Intense 2

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Intense 2 Page 15

by Hebert, Cambria


  When her teeth closed around my earlobe, I pulled her away. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I ground out.

  She smiled a lazy, sleepy smile. “I think I might have an idea.”

  I swatted her bottom. “Get off me, woman.”

  She titled her head and squinted at me. “You sure you’re not gay?”

  I snatched up her hand and pressed it to the evidence of me not being gay. “Unless you’re secretly a really hot dude, then no, I’m not gay.”

  Her eyes widened a bit and then her mouth fell open in a little O. “That’s, umm,” she said and cleared her throat. Then she giggled. “That’s some pretty large evidence.”

  “Damn straight,” I said arrogantly.

  “You sure you don’t want to stay in bed?”

  I couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out my mouth. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  She made a harrumphing sound and rolled over. I got out of bed before I dove myself at her and did what I told myself I wasn’t going to do.

  I looked down as I stood. The tent in my pants wasn’t something I could hide. Damn. I was going to be frustrated all damn day now. I went into the bathroom and splashed some ice-cold water on my face, rinsed out my mouth, and used the facilities.

  It was chilly this morning so when I came out of the bathroom, I snatched up my shirt and yanked it on. Honor was still in bed.

  “My entire body feels like a giant bruise.” She moaned.

  “Up you go,” I said and lifted her off the mattress and held her in my arms. On my way to the door, she pointed to a pair of fuzzy looking boots.

  “I need my slippers.”

  I bent and she grabbed them, and then I carried her out into the kitchen where I deposited her on a chair at the table. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

  She put on her slippers as she told me where she kept the coffee, and I got a pot brewing. The apple pie on the counter called out to me, and my stomach grumbled. As the coffee brewed, I spied the bottle of pain meds the doctor gave her at the hospital, and I set them in front of her along with a glass of water.

  “Those will help with the soreness.”

  Dutifully, she swallowed her pill and then I poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her with the creamer.

  “You’re a pretty handy guy to have around,” she said, stirring her coffee and creamer together.

  “I know.”

  She laughed and it made me turn my head to look at her. She looked tiny sitting there at the table with her hair all a mess and a steaming mug cradled between her hands. Even with bruises on her face, she was beautiful to me. Without thinking, I strode across the room and swooped in to plant a lingering kiss on her cinnamon-flavored lips.

  When I pulled back, her eyes looked a little dazed, and I mentally patted myself on the back. Good job, Nathan.

  “You have any ice cream?” I asked, snooping through her freezer.

  “No.”

  “You know that’s like a crime. Pie with no ice cream.”

  “I’m sorry?” she asked.

  I sighed heavily. “I’m still eating pie.”

  “I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but you already have,” she quipped.

  I grinned and rummaged for a bowl and a knife. I did feel at home here, from the second I stepped through the front door. I felt like I was where I belonged, like this wasn’t my first night here. It felt perfectly natural for me to be making coffee and kissing her good morning. This was what I wanted. Not just today. Not just next week…

  “Nathan?” Honor said from across the room.

  I glanced over. She was giving me a puzzled look. “Where’d you go?”

  My thoughts had stilled my movements and I was standing in the center of the room, clutching a knife and a bowl. “Nowhere.” I lied and cut a huge piece of pie. I wondered what she would say if I told her I was already thinking about forever.

  “You’re putting pie into a bowl?”

  “There’s no ice cream,” I explained.

  “Yes, I realize the error of my ways.” I heard the smile in her voice.

  I reached into the fridge, pulled out the milk, and poured some into the bowl, over the pie. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” I told her and heated up the bowl in the microwave.

  “Apple pie. It’s what’s for breakfast,” Honor said, as I sat down beside her.

  “It’s got milk. It’s like cereal.”

  She shook her head and drank more coffee.

  The first bite exploded onto my tongue. “Oh my God.” I groaned. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  She laughed.

  “No really,” I said as I shoved another bite into my mouth. “You are a pie genius.”

  Honor rolled her eyes. I scooped out another bite and held it to her lips. “Try it.” Her lips parted and I slid the spoon over her tongue and then pulled it back out, watching the way her lips hugged the silver. My body tightened all over again.

  “It’s good.” She agreed.

  Pie this good deserved some silence, so I didn’t say anything as I shoveled the rest into my mouth.

  “Usually by now I would be on my way home from my morning run,” she murmured, looking out the sliding glass doors near the table and at the trail.

  “You run every day of the week?”

  “Most mornings. Not every day.”

  I wondered if she would keep running out there after what happened to her.

  “How about you? You must work out a lot.”

  “Almost every day.”

  “Do you like being a Marine?” she asked.

  “It’s okay. I think about getting out sometimes. Living somewhere that I won’t have to move from.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I grew up in Jacksonville, NC. It’s a Marine Corps kind of town. I grew up sort of idolizing the Marines. I joined right out of high school and went to Paris Island for boot camp.”

  She smiled. “I knew I heard the South in your voice. Is this the first time you’ve lived up North?”

  “Yep. It’s cold.”

  She grinned. “How long you been enlisted?”

  “Six years.”

  She nodded and put her mug to her lips. I took advantage and asked a question of my own. “Did you grow up here?”

  She nodded. “Yes, never lived anywhere else.”

  “You said you’re a writer?”

  She looked a little shy as she nodded.

  “What do you write?”

  “Books.”

  “What kind of books?” Geez, it was like pulling teeth.

  “Mostly romance novels. I also have some paranormal stuff.”

  “You mean like vampires?”

  “Werewolves,” she replied.

  “You seem embarrassed,” I pointed out, glancing over at the pie and thinking about getting another piece.

  She laughed and stood up. “I’m not really. Just sometimes people’s reaction to my career can be a little… harsh.”

  I watched as she moved stiffly over to the counter, taking my bowl with her, and cut another huge slice of pie.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s hard to get someone to take you seriously when you tell them you write romance or about werewolves.”

  I guess I could understand that. It was a little out there. Of course, me going to work and dealing with guns all day wasn’t all that normal either.

  “How long you been a writer?”

  “I’ve always wanted to be a writer,” she replied. “I’ve been writing stuff since I was young. But I started writing professionally about two and a half years ago. I had a day job up until about six months ago. Now, I’m able to write full time.”

  “You love it.” I could tell by the look on her face.

  She smiled and reached into the beeping microwave to get my pie. “Yeah, I really do.”

  When she sat the pie on front of me, I pulled her into my lap and rested my chin o
n top of her head. “You gonna give me one of your books to read?”

  “You want to read my books?”

  “I want to do anything that has anything to do with you.”

  “I’m glad you came over last night,” she said, pressing her cheek against my chest.

  “Me too.”

  We sat there for a while in the quiet of the kitchen, and for once, the silence didn’t bother me at all.

  27

  Honor

  Nathan was standing in front of the large glass sliders when I came out of the hallway and into the kitchen. He had his arms crossed over his chest and the position showed off his powerful back perfectly.

  I swear, he was the stuff I wrote about.

  I didn’t think men like him actually existed outside of my imagination. And now he was living, breathing, and standing in front of me. He slept in my bed last night. Joyous little goose bumps raced over my entire body.

  The sun shone through the glass, bathing him in this sort of halo so everything else around him was slightly blurred. It was the perfect representation of what he did to me. When he was around, everything else was hazy, but he was perfectly in focus.

  The very fact that I was standing here secretly checking him out instead of dwelling on what I just went through was very telling.

  Yes, it told me I was way too horny (hey, I write romance).

  But… It also told me that what I was feeling for him was bigger than what happened to me. He completely eclipsed the fact that I was kidnapped and trapped. Yeah, I was still disturbed by what happened to me; however, it was impossible to dwell because of all the possibilities standing within my reach.

  “You’re lurking.” he said without turning around.

  “I do not lurk.” I sniffed and moved farther into the room.

  He chuckled and turned slightly so he could glance at me. His eyes roamed over my body, and I bit my lip in response to the delicious desire that surged over me. “The bath make you feel better?”

  After we both consumed considerable amounts of coffee and pie, Nathan insisted I take a warm bath to help ease the soreness in my body. It wasn’t hard to agree. A bath definitely was easier than a shower. I was able to let my hand with the stitches hang over the side.

  “Between the coffee, the hot water, and the pain meds, I would say I’m good as new.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Okay, almost as good as new.”

  “Come here,” he said softly, his voice like a rumble through the room.

  I walked across the room, my furry boots shuffling over the tile floor. “Those boots are damned cute,” he murmured, reaching out and drawing me in so we were standing face to face in front of the window.

  “They’re very warm.”

  He grasped my face and tilted it up and toward the light and studied me like I was some priceless piece of art. “Your eye looks a lot better.”

  “I can see out of it now and that’s always a plus.”

  He frowned. I hadn’t wanted to make him frown. To make it up to him, I leaned up all the way on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. He bent down slightly and wrapped both arms around my waist, pulling me closer.

  I felt a little protest in my ribs, but I wasn’t about to complain. His lips were the ultimate pain reliever.

  He teased my lips, flirted with them. His kisses were short and raspy. Then they would change into long and seductive. Just as I would get used to one kiss and begin spiraling into deep desire, he would change his angle, his intensity, or the pressure of his mouth, and it would be an entirely new experience all over again.

  He left all my senses reeling.

  And that was only with his kiss.

  I couldn’t help but ask myself what he would be like in bed. Naked.

  He pulled back and gentled his hold, dropping a quick kiss to my temple. “You smell like cinnamon.”

  “You still smell like a Christmas tree.”

  “Cinnamon and Christmas go together.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “Yeah, they do.” I dragged my hand along the back of his neck, caressing the smooth skin and then slipping my fingers beneath the neckline of his T-shirt.

  He made a sound of appreciation, and I smiled.

  “What do you have going on today?” he asked.

  I wished I could say nothing. I wished I could sit in his arms every second of this day. “I promised my parents I would come over for a while. They’re still pretty freaked out. And I have to get a new cell phone. It feels weird not having one. Plus, I really need it for work. I use it all the time.”

  “Are you a social media junkie?” He teased.

  “It’s my job.” I defended my serious bad habit. “It’s called marketing.”

  “Be careful today,” he whispered against my lips and kissed me softly. My heart turned over. How such a big, rough guy could be so tender I would never understand.

  “I don’t think my social media obsession is dangerous.” I joked.

  “I’m not talking about your unhealthy online habits, sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t even complain that he called my habits unhealthy because he went and added sweetheart at the end of his sentence. *sigh*

  After my initial melty reaction, his true meaning broke through, and my stomach tightened. I knew what he was talking about. I just didn’t want to think about it.

  ‘Course, pushing it away wouldn’t make the problem disappear; it would only make it worse. If I wanted all the potential that I felt Nathan presented, then I needed to deal with the here and now so I could realize those possibilities. “Yeah, I know,” I said and pulled away to stare out the window at the trail. A woman was running along with a dog on a leash.

  I watched them go, my eyes staying with the dog, a chocolate lab. I wondered what kind of dog I should get…

  “Did you watch the news at all last night?”

  “No,” I answered as the dog and woman ran out of sight. I looked up at Nathan. “Why?”

  “It’s the reason I drove over here.” He paused. “Well, one of the reasons.”

  “Tell me.” I was going to face this head on and kick it in the balls.

  “The media reported your name. Your full name. And they reported his name too. They connected him to Mary.”

  I felt the blood drain from my head. “Why would they do that?” I asked, dazed.

  “Because the media is a bunch of bloodsucking drama hags.”

  I laughed. “I’m so going to use that in one of my books.”

  He grinned.

  “So now he knows my name. And can find my address.”

  “Yeah, pretty much. Not only that, but we blew the whistle on his identity. He’s a walking target.”

  “Maybe that will send him away. He will run to some place people won’t know him.”

  Nathan considered my words. “It’s definitely a possibility.”

  “But you don’t think that’s what he’ll do.”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Shit, Honor. I don’t know. Part of me hopes to hell he runs to Mexico.”

  “And the other part?”

  His eyes met mine. “The other part of me thinks we pissed him off. Badly. I’m afraid you’ve become a challenge to him, one he won’t want to walk away from.”

  I shivered. His words were scary.

  “I don’t want to go back in that hole,” I whispered. Everything inside me felt numb, like my body was locking down some sort of self-protection mechanism in preparation for something terrible.

  He swore in a way that only a Marine could. “You’re not going back in that hole,” Nathan vowed and pulled me into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his middle and held tight, like he was the last rooted tree in a raging tornado.

  “Wait here,” he said and pulled away. I watched him go to the front door, unlock it, and walk out in the biting autumn wind.

  A few minutes later, he came back inside. “I have something for you.”

  His hands were empty
. “What is it?”

  He came up the stairs and I met him at the top. He reached behind him and pulled something out of the back of his sweats.

  It was a gun.

  “I want you to take this.”

  I stared at it like it was the plague. “I don’t want that.”

  “Yeah, I know. Take it anyway.”

  Given my situation, having a gun would be smart. I may not want to carry it around, but I knew to the bottom of my slipper boots that if Lex showed up I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him.

  I’d probably shoot him more than once.

  I took the gun, the weight of it not entirely foreign considering I carried one just like this the other night in the woods.

  “You remember what I told you?” Nathan asked.

  “Point and pull the trigger?”

  “Yes.” He showed me how to work the safety and then made me show him that I understood how to use it.

  “Listen to me,” he said once I knew exactly how to use the gun. “Shoot first. Ask questions later.”

  “Okay.” Then I tucked the gun in my purse.

  Nathan rolled his eyes.

  “What?” I said. “Should I carry it in the back of my pants like you do?”

  “Hell, no. You’d probably shoot yourself in that luscious ass.”

  I had to admit, I liked he thought my ass was luscious.

  “You gonna be okay today?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Maybe you should just stay at your parents’ house tonight,” he suggested.

  “I like my house.”

  “What about my house?” he asked.

  “Your house?”

  “You might like it there too. I have a king-sized bed.” He arched an eyebrow at me and gave me “the look.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked. Inside, my nerves were fluttering around like a moth near a lamp.

  “Stay with me tonight. It will be safer.”

  “Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I have this image,” he began, reaching out to twirl a strand of my hair around two of his fingers, “of your hair spread out over my pillow and my sheets smelling like cinnamon.”

 

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