With a featherlight touch, I trace along her healing lips and purple-and-blue bruised jaw. For two days, they’ve kept her under observation. Mostly sedated due to her constant arguing about being fine and needing to get back to work. But not today. No, today she gets to go home. She’ll return to the White House and finally see Taeler and that sweet grandbaby.
Which means I get to leave too, even though I could’ve gone home anytime I wanted. No doctor was holding me back from leaving. But she was. No way could I leave her here alone. I might never leave her alone again. If she thought I was overbearing before, she’s in for a rude awakening starting the moment we get back to the White House.
Now I know what it’s like to nearly lose your soul mate. The very person who encourages and challenges you. The very reason your heart continues to beat and who pushes the encroaching darkness away. I’ll never allow harm to come to her again.
A twitch of movement behind her closed lids snags my attention. Beside the bed, the heart rate monitor beeps increase, the rapid pace ramping up my own pulse. A sharp, scared whimper whispers past her dry lips.
Another nightmare.
This isn’t the first she’s had, and I suspect it won’t be the last with all she went through in those horrible hours we searched for her while she was alone with those fuckers. I made Shawn detail every bit of pain they inflicted. What he and Ponder did before Tank and I arrived. Then I delivered it all right back to him. It won’t stop the fear from slipping into her dreams or keep her from future panic attacks, but it might help ease the anger and resentment I know will brew within her over the next few months.
Leaning forward, I press a kiss to her forehead and tighten the hold on her hand.
Helpless. This is what I feel as she struggles in her dreamscape. The only place I can’t help her. I could wake her up, but for the first time since she was admitted, the sleep she’s experiencing now is on her own, not drug induced, and I’m not sure if I should interrupt even if every instinct screams at me to shake her awake.
A breathy plea moves through my hair, brushing against my ear.
Dipping lower, I place my lips over hers. “I’m here, Mess. I’m here.”
The twitching settles, and her rapid breaths ease. I watch as those long dark lashes flutter open. She doesn’t flinch at finding me hovering so close, our noses almost touching. Instead she does the unexpected.
Her cold fingers slip up the exposed portion of my bicep, over my shoulder, and gently clasp the back of my neck, sealing our lips together with a desperation that scours my soul and rips through my heart.
Elbow braced on the bed, I lean into the kiss, giving her everything I’ve held back the past couple of days. Pouring my sorrow and anger into this one binding kiss. Her tongue slides against my own, lips parted, opening herself to me. Those chipped and broken nails scrape along my scalp.
It’s a desperate kiss, displaying how badly we need each other. I can’t touch enough of her, and the way her other hand plays along my taut back muscles tells me she feels the same. We need this. A reminder of our physical connection. A release of the pent-up emotions and frustrations that sit brimming at the surface, ready to erupt.
My breath shudders with the flood of need, making me edgy and harder than a damn rock. I tear my hungry lips from hers, shifting to kiss down the column of her neck, each fading fingerprint bruise. My tongue trails lower, savoring every inch of her I get to taste. From one side to the other, I run the tip along her collarbone, nibbling and sucking the delicate skin.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, tugging at my scalp. With a yank, she rips my face up to meet hers. Breaths labored, dick straining against the zipper of my jeans, I press against the mattress, hovering above her and meeting those lust-filled hazel eyes.
“Remind me,” she breathes.
“Remind you of what, Mess?”
“Of what I have waiting for me on the other side of all this. Of the normalcy. That you still want this broken person they turned me into.” A single tear drips, slipping along her temple before disappearing into her hairline. “Remind me I’m still me. Remind me of who I am, Trouble. Remind me of what it feels like to feel good.”
Even though her words fracture my heart into a thousand pieces, I smile.
I smile for her.
I smile for me.
I smile for us.
And I give her exactly what she needs in this moment.
Me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Randi
I’m broken. Not just parts of my body but my entire being. The fear Shawn beat into me during those hours in the warehouse seeped into my muscles with each hit, every taunt. My bones ache, but that’s nothing compared to the soul-rattling despair and terror that’s now dug it’s claws into me.
I’ve never been scared. Always dove into an issue head on, not worrying about the consequences.
But now? Now I know what can happen and how much it will hurt. I know the fear of death staring you in the face and accepting you won’t live to see another day. That did something to me. Between the beatings, talk of rape, and knowing I would die, a part of me is frozen in fear.
I’m scared. Terrified that one day Shawn or the other man will come back and make good on their promises of me dying a slow death. At least that’s how it plays out in the recurring nightmare that seems to be imprinted in my brain, ready to replay anytime I dare to sleep.
The doctors thought I didn’t want to rest because I had work to do, which is what I told them, but that was a front of truth-laced lies. I just didn’t want to close my eyes without the sedation. With the sedation, everything was black, nothing. But when I sleep on my own, I’m back in that warehouse and Trey is gone.
I need him close by. Need his warmth, protection, and understanding.
He’s my salvation.
My savior.
My everything.
Staring into those honey brown eyes hovering just inches above me, I move a lock of dark hair from in front of them. He might think I’m crazy for asking for this, asking for him, but I need us. Need that connection. Like I told him, I need the reminder that we’re good. That something in my life is still stable.
My heart is cracked wide open, 100 percent vulnerable with the request, offering him a side of me I never allow myself to show. I don’t need anyone, never have. I’ve done everything to this point on my own. Undergrad. Law school. Campaign. Politics. But this I can’t get through alone. And maybe I don’t want to.
It’s more terrifying than anything Shawn said, opening myself up to Trey like this. Letting him see just how much I need him. All it would take is one word, a hesitation even, or a flat-out refusal. I wouldn’t recover from his rejection, even if it did come from a loving place of not wanting to hurt me while my body is still healing. Recover from the abduction and torture? Sure. With enough therapy, I’ll be okay. But being turned away when I’m desperate for help, begging for someone to ground me and them refusing—there aren’t enough prescription drugs in the world to make that kind of rejection go away.
I hold my breath, waiting for his response. My heart races, fingers trembling as I run them through his clean hair.
A smirk. That playful smirk tugs at his lips, and I know I have my answer.
Trey Benson, my soul mate, won’t back away when I need him most. No, he leans in, knowing exactly what I need.
I don’t need to be perfect for Trey.
I never have been. And that’s why he loves me.
“What hurts, Mess?” he asks, that all-seeing gaze raking over my face and lower, hunger growing with each inch he covers.
I take a quick stock of my injuries. “My ribs when I take a deep breath. That’s it. Trey—” I start, ready to beg again, when he seals those soft lips against my own.
“One second,” he whispers against my mouth.
With a grunt, he pulls away. Using the bedside rail as leverage, he stands, adjusting the sizable bulge in his jeans before awkwardly walkin
g to the door and pulling it open. With most of his body remaining inside the room, he talks in a low tone to someone outside the door before closing it once again and flipping the lock. “There. Now we won’t be disturbed.”
His mischievous smirk causes heat to bloom in my lower belly and dampness to slick the inside of my thighs.
A predatory glint shines in his eyes as they sweep me from head to toe. Each step is steady, calculated from the door to where I lie trembling with excitement. Long fingers fist the mound of blankets covering my bare legs and slowly drag the heavy material to the floor, leaving me exposed in the ugly-as-sin hospital gown I’ve been forced to wear.
I nibble at my upper lip to keep my grimace from showing as I take in the state of my legs. Bruises and lacerations litter my upper thighs, and layers of gauze wrap from shin to ankle. I don’t let myself think about the damage that lies beneath. Not now. Not when the heat from Trey’s sweeping gaze could light the sheets beneath me on fire.
The bottom sheet snags on jagged nails as I ball it into a tight fist. Something about this triggers anxiety and sends my pulse racing. The bed, the basic sheet, bare legs exposed.
“Randi.”
I hear him call my name, but I just can’t look away from the sheet gripped between my fingers. The sight has me locked in a trance that transports me back to that basement.
“Randi, look at me.”
Shame and fear clash as I shift to stare at the hospital gown, grounding myself to the present. I really am broken. What if he doesn’t want to deal with this mess I’ve become?
“I’m a mess,” I whisper.
“You’ve always been my mess, Mess.”
“But now… now I’m more like some hoarder’s trailer than a mess. I’m unsalvageable. Not even a TLC special could clear out the baggage and trash that’s been shoved in here.” I tap the side of my head.
“Mess, baby, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’ve always been a bit of a work in progress.”
My eyes widen, challenge flaring in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t give me that look. All I’m saying is… fuck, I’m saying this wrong.”
“You think?” Indignation swirls within me.
“You’ve climbed an uphill battle your entire life and survived. Not only made it through but bettered your life. You clawed your way out of that trailer park, away from the life you were destined for. I know you can do the same now. It won’t be easy, you know that from experience, but this time you have me, and you have Tank and Sarah. We won’t let you go through this alone. Don’t ever think you’re too damaged or too much work to save. If that was the case, Tank would’ve walked away from me years ago. We don’t give up on family. We don’t give up on the ones we love.”
My lower lip trembles. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His eyes twinkle, completely at odds with the solemn conversation. “How about we seal it with a kiss?”
That desire-filled heat from earlier sparks in my lower gut again. I lick my chapped, healing lower lip.
“Full disclosure. I don’t know when I last brushed my teeth,” I admit, sinking into the pillow at my back as he prowls closer. I’ve showered several times in the en-suite bathroom, giving me confidence that I don’t reek of body odor or still have crusted blood covering me, at least.
“Madam President, I don’t give a flying fuck as long as I get to kiss you.”
I have a smart reply ready only for it to be swallowed up by his lips sealing to mine and his tongue pushing past to tangle with my own. He consumes me, each swipe of his tongue and moan of pleasure from the simple kiss burning away the fear and doubt of his desire for this broken version of myself.
It’s not enough. The kiss is perfection, but I’m desperate for all of him. Grasping on to his shoulders I urge him onto the bed with me.
If it were any other hospital bed, we might not fit. But it’s not. This king-size hospital bed really is fit for a king… or president. Finally the perks of the job are paying off, so I can fuck my fiancé in the hospital and still be comfortable.
The small tug is all it takes for him to toe off his shoes and climb onto the bed. Careful of my IV and other wires, Trey hovers over me, bracing himself on both elbows digging into the mattress on either side of my head. I run a finger down his hard chest over the soft material of his dark gray T-shirt.
Hooking the collar, I give it a quick yank. “Off.”
Trey smirks, hooking his own finger into the collar of the hospital gown. “Ditto, baby. I need a good look at what’s mine.”
I watch in awe, a bit of drool collecting and slipping out of the corner of my gaping mouth, as he rips the shirt over his head, those defined muscles rippling and stretching with the movement. Kneeling between my parted legs, he grins, hooking both thumbs into the waistband of his dark jeans. That deep V and those washboard abs have me licking my lips, itching for a taste. I bend, readying to sit up and lick his stomach and lower, only for a pinch of pain to stop me cold.
“What level of hell is this?” I hiss, gently cupping my ribs. “All I wanted was to lick your stomach.”
A dark chuckle scatters the remaining ache in my side, reminding me of the slow, steady throb between my thighs. “As much as I’d love that, baby, any licking will have to wait. Right now, I focus on you. Reminding you that no matter what you’ve been through, no matter the aches”—three of his fingers caress from one side of my ribs to the other, dragging the gown’s thin material with it—“or the bruises.” He trails those same fingers up, and I hiss through clenched teeth at the barely there touch over one nipple. Trey cups my jaw, swiping his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’ll remind you that no matter what, you’re still mine and so fucking beautiful it physically hurts.”
His free hand grips the bulge in his jeans and squeezes. Those dark lashes flutter shut on a groan. “Especially right now. I think I need this more than you. To feel you from the inside. I need to be reminded that you’re here, with me. Something in me snapped when Tank called about you being missing. And I don’t think….” He shakes his head. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to close my eyes or leave you alone without the fear that you’ll be taken again engulfing and paralyzing me.”
Love, concern, and a touch of fear splay across his pinched features. I grip the wrist near my face and give it a gentle reassuring squeeze.
“We’ll get through this together, Trouble. You and me.” Tightening my hold, I use his arms as leverage to carefully roll onto my side. I hitch my chin over my shoulder toward the ties securing my gown. “I’ll need a little help. Can’t take this off on my own.”
A bright smile tugs at his lips, chasing away the cloud that settled over him at the thought of losing me again. His hot palm sizzles against the bare skin of my ass cheek with a hard pat to each side. Teeth digging into my lower lip, I muffle the groan of pleasure that wants to escape, knowing there are guards just outside the door. One tie slackens, the ends dancing along my spine as he slips the strips of cotton free. He makes quick work of untying the one secured at the nape of my neck before helping me lie back against the conforming mattress.
His hungry gaze eats up each bare inch of skin he exposes as he slips the gown over my shoulders. The stiffer material of the neckline snags on both peaked nipples, causing them to bounce as he drags the gown lower. The movement stills only for the material to drag back up over my nipples before applying more pressure and dragging the taunting cloth back down.
My eyes flutter closed at the teasing swipes of the fabric against the sensitive buds. “Trouble,” I groan, moving my hands up to cup both breasts.
“Do it, baby. Let me see you play with yourself. Pinch those rosy nipples like I would.”
“I want you to do it,” I beg, but my fingers are already obeying his order, pinching and flicking the hard peaks to the point of pain before easing off.
He hums in disagreement, the small sound causing increased desire to flow through my veins. The increasing
beeps of the heart rate monitor offer Trey an inside look at how much his words and my own hands affect me.
Another hum, this one laced with need, rumbles in his chest. “This could be a fun little game. Let’s see what gets that heart of yours racing, baby.”
Done with playing, Trey rips the gown away and drops it to the floor. Goose bumps sprout along my stomach and down my legs at the sudden exposure to the chilled air.
“Don’t stop,” he commands. The force behind those words makes my lower stomach clench with want. “Harder, like this.” Cupping my hands, Trey’s fingers manipulate my own, placing each peak between my thumbs and index fingers. His light brown eyes flash as he applies pressure. My gasp turns to a groan at the spike of pain as he twists. My pulse skyrockets, the rapid beeping filling the room. A mischievous smile pulls up his scruff-dusted cheeks.
“Like that. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”
“Or what?” I breathe, my back arching off the bed as I tug my own nipples toward the ceiling.
A smack cracks through the room as his palm connects with the side of my ass.
“That might be incentive.” I groan as the sting left behind fades.
“Fuck, you’re perfect, you know that?”
“Because I like foreplay a little dark and dangerous?”
“Because I’m a little dark and dangerous.”
“We’re perfect for each other, then.” My fingers still, all my focus going to where he’s softly caressing the inside of both thighs. “We should get married.”
The bed trembles with his laugh. “No more talking unless it’s you moaning or screaming my name.” I seal my lips shut and nod. “Good girl.” A single finger easily glides between my slick center. “Even without that damn machine I’d know how much you like this, Mess. Look how wet you are for me.” His gaze darkens as he stares between my legs. “Let’s see what this does.”
Cupping my pussy, he grinds the heel of his hand against my swollen nub and shoves three fingers inside me. I gasp at the force of his fast entry. Eager for more, I widen my legs, both knees bent and lying along the bed, giving him all the access he needs to do his worst.
Power Term: A Secret Service Romantic Suspense Series (Power Play Book 5) Page 21