Scars and Tats

by Kristi Pelton

  “Can I help?”

  Her brown eyes glanced at me hesitantly.

  “Why are you waiting until tomorrow to leave?” she whispered.

  The chair screeched just a bit when I stood.

  “I’ve thought about leaving today. Would you prefer that?”

  She dropped another rinsed potato in the pan. “I’m just asking, Jackson. Why tomorrow?” Her focus remained on the damn potatoes and it was irritating me.

  I came up behind her and trapped her with my arms, my body pressed up next to hers—my chest against her back.

  “One more day was going to make it impossible to leave,” I whispered near her ear.

  An involuntary shudder rippled through her body and internally, I grinned. I fucking loved the way I affected her body. I’d never wanted something to be mine so badly.

  “So staying today won’t be hard?”

  “One of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, Mela.”

  Surprisingly, she flipped around with the potato peeler jabbed up in the space between us.

  “Don’t,” she gritted and then lowered the weapon. Her hand involuntarily flew up in a stopping motion as she warded away some thought. Quietly, she said, “Please, don’t act like one day makes a difference.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. I swore to everything holy, I would never be the one to cause her pain again.

  “Mela. That’s bullshit. One day sure as hell does make a difference. The past 9 days have changed…everything.”

  She shook her head. Back and forth with a mask of confusion clouding her face.

  “I think you should just go now.”

  Her words slapped me. I didn’t want to go. “No.”

  “You can’t say no,” she whispered.

  “I sure the fuck can. I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I’m not passing up another night with you.” My fierce tone left no room for misinterpretation.

  When she closed her eyes, a single tear escaped. She swiped it away before I could. Then, in total surrender, she rested her forehead on my chest. And I held her. I held her like her life and Beck’s depended on it.

  The rest of the day—tension hung in the air between us. An expectation of what was to come. Anticipation on every breath…every look. The only thing that stood in the way of devouring her was the four-year-old who needed her attention.

  With every look, I undressed her with my eyes. With every look, the desire built in hers. Each time she tucked her hair behind her ear as she bent down to tend to Beck, I eyed her neck. It would be the first place I would kiss later.

  Mid afternoon, Beck took a shower and seemed to be feeling a little better. This made Mela happy and made me even happier because they were both happy. While she helped him in the bathroom, I couldn’t help but think about how things could be. The possibilities.

  A vision of chasing down terrorists during the day and then coming home to the two of them at night was the most satisfying thought. Reading to Beck, eating dinner as a family, watching some sort of Sponge Bob shit, putting Beck to bed, then putting his Mom to bed. I grinned to myself. The thought made me pop wood.

  I wished I could go into town and bring back flowers. Maybe wine. Suddenly, she walked through the room, her t-shirt wet, her breasts perky and nipples hard as she passed through. Her jaw was tight but hot damn she was beautiful.

  “You ok?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Beck was standing to get out then plopped down trying to be funny, and a wave of water doused me.”

  Her voice wasn’t angry but rather…annoyed. She disappeared into the bedroom. I took off for the bathroom.

  “Hey buddy, you dressed?”

  “Sha-bam!” Beck shouted giving me a karate chop as I rounded the corner.

  I laughed but bent down on his level. Clearly, he was feeling better.

  “Listen, Beck. When your Mom is mad, is that any fun?” I gave him a crazy grimace face.

  He looked at me weird. “No.”

  “Exactly!” I poked him in the belly, and he giggled like the Pillsbury dough boy. “So tell your mom you’re sorry for getting her wet, deal? Because I know that you don’t want her mad at you. And I promise, I do NOT want her mad at me. And I think we’d both be happier if she was happy.”

  “You’re funny, Jackson.” Beck laughed and ran to his room, making a varoom sound as he disappeared. Obviously, we were going to have to work on this making-sure-momma-is-happy theory.

  When Mela rounded the corner, her jeans were rolled at the ankles but loose and, holy shit, the way the worn denim cut her ass. Her brown hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail on her head but she looked adorable.

  “Where is he?”

  “Ran to his room.”

  She rolled her eyes, patted my abdomen and huffed toward his room.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” Beck said the moment she went up into the loft.

  I winced from the hallway fearful she would catch on.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I don’t know. Jackson told me I should say it.”

  Mela leaned back looking down at me. I shrugged, grinning at her.

  “Well, Jackson is right. I know you were just being playful but you soaked me, buddy. Thank you for apologizing.”

  “Jackson said we don’t want you mad.”

  “Hmm. Is that right?”

  Shit. She and Beck continued talking. I headed to the kitchen. I might as well get the knife out and cut my own throat.

  The smell of dinner clung to the air. The way the two of them worked together around the kitchen preparing for the feast…almost made a man feel not needed…almost.

  I helped Beck arrange the plates on the table and set the silverware out. It was clear he had grown accustomed to helping his mother. They were quite the team.

  At the table, they started playing a game I wasn’t familiar with.

  “High low, Jackson?” Beck said.

  I cocked my brows at Mela and turned to Beck.

  “I don’t know what that is, buddy. Tell me.”

  Beck took a deep breath, obviously exasperated with my ignorance. He reminded me of his damn mom in that moment.

  “You have to say your high of the day and your low of the day.”

  “My high?”

  Mela cleared her throat. “Yes. What was the best part of your day?”

  With a shit-eating grin, I winked at her. “I think you know what my high was, Mom,” I teased and her eyes widened. “It was definitely the pillow fight Beck and I had earlier.”

  “Me too!” Beck shouted, bouncing up and down in his chair. “That was my favorite part too. What’s your low?”

  “Hmm.” I tapped my bearded jaw. “I don’t have a low.”

  Beck gasped. “Mommy!”

  I chuckled out loud. “I take it that’s not ok?”

  After stuffing a mound of mashed potatoes inside his mouth, Beck shook his head. God, I loved this kid.

  Beck tried to talk but the words were garbled by the potatoes.

  “Beckwith James,” Mela said firmly.

  He quickly sat back in his chair and swallowed what he had in his mouth.

  “Jackson, it is not ok not to have a low.”

  “My low is you leaving,” Beck added with his now empty mouth.

  Mela stood, clearing her throat. I knew she didn’t want her son to hurt. I also knew that she worried about me hurting him.

  “Beck. I’d like to come back and see you if that’s ok.”

  “Jackson.” Mela said my name in the same tone she had said Beckwith James about two minutes ago. That wasn’t good. A warning lingered.

  I stared at her. I knew what I wanted. I wasn’t going to let her not let me come back.

  “Yes, ma’am?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell him that unless you know you can deliver on what you’re saying.”

  “That’s precisely why I told him that because I will deliver.” I held out my pinky to Beck. “I pinky promise I’ll be back.”

>   He intertwined his pinky with mine as silverware clanged loudly in the sink.

  “I’ll be back,” I whispered to Beck as he pulled his roll through the gravy and wolfed down a bite.

  In the kitchen, Mela stared out the window. I snuck up behind her and engulfed her body with my arms. She stiffened.

  “Do you not want me to come back?”

  “I don’t know what I want. A few days ago my son looked outside and pointed at you. This has all happened so fast. And all I know is I wanted you gone so badly and now…I can’t imagine you gone.”

  “Mela. If I didn’t have to leave, I wouldn’t. I’d stay. I’d stay for as long as you’d let me.”

  She spun around. Her eyes were dark.

  “Do you understand that we are a package deal? A buy one get one free sort of thing.”

  I flung my arms back in shock. “Seriously? You don’t think I understood that. So, if you come back to Denver, Beck can’t just stay here?” I rolled my eyes while hers narrowed. “Mela. Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “You coming back gives him hope, Jackson. It makes him think you’ll be around.”

  “You aren’t listening, woman! I want to be around.”

  “Yeah, Mommy. He wants to be around,” Beck said, carrying his dishes into the kitchen where we stood.

  I backed away from his mother. Funny, how I was intimidated by a four-year-old.

  “That’s what I heard,” she said, taking Beck’s glass and plate. “How about you go pick out a movie and we can watch it before bed.”

  When she turned back to the sink, I decided to let the conversation go for now.

  It didn’t take long before Beck was out. We were barely halfway through the movie. Mela knew the minute I looked at her what was on my mind. And by watching her squirm in her chair and the way she licked over her lips, I assumed she wanted me just as much.

  “Shall we leave him here or take him to his bed?” I asked.

  “You in a hurry? He’s been asleep for eighty-four seconds,” she teased.

  “Yes. I am in a hurry. I intend to do naughty things to you all night long. You have a lot of catchin’ up to do.”

  “Catching up?”

  I nodded. “Yep. You are way behind on the orgasm meter. If you had experienced an orgasm when you were 21…and then at the bare minimum five a year for the past six years, you’d be at… 35. I believe you had three yesterday. So, if my math is correct—and it always is—tonight we need to get in 32.” I grinned.

  “Thirty-two, huh?”

  “I’m pretty allergic to failure so let’s get started.”

  She giggled. “Wow, that’s romantic.”

  Well, now. She wanted romance? I’d never done romance, but the challenge was on. I stood, swaggered over to her and stared down at her. Her rounded, brown eyes stared back. If she wanted romance, I was her man.

  I extended my hand to her. Her small one fit perfectly in mine and she easily rose with my slight tug. I’d cradled her when she was sick but not when she was healthy. So, I cradled her in my arms and walked her to the bedroom. The sheets had been washed, and as I laid her down the smell of fabric softener…maybe lavender wafted up at us.

  When I had first met this woman, she fought for every ounce of control. Handcuffs, gun, threats, rude words. And now, her innocent eyes stared up at me as she willingly surrendered to whatever was coming next. I pulled my shirt up and over my head, baring my body—watching her lips part as her eyes danced down my torso.

  “You’re so…perfect,” she said softly.

  I tossed my shirt and reached for hers. Instantly, her arms rose. This woman longed to be taken care of. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. Her shirt joined mine on the floor.

  “Trust me, I’m not perfect. But thank you. I think that you’re beautiful too.”

  Surprising me, she sat upright and reached for my waistband. Her hands shook just a little. She unfastened the first button and unzipped my jeans. The Armani underwear that had also just been washed and smelled like the sheets found their way to the floor as well. Her little fingers wrapped around my cock, taking my breath and made me rock hard. When she leaned forward with her beautiful lips parted, there was no way I would deny her. As she closed her warm mouth around my shaft, she stroked the base with her hand and lapped over the top with her tongue, my balls tightened up against my ass. Damn.

  My hands fisted in her hair as her pace quickened. I knew her sexual experience was limited, so I watched as she navigated her way. I would happily be her guide. Hell I’d even be her guinea pig. When her hand reached to cup my balls, massaging them—come stirred inside ready to explode. Fuck. The thought of shooting down her throat nearly made my knees buckle. The quicker she stroked, the tighter she gripped my balls, the more I was ready to come. At one point, my cock rammed the back of her throat and she gagged but didn’t stop. A low hiss slid through my teeth. As come inched up my cock, I pulled back on her hair to stop the stroking.

  “You’re gonna make me come, Mela.”

  Her eyes peered up at me.

  “You do that exceptionally well.”

  She wiped her finger beneath her bottom lip. “I’ve never done it before.”

  To know my cock was the only one that had ever been in her mouth… I wanted to let her finish. To stake my claim on her mouth. But I needed tonight to be about more than my own needs.

  I gently shoved Mela to her back and began inching her jeans off. “That pleases me immensely.” I panted as I kissed her perfect navel. Her jeans were off and I wanted to destroy her lacy pink panties. I also wanted to destroy any man that she ever might want to blow. Mela McKinley was mine now. Even if she didn’t know it. Call it caveman mentality, call it whatever you like. I wouldn’t lose her. Not now…not ever. I didn’t know how I was going to say goodbye to them in the morning, but there was no doubt I would come back. And tonight, I was going to leave a part of me inside of her.

  My cock was literally twitching to feel her wetness. The tip glistened. Never in my life had I allowed raw sex to be an option. Until now. The chances I took with her were risky…but worth it to me. Sex could be a dangerous thing, but something I could always control. But the power of Mela’s pussy…fuck. It made me take risks I wouldn’t normally take.

  Her legs dangled off the side of the bed. With my knees I shoved the top mattress over a couple of inches until I could rest her heels on the box springs. Once her legs were bent, her knees fell open—she was wetter than I was. A lot wetter. I watched my cock spread her as it glided into her. The whites in her eyes became more visible than her beautiful browns as a slight whimper fled from her mouth.

  As I bent over her, watching her writhe to the pace I’d set, her hips arching to meet mine, I knew I’d never let her be with another man. I had no idea what kind of lover she’d been in the past, but I wanted to kill anyone who even might have a chance with her.

  “Jackson…” she whispered, making come inch further up my cock.

  I reached down, finding her clit with my thumb, and began rubbing it, watching her lips part and her face get lost in the pleasure. Knowing I was the only man that had ever made her come was a powerful feeling. That would be my job from this day forward. My professional job—I’d neglected. I would never neglect this job. Pleasuring her was what I was born to do. As her whimpers became moans, I smiled. Not just because I loved satisfying her, but because I thought about filling out any future job applications. Under experience, I would put—born to make Mela come.

  When her legs wrapped around me, pulling me into her, I quickened my pace with my thumb and my strokes. I don’t know what it was, seeing her break apart beneath me, wave after wave of pleasure, her pussy clenching around my swollen cock, but I soared right over the edge myself, yanking out of her and coming once again on her belly. Jesus. Someday. Someday, I would unload inside of her. Someday soon. Right now, however, I was just going to hold her.

  “I don’t mean to be a downer. But last
night when we talked, the conversation started about the scars and we never got to that. Would you finish telling me what happened?”

  “Someday,” she whispered and I let it go.

  Chapter 16

  Home is where the heart is.

  Sitting at my desk looking out at the Denver skyline…I could see the mountains in the distance. The mountains that I’d gotten lost in—that I’d fallen in love in. I’d never been in love. I wasn’t even sure how I defined it. But as I sat trying to go through an endless number of emails and ridiculous voicemails, my focus was elsewhere. My mind was miles away in a snowy cabin along with my heart. The only thing that stayed on my mind was the tear that trickled down her cheek as she whispered goodbye. I assured her it wasn’t goodbye and we opted for ‘later.’

  Two weeks. That’s what Mela and I agreed on. I needed to tend to work and family. My mother was struggling. Facing a life without her spouse, her partner, her caretaker. She had trusted my father to take care of them…just like I wanted Mela to trust in me. My father hadn’t held up to his end of the bargain. I would. I wanted to tell my mother about Mela. Maybe it would comfort her. I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t though. Not yet. That might only burden her further. Though my father had offered apologies, an unspoken vendetta clung to his words. A grudge would always be between us. He would never understand why I did what I did.

  A domestic terrorist cell was sprouting up and chattering in Colorado Springs, and I needed to get down there at some point to have some dialogue with the FBI. As I read the classified documents, my thoughts kept returning to Mela. Her eyes. The softness of her skin. Her full lips. Her silky hair in my hands. When I had crested the mountain and cast a final look back down at the two of them waving from the cabin—my heart filled. I knew that she’d fought breaking down because of Beck. And it took all she had to maintain her composure. We’d prepared for that the night before. Thankfully.

  Back to the emails. I’d read through only three before I considered taking a sick day. Working from home even. But, that would be worse. I’d only sit and picture Mela there milling about. Beck wreaking havoc in my home full of breakables. Wow, I was going to have to buy new shit. I smiled at the thought.