by Kristy Marie
Slowing my circles, I pop the fingers in my hand, rolling my wrist in a stretch. When Cade doesn’t protest, I look closer and notice that his arms are limp and not flexed at his head like before. His breathing is slow and even.
He’s asleep.
I pull the blanket up to his shoulders and ease the pillow off his head, taking a minute to just stare at him. It’s rare that I get a chance to just all-out gawk at him, so I take this minute as a reward for dealing with his shit all week and not poisoning his food like he deserved.
His face, dusted in dark hair, seems peaceful, and I hope that means he’s not stuck in a horrific nightmare. Watching his back rise and fall with every breath, I realize that under the hard exterior is a man who will one day change the world.
There’s a breeze drifting across my ass crack, gentle and rhythmic, like breathing.
Flat on my stomach, in bed, the room still dark as night, I can’t decipher what time it is. How long have I been asleep? And why can’t I roll over?
It hits me just as another breeze grazes across me.
I fell asleep with Breck’s soft hands kneading my back, easing the pain of the most horrific headache I have ever felt. I don’t know what brought it on or when I felt like death would have been a viable option, but stubborn Breck and Anniston couldn’t let me die in peace.
Especially Breck.
Fucking sliding the pants off my hips like it was a profession. Had I not been about to detonate from the inside out, I think I could have been tempted to touch her. Just one single, solitary touch. To know if she feels just as good as I imagine she does. But no. Pain ripped through me, punishing me for my sins, and I was weak before her.
It pissed me off.
I don’t know why. She’s so stubborn, always pushing me past my limits. Constantly trying to talk to me.
Constantly being cute.
“Oh no.” The hiss Breck lets out shoots right over my ass, coincidentally going straight to my dick.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers out, pushing off of my butt where she was resting, her cheek against my bare cheek. At some point I lost the towel, and the blankets failed me.
Breck sits up on the side of the bed, blushing profusely. “I did not mean to fall asleep on your…” She motions to my backside where I’m still sprawled out.
Reaching for the headboard, I stretch the muscles in my arms and flash her a smile. “Sure you didn’t.”
My cocky statement sobers her quickly, and her face turns serious as she scolds me with a hand on her hip. “You’re not as gorgeous as everyone tells you,” she spits at me, totally lying to me and herself.
With a playful wink, I say, “That’s not what the drool running down the crack of my ass says.”
Her eyes go wider and her cheeks get redder than I’ve ever seen them, and she stands, gasping in horror. “I did not drool down your butt.” I make a show of reaching back and checking, and she makes a pained noise. “Fine!” she whisper-shouts. “I may have slobbered on your butt a little.”
This time I groan, thinking of her slobbering on something else of mine.
“Thank you,” I tell her solemnly. “I …” I turn my face and look at her watching me cautiously. “I should have told you I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t handle the situation correctly.”
There. I said thank you and apologized for making her worry. I won’t ever forget her begging me not to make her watch me writhe in pain. Those words cut deep, and as much as I wanted her to leave, I didn’t want to make her hurt, too.
“You’re welcome,” she says, the pink fading from her cheeks already. “Do you still have a headache?”
I nod and decide to be honest with her when usually I would lie and blow off her concern. “A little, but it’s a dull ache I can handle.” I certainly don’t want another one of those pills. I slept the best I have in weeks, and I know you’re thinking, “And? What’s wrong with that?” Well, I’m what Anniston calls a martyr. I feel like I don’t deserve a peaceful night’s sleep from the horror and nightmares when my brothers, my team, will never sleep and dream about women and wake up with morning wood. They’ll never marry. Never have children. Never teach their sons to fish. Their daughters to shoot a gun.
They are dead, and I’m to blame.
This is my penance.
Rest and sweet dreams are not what I deserve for killing my team.
I deserve every single nightmare that plagues me.
“Cade?”
Breck’s worried tone pulls me from the memories of my fallen family. “Yeah?”
Breck moves closer to the bed, a towel in her hand. She hands it over with a timid smile. “Do you want another pill?”
I shake her off and mutter out a quiet, “Thanks but no thanks,” and grab the towel.
“Okay, well I’ll make you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
Now that she mentions it, I am pretty hungry.
“Thank you.”
She smiles and heads to the door, pulling it closed behind her, giving me the space I need. I check my phone first and see dozens of messages from Anniston, checking up on me. I decide to just call her since I know that’s the only way she’ll believe me when I tell her I’m okay.
She answers on the second ring. “Cade.” Her voice sounds pinched like it’s all she can do to restrain herself from bombarding me with questions.
“I’m feeling much better,” I say, putting her out of her misery first thing.
She breathes out a sigh of relief on the other end of the country, and it makes me smile. “I’ve been so worried,” she admits, rustling something into the phone.
“I’m sorry. I was going to call, but it got too bad, and then …” I trail off, not wanting to relive the bathroom incident with her and Breck teaming up against me.
“What brought it on?” she asks, knowing to change the course of the conversation.
“I don’t know. It started in the middle of the night, and by morning, it was a full-on raging inferno.” It started after I carried Breck to bed and sat in her room all night watching her sleep. I tried to lie down around four but couldn’t and then the headache started and that was that.
“Huh. Well, take it easy today and drink lots of water.” She pauses and I know she’s about to fuss at me. “Don’t wait so long the next time to take something. You scared the shit out of me.” I grunt back a noncommittal response that she takes as my agreement. “You scared B, too.”
I groan into the phone, sitting up and placing my feet on the carpet. “Don’t start. I know, okay?”
Anniston masks a laugh before telling me, “Theo wants to talk to you. Hold on.”
I make a show of groaning into the phone in annoyance, but a grin already tugs at my face. I know he’s about to make fun of me, and honestly, I’m looking forward to it.
“Jameson,” he starts, coming on the line, not even bothering to ask how I’m feeling, “The demons need a release! Your head won’t almost explode if you get laid occasionally. Pussy is good for you. How many times must I tell you this?”
I laugh and regret it when the pressure in my head builds again. “Fuck you,” I tell him jokingly.
He hits right back, not missing a beat. “Fuck me? No, Jameson. You need to be fucked. Long and hard. Damn it. I have raised a failure.” He laughs at his own joke, and I shake my head, standing up and testing out my balance for the first time since it left me this morning.
“I hope Anniston makes you beg for a release tonight.”
He scoffs, offended. “Jameson, for the one billionth time, Ans is not my fucking commander. In fact, I am her commander. Do not take me for an obedient little shit like you are.”
I hear, “Oh really?” in the background, and it sends a shock of pain through my chest. I hate to admit that I actually miss Theo, but I miss these two and their crazy a whole lot. Being here without them feels empty.
Theo whispers into the phone, “Now look what you’ve done. I’m going to have to use m
y expert skills to get us out of this mess.” I laugh at his usage of the word us. We didn’t get into anything.
He did.
And I hope Anniston makes him pay for it.
“Be sweet, Von Bremen. Maybe she’ll go easy on you.” I laugh when I hear him growl his protest into the phone.
“Bye, Gorgeous!” Anniston yells so I can hear. “Take it easy today.”
I promise I will, and hang up when I hear Theo say, “Don’t look at me like that.”
I’m smiling for the second time in an hour, slipping on some boxers and cargo pants. I look around at my clean bathroom and take a guess that Breck cleaned it at some point while I was asleep. Brushing my teeth and swiping on some deodorant, I pull on a t-shirt and head down the stairs. The smell of peppers and something tangy reaches my stomach and almost tears me in two with a growl.
“Imagine my surprise when I peeked in your room this morning …” I stop three steps from the bottom, not looking back as Hayes clomps down the steps behind me.
“Thanks for checking on me,” I lie, trying to deflect.
Hayes laughs, bumping into my shoulder. “Did she lick up the center?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him with authority. I do not need this kind of rumor flying around the house. From the shock on Breck’s face this morning, she honestly did not mean to fall asleep on my ass. The thought of the drool, slipping between my cheeks, tugs at my dick again. “Drop it. It was a rough morning.”
Hayes pushes past me with a chuckle before throwing back, “I wish all my mornings started out that rough.”
Sometimes I fucking hate him. I glower at Hayes when I step into the kitchen, his chin on Breck’s shoulder, begging for her to slip a bite of food in his mouth.
“Please, B. I’m starving!” Breck snickers and grabs something I can’t make out and pushes it between Hayes’ lips.
He moans.
My chair scrapes the floor and Hayes backs up with a laugh. “Yell for me when it’s ready, darlin.” He winks at me, licking the remnants of flavor off his lips.
I flip him off and look at the clock. It’s after one. I need to go by the barracks and check out the progress. The construction has been slow, and the forecast calls for rain tomorrow. I need to be sure the crew is getting as much done as possible.
“I need to check on the construction crew,” I tell Breck for some strange reason. She turns from the stove, her brows furrowed.
“Okay. Do you want me to put your food in the fridge?”
Ugh. I deserve that.
“I thought maybe you would want to come with me and check it out before I give you a ride home?”
Wide gray eyes nearly take up her whole face. I’ve shocked her speechless.
Fucking finally. Is that all I had to do to shut her up?
But then she narrows her eyes and shocks me by throwing a handful of scrambled eggs at my face.
My dick is hard, and it’s all Breck’s fault.
Our conversation started out simple. I wanted to get to know her a little better and atone for my dickish behavior over the past few days. It was an innocent and friendly conversation.
And now I’m rock hard, trying to be discreet by rolling to my stomach so she can’t witness the teenage-like fail of my dick tenting my jeans.
After checking over the new construction and giving Breck a tour of all the rooms, and gushing about our future plans for the foundation, we decided to sit on a blanket next to the pond and enjoy the sunshine.
“But why is Thor your favorite? Why not Superman?” I’ve been asking her random questions regarding her love of superheroes. She’s adorable to watch, eager and excited when she sits up on her knees, her hands motioning as she goes on about each of their qualities.
She winks at me. “You mean other than the fact that Thor has a big hammer and speaks with an Australian accent?”
And that’s why I’m groaning and resting on my stomach like a fourteen-year-old boy.
Fuck if I don’t want to show her how I use my hammer. My dick could probably destroy shit too with the amount of steel I’m feeling. I roll my eyes, keeping my front firmly pressed to the throw blanket. “So basically a pretty face is what you like?”
Her silly smile drops and she looks slightly wounded. “No, not just a pretty face.”
I’m amused, arching my brows, daring her to come up with other qualities other than his big hammer that sets him apart from the other heroes. I see how she ranks her heroes. By the size of their hammer.
“Thor is my favorite for a multitude of reasons.” She takes a breath like this is some kind of huge conversation we’re having instead of a friendly chat.
“I’m teasing,” I start, but she slaps a hand over my mouth.
“Let me finish. You asked me a question, and I intend on answering you, Major Jameson.”
Again with the Major Jameson.
My cheek twitches with her manhandling me, and I remove her hand from my face, clutching it between my two hands and securing it against my chest. Breck eyes our hands, but doesn’t pull away, and I try not to analyze why the fuck I did it in the first place.
“Please continue,” I encourage with a playful grin.
Her lips purse and she tries to look annoyed with me. “Thank you. As I was saying, Thor is my favorite for a multitude of reasons. One is that he is selfless.”
“Aren’t all superheroes selfless?” I counter.
Her hand, still captured in mine, twitches. “No. They aren’t all selfless but the majority are. You are correct in your assumption.”
I nod, not really giving a shit if I’m correct. I disagree on all accounts. No one is selfless. Even the made-up douches are selfish. She’ll never convince me otherwise.
“But Thor…” She blows out a breath and looks to the sky. The clouds are drifting at a lazy pace, their forms puffy and soft, appearing closer than they are. “Everyone in Thor’s family betrays him.” She pulls her gaze from the clouds and stares at me hard as if she is willing me to hear and absorb everything she’s about to tell me. “And yet, he still fights for what is right. He still loves.” This is deeper than I care to discuss. “He still forgives his family and tries again.”
Now I’m certain I don’t want this conversation to continue. He forgives and still tries again? Uh, yeah. That hits a little too close to home and I’m not in the mood.
“Thor’s an idiot.”
Breck doesn’t look offended that I insulted her hero. Instead, she gives me a sad smile. “I like to believe that even though I may have been betrayed or made mistakes, I’m still capable of forgiving myself and others. Thor is my favorite because although he is the God of Thunder, he’s just as human as the rest of us. He hurts and feels but he still picks himself up and tries again. He never backs down even when he is scared.”
The food she made earlier is rolling around in my gut, churning at the hidden meaning of her words. I’m not Thor. I’m not selfless. And unlike Thor, I am scared to open the door and forgive. I don’t deserve to forgive myself. I don’t deserve to start over and be happy. I deserve to feel dead inside.
I don’t deserve a second chance.
“And he has a nice ass.”
I choke when she blurts out that last statement and pulls her hand from mine, patting me on the back. “Don’t take it personally, Major. Not everyone can have an ass and a big hammer like Thor.”
I flash her an annoyed glare and roll over, my erection long gone after that conversation. “Thor is a made-up character,” I say, yawning at the end. “His ass and his hammer have been immortalized through legends over the years. If he were human, he’d be an asshole like the rest of us mortals.”
Pain throbs behind my eyes, the migraine I’m nursing coming back to haunt me.
“Is your head hurting again?”
A terse chin jerk is all I can manage when another sharp stab of pain zings through the top of my head. Please don’t let me get nauseated again. I’m groaning into the fabric of t
he blanket, sucking in sharp breaths when I feel her hands tug at my arm. Cracking one eye open, I see the concern in Breck’s frown.
“Let me help?”
She’s asking me this time. Not demanding. Not commanding. The decision is mine. Are we friends or not? What’s funny is that I don’t even have to think about it for very long. Being with Breck feels so natural. So simple. And I crave her skin on mine like I had a mere few hours ago.
My voice sounds gritty when I tilt my chin in a pathetic nod and give in. “Okay.”
Breck’s eyes widen before a ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. She stretches her tanned legs out in front, her arm supporting her from behind. “Come here.” She pats her thigh, insinuating I should lay my head down on her. Let me be crystal clear when I say that if I follow through with this bad decision, my head will be inches from her pussy. I’ll be able to smell it. Feel the heat from it.
My dick is hard again.
The pain is what pulls me from my side of the blanket, crawling on my hands and knees to her. It’s not the need for her that coaxes my head down into her lap, my chest resting on the soft fabric of the blanket. And it certainly isn’t the feel of her hands in my hair as she makes soothing sweeps that have me groaning and closing my eyes.
Breck stays quiet, stroking through my hair, slowly working her way to my back. The breeze cools the heat coursing through me, and I feel sweat bead along my neck. Breck is so in tune with my needs because she strokes up my back, pulling my shirt with it. I shiver when her fingertips graze the skin there.
The scars there.
It doesn’t bother me like I thought it would. She’s seen them before, yes. But she isn’t repulsed by them. More like she’s in awe, immortalizing them like badges of honor.