The Final Fight

by JB Salsbury

  We put on our seatbelts, and I scurry to fill the silence that swells between us. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  His thick brows pinch together when he looks at me briefly before aiming his eyes back to the road. “What is it?”

  “That night you came to the bar when I was working, how did you know my shoe size?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head, and if I’m not mistaken, he blows out a breath as if he’d been holding it. “That’s the shit you want to know?”

  “It’s kind of been driving me crazy, so yeah.”

  He shrugs and keeps his eyes on the road. “Lucky guess.”

  My jaw falls open. “That’s it! Lucky guess? I thought you had some supernatural ability or something!”

  He laughs as he pulls the car onto the freeway. “Nope. I noticed a lot of things about you, AJ; your foot size was not one of them.”

  “Lucky guess,” I mumble. Very lucky, for me. If he’d guessed wrong, would we be sitting where we are today? Or would I be at the top of Andre’s hotel tower, looking down at the Las Vegas lights with a gaping hole in my chest?

  “This day has been a little nuts, huh?” He’s flying down the dark highway, his gaze wholly focused on the road.

  “Ya, think?” I slip my heels off and flex my toes.

  He slides his hand off the gearshift to rest it on my thigh but winces, unable to extend his arm that far. I scoot over and open my thighs until my knee hits the gearshift where he’s able to touch me easily. The corner of his mouth ticks up.

  “You feelin’ okay? About us? I want to make sure we’re not moving too fast after what happened this afternoon at your place.”

  “I told you I’ve been waiting forever to be with you again. If anything, I’d say we’re not moving fast enough.”

  “I can fix that.” He lays heavily on the gas, throwing the GTO forward with such force my head presses into the seat. Thankfully, he slows back down almost immediately.

  “Easy there. That does nothing to calm my nerves.” I laugh.

  “You’re nervous?”

  “Mm . . . nervous? More like . . . excervous.”

  He coughs out a laugh. “Is that a word?”

  “Of course it is; it’s a mix between excited and—”

  “Nervous, yeah, I get it.”

  We fly by the exit that leads to my townhouse. “Where are we going?”

  “Blake and Layla are staying at the hotel tonight. Mom and Jack have a room too. I figured I’d take you back to my place”—he glances my way— “if that’s alright with you.”

  “Sure.” At this point I’d take the backseat of his car.

  A handful of minutes later, he’s pulling up to a spot behind the pool house. He’s out of the car and circles the hood to the passenger side while I gather my purse and shoes.

  Leading me to his door, he unlocks it, and when we walk in, he flicks on a light. I put my shoes by the door and my purse on the kitchen counter. There’s no garbage or empty beer bottles, the bed is made, and it smells like Braeden’s spicy cologne.

  He tosses his jacket and tie on the back of a chair and toes off his dress shoes.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you expected me to come home with you tonight.” I lift a brow in his direction.

  He shakes his head and chuckles while slowly working through the buttons of his dress shirt. “Good thing you know better then, huh?”

  Watching him slip off his dressy clothes, I stare down at my dress, wishing I could do the same, rid myself of the constraints of my less-than-comfortable formal wear.

  “Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?”

  He’s messing with his cufflinks but jerks his eyes toward me where they eat up my frame from my shoulders to toes. “You want that dress off?”

  “Um . . . is that a trick question?” Because I’d swear we both know exactly what is about to happen between us, and unless we do a repeat of this afternoon, the dress has got to go.

  He crosses to me, and his gaze grows hungrier with each step, but when he gets close, he holds out his left arm.

  Huh? I look at it and realize he can’t remove the cufflink.

  “You get this thing off me. I’ll get that dress off you.”

  “Your shirt for my dress?” I purse my lips. “I’m not sure that’s a fair trade.”

  “If you let me take off that dress, I’ll more than make it up to you, muffin.”

  I quickly flick the cufflink and pull his dress shirt off his arm, draping it over his discarded coat and tie.

  “Turn around—”

  “Wait.” I move closer and hook the hem of his cotton undershirt. As I pull it up, he stills my hands.

  “AJ, I don’t think you want—”

  “I do.” I lean in and press my lips to his chest. “I want to see you, all of you.”

  His shoulders fall as my words seemed to deflate his earlier confidence. “You might change your mind.”

  “Never. Not about you.”

  “It’s not pretty—”

  “I want all of you, Braeden. Even the parts you consider not pretty.”

  He seems to waver a bit before he nods. “Okay.”

  I slide the fabric up, and because he’s a lot taller than I am, he has to help pull the shirt over his head. He’s about as big as he was before he left on deployment, but his body is far from the same. The skin of his right side is pink and puckered, spanning his pec, rib cage, and arm.

  I skate my hands softly over the damaged flesh, and his muscles tense at the contact. I press my lips to his chest, running delicate kisses over him. His good hand comes to the back of my head, urging me to continue. Tears sting my eyes when I consider all he’s been through, and I hope I don’t ruin this by crying. He’s been so strong, so brave. The least I can do is be the same for him.

  I dip my fingers into the waistline of his pants and unhook the closure. He groans when I brush the tip of his erection as I slide his pants and boxer-briefs to the floor. His grip on the back of my head grows tighter, as if he’s trying to keep me close so I won’t look down, but I need to know. I have to see him in order to convince him he’s not ruined.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper as I reach up to where he’s holding tight. I rub his forearm until he releases me enough to put a little distance between us. When I look up at him, I find his eyes are cast to the floor at my side. “Braeden, I promise. It’s okay.”

  He makes a pained face but eventually lets me go enough to step back. I follow his scarred skin down to his hip.

  It’s not what I expected.

  I assumed the damage would fade out there, but it’s much worse.

  It almost looks as if he’d been cut on top of his burns, the skin a mangled patchwork of purple and pink slices. They span the entire surface of his hip from his groin to his ass and down his thigh. “My God . . . what did they do to you?”

  He quickly pulls me close as if he’s trying to shield my eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

  A hot and heavy wave of emotion burns my nose, but I sniff it back and power on. “Braeden, I—”

  He grips my shoulders and whirls me around. The sound of fabric sliding on the wood floor lets me know he’s stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside. My core heats with the knowledge that this huge virile man is standing just inches behind me, gloriously naked.

  “My turn.” His fingers slide along my shoulders then back to the zipper of my dress. He doesn’t take it down slowly, but rips at it with impatience before pushing it off to pool at my ankles.

  I worry when I feel him fumbling with my bra that he might need help with the eye-hooks, but know my helping would only frustrate—My bra pops open and falls to the floor. I almost smile when I realize what I’ve done. A man like Braeden Daniels has probably been able to unhook a bra one-handed since he was sixteen years old.

  I’m about to say as much when he grips my left hip and pulls me back, pressing me into his hard and hot body. He leans to the s
ide, and I recoil when his touch traces the thick red scar at my hip. His lips meet my neck, and his hand slides to my lower belly where he finds the other scar left from repairing my pelvis. “Baby . . .”

  Instinctively, I try to wiggle free, but he doesn’t let me go.

  “Be still.”

  My lips roll between my teeth as he takes his time caressing my scars the way I did his.

  I turn my head as a tear escapes and slides down my cheek. I don’t know why I’m crying. The way Braeden touches me makes me feel like he doesn’t even see the marks, doesn’t think I’m any less beautiful, but I still feel like I’m mourning something we lost.

  The carefree and hopeful people we used to be.

  I suck in a breath as Braeden slides his hand into the front of my panties. My legs practically give out, and he chuckles in my ear. “I think this might be safer for both of us if we move it to the bed.”

  Turning toward him, I allow his hand to slide around my hip to my ass where he cups one round cheek. He dips down, and I push up on my toes until our lips meet. Our tongues slide together, coaxing a moan from my throat. We move together until we stumble onto the bed. I push him to his back and climb on top, straddling his hips and rubbing against him. His bad hand clenches my thigh as he stabs his fingers through my hair, pulling it from the rubber band so that it falls in a curtain over our faces.

  I break the kiss to move down his body, brushing my lips upon every single square inch of damaged skin as I pour my love on what was caused by so much hate.

  Once at his hip, I pay special attention to the scars while scraping my nails up his inner thigh. He rolls his pelvis, seeking friction as I lavish his body with touch. Licking around his belly button, I grip his hard-on and guide it to my mouth.

  He buries his fingers in my hair, and his muscles shake as if he’s trying to hold back from thrusting deep into my throat. I peek up at him, only to find him staring down at me with an expression that can only be described as awe. I work him with my hand and mouth until his back arches off the bed. Fully prepared to finish him this way, I’m shocked when he jacks his right hip up and rolls me to my back. I grasp his hips as he braces over me, his knees wide, holding his weight up with his good arm as he pumps into my mouth.

  My legs fall open and my eyelids flutter closed, shocked at how much I love his dominance. My throat opens to take him deeper.

  “Fuck, AJ.” He slides in deep once, twice, then pulls out and kneels between my knees. He rips my panties down my legs, tossing them to the foot of the bed.

  I open my mouth to protest, but he shoves his tongue between my lips, cutting me off. And oh wow, what a kiss.

  He mimics the action his hips took earlier, feeding me what I want. “I can taste myself on you.”

  “You like it?”

  “I fucking love it.” He slips between my legs. “I love you.”

  “I love you too—”

  One firm flex of his hips and I gasp into his mouth. “You do? You love what I’ve become?” His pace quickens.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t fucking say it unless you mean it, Adeline.”

  I wince at the way he says my name, but melt at how his powerful body commands mine. “I mean it; you know I do.”

  “How?” His voice shakes. “How could you love this?”

  “You.” I cup his face and bring our lips together while his thrusts begin to slow. “I love you, Braeden.”

  He powers into me, rolling his hips in circles until I’m panting in his ear and crying out for more. I fist my hands in his hair as the first wave of release crashes over me. Teeth clamp onto my shoulder, and he groans long and hard as he throbs and finishes inside me.

  We’re pressed together, breathing hard, when he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m so fucked up. You have no idea.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I’ll never be good enough for you.”

  “No. That’s not true. You’re mine, Braeden. Forever. You’re mine and you’re perfect to me—”

  “How can you say that?” The first hot tear falls and hits my cheek.

  He’s crying.

  My big strong Marine is breaking down.

  With our bodies still intimately connected, I wrap my arms and legs around him. “Talk to me. Let me carry this burden with you.”

  His shoulders shake, and I close my eyes, praying he’ll finally let me in.

  ~*~

  Braeden

  I never meant to let this happen. One minute I’m loving the woman beneath me with a fierceness I’ve never felt for another human being, and the next I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

  Helpless to stop it.

  “Your past is safe with me. Please let me in.”

  I shake my head, hoping like hell she’ll let it go, that she’ll back away and give me the space I need to pull my shit together and be the kind of man she needs.

  But no.

  Her arms and legs wrap tighter around me, as if trying to squeeze the truth from my lips.

  My muscles fatigue from holding my weight off her. I shove away, and although she allows me to roll to my side, she hooks her thigh over mine.

  Seconds grow into more until I can no longer stand the static blaring in my head.

  “We were close to coming home.”

  She’s propped up on one elbow, but I keep my eyes to the ceiling.

  “So close.” My mind throws me back to sitting in that Humvee with the boys, laughing and joking. “We . . . maybe if we’d paid closer attention, we would’ve had some clue to what was coming.” It’s the first time I’ve put a voice to my guilt. “I was watching this little boy and—” I choke as the words swell up in my throat.

  AJ doesn’t speak, but the grip her thigh has on mine tightens, grounding me.

  “I don’t remember anything but the pain. In the beginning, I was aware, had some understanding of what I was being asked, but then nothing. Maybe it was the pain or the infection . . . I slipped in and out of consciousness for what felt like years. I was cold then sweating. I learned later it wasn’t our enemy that had me, but they weren’t friends of the US either. I was taken to a village. They must’ve thought I had some valuable information because they could’ve killed me. God . . . I wished they had. For some reason, they took care of me just enough to keep me alive.” It’s strange. I always thought talking about it would be torture, but the more I do, the easier it becomes.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers so softly I barely hear her.

  “At first, I thought I was the only survivor. I found out later it wasn’t just me. Deacon made it out too, but I haven’t spoken to him since the day we jumped into that Humvee.

  Her eyes grow wider. and she backs away a few inches. “The story . . . the one on the news, it was you guys. I had a feeling. They never gave your name, but I knew.” Tears form in her eyes. “I should’ve known. I could have been there for you!”

  “AJ.” I place my hand on her thigh and run my hand along it in soothing strokes. “It’s okay, baby. Our names weren’t released for security purposes. There’s no way you could’ve known.

  She falls back next to me and pinches her eyes closed. “I was so worried because I hadn’t heard from you. I didn’t know if you were dead or you’d just moved on. I was convinced I’d never hear from you again and that killed me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Hoping to comfort her, I pull her close until her bare torso is pressed to my ribs. “I wasn’t thinking straight for so long.”

  “It was that night. My head was all over the place and I slipped. I wasn’t paying attention, and I fell.”

  Realization of what she’s telling me slams into my chest. “Are you saying”—I sit up and twist to stare down at her— “you got injured because of me?”

  “No, I got injured because of me. Me worrying about you, but mostly me thinking you’d forgotten about me. Forgotten about us.”

  I stare across the room, seeing nothing but a blank wall. “Which made
it easy to move on.”

  “Not easy. No, I was still holding out for you, even though I figured you’d forgotten about me.”

  “There’s something you should know, AJ.”

  Her smile falls and her big hazel eyes widen.

  “When I was behind enemy lines, writhing in pain, praying for death . . . it was your face that got me through. Whether I was asleep or awake, I’d dream of your smile. Your laughter would ring in my ears so clear I’d have bet my life you were in the room with me. I’d even feel you holding on to me. I know that’s some fucked-up shit, and you’re probably freakin’ way the hell out, but you need to know. I never forgot about you. I couldn’t if I’d tried. My soul wouldn’t give you up.”

  She launches into my arms, and I hold her as best I can with both arms. “I love you.”

  “I’m so sorry you got hurt thinking I didn’t care about you. Couldn’t be further from the truth.” I nuzzle her neck and breathe in her scent. “I love you, muffin. You became a part of me when you saved my life.”

  Thirty-four

  AJ

  I don’t know what time it is, but the way the sun pierces through the cracks in the blinds I’d guess late morning.

  I’ve been awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and sorting through my thoughts. With Braeden lying next to me, his good hand shoved up under the pillow and his bad hand resting on my belly, I’m relaxed by the sound of his gentle snoring.

  My mind is, for once, totally at ease.

  Which makes absolutely zero sense.

  I have no job, a nice townhouse that in three months, after I burn through what’s in my account, I won’t be able to afford, and I have not a single prospect for work. Yet, I’m more content than I’ve been in . . . well, ever.

  I didn’t think it was possible to be happy without a plan for success driving me forward. But what I feel now transcends any simple good feeling. What I feel now is a bone-deep joy born from a possibility that no matter what life throws at me . . .

  I turn and stare at Braeden, his full lips slightly parted and his expression mirroring the peace I feel.

  . . . I won’t have to face it alone.