Impossible Choice

by Sybil Bartel

  Reserve...reserve. Hope spread like full sunshine brightness and I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled me in tight and when our tongues collided, he groaned deep in his chest. The vibration sent a lick of fire to all my senses, igniting a desire so consuming, I wanted to crawl inside him and never leave.

  He pulled back. “You still want me around more?”

  “Yes.” A million times yes, but I knew how selfish that was. “But only if this is what you decide you want.”

  The slight crease in his forehead, the thinning of his lips, it made my conversation with Talon jump out, and it hit me in the face. Buck wasn’t asking if I wanted him around, he knew I did. No, Buck was asking if I needed him. He wanted me to need him. He needed me to need him, body and soul, like he thought he needed me. He didn’t want to be alone in this. He was lost like I was lost and suddenly I realized that if we were lost together, nothing would be insurmountable. He would have me and I would have him.

  “I have no right to ask this, but I’m asking. I want you safe. I don’t want you fighting anymore for a freedom you deserve to now enjoy. I want you here, with me, every day and every night. I want to fall asleep in your arms and I want to wake up next to you. It’s selfish and I know I’m asking you to walk away from not only your career but from something that you love and excel at. I know it’s a lot, but I’m asking. I’m asking for the world because I want it—I want you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  For three impossible heartbeats, he stared at me. Then slow, so slow, his breath touching my cheeks, his hands holding my face, he lowered his face to mine and whispered, “You have me.”

  His lips covered mine and his tongue slid inside the waiting heat of my mouth and caressed me with reverence. I pushed up on tiptoe and Buck swept me up in his strength. I laced my arms around his neck and took the kiss deeper, desperate for a connection that only we had.

  Without breaking the kiss, Buck strode into our bedroom and set me on the bed. In two swift movements, he pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out of his pants. Crawling on top of me, he grasped the edge of my dress and drew it over my head. Snaking his fingers under the waist of my underwear, he started to drag them over my hips.

  “Wait.” The bleeding had practically stopped, but still.

  Fire burned behind the cool blue-gray paleness of his eyes. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.” He kissed my hip.

  His touch felt so good, my eyes fluttered shut for a second. “I know.” He’d never hurt me, not like that.

  “Are you in pain?” His finger gently stroked a line from hip to hip.

  I loved watching him touch me. “No.” Just sore.

  “Are you bleeding heavily?”

  Heat flushed my face. “No,” I murmured.

  He kissed just below my belly button. “I want to touch you.”

  Tendrils of desire curled low in my stomach. “Okay,” I breathed.

  His penetrating stare holding me captive didn’t waver. “I want to be inside you.”

  If there was one part of my body that wasn’t aching from assault or surgery, it was the burning need between my legs. I knew what the doctor said but I longed to have him inside me so bad, I was willing to try. “Okay,” I whispered.

  Leaning up, he pressed his lips to mine then teased me with his tongue. Stroking me once, twice, he swirled expertly then retreated. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I needed to be close to him. I needed to feel our connection now more than ever.

  He grasped my face in one hand. “You have to tell me if it hurts. I’ll go slow, but if the pressure is too much, you tell me.”

  I nodded.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  “I’ll tell you.”

  He kissed me harder this time, taking me to the edge of madness then trailing his hot mouth down my body and circling my belly button with his tongue. Kissing my hip once more, he dragged my underwear down my legs. Standing up, he shed his fitted boxers and every inch of his desire sprang free. Staring at the sheer size of him, at the magnificence of his finely chiseled muscles, I soaked in the full beauty of my warrior, committing every inch of him to memory.

  Running a finger down my thigh, he stroked me to my ankle, then back up to my hip. My eyes closed and I moaned. He pushed my thighs apart then climbed between them. Kneeling back on his legs, he dragged his knuckles across the juncture of my thighs.

  Aching for him, the light touch sent my back arching off the bed.

  He did it again but this time, his thumb followed with exquisite pressure as his other hand curled around his hard length and stroked. Touching me, stroking himself, it was so intimate and erotic, unbearable need pounded in my core.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Sharp, aggressive, his voice was tainted with his restraint.

  I grasped his wrist, pushed my hips forward and spread my legs wider, desperate for the sensation of his fingers to go deeper. My hand clutched behind his neck for purchase, I pulled myself up and stared into his eyes. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

  Buck’s growl ripped through the bedroom. He pushed off his knees and leveraged his imposing height over me until my back hit the mattress. Frantically stroking himself, he rubbed the head of his cock over my entrance, then slow and gentle, he pushed halfway in.

  We both cried out.

  Holding his weight off me, he bit my neck where it hit my shoulder and his teeth grazed my flesh. His lips roughly kissed the sting. “Tell me,” his deep voice rumbled.

  “I’m good.” Oh my God, I was good. “Please, more.”

  His body hovering, his eyes locked on mine, Buck sank inside me, inch by slow inch.

  The possessiveness in his expression, his body inside mine, I’d never felt closer to anyone in my whole life. Love felt like too shallow a word. I would give my life for him, for this, for this very moment. “You own me,” I whispered.

  His face hardened and he fisted a handful of hair at the back of my neck. “Mine.”

  “Move,” I begged.

  “No.” Pulling out a few inches, he stroked himself but he didn’t move inside me.

  I pushed my hips into his, but his hand stilled me.

  “Please.” I desperately rocked against him.

  His thumb circled my clit and a million little sparks licked through my core.

  I needed to come more than I needed to breathe. “Again,” I panted, my body rocking to meet his.

  “Come for me, baby,” his husky voice commanded.

  Rubbing his thumb, his hard length inches inside me, his fist hitting my entrance each time he stroked himself, Buck plunged his tongue in my mouth and I let go of everything but where our bodies became one.

  Spiraling with merciless pleasure, I fell and I soared. Buck pulled out of me and hot wetness covered my mound then he slipped back inside, his thumb never leaving my clit. I came until there was nothing left of me but ripples of shock.

  His arms wrapped around me and his tongue slid into my mouth. Slow, lazy, he kissed me like he had all the time in the world.

  His lips brushed against the tender skin of my neck. “I have to go,” he breathed against my ear.

  I wanted to cry. “Okay.”

  He caged me in and hugged me tight. “My Layna.”

  I looked up at his beautiful face. “I love you.”

  His answering smile was content. “I know.”

  The twinge that hit my heart was unfounded, but I couldn’t stop it. I dropped my gaze and he grasped my chin.

  “My feelings, my love,” he whispered vehemently before cupping me between my legs. “Mine.”

  “Yours,” I assured him, fighting back tears.

  He kissed me, quick and hard, then rose off the bed. “I have to be at the airp
ort in thirty minutes.”

  I got up. “I’ll take a quick shower and be ready in five.”

  Buck stepped in front of me. His hand trailed down my stomach and he leaned to my ear. His fingers swirled through the remains of our lovemaking. “Leave me here. I want to know where I’ve been when I get on that plane.” He kissed my cheek and strode gloriously naked into the bathroom.

  Blushing hard, I scurried to the closet and grabbed a sundress and fresh underwear. I used the guest bathroom and straightened myself out, but I did as he said. I didn’t wash him off.

  We were quiet as he drove to the airport. He held my hand and every sweet kiss he left on my knuckles made it harder to keep the tears at bay. I stayed with him as he checked his bag, then I walked with him all the way to security. Unlike any other time we’d been in public, he kept me tucked under his arm. Buck garnered attention from women wherever he went, but in his service uniform, it was almost as if he was a celebrity. I hated the intrusion of all the stares today.

  When we rounded the corner to the security check-in, Buck stopped and pulled me against his chest. “André has a lawyer that will accompany you when you give your statement. She’s good, you can trust her.”

  “I have a lawyer.” At least I thought I did.

  He nodded. “Your choice, just don’t go without representation. If you want to wait till I get back to tell them about Maldonado’s bullshit in Gainesville, have the lawyer stall them and we’ll handle it when I get back.”

  “Okay.” I tried to wipe any and all anxiety from my face so I didn’t give him anything to worry about.

  His hand tucked into my hair and his thumb smoothed across my temple while his other hand gently settled over my incisions. “Are you hurting?”

  “No.” It was just a dull soreness.

  “I appreciate the brave face but I was looking for the truth.”

  I went on tiptoe and dared to kiss his jaw. “It’s much better, I’m okay.”

  Quick and so light, I almost didn’t feel it, he touched me through my dress. “Can you feel me?”

  Shy, heat flaming my cheeks, I looked down. “Yes.”

  He tipped my chin up. “That’s where I belong.”

  A rogue tear escaped. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “I don’t want tears.”

  I half-laughed. “You ask a lot.”

  He turned serious. “The last time I get to see this beautiful face for two months, I don’t want it covered in tears.”

  I instantly felt selfish. Swiping my cheek, I smiled wide. “I love you.”

  He didn’t smile back. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yes.” I had a life to look forward to. And a plan.

  He studied me. “You have André’s contact information if you need it.”

  “I know.” It was the third time he’d reminded me.

  “No swimming, no running.”

  “Can I drive?” I teased. He knew I had to drive myself home.

  “No, but you’re going to.”

  “Picking your battles?”

  “Keeping what’s mine safe.”

  “How do you make that sound sexy instead of chauvinistic and overbearing?”

  “Because I’m neither of those things.”

  “I might have to argue the latter.”

  “You’d lose that argument.”

  “Maybe, but that’d never stop me from trying.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I know.”

  “You say that a lot.”

  “I know a lot.”

  “Add cocky to the list.”

  “Cocky.”

  I fought the smile and lost. “I still love you.”

  “I know.”

  I glanced at the long line for security. “You have to go.”

  He paused for half a heartbeat. “If it’s an emergency, you can call Talon.”

  Taken aback, my smile dropped. “Have you spoken to him?” We’d been together almost every second since Talon had stormed out of my house, I didn’t think he’d called him, but I didn’t know.

  “No, but if you call him, he’ll answer.”

  “You’re not speaking to him?”

  “I will.”

  I didn’t have to read between the lines, I knew Buck. Eventually he’d call Talon, but he was going to let him stew in it for a while.

  “I’m not saying okay because I am agreeing that you can tell me who I can and cannot talk to. I’m saying okay, I’ll call him if I have an emergency. But if you want the truth, I don’t have any desire to reach out to him. He hit you and I’m pissed as hell about that.”

  Buck’s smile was sexy and wide and really wrong. “That’s my girl.”

  “This isn’t funny, he hit you!”

  “Wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last. We’re marines.”

  Oh my God. “So what, that’s an acronym for violence?”

  “That’d be a long acronym,” he teased.

  “Who are you and what have you done with Sergeant Blaze Johnson?”

  “It’s Gunnery Sergeant, baby.”

  I turned red, hard-core. “I should’ve known that.” I did know that. André called him Gunny.

  “Yeah, you should have.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips, not like he was sad but more resigned.

  I felt guilty, and shitty, and like a really bad girlfriend. “Go, you have a plane to catch.”

  Buck gathered me in his arms. “Two months,” he murmured. Then, with his arms around my head and shoulders, his huge muscles blocking me from prying eyes, he kissed me, really kissed me.

  Toes curling, knees weak, moaning at the sheer dominance of his possession, I forgot where we were. Curling my fingers into the hard muscle of his thigh, I pulled.

  His hand clamped down over mine like a vise grip and he instantly broke the kiss off. “Wait for me,” he demanded, his voice low and guttural.

  My body hard-wired to his, his words only fueled the heat between my legs. “Two months,” I said, breathless.

  “Be good.” With one last kiss to my forehead, he released me and turned to go.

  Desperate, scared, I lunged forward and grabbed a handful of his uniform shirt.

  Buck’s eyes snapped to my hand then to my face.

  “No more scars,” I warned.

  He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. My marine simply inclined his head, then disappeared into the crowd.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tears streaming, I drove home and found André in my driveway.

  I swiped at my face, but there was nothing I could do about my swollen, red eyes. André held the door while I gingerly got out.

  “It gets easier, ma’am.”

  “Sorry?”

  He dipped his head, averting his gaze. “Saying goodbye, it gets easier.”

  I sincerely doubted that. “Have experience, do you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It wasn’t my business, so I changed the subject. “How’s Ariel?”

  The slight smile and amusement that lit his eyes changed his features from ruthless warrior to charming boy. “Full of fire, ma’am.”

  I wasn’t surprised. “It’s Layna.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I sighed. “So, you get to play chauffeur today?”

  “Happy to do it, ma’am.”

  I bristled. “Stop calling me ma’am.”

  He didn’t look pleased. “Are you ready?”

  At least he hadn’t called me ma’am again. “One minute.” I needed to check my email.

  Last night, or rather this morning, I’d sent a quick email to the lawyer who’d been helping me for the past three years. I’d hi
red him after my parents died because I didn’t trust my parents’ estate lawyer. We’d never met in person, on purpose, and I knew next to nothing about him. I hadn’t contacted him since the day after the yacht caught fire in Key West and even that had been only a two-word message: Miami’s dead.

  The email I’d sent him this morning was short and to the point. I’d told him I’d been blackmailed by Miami’s nephew, he was now in custody and I had to give a statement. I asked him to be my representation but told him I understood if he wasn’t available.

  I scanned through the emails on my phone and saw he’d replied almost immediately. Good. I looked up at André. “I’m ready.”

  The ride to the station was quiet and André didn’t ask any questions. He led me through the parking lot and after we signed in, he led me to the detective’s office. The detective greeted me somberly and took us to a conference room.

  Right before we walked in, the detective glanced at André. “You can wait outside.”

  “With all due respect, my client is in fear of her safety and she requests my presence at all times. Since she’s not under arrest, my presence should not present a problem.”

  The detective scowled. “Her lawyer’s already inside.”

  “Then let’s not keep him waiting.” André pulled the door open for me.

  My first impression was Peter Parker. My second was that he was young, too young. No suit jacket, just a pressed shirt and tie, Matthew Barrett stood and shook my hand. He looked as surprised by me, if not more, than I was by him. I started to sit across from him but he gave me a quick shake of his head. When he pulled out the chair next to him, I walked around the table.

  “Thank you,” I murmured and took the seat he offered. André took up a post behind me. His hands in front of him, his legs slightly apart, he stared straight ahead.

  “Detective Williamson, may I have a moment with my client, please?” Matthew asked.

  The detective looked annoyed but he didn’t say anything. The second he walked out of the room, my lawyer held his hand out.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the privilege. Matthew Barrett, Miss Blair. Or is it Dellis today?” His voice didn’t match his looks. His voice was commanding and experienced and much deeper than the lean twenty-something-year-old in front of me. He also didn’t look like a Matthew, he looked like a Barrett.