Touch Me Tender (Alpha Squad Book 1)

by Amy J. White

  “War isn't the only history out there. It's not all about battles and weapons and generals. What people wore, what they ate, the religions they believed? Those are just as important.”

  He didn't say anything. I worried I'd finally done it, said that one thing that was just too much. I'd argued with history buffs before. When I turned around he was right there, less than an inch away, pinning me against the island with his presence.

  “You are incredible,” he said, right before his hands slipped over me. One palm cupped my cheek, the other, the back of my head. He pulled me in until our mouths were fused. His lips were hot, and soft. I didn't hesitate. I'd wanted to kiss him all night and I knew it.

  He scooped me against his body, and I felt how hard he was. I pushed against his cock in invitation.

  “Fucking hell- Lydia!” His hands slithered down my body, exploring every curve through my clothes.

  “It's a lot better once the clothes are off.”

  He picked me up like I was a sack of flour. He tossed me over his shoulder and carried me down the hall.

  “Which one?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Which one is yours?”

  I glanced at the doors. “All of them.”

  He laughed and pushed through the nearest door. It had been Theia's room once, and I got a weird thrill from the way he tossed me on the bed of the friend who had abandoned me. He crawled over me like a beast, his hands tugging at my shirt until he slid it off my body.

  “Off,” he said, pulling me up so he could get to my heavy-duty bra clasps. I had just a moment to wish I'd worn something sexier before he banished the bra across the room and buried his face against my tits. He made a low growl of appreciation before taking one nipple into his mouth.

  “Fuck,” I whispered. He held me up, keeping my chest to his face as he moved from one nipple to the other. I try to think of how long it's been since I bothered to have a man over. Then he unbuttoned my pants and I forget to think at all.

  I lay back and lifted my hips. He tugged my pants off my legs, taking my panties with them. I was suddenly very naked and laid right out beneath a very hot, very horny man.

  I expected him to pounce on me, to yank his pants off, and plant himself in me. I crave it. But he didn't. He tugged my legs apart and knelt between them. His hands grip the edge of his white t-shirt. Slowly, he dragged it up his body, revealing long lines of sun-touched skin.

  He's beautiful, I thought as my eyes swept over him. My gaze lingered on that V of muscle that disappears beneath his fatigues.

  He bent over me, catching himself on his hands. His dog tags are warm when they hit my naked chest but not as warm as his lips. He kisses me from my neck to my belly and everywhere between. He shies away from nothing. No part of me is left untouched.

  "You're so fucking beautiful." He slipped downward. He lays a single kiss just below my belly button before his big hands grab my knees and spread me open. I feel his breath against my slit an instant before his tongue sweeps over my clit. The licks are feather-light, sending waves of tickling pleasure through me. It takes me a second to realize that he is teasing.

  “More,” I demand, lifting my hips.

  His chuckle makes me squirm, but he gives me more. He flattens his tongue against my slit and licks me like he can't get enough. When I am wet and quivering he slips one finger into my pussy and crooks it. I go blind. The orgasm makes my thighs quake, and it’s only his hand on one of my legs that keeps me from arching completely off the bed.

  "Fuck," I say when my vocal cords work again.

  He gives me a look that makes my breath come short. “We are just getting started.”

  Sex has always been fast and dirty with me. I'd never had a man take so much time. With a smirk he rolled me onto my knees. His mouth moved down my back as his fingers pushed into my pussy. I could feel myself drip on him. He learned everything I liked, and then he gave it until I shook, over and over again, until I was shaking and drenched with sweat.

  “You are going to kill me.” I sagged against the pillows. My legs felt like melted wax.

  “And I haven't even gotten my pants off.”

  I gave him a look. "Why aren't they off?"

  “Because the minute they are, all bets are off.”

  I wiggled around, getting on my knees. “Oh yeah?” My fingers wrapped in the brim of his fatigues, pulling him closer.

  His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah!”

  “Let's find out.”

  I undid the buttons as slowly as I could. It was a powerful feeling to watch this big, strong man who'd made me feel like some sexual goddess go so still under my touch. I tugged his pants down and made a little moan. He was long and thick and perfect. I wrapped my fingers around him and gave him a slow stroke. I felt his cock bob against my palm.

  “Woman.” It was a warning.

  “What?”

  I dipped lower and ran my tongue along his length. The tip of him dripped. I pushed his cock between my lips and sucked. I was just starting to find my rhythm when he grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me against the bed. I didn't have the chance to breathe before he pushed into me.

  My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, pulling him deeper. He hit parts of me I hadn't known a man could touch. With one hand on my hip and another on my breast, he began to thrust. I think he said my name. I think he moaned it. But I was so busy feeling that I couldn't hear. All I could think was that it was better than my vibrator.

  He moved slowly to start, working me open. I'd never been so wet. Fingers teased at my nipple as he moved between my thighs. His dog tags swung at his neck. I wanted to feel more of him. I wanted his skin against me. I grabbed him by the tags and pulled him down until our mouths met. His tongue dove against mine as his cock started to pound into me. I felt every muscle as he moved.

  "I need-" he managed, his voice a throaty growl.

  Even without words I knew what he was saying. “Do it.” I wrapped my legs tighter. “Fill me, damn it.”

  I felt him push himself deep. My body convulsed around him. I hadn't been ready for another orgasm, but it spilled over me as he spilled into me. My legs were lax and weak. I puddled beneath him as he pillowed his cheek to my shoulder.

  “That was incredible,” he said.

  I agreed, but it did wonders for my ego to hear it. “It was. But I need a shower.”

  I felt his cock, still nested in me, spring to life. “Yeah?”

  “You carry me to the shower, and you can do whatever you want.”

  I hadn't expected him to do it, honestly. But I had a bad habit of underestimating what he was capable of.

  Sometime after the sun rose, we managed to fall into bed. I was just falling asleep when I felt a very hopeful cat crawl over our legs, and lounge in the dip our spooned bodies made.

  Drew

  My mother always taught me that if a woman takes her home, you make her breakfast. But it was hard to when there was almost nothing in her fridge. I pulled out my phone, checking apps for delivery options when the door opened.

  She looked even better in the morning, I thought. She'd pulled on an oversized t-shirt, but her hair still looked messy and sexy. Her red curls drove me insane. Everything about her drove me insane.

  “Hey,” I said, walking around her kitchen island and scooping her up. She felt so good in my arms. Just like she belonged there. I knew she belonged there. I wanted this woman forever. I wanted her snappy replies and her smart mind and her soft heart. I wanted everything about her.

  “Morning,” she said. There was a wary tone that I wasn't sure I liked.

  “Afternoon,” I amended.

  She blinked and took a step away. “What time is it?”

  “Almost one.”

  She cursed and walked out of the kitchen, almost stomping back to the bedroom. Charlie was still asleep on the bed, giving us a look when we walked in. She must have sensed a mood because she hopped off the bed, and hid under
it.

  “I was going to order some breakfast.”

  “Can't,” she said as she yanked open her closet. I watched her practically disappear as she yanked open drawers. I had a split second to wonder who kept drawers in their closet before she pulled out a work shirt. “I need to get ready.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked.

  “I need to get to work. You should get going.”

  I didn't want to be a jerk. I'd only known her for 16 hours, and I knew that was insane, but the idea of her going to that dinner bothered me. “When will I see you again?”

  She didn't even look at me. “Never!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I told you yesterday. I have stuff to do. I don't need a relationship right now. This was great, really fun.” She tugged on her waitressing uniform and tossed my shirt at me.

  “Lydia. This was more than fun. This was-”

  “Drew,” she stopped me. “Let's not make more of this than it is. We are adults. We had fun. But I don't have time for a boyfriend.”

  “You could. Let me help you.”

  The moment I said it, I knew she was mad. Charlie must have felt it too because the cat scurried under the couch.

  Lydia planted her palms on her hips. “Get out.”

  “Wait-”

  “You think I need your help, soldier boy? You think that I'm some desperate woman that doesn't know how to make ends meet?”

  “That is not what I said.” I was starting to get angry. “Damnit, Lydia. I never said anything like that. But you are so worried about letting me in.”

  She raised her lips in a smile that was way more pissed off than amused. “I let you in plenty.”

  I yanked my shirt over my head. My hands were shaking so badly. I didn't want to lose her, but I wasn't going to let her act like the night before was nothing.

  “And now you are pushing me out.”

  “I've got shit to do.”

  “Yeah, that's it exactly. Shit. You've got absolutely shit to do.”

  She crossed her arms. Her cheeks were red. “You've got a problem with waitresses?”

  “I've got far less of a problem with your career than you have with mine,” I shot back. “But I do have a problem with you breaking yourself for a job you don't even want so you can be so independent that you'll kill yourself before you let someone help.”

  “Fuck you, Drew.”

  I yanked on my pants. I made myself fasten the buttons before I said something I'd regret for the rest of my life.

  “I'm not your goddamned friends. I'm not gonna disappear because I found someone in Key West.” I dug my keys off of the floor. “But hey! Live afraid!”

  I slammed the door on my way out.

  Lydia

  “Lydia!” Amelia's voice cut through the fog. It had been five whole days since my wild night with Drew and I still couldn't' stop thinking about him. Okay, sometimes those thoughts were mad. How could he say that I was afraid? A night between my legs, no matter how great it had been, did not give him the right to talk to me like that.

  But yet, was he wrong? I was afraid. There had been nothing like the fear of thinking I had a whole plan for the next couple of years of my life, only for it all to go sideways.

  “Lydia?” Amelia called again. “How long are you gonna stare at that screen before you type in table 3's order?”

  "Oh, right." I pulled the notepad out of my pocket and reminded myself of what I was supposed to be doing. I was not supposed to be thinking about Drew. I didn't need to remember how his mouth had felt on my body. I didn't need to think about how easy it had been to fall asleep in his arms. I didn't need to think about the way Charlie had gone sniffing around the house after he had left looking for him.

  It didn't matter. He was gone. We hadn't exchanged numbers. I hadn't put him on my Snapchat or whatever. He'd never be there again.

  Why did that thought hurt so much?

  "So how long before you tell me that you are done here?" Amelia stepped up behind me, putting in her order.

  “What?”

  "I've seen your Etsy shop. I've stalked your webpage. I know that your Instagram is filled with all your historical costuming. You could make a whole YouTube page about how to hand stitch." Amelia turned to me. Her expression was serious. "I've worked in restaurants since I was fifteen and a half, Lydia. I know when I see someone who is there for life, and someone who is there for now. You've been on and off the schedule for a good long while, longer than I ever expected you to be."

  I heard Drew's words ringing in my ears. “There's nothing wrong with being a waitress.”

  “Damn right there isn't. There is nothing wrong with taking orders and bringing people their food. I knew from the time I poured my first order that this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. But this isn't the life for you. Your talent is in fabric.”

  “It doesn't pay the bills.”

  Amelia shrugged. “Hard to let it pay for your bills when you put it on the backburner.”

  “I'd need a year, maybe two before I could turn that into something full time.”

  “Get a roommate. Better yet, get a man.”

  I laughed. “I don't have time for a man.”

  Amelia gave her a long, long look. “Do you want a man?”

  Drew. His name was like a goddamned gif playing over and over in my head. Every time I thought of it I got an image of his smile. His hands on my hips. The way he'd lifted me and put me against a wall. I thought of the hurt look in his eyes when I'd told him to get out and the triumph as we'd finally gotten Charlie out from under the dumpster.

  “Eventually…”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. "Listen. I'm gonna tell you what my sister told me. If you don't want a man, that's fine. Then they ain't worth shit. But if you want one and you can't have one because you are out there doing far too much? Then what's the fucking point of doing it all?"

  “Why are you asking?”

  Amelia reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "That army boy was in here a couple of hours ago. He asked me to give you this." She pulled it away before I could take it. "Now, most of the time when those military boys leave a number for one of my girls I throw it out but he seems smart, and nice, and sweetie you could bounce coins off of his ass."

  Shocked, I laughed. “It's a very nice ass.”

  “Then call him.”

  I unfolded the paper. “Mind if I take my break?”

  Drew

  My heart hammered the entire way to her apartment. She was standing outside when I got there. The moonlight made her red hair look silver-dipped. She was the kind of woman that made men write songs and pornography.

  She was, I thought as I patted my pocket, the kind of women who men bought engagement rings for after one night and one fight.

  “Hey,” I said as I wandered up the walkway.

  She didn't say anything. She just threw her arms around me. I didn't need any fucking words. I just needed her. I scooped her up and held her against me. Everything about her felt so good.

  “Work three jobs,” I told her. “Work ten jobs. Work eighty. I don't care, Lydia. As long as you are mine I don't care.”

  “I quit.”

  I nearly dropped her. “What?”

  "You were right. I mean," She took my hand and lead me upstairs. "Okay, you were kind of right. I was afraid. Here this guy is; shows up out of nowhere, and wants to help me build a better life? I wanted to know what the catch was. I was terrified that in two weeks, when you had to ship off somewhere or whatever the term is, you'd tell me that it was great knowing me, but you were done."

  “I'm not going anywhere,” I promised her as she opened the apartment door.

  Charlie, who was looking way better, wandered up and twined her feline body between our legs in greeting.

  “I believe you,” Lydia said. “But even if you were...it's time for me to live my dream. I want to make clothes and I want to sell historical costumes. I want to be involved
in fashion and history.”

  “I will do whatever I can to help.” I took her face in my hands. Her smile was infectious.

  “Yeah? Even if it means taking me to the chapel?”

  I knew she was kidding. I could tell be the way she rolled her eyes and gave me a playful kiss.

  “Funny you should mention that.”

  I could feel my heartbeat in my hands as I tugged the ring out of my pocket. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the black velvet box. I got down on one knee, and they went even wider.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered, her hands clapping over her mouth.

  "I know it's insane, but Lydia, you are everything I've ever wanted. If you are afraid of losing me if you are afraid I'm gonna run off with some girl from Key West-"

  She laughed and shoved at my shoulder, but there were tears in her eyes.

  “Marry me.”

  “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice cracked with the need to cry.

  “I love you. I want you in my arms every night. I want your lips on mine every morning.”

  She laughed, but plucked the vintage gold and diamond ring out, popping it on her finger.

  “My morning breath is terrible.”

  Laughing, I scooped her up and kissed her hard. “Nothing about you is terrible.”

  Epilogue I

  Lydia

  “Woman, it is your wedding day.” Bethany Sinclair, best friend and expert of the obvious, looked absolutely stunning in layers of frothy blue.

  I didn't look up from the pile of fabric in my lap. “I know.”

  “You are still hemming your skirt.”

  “I know that too.”

  Running stitches were fast and great for hemlines since they didn't take on any of the actual weight or pull of the garment, but when you were working with silk nothing was fast enough. The fabric kept slipping.

  “You know, I thought it was cute when you said you only wanted one bridesmaid.” Bethany flipped her ice blonde hair over one shoulder. “Can you still be a bridesmaid if you've been married for four years?”