.” I slide off of his lap then immediately slip down my panties. “I need to feel again. I’m tired of reliving that night and feeling like shit every second of the day. I can’t stand my own skin right now, and just want to feel good again.”

  Settling into Beau’s lap, I arch my back slightly, getting ready to adjust myself onto him. At the first touch of our flesh, a sense of urgency fills the room. His eyes rake boldly over my body as I fully settle down onto him. Before I know it, Beau has me gathered in his arms and begins to move me up and down. I melt into him, following his rhythm easily and trying not to cry out in pleasure.

  It’s worki
ng; with each thrust I feel pleasure again. Not just any pleasure, but blissful contentment I haven’t experienced in a long time. Beau’s fingers on my flesh remind me of the man giving this to me. When I see the gratification covering his face, I increase the speed and meet his driving hips. We find each other at a punishing pace. I hear his groan and realize what’s happening. When his fingers dig in and he groans louder, I spiral out of control, screaming with my release.

  My movement doesn’t stop once the final wave of my orgasm washes over. I rock back and forth on him, relishing the luscious sensation it sends through me.

  “Thank you.” I finally collapse onto his shoulder.

  His hand wipes my hair from the side of my face while he places a kiss to my forehead. His eyes are pained.

  “I’m sorry for pushing you, but I needed you.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Jenni.” His lips again brush my forehead. “I’ve never felt the way I just did.”

  “Then why do you look so sad?”

  “I’m not your forever type guy.”

  My phone rings off in the distance; I recognize the ring tone right away. Before peeling away from Beau’s lap, I kiss his lips. “I’m not your forever type girl.”

  When I reach my phone, I see it’s Lynlee and decide not to answer. It’s the first she’s tried reaching out since the reception. I practically went missing into the dark and haven’t heard from her or Jazzy. It’s understandable not to hear from Jazzy, considering she’s probably still swept away somewhere on her honeymoon with Levi, but Lynlee, in my book, has no excuse. I’ve texted my aunt different bullshit every day concerning my whereabouts. After I hit the decline button, my phone begins to ring again with Lynlee’s name lighting up the display. Again I hit decline and I don’t feel an ounce of regret when doing it. Next a text comes across the screen.

  Lynlee: I’m sorry I haven’t called, but been soo sooo soooo busy with the new job and all.

  In true Lynlee fashion her text is a mile long. Her words don’t convince me to call or even text her back. I feel Beau walk up behind me and press his bare chest into my exposed skin. And the connection feels perfect. He nuzzles his face down into my neck, kissing and murmuring.

  “Who is it?”

  “Just a friend.”

  “You should really text her back.”

  “No, I refuse to. Plus, I’ve already texted my aunt, the only person who deserves to know I’m alive.”

  “Jenni, she’s probably really worried about you.”

  “How do you know it’s a she?” I feel the muscles in his neck tense up. “I’m kidding, Beau. It’s one of my good friends, Lynlee.”

  “Let her know you’re okay.”

  “She was at the wedding that night, Beau, and this is the first time she’s contacted me.”

  “It might be good for you.”

  Tossing my phone back on the crate near the window, I turn to Beau and place my hands on his cheeks.

  “Don’t ruin this moment, please.”

  “Fine.” Beau takes my hand and leads me over to the table. “Now eat.”

  In times like this, Beau is not a person to fuck around with. His voice is stern and mannerisms are stone cold. I don’t fear him, but I sure as hell wouldn’t start an argument with him either.

  He silently returns to the table with a glass of ice water, a bottle of pills, and his breakfast. His plate makes me squirm in my chair. I’ve noticed he always eats cottage cheese, over easy eggs, and fruit. I’m not a big breakfast person unless it involves a Starbucks peppermint white mocha with a birthday cake pop, and then every time I do go to Starbucks it makes me feel guilty since my Aunt Danielle runs a bakery and coffee shop. So I generally settle for a bottle of water and some type of energy pill.

  “Not hungry? You should’ve worked up an appetite.”

  I don’t miss the sly grin Beau shoots me before I pick up my food. I’ve become slightly addicted to pizza pockets. I’ve never bought the damn things but am now completely in love with them. Beau normally chows them down as a midday snack. It’s the only thing I’ll eat, and he always prepares one for me when it’s pill time.

  “I want to try not taking a painkiller this morning and see how I feel closer to noontime.”

  “Okay, but you have to take your antibiotic, so chow down.”

  I’m shocked he didn’t fight me on this. I’ve been in such a drugged state that I just want to see how I feel without any painkillers, and after this morning’s events I’ll definitely be on a natural high for a while.

  Chapter 4

  “Want to watch some TV, or do you need to run errands for your personal life?”

  Beau’s cleaned up the kitchen, done a couple loads of laundry, and is now stewing around the couch. It’s clear the man doesn’t know how to sit still, and I’ve noticed how extremely orderly he is. His boots are always lined up perfectly.

  “Just checking my email. Have a seat.” I throw the blue fleece blanket off the couch to make room for him. Beau settles in next to me, but I can tell he feels uncomfortable and almost agitated. I place my hand on his knee and realize he is extremely pissed off and goes rigid under my touch.

  “Did I do something wrong, Beau?”

  “No.” His voice is cold and damn near unrecognizable. “Do you really think you should be checking your email in public like this? I could get so many details from your personal life. Enough to kill you.”

  The last two words he speaks are bone chilling, and for the first time I fear him. His words weren’t meaningless; he used them like he’s killed before. Before I have a chance to reply, Beau springs from couch and begins pacing the living room. His level of agitation has grown to an all-time high and his face is bright red.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  He opens the door and shuts it right behind him. I’m left staring down at my cellphone wondering what in the hell just went down. He was clearly pissed about me being on my phone…or was he pissed I was checking my email? Personal information, public, kill. Rehearsing the scene in my head, I try to pull those elements to the forefront. I’m sitting on his couch in a private place, checking emails, which mostly consist of junk type shit advertising sales to my favorite shops, and I invited him to sit next to me.

  No matter how I play it out, I don’t see the danger or threat he was talking about. The one thing I can’t shake is his immediate behavior. One minute the Beau I know is busying himself with chores, relaxed, and friendly, then straight to a raging beast. He went from mild to wild in a matter of seconds.

  My first instinct is to call or text him, but then I realize I know nothing about this man. Absolutely nothing. I don’t even know where the hell I am if I had to call someone to come pick me up. Walking over to the big window, I peer out into the streets. I don’t immediately recognize any of the surroundings, but I know for sure it’s a residential area tucked back behind an industrial part of town. It’s definitely an older neighborhood as I analyze the beautiful brick buildings.

  I notice the window is not only a window, but also a door. I try the handle and find it easily opens. The air is cool with a slight chill, but the slightest hint of spring mingles with it. There’s a charming little patio and I step out on to it. It’s decorated with a simple black iron table and chairs. Beau even has a few plants out here. The ledge calls my attention as I walk over to it and place my hands on the slightly crumbling cement pieces. I run my fingers through the cracks, still trying to analyze Beau and taking in the revitalizing air all at once.

  Something deep down tells me Beau is not a bad guy, a scarred guy maybe, but not harmful. I’m not one who makes the best choices, but if I’d listen to my gut more I wouldn’t find myself in fucked-up situations. I knew Maxton was wrong. Not only did all my friends warn me, but so did my intuition. But the overwhelming need to fit in and have a man who gushed and swooned over me was more demanding. Looking back, I’m terribly embarrassed by those decisions. Absolutely appalled. But it’s something I’ve done since high
school. How do you fit in and get noticed at the same time? Well, you’re loud, glittery, and the best at everything.

  It’s all such a vicious cycle. On the outside, I’ve always tried to be the best. The most attractive woman in the room, painted with makeup, killer hair, a spray tan, and the sexiest body—creating the perfect picture on the outside but still feeling hollow on the inside. All the just ifs. Just if I keep up on the designer looks. Just if I go to college and get a degree. Just if I go to beauty school. Just if I land a boyfriend, then I’ll finally feel whole.

  At times I wonder if I’ll ever know what feeling whole is like. My parents had me medicated at a very young age for ADHD. They couldn’t handle me and were never shy of being verbal about it. My Aunt Danielle was always there for me, and in the background I heard their adult conversation. My father, Danielle’s brother, was always pushing the meds down my throat while Danielle begged him to try to use other methods or at least research them.

  In the end, I always took the medicine to appease my dad. It seemed it was the one thing I could do right in his eyes. The day they left me with Danielle, I stopped the medicine cold turkey. I felt life for the first time and it was brilliant. The numb mummy state was gone, and I could finally feel again. At times, I knew my personality came across a little loud and proud, but it only took people around me a little while before they knew the real me.

  I’ll never forget when Lynlee finally told me her first impression about me. I do believe she referred to me as a glittery blonde bimbo who was way ditzy. I just chuckled at her words, never revealing some reasons for that. I’ve never associated my will to fit in to ADHD. My bright personality, blonde looks, and glitter also have nothing to do with it. Feeling hollow with my wheels spinning on high speed while the rest of the world flies past me is what I do associate with ADHD. Which always makes wonder if I will ever feel complete and enough for the rest of the world.

  Movement down below on the pavement catches my attention and draws me from my vicious thought cycles. It’s Beau. I can barely make him out. He’s changed into black jogging pants and shirt with a beanie on, and he’s running down the street away from the apartment. I want to call his name, but don’t dare. The man is pounding the pavement and moving at a very rapid pace.