Every Breath

by Tasha Ivey

  I get out of the car and open the back door, and Darcy just stares at me, obviously appalled that I expect her to walk into the house on her own. “Lazy ass,” I grumble to her, picking her fat butt up anyway to carry her inside. “You’re lucky I love you.”

  “I’m damn lucky,” Sawyer says as we reach the door.

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  As soon as we get inside and I deactivate the alarm, Darcy sprints into the kitchen to inspect her food dish. I toss my bags onto the couch and turn to ask Sawyer if I can get him anything, and he’s still in the foyer with his hands on his hips. “Makenna, what did you forget?”

  I spin around and start digging through my duffle bag. “I’m pretty sure I got your meds. Was there something else you needed?”

  “Yeah. I need you to set this alarm any time you’re in this house.” He points at the front door. “You didn’t even think to lock the door behind you. Darlin’, you can’t take any chances while Drew is still out there somewhere. Even if I’m here with you, you always need to be in that habit.”

  I go back and lock and deadbolt the door and set the alarm. “Do you really think he’ll still try something?”

  “I know he will. And I’m going to be there waiting to kill the bastard when he does.”

  “Wait. What about when you go back to the base in a couple of days?”

  He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “Already handled. I spoke with the detective handling the case as soon as I got off the phone with my commanding officer. He’s going to have a couple of his guys following you around while I’m gone. You’re going to have around the clock protection.”

  “I’ll have my own secret service?” Is this seriously what my life has become?

  “If I had my way, you would.” He struggles to free his cast from his jacket but finally gives up and holds it out to me to help. “Now, to a much less depressing subject. I think it’s time I’m admitted into your clinic. I’m a very sick man, you know, and in need of a lot of personal, hands-on attention.”

  I raise one eyebrow at him. “Nothing a liquid diet and a few enemas won’t fix.”

  “Hmm,” he grunts as he snakes his arm around my waist. “I had more physical therapy in mind. You know, like massages and hot baths.” His eyes look down on me like two blazing embers, ignited by the simple touch of my fingertips at the cords of muscle along his neck. It’s only been a week since he got here, and already, I’ve given this man more than I even knew I had left in me to give. And yet, I still want to give him more, to keep giving him every piece of me that I can find. I know he’s the one that’s capable of putting them all together to make me whole again.

  “I’d also like to request a specific nurse. She has this satiny brown hair that smells like lavender and vanilla. She also has these soulful, dark chocolate eyes that seem to hypnotize you if you fall into their gaze. And her smile? God, her smile will make your heart stop and speed up, all at the same time. But her heart is the most special thing about her, you see. She’s truly a genuine and caring person, who will do whatever it takes to bring happiness to those who need it the most. She also has this uncanny ability to love a man who doesn’t deserve her at all.”

  See that, gentlemen? That’s how you make a lady swoon.

  “Well, in that case,” I tease while trying to convince my cheeks they don’t need to blush every time Sawyer is incredibly charming and sweet. And insanely sexy. “I’d better go find this nurse.”

  He presses me so close to the deliciously hard wall of his chest that I can literally feel the rapid fire of his heart beneath it. “That’s okay. I already did.” His lips hover mere millimeters from mine, and I can feel the moisture from his breath. “But she forgot something.”

  “Oh?” That’s all I have. Nothing witty or sexy. I’m reduced to nothing but single one-syllable words at this point. Huh. Who would’ve guessed I’d fall prey to caveman speak?

  And even that doesn’t last once that silly, crooked smile of his makes its grand appearance. That one dimple has me questioning the possibility of a simple vowel sound at this point. “Yeah,” he murmurs against my lips, “she forgot her uniform.”

  Uniform? What . . . oh.

  The synapses in my brain are officially on strike when I feel him pulling my shirt up and over my head, and by the time we make it to my bedroom, all I’m left with is underwear. Oh, and one sock. But for some reason, I start getting nervous when I pull the blankets back on the bed. It’s not like we haven’t done this before, so I don’t know what my problem is. I guess it’s still so new, and he’s so . . . intimidating. Not in a bad way, of course, but he’s just this insanely gorgeous Greek god-like creature standing across the room. And even though he’s been given a shitty hand of cards in his life, he still came out winning. He never accepted defeat, and he’s always made the most of what he’s been dealt. His flaws, his scars . . . they make him perfect.

  Me? I let life break me. I lost two years of my life, living in a soul-sucking black hole until I wasn’t even myself anymore. I didn’t fight to survive the pain; I succumbed to it, allowing it to seep into every pore until it became who I was. I was weak, and I still am. I’m just afraid he’s going to realize it.

  He steps in front of me and tugs on my chin, causing my bottom lip to pop free from my teeth. “You okay?”

  “I’m good. My brain just picks the most inopportune times to start grinding its gears.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” His eyes are filled with gentle concern.

  “Oh, I don’t even really remember what I was thinking about now.” Liar.

  He stares at me hard for a few seconds, and he finally gives up and makes a very uncoordinated attempt at taking his shirt off with one hand, but I end up helping. The black jersey knit pants he’s wearing, though, come off with an easy tug. Once he sinks into the mattress and stretches out, he pats the empty space next to him. “Lie down with me. I just want to feel your skin against mine.”

  I slip between the cold sheets and roll over to face him. He’s still so bruised and sore that I’m afraid to get too close, so I settle into the crook of his arm and rest my hand low across his belly.

  “Closer. You’re not going to break me. If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

  I snuggle in closer, resting my head at his shoulder and pulling one leg up over both of his. It feels so good to be this close that I have to fight an audible sigh. This is only the second time I’ve felt his body against mine like this, but it feels more familiar than that. Like it’s always been a part of me. But, considering how many dreams I’ve had of him, I probably just think he’s more familiar than what he actually is.

  “Mmm,” he growls. “Your skin is so warm and soft. I swear we could just lie here like this all day, and I’d be a happy man.”

  “If that’s what you want, I’ll do it.”

  “But what do you want, Makenna? You don’t have to do something because you think I want you to, you know. I’ve seen your backbone, and it’s something fierce. But when it comes to other people, you base your life solely on what you think they want you to do. You let life push and prod you around long enough, so it’s time to kick it in the nuts and tell it who’s boss.”

  “That’s some analogy there,” I cackle nervously. I feel a little exposed; he has the strange ability to see right through me sometimes. He couldn’t be more right. I’ve always done what others expected me to do, putting my own feelings aside for the sake of theirs. “But I like to make other people happy. It makes me happy.”

  He rubs his fingertips along my forearm. “Ah, but see, you can’t be the giver all the time. Follow your heart’s desires, and the pleasure it brings you will be infectious to those around you.”

  “Did you read that in a fortune cookie?”

  “I’ll never tell.” He flashes a devious smile. “So, today is your day. I am your gimpy servant who is here to do your bidding. Whatever you want. That’s what we’ll do.”

 
; “Hmm, okay.” I tap my chin, trying to think of what I really want to do right now, which is impossible with nearly-naked Sawyer lying next to me. Well, there’s always that. Yeah, right. Like I ever had anything else in mind. “Decision made.”

  He kicks the blankets away. “Help me up, I’ll get dressed, and we’ll go wherever you want.”

  “No, I want you to stay right here.”

  “Makenna,” he huffs, scrunching his eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere alone. It’s just not safe.”

  I pick my head up and prop it in my hand. “What makes you so sure I’m going somewhere?” My fingertips trail along his sternum, down to his belly button, and just inside the elastic of his boxers. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  “Yeah?”

  I lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”

  “Well, if I’m want you want, then I’m all yours, darlin’. You have total control.”

  Ooh, I love the sound of that, and I’m pretty sure he does, too. My eyes skim down his body, trailing across his golden skin. I can’t seem to make it past his strong torso, which is covered in proof of a hard life. The tattoos and scars signify the war he’s been thrown into, the battle he chose to fight for his country.

  But some of the scars, I have a feeling, are from the war he fought as a child in his own home. The small circular scars at the center of his chest are the most concerning because they look very similar to the accidental cigarette burn my uncle gave me on my elbow. It’s possible to consider one an accident, but not three in the same spot. I graze my index finger over them, and he looks down at me.

  “William told you, didn’t he?” It’s not a question. He knows.

  I can’t speak, so I nod once. He presses his lips together, and I can feel the tension in his muscles beneath me. His mood is immediately shifted into something darker, colder. It’s like we’re suddenly in quicksand, fighting the darkness that awaits us below, and I’m damn sick of being in that place. He helped rescue me from my demons, and I refuse to allow him to give it to them.

  So I do the only thing I can think of. I place my lips over the group of scars, closing my eyes and wishing away the pain associated with them. When he reaches up to touch my face, I push his hand back down to the bed and hold it there, letting him know that I’m taking the control he gave me. Then I do the same with every scar I see, kissing every little reminder of the hurt he’s felt to chase it away.

  When he starts to relax, I run the tip of my nose from the outside of his shoulder, up the side of his neck, and to the outer ridge of his ear, where I tug his lobe with my teeth and suck it gently. His sharp intake of breath tells me he’s back with me, free once again from the ever-threatening shadows. His fiery eyes are fixed on me, leaving an unrelenting heat wherever his gaze touches my skin. His mouth falls open slightly, and I take it as a direct invitation, crushing my lips to his, devouring the pliable flesh with indelible passion. As soon as I get the first sweet taste of his tongue against mine, I draw it into my mouth, sucking it roughly and taking all he’ll give.

  It’s not enough though. I have to have more. There’s an unquenchable ache burning its way through every nerve of my body. It’s taking everything I have not to throw myself on top of him and feed this powerful, merciless craving. I need him. Every part of him.

  Yearning for more, I drag my lips down to his stomach and nip at the skin around his belly button. I don’t know what it is about this man’s stomach that makes me want to bite it. I kiss my way down to those delectable hip bones, nipping at one before skimming my tongue across the top of his boxers to treat the other in the same manner.

  When I hook my thumbs under the waistband, I peek up at him. His hooded eyes bore into me, and there’s more than just longing in them. The love that emanates from them is enough to form a lump in my throat. What he feels for me isn’t just a word; it’s in his actions, in his touch.

  “Makenna,” he whispers, “I need to touch you.”

  And need him to.

  I gather all of the pillows on the bed and pile them behind him, so he can sit up against the headboard comfortably. He looks confused until I slip off my bra and panties and straddle his lap. I raise myself up slightly, and when his hand dives into my hair and pulls me in for a kiss, I reach down between us and lower myself onto him painfully slowly.

  He groans into my mouth, and his hand moves down to clench my hip, grinding me against him, causing me to moan in response. Of all possible times, why does the conversation with my mom about the meaning of “deeper” pop into my head right now? Oh yeah, it’s definitely deeper. It’s the most pleasurable pain I’ve ever felt, and it drives me to seek it out, grinding harder, to the point that we can’t possibly get any closer.

  I almost whine when he pushes my hip back, nearly breaking the intoxicating connection, but when he shoves my hips back down forcefully, I cry out, digging my nails into his shoulders. Ooh. I guess it is possible to get closer. Taking his lead, I raise myself up and sink down onto him, over and over, and I can feel myself getting closer to the edge. Primal instinct takes over, and I can no longer think or act on my own. I’m driven by this carnal bliss that somehow finds a way to push me harder, faster. I don’t want it to end, but my body craves it.

  “Look at me.” Sawyer commands breathlessly. As soon as I open my eyes, I can feel my body slow down, but seeing those dark honey eyes nearly does me in. “Don’t stop moving, darlin’,” he whispers as his hand moves down my stomach. I keep my eyes locked on his, fighting for any shred of composure I can cling to while I feel the heat continuing to build between us.

  That all goes to hell when his thumb plunges between the sensitive folds of skin at the apex of my thighs. First it traces around the outer edges, but as soon as he flicks across the delicate center, I’m back to sheer compulsion, hammering myself against him and losing myself in sensation.

  “Damn,” he groans and I feel him get even harder. When he latches onto my breast, one flick of his tongue is all it takes for the world to fall away completely. I explode around him just as I feel his body tensing, and I feel his warmth within me. I’m so lost in oblivion that I barely hear myself moaning. Loudly. Before I can even catch my breath, his mouth finds mine, and we spend the next several minutes sharing sweet, lazy kisses until our hearts decide to find their normal rhythm again.

  When we finally decide we can’t put off getting up any longer, we opt for soaking in the whirlpool tub together. It takes a minute to rig a trash bag over his cast, but it’s not a problem a little duct tape doesn’t solve. Maybe I’m a little biased and possibly in a post-coital fog, but he’s even kind of hot with a black trash bag taped to his arm. Although, it ends up cracking me up when things get a little “steamy” in the tub, and I hear it rustling with every movement.

  By the time we make it back to bed, I can tell Sawyer is needing his pain meds, and I have to spend fifteen minutes convincing him to take them. But finally, he gives in, and we curl up in bed to watch a movie. He doesn’t last five minutes before he’s snoring softly.

  Darcy finally decides that the action in here has died down enough for her to come in, and she curls up at the bottom of the bed between Sawyer’s feet. She looks up at me for a minute as if she wants to make sure I see her at his feet instead of mine.

  “Yeah, Darcy, it’s okay. I love him, too.”

  Sawyer yawns for the fourth time since we sat down to eat breakfast, and I decide I should say something. “Not sleeping well?”

  He shrugs. “I think so. I’m not sure why I’m so tired.”

  “Any dreams that you remember?”

  “Not that I can think of. Have I been talking in my sleep or something?”

  Just as I suspected. He doesn’t remember. “Actually, I’ve woken up the last three nights, and you weren’t in bed. The first two, you were in your closet, and last night, you were in the floor in front of my bed again. I just told you it was time to come back to bed, and you did.” I was sure that af
ter the “active” day we had yesterday, he’d sleep through the night without incident, but clearly I was wrong. I decided this morning that I’d bring it up to him somehow.

  “Uh, in my closet?” He drops his fork into his plate and his eyes go wide. “What was I doing?”

  “You were just sitting there in the floor, staring blankly at your clothes. It was a little eerie. But when I told you to come to bed, you let me help you up, and you went back to bed without a word. I’m not even sure if you knew I was there.”

  “Weird.” His shoulders relax a little. “Maybe I should call the doctor and talk to her about increasing my dosage.”

  I pop a piece of strawberry in my mouth. “Won’t you have to see the ones on base this week? Maybe you should talk to them about it.”

  “Yeah, I will.” He stretches his hand across the table to brush his fingers over my knuckles. “I’m sorry I’m putting you through that. I know it has to be strange for you. If there’s anything I can do to stop it, I will. Promise.”

  “Hey, as long as you don’t start sleep walking like in that movie about those step brothers, we’re good.”

  He smirks. “You draw the line at putting couch pillows in the oven?”

  “Actually,” I clarify, taking our dishes to the sink, “I can deal with that. I draw the line at the coffee confetti party. If I wake up in the morning and don’t have coffee, you’ll be sleeping on the porch.”

  “I’ll stick with couch pillows.” He smacks a kiss on my cheek. “You ready to go?”

  “Mmmhmm,” I hum into my coffee cup, draining the last drop. Even though I had these great plans of keeping Sawyer out of his clothes, I didn’t really think it through. He needs clean clothes if he’s going to stay here with me until he leaves tomorrow, and he’ll need clean laundry to take with him. I’ve been so busy worrying about keeping him comfortable and entertained that doing laundry hasn’t exactly crossed my mind. So, like any abnormally normal couple would do, we’re spending our last day together this week washing his clothes.