by Kris Norris
He waited for her to recoil. Demand to know what was wrong with him. What he was hiding beneath his shirt. But she didn’t move, other than to lean more fully against him. Press herself harder against the marks he’d feared she’d noticed.
One hand lifted to rest on the back of his neck, her nails scratching lightly against his skin. And bam, his dick was back to being a pipe between his legs. Hard. Demanding. No indication it was going down anytime soon. She had to feel it. She was completely flush against him, her groin lined up with his. Even with clothes on, his erection was notched against her mound. Seeking the soft, warm flesh he knew hid beneath the dress.
Addison smiled against his chest then slowly eased free. He waited to see if she’d smirk or glance at his groin, even if she couldn’t see it. Maybe comment on his condition.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around her ribs and turned toward Russel. “I’m sorry about the arm bar. I should have realized it was you. I mean, of course it was you. Who else would it be in the middle of the night? But…I got this sudden flash, saw your silhouette and reacted.”
Ice smiled. “No harm done. In fact, I’m impressed. Few people get the jump on me, honey. Though, I was looking forward to knocking Rigs on his ass before he realized I was there.”
Rigs snorted. “Not a chance, buddy. I heard you coming. I just wasn’t concerned since I knew it was you.”
“Fuck that. I didn’t make a sound.”
“Right. You keep telling yourself that, PJ.”
“Marines.” Russel exaggerated his sigh—probably for Addison’s benefit—then gently brushed her hand, allowing her to orient herself to where he was standing. “You said you got a flash. Does that mean it’s gone, again?”
She nodded, her shoulders drooping. “At least, this one lasted a few more seconds, but… I don’t get it. Why it won’t stay. I try to will it back, but…”
She bowed her head, and Rigs closed the step between them—took her in his arms, again. “We’ll figure it out. But first, let’s get you into some dry clothes, while I fill Ice in on what’s happening. Why we crashed his house at four am.”
“Thinking you could both use some dry clothes.” Russel smiled. “Maybe ones that aren’t black tie appropriate.”
Rigs grunted. “We didn’t get a chance to change out of them. Trust me, I didn’t want to get dressed up in the first place.”
“That’s only because you spent most of your time with Midnight. No guy should look that good in a tux. Why don’t you two head to the bathroom, and I’ll bring you both some clothes? There are towels in the cabinet if you’d like to have a shower. Warm up a little.”
Addison accepted Rigs’ arm, smiling in Russel’s direction. “Thanks. And sorry you’re getting dragged into this.”
“No apologies needed. Like I said at the auction, we take care of our own.”
Addy nodded then followed Rigs to the main bathroom. He grabbed a couple of towels then helped dry her off, averting his gaze while he held the towel up for her as she undressed. He did his best to ignore the thud as the wet material hit the floor. The soft pad of her feet when she stepped out of it, then took the towel and wrapped it around her. Now, wasn’t the time to think about how soft her skin felt as it brushed against his, or to admire the creamy tones highlighted by the gray cotton of the towel. How her blonde hair spilled across her shoulders, curling around her neck. Christ, she was beautiful.
Addy scrunched her nose up, tilting her head off to one side. “Do I want to know what you’re thinking? Because I can sense the tension.”
Of course, she could. She could probably tell he still had a boner, too. It felt so heavy, so fucking hard, that it most likely weighed the air down around it. Put out some kind of gravitational field.
“Honestly, I was thinking how beautiful you are, and that it took a year’s worth of control not to sneak a peak at you while you were undressing.”
She laughed, and his dick throbbed. God, the sound. All breathy and light, and it didn’t take much to picture her in his bed, laughing and smiling in his arms after a few rounds of hot sex. Not that he was sure it’d be just sex because she made him want things he’d locked away. Given up on.
“Not like I would have known if you had.”
Rigs took her hand. Held it gently in his. “No way. If I ever get the pleasure of seeing you like that, it’ll be because you want me to. Because you want my hands on you as much as I do. Not because I’m a giant douchebag.”
He cleared his throat, happy when Russel interrupted them as he gave Rigs some clothes. Because the way Addison was looking at him, now—all soft, sexy smile with her lips slightly parted. A tinge of blush on her cheeks. The kind she’d get after he’d claimed her mouth and kissed her. Tasted every inch of the skin along her neck and shoulders. It made his chest hurt. His heart pound painfully against his ribs.
“Would you like to have a shower? Warm up? I can leave these clothes on the counter for you and wait outside.”
That smile faded, and it was as if someone had flicked a switch. Drained all the light and happiness out of her. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging on the strands as if the action soothed the tension straining her muscles. “Thanks, but…we didn’t get a chance to grab my cane. And without Blade…” Her lips pursed, and the skin over her nose bunched. “I hate this part. I can’t even take a shower in a strange bathroom because I’m paranoid I might trip on something. Slip and fall getting in or out, or hit my head on a shelf I can’t see. And all because my brain’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.”
Shit. How had he forgotten about her cane? Forgotten that she might not want to have to rely on him to simply move around. Walk from one room to another without ending up covered in bruises. While he didn’t regret the decision to bug out in his truck—avoid what could have been a deadly situation—he could have been better prepared. Kept her cane on him—just in case. He was the one who’d fucked up.
She was right. One wrong turn and she’d smack her head on the shelf off to her left. Or slip trying to step over the tub, and he’d come back in to find her on the floor, her blood pooling beneath her. Not a chance. Not on his watch.
He closed the distance, took her hands and placed them on his chest. Right over his heart. Praying she didn’t feel the edges of his scars. “Addison…”
“No, it’s true. What Johnson said about it being all in my head.” She tried to tug her hands free but gave up when he wouldn’t release his hold. “There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. No medical reason why I can’t see. But no matter what I do, how much I try to force myself, I just can’t…” She blew out a thick breath. “I’m crazy. It’s that simple. And if you were smart, you’d think twice before jumping down this rabbit hole, because it’s just like Wonderland in here. Nothing’s the way it should be.”
“Sweetheart, that doesn’t make you crazy. It makes you human. No…” He stopped her from interrupting with a press of his finger across her soft lips—the ones he wanted to claim. Taste until his damn lungs gave out. “You’re not the only one with demons. Or who’s been hiding.”
He sighed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell her everything, but she deserved to know he wasn’t all that sane, either. “I didn’t leave the Marines because I wanted to. My last mission…” He choked back a curse. “I was part of a recon team. We’d been sent in early to scout the area—rig protection for the infiltration guys coming in behind us. But somehow, the insurgent cell knew we were coming. I saw the IED just soon enough to avoid being killed, outright. Got trapped under a collapsed wall in the midst of this huge firefight. Russel…”
He swallowed against the rush of emotion. Fuck, Ice had done more than just save Rigs’ life. He’d given Rigs a second chance. Given him this night with Addison, and he’d brave a thousand IEDs to have this time with her. Stolen moments apart from the rest of the world.
“Kent, if this is too hard…”
“No. I just haven’t told anyone, before. Never had anyone I wanted to t
ell. The few friends I have already know the story. Most of them were there. Anyway, Russel risked his life—his career—disobeyed orders and hauled my ass out of there. Took us two days to walk to a viable extraction point, with Russel pretty much carrying me the entire way. Bastard saved my life, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really thanked him for it. Been too angry to be thankful. Spent the past two years hiding, too. Trying hard to make peace with the fact I’ll never be the man I was.”
Rigs opened his mouth to include the part where he’d been hurt—had huge, disfiguring marks running up and down his face, his chest. But even as he willed the words to form, they got stuck in his throat. Lodged around the fear of her rejection. Of losing the precious few moments he might still have with her.
Instead, he watched as her head tilted back, those beautiful blue eyes searching his, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.
She waited until he’d moved his finger. “Maybe not. But I can assure you that the man you are now…”
She smiled, and his damn heart did that jumping thing inside his chest. Leaving an ache he wasn’t sure would ever go away. Not without her firmly rooted in his future.
She tapped him on the chest—over where it hurt to breathe. “I’d trust this man to have my back. And I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time.”
He swallowed. Fuck, the way she was looking at him. Maybe not looking looking, but that smile. Those eyes. The trust and joy, and damn, it sure as hell looked like more than just lust on her face. Which was ridiculous. They were still strangers, weren’t they?
Russel’s words from earlier looped in Rigs’ head. His buddy had said he’d felt the same way about Harlequin. Hadn’t been able to think clearly after one drink and a drive home. And damn if it wasn’t the same for Rigs. Standing there, holding Addy in his arms, the terry rubbing on his forearms, her soft hair curling around his arms. She belonged there. Her hand on his arm. Whether she ever regained her sight, she belonged with him.
“Then, you’ll believe me when I say that I’m not about to jump off this ride just because it gets a bit bumpy. So, you’d best get comfortable with me hanging around. I’m not going anywhere. Now, about a shower… If you’d like one, I can help you out with that. I promise to be a complete gentleman.”
As much as he could while still sporting an erection. He’d managed to get it under control, but if she accepted—dropped the towel. Maybe let him soap her back—no doubt he’d be rock hard, again.
Who was he kidding? She could be dressed in a brown paper bag, and he’d still think she was the most desirable woman he’d ever held in his arms. Still want her with a need that should have scared him. Should have had him heading for his truck, and a one-way drive back to Montana.
Instead, he waited. Let her decide if she was ready to make herself vulnerable in front of him. Seducing her. Taking her to bed. That didn’t compare to the intimacy of letting him care for her. Of holding her hand as she stepped naked into the shower. Trusting him to keep her safe when she had nothing to defend herself with. Despite her training, he had several inches and a good eighty pounds on her. And he wasn’t too shabby in hand to hand, either.
Not that he’d ever hurt her. Hurt any woman.
Addison tilted her head, blind gaze still focused on him before she smiled. “Are you sure? You won’t be able to avert your gaze and keep me safe. Might make your pants a bit…uncomfortable.”
As if he wasn’t already uncomfortable. Hadn’t spent most of the night with his dick heavy and hard between his legs. Pressing against his fly until he thought the zipper would just bust apart.
“I said I’d be a gentleman. Not that I’d be unaffected, as you’ve already noticed. I’d apologize but…”
But he wasn’t sorry. Wasn’t going to hide the fact that she excited him on a physical level. Belay that…an atomic level because he was pretty damn sure it went beyond the usual five senses. That their attraction—the spark he’d felt back in the garden—was etched into their DNA. That it had been lying dormant, just waiting for him to bump into her. To start a chain reaction that he feared wouldn’t end until his heart stopped beating. Though, even death didn’t seem like an adequate barrier, right now.
Addison’s smile widened. “Then, I’d love a hot shower. All I really need is a hand getting in and out—a breakdown of the layout so I don’t give myself a concussion.”
“You’re not getting hurt on my watch. I thought I told you that already? As for the layout…there are some shelves on your left just past the tub, which is directly behind you, but as long as you just get in and out, you won’t hit anything. And I sure as hell won’t let you fall.”
Did he imagine her inhaling? The increased flutter of her pulse near the base of her neck? Or the flush of pink that wove all the way to the top swell of her breasts?
But she broke eye contact before he could be sure. “Is there soap?”
Did her voice sound strained? The same, rough tone that was in his? He peeked inside the shower. “Soap. Shampoo. The works. I’ll turn on the taps. Do you like it warm, hot or worthy of third-degree burns?”
“Slightly hot is fine.”
He started the water, metering the temperature until he was sure it wouldn’t scald her skin. Leave her anything but relaxed. Then, he arranged the bottles and soap so they’d be easier for her to reach without knocking over. All he had to do was help her over the ledge, then he could stand on the other side of the curtain—give her some privacy. Try to hold true to his promise of being a gentleman.
Then, he turned, and the gentleman in him vanished. Or maybe he exploded. Either way, nothing of that honorable guy remained. Not with Addison standing beside him—naked. No towel. Nothing but smooth, creamy skin. A light blush laced along her cheeks, with her golden hair cascading around her shoulders. Though, he had imagined how she’d look without that sexy black dress hugging her curves, his imagination hadn’t done her justice.
The toned muscles complemented by soft curves. The way her nipples tightened against her breasts, sitting high on her chest. The light dusting of trimmed hair between her thighs, which didn’t even hide the slightly swollen folds. Folds that gleamed in the light.
Christ, knowing she was wet. Wet for him…
Her brow furrowed, and some of the lightness in her expression dimmed. “Kent?”
Fuck. Here, she’d taken a risk. Stripped down, and all he’d done was stare at her. Tried to swallow past the huge lump in his throat. The one that was making it hard to breathe. To think. He didn’t know if he wanted to shove her against the wall, sink into that tight heat, or run. Because this—this was real. Like one of her flashes, only it was a snapshot of the future. Of where they’d been heading to from the moment they’d met.
He had to say something. Anything.
“Fuck, you’re stunning.”
Shit…anything but that! He’d promised not to stare. At least, that had been the assumption when he’d said he’d be a gentleman, hadn’t it?
She laughed, and just like that, the tension eased. The tight feeling in his throat loosened, finally allowing him to take a breath. Maybe get the right words out, this time.
“Come on. Your shower’s waiting.”
She held out her hand, and he took it. Twelve years in the Marines. Twelve years of dodging bullets. Of bleeding for the mission. Of the kind of training that would have killed a lesser man—had cast endless recruits out on their asses. And not tugging her against his chest—claiming that sexy mouth with the full pink lips. Lifting her up and sliding inside all that soft, warm woman… Hardest damn thing he’d ever done, short of walking away from her at the auction.
Christ, had that really just been a few hours ago? It felt like a different era. His life before Addison. The dark ages.
Addison moved with him. If being on display unnerved her, she hid it well. Other than the light blush, she seemed completely at ease. He, on the other hand, was sweating. He never sweated, unless he was working out. Wiring a bomb? Cool a
nd collected. Getting shot at? Blown up? Still never felt this out of control. This unhinged. And all because of the tiny hand clasped in his. The one that held more power over him than he cared to admit.
She stopped with him at the edge, turning her head. “All clear?”
“Nothing but empty tub.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.”
“Take all the time you want.” Besides, he needed time to get some oxygen back in his lungs. Some blood back in his other head. Not that he was sure waiting outside the curtain would allow either of those things to happen. But it beat standing there, faced with nothing but endless soft skin and luscious curves.
She lifted one leg, stepped inside, then placed the other. He released her hand just as she pivoted, and her foot slid out. Rigs wasn’t sure how he ended up in the shower with her—her body cradled against his. Her frantic breath washing over his neck. If he’d jumped over the side or just willed himself there because all he remembered was seeing her start to slip. Hearing the squeak of her foot across the tub floor. Seeing the wide-eyed expression on her face as she’d teetered to one side. Then, he was there. Holding her. Thanking all those years of training. The reflexes he’d honed on the battlefield that had simply kicked in. Had him reaching for her before he’d even registered he needed to move.
Addison gasped, her hands splaying out across his chest. Damn, those scars. Right beneath her palm. She had to feel them. Raised. Unusually smooth. Tougher than his regular skin. The cotton did nothing to mask the marks.
Rigs sighed, tamping down the urge to let go—hide—because he wasn’t putting her at risk. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
She shook her head, wet strands of golden hair slapping against his shirt. “Mostly my pride. I’m not usually this clumsy. I don’t even know how you moved that fast. I…”