by Jax Garren
He stroked her face. “You know if something happened, I’d be here. We’d handle it together. I’m not saying that in any way to change your mind, but you need to know.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. “I know.”
He kissed her again. “I like being a Big Deal.” He tugged the hem of her shirt. “Can I?”
“Of course.” She flicked the side of his open button down. “Can we take one of your two shirts off?” She gave him her best flirty pout. “Please?”
His attention wandered her face, dazed, before settling on her lips. “Yes.”
“Hauk?” She tugged on a button.
“Huh?” He looked down at his shirt. “Oh. Yeah.” His cheeks pinked.
She chuckled and pushed the shirt over his shoulders. Watching carefully for his reaction, she kept going, moving the fabric past the short sleeves of his undershirt until her fingers were brushing his skin.
His breathing picked up, and he held himself perfectly still. She couldn’t tell if he was turned on by her touch or trying to hold back a reaction. “How are you doing?”
“Picturing you naked.”
She hadn’t asked “what,” she’d asked “how.” But he probably knew that.
His shirt dropped to the bed, and he reached for hers. She lifted her arms so he could drag the fabric up her skin. When her shirt was gone, he admired her enthusiastically.
She laughed. “You’ve been to enough of my shows. I’d have thought you’d have gotten your fill of these.” In demonstration, she shimmied.
His look said she’d gone crazy. “Never. Besides. I can’t do this at your shows.” He gently cupped her breasts, filling his hands with her. “I will never, ever get enough of this.”
She hummed and pushed against his palms. He squeezed, building a warm pleasure inside her. “Good, ’cause I like your hands on me.”
He let one hand go to slide his fingers up her bra strap. “Can I...” He stopped, frowned.
“What?”
He shifted uncomfortably, reluctant to finish.
“Talk to me, Hauk.”
“I want to take everything off you.” He didn’t say, “and that’s not fair,” but she read it on his face.
How to best respond? She leaned in. “Honey, you touching me? It feels good. Don’t get me wrong, I want us to be together because it’s emotionally close and—and stuff.” Romantic of the Year, that was her. But he was a man. Hopefully he’d understand what she meant. “But I also want you because you make me hot. I want your hands all over my naked body. And your mouth. I want you to make me scream and beg. Kiss me, touch me, strip me, pin me, tease me...do whatever you want.” She watched the hunger build in his eyes until she knew she had his full attention. “And one day you’re going to say the same thing to me.”
He kissed her again.
* * *
Hauk unhooked her bra with one hand and was ridiculously proud he still could. She shrugged out of it, curves bouncing and nipples already peaked. Then he contemplated her pants. He wanted her naked. Ignoring the voice that told him he wasn’t making any sense, stripping her while he planned to keep every stitch on—hey, she said he could—he lowered her to the bed and made quick work of it.
Her pale skin and hourglass figure spread before him in a perfection of female beauty. He’d meant it when he said he’d never get tired of this. He would remain in awe of her body every time he got to see it.
Wednesday night, when he’d explored her for the first time, he’d paid attention to what she liked—what had made her breath catch and her skin quiver. Eager to practice what he’d learned, he slid his fingers down her stomach and over her hips bones.
When he’d flicked his tongue across the curve of her waist, she’d moaned. He tried it again, and she reacted the same. So he nipped at her skin, and she clutched at his back. The action scraped his shirt up into her fingers, exposing a piece of his waist.
His throat tightened. He would ignore it. They couldn’t do this if he freaked out every time he felt a little air in an unaccustomed place. He would concentrate on her and what he was doing. He could do that.
Determined, he licked down her hip, loving the contours of her body. Yes, this is what he would focus on. Her body was the perfect distraction. He moved back up to kiss her breasts, taking one and then the other in his mouth until she panted and writhed beneath him.
His own breath came out in gasps as his head swam with the cinnamon and vanilla scent of her. He kissed her lips and her hands dug into his shirt and it wasn’t enough. Before he could change his mind, he slid her hand down to his waist, under the fabric at his back.
She tensed, and he feared he’d screwed up, that the feel of him freaked her out more than she’d anticipated.
But she groaned and wrapped a leg around him, and her hand pressed against his back, smoothing up.
And she was touching his skin.
Her other hand joined the first, pressing firmly against him just like he’d asked her to. Even so, the unaccustomed feel sparked chaos in his head. He tensed, struggling against an emotional assault that strafed like a machine gun.
Jolie stopped, as if she sensed his distress. “Too much?”
Her stillness helped him find shelter. She’d noticed and hadn’t pushed. He swallowed. Took a moment to find his center. “No. Not too much.” It surprised him that he meant it.
She chuckled, a low, sexy sound. “You want to get the condom then?”
Yes. He did. He let go of her just long enough to get that rolled on and lowered his body back onto hers. Again, the words to tell her he loved her were on the tip of his tongue, and again he bit them back.
Maybe, maybe that would come later. For now, this connection was what he wanted more than anything, and he didn’t want to screw it up.
She caressed his face, kissed him as if blessing the act.
Pushing carefully, he joined his body to hers. Her smile grew more sultry as he slid in tighter. Her breath hitched and her chest arched as he filled her. Her softness enveloped him in ecstasy.
And they were one.
He returned her smile. Started to move, slow as he could stand. Despite his desire to drive into her recklessly, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
But she was hot and wet and all encompassing. Gods, she felt so good. So damn perfect. He could get lost in the feeling.
Her fingers played with his waist band. “Please, can I? I’ve fantasized holding onto your amazing ass as we did this.”
He made a noise that hopefully sounded like yes. Her hands slid against his ravaged skin, and he froze up in a sudden surge of uncertainly. “That’s the worst. You might not want—”
“I want.” The fingers of both her hands dug into muscle, clinging to him. Or, at least he assumed both did. On one side her nails bit into his skin erotically. On the other, there was only a vague sense of pressure, like he’d been anesthetized.
But as the hand he could feel urged him further inside her then back, increasing the friction and escalating their pace, he found he didn’t care.
“More,” she demanded, her sultry breath panting against his shoulder.
He thrust into her harder. Her legs cinched around him, her heels driving into his back. She arched her hips, changing the angle and bringing them even tighter together. Her sweat-slick skin glided across his, the beads of her nipples rasping against him. He swirled his tongue in the salt at her throat.
“More, God, more!” Her voice was husky with need.
Need for him.
He buried his face against her neck and crashed into her the way he wanted to. Her moans escalated to excited screams as her hips, her hands, his pace all synced into rhythm.
“Don’t stop. Oh, God, don’t...”
“No stopping.” No force in this world or the next could make him stop the perfection of their union.
She yelled his first name as her body tensed.
He lifted his head to watch, and she looked hi
m right in the eyes as her orgasm hit. Her back arched further, pressing her breasts into him as her hips quit moving. She squeezed around him and satisfaction filled her face.
At the sight, he came, too. Pure sensation overwhelmed him as he stiffened and released. For just a moment, Jolie and the relief of their lovemaking was all the universe had, and it was a perfect place to be.
He collapsed on top of her, out of breath.
She let go of his bare skin and put her hands more comfortably on his covered back.
“If that’s what I get,” he gasped, “for letting you grab my ass, you can grab it whenever you want.”
Her laugh was loud and unfettered. He picked his head up, keen to see her happiness. She was flushed and smiling and relaxed.
He’d done that. Damn, he’d done good, if he did say so himself. “Wesley, huh?” he teased. “Going with the first name. I don’t hear that much anymore.”
“Felt more personal.” A kiss. “My Wesley of the Divine Tongue.”
My. He liked the sound of that. “More?” he asked, hopeful and already needy. He didn’t think there was such thing as enough when it came to Jolie.
“Oh, yeah.” She pushed him off of her and onto his back. “But this time I’m on top.”
Chapter Eleven
Hauk should not think lustful thoughts at a funeral; it was generally considered the wrong frame of mind for the occasion. But memories of the last sixteen hours kept intruding on his consciousness, swinging his mood from anger to joy at inappropriate moments.
Technically he wasn’t at a funeral. He was near a funeral, sitting on the pink granite tombstone of the dearly departed Potts family. An untamed shrubbery blocked his view of the somber crowd, including Jolie, all bowing their heads at Cassie’s graveside. Whenever he’d peek around the bush at the mourners, he’d sober up. He hadn’t known Cassie, but the way she’d gone made him seethe. He owed Ric Suarez a funeral of his own.
Hauk sighed and checked his watch. Another inappropriate action. Good thing he was hidden. Funerals made him restless. Funerals and ramp ceremonies. Last roll calls. At nineteen on the runway at Kandahar Air Force base in Afghanistan, he’d helped carry the flag-draped coffin of a guy he’d met at the enlistment office. Bearing those empty remains to angel flight, the reality had sunk in that there wasn’t anything he could do for Todd anymore. Todd wasn’t in pain. At best he’d reunited with some good folk and at worst he’d gotten some peace.
One day, one way or another, everyone had a last roll call. When that day came for Hauk, he’d rather people think about the good things in their own lives and not imagine his dead ass moldering in the ground. The living might be offended by his changeable mood, but wherever Cassie was, he didn’t think she cared.
He took another glance around the wild greenery at Jolie and wondered how she was doing. A perfectly constructed funeral expression hid any real emotion. Drove him crazy when she did that. He wanted to protect her, to help her and make her happy—or happy as she could be under the circumstances, anyway. But with that damn mask hiding everything inside he had no clues to help guide his actions. He’d do the best he could when she got back to him.
She made him so happy, more than he’d thought he could be again.
Beside her, Catrina resembled a bumblebee in her bug-eyed sunglasses and black suit over a traffic-light-yellow top. Mercedes was there, too, in her policeman’s uniform, as well as Brayden and a few other Underlighters in more traditional funeral attire. Not as many as would have liked to come, but ever since the discovery of Dr. E people were getting afraid to go topside. In theory he agreed with the open knowledge policy of the Underlight, but sometimes people behaved more rationally when they were a little more ignorant. Ignorance truly was bliss sometimes.
The service ended, and he watched Jolie’s bright hair wind through the black-draped crowd. Sometimes knowledge was bliss. Like knowing the wide-eyed wonder on his girlfriend’s face in the middle of passion. The way her skin felt. The way every part of her tasted. That reality was so much better than anything he’d imagined.
And he was doing it again. Lust-brain at a funeral.
No, after a funeral. Far more appropriate. Hopefully.
Jolie scanned the graveyard, and he stood just enough for her to spot him. In another minute she, too, was standing on the Potts family plot. She dropped into his arms and curled herself against him, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Love swelled in his chest for the woman who’d turned his life around into something shiny and new.
Last night she’d been above him, her curls waving as she moved. She’d smiled as she came. He’d joined her, and she’d fallen on his chest. Still joined, they breathed together, her body pressing against his with each inhalation.
And suddenly he’d wanted everything off. He’d wanted to rip away all the pieces between them and enjoy her skin on his, the way it should be. He’d held her close until the feeling passed. It wouldn’t have survived the space created by her body’s absence, short as it would have been, as he’d tried to get his clothing off. It would have been fumbling and embarrassing and finally a failure when what they had was close enough.
But the fact that he’d felt that way for even a second...it was a start. He’d made an oath, and come hell or high water by the end of the year he’d take his damn clothes off in front of her. He didn’t want to merely have the guts to strip, though. He could force himself to do pretty much anything he put his mind to; the ability to box up everything he felt and get the job done was one of the consequences of the life he’d lived.
But intimacy with Jolie wasn’t something he wanted to get done. He wanted to like it.
“How are you?” he asked.
She swayed in a noncommittal gesture. “Funerals suck.”
He kissed her forehead, trying to make her feel better.
Instead of leaning in as he expected, she straightened up and smirked at the oversized tombstone next to him with the family name blazoned triumphantly across. “I think if my last name was Hooker, I may not order that big of a marker.”
He didn’t think it was a rebuff, just Jolie trying to be strong. He loved that about her, but he wished she’d let herself lean on him a little. Especially now with all the shit going on. He was worried about her safety. “So...about these attacks. What are you thinking?”
Her focus trailed back to the dwindling group. “I don’t know. I wish I knew what Ananke’s endgame was. I’m...” Her voice trailed off.
Scared? Please, for the love of the gods, could she for once in her life show a little fear of something she should be afraid of?
“I don’t think they’ll attack me,” she finally said. “My dad—”
“Is in Houston,” he finished. “And they’ve attacked you before.”
She didn’t say anything, which he took as a good sign she was listening.
So what was the best way to phrase his request? “I’d like to watch out for you. How much are you going to let me?” Otherwise known as, how much was he going to have to sneak around trying to keep her safe? And how much was she going to kick his ass when she caught him? Worse, how long would she not sleep with him?
He could see her protest already forming.
“Not forever,” he assured before she could say it. “I’m a big fan of having individual lives and don’t want to live in your pocket. But we don’t know what’s going on, and I’m going to...” Stress? Panic? Take up stalking his girlfriend like an asshole? “Worry.”
“Come on, Hauk, be reasonable. Are you going to go to class with me? Rehearsal? Happy hour with the Pussy Will-Oh! dancers on Tuesday? You’d hate that.”
He lowered his head. She was right. Nervous as he was, life went on. He tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy her and the churning in his gut when the back of his neck tingled. Violence was going on somewhere nearby. He scanned the scene.
Jolie tensed. “Pain-dar going off?”
That was Brayden’s name fo
r his sixth sense for violence, part of the package deal he’d gotten after he burned. Movement caught his eye. “Mercy. Let’s go.”
Trusting she’d follow, he ran for the street.
* * *
Jolie sprinted after Hauk, feeling warmth beneath her worry. She was backup, huh? Nice. Definitely an upgrade from “wait-in-the-car-girl,” her job on the last mission he planned.
They dashed into the street that separated Oakwood Annex from the main cemetery and found four thugs accosting Mercy. No sweat for the three of them.
Heck, no sweat for Hauk by himself.
He grabbed one of the attackers by the collar.
In the older section of the cemetery, a flash of color caught Jolie’s attention. Catrina wandered between headstones, talking to herself and staring at the ground. The sunshiny yellow of her undershirt, Cassie’s favorite color, blazed brightly now that her funereal jacket was off. She rotated her pearl necklace around her fingers, and her eyes were red.
Hauk and Mercy had this situation completely under control. Jolie decided to check on her boss. She’d taken Cassie’s death hard, and nobody should be alone right now for safety reasons if nothing else. “I’m heading for Catrina,” she called as she jogged across the street and past the other gates. “Catrina!” she yelled.
Her boss’s head popped up, startled. Seeing Jolie, she waved a gloved hand and managed a sad smile.
Jolie caught up with her. “Everything okay? What are you doing over here? You didn’t lose any time, did you?”
She glanced back at the street, where Mercy had a guy against the car, Hauk had one on the ground and the other was nowhere to be seen. Mercy flashed her badge and appeared to be telling the few gawkers to “move along.”
Catrina followed her gaze. “Goodness. No. I was looking at markers. We McGregrors have been in Austin since the mid-eighteen hundreds. Did I ever tell you that? I took my great-great grandmother’s name. Her grave is over there.” She pointed, a hint of her sly smile peeking through the grief. “She was a hellion.”
If someone had asked where Catrina came from, Jolie would likely have answered that she’d sprung fully formed from a velvet curtain, already bedecked in heels and feathered lashes. Her boss had never spoken of family, which seemed odd if they lived here in town. Jolie wondered if they’d accepted her decision to live as a female.