SEALed With A Kiss: Heroes With Heart

by Low, Gennita

  “I’m sorry, Marjorie.” Releasing the fabric, Zoe caught her breath, a sickening, dropping sensation hitting her stomach. “Oh my God!”

  Chapter Thirteen

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  “Did I hurt you?” Zoe stared at the large bruise on the woman’s arm just above her wrist.

  Marjorie jerked away. “No.” She shook her head as she smoothed her sleeve back over the injury. “It’s nothing. I just banged my arm on something the other day and have a bruise now. It’s a little sore.”

  It didn’t look like an accidental injury. It looked like someone had grabbed her arm hard enough to leave the impression of every finger. Zoe studied the woman’s face, a prickly, numbing shock traveling down her body. She gathered her composure with an effort and looked into the woman’s face until Marjorie’s eyes rose to meet hers. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Marjorie’s fingers smoothed the sleeve again. “But it might be a good idea for you to stay off that ladder. You almost fell.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She had to do something. If there was the slightest possibility Derrick Armstrong was abusive, she had to try and help Marjorie. She struggled to bring her scattered thoughts and emotions together. “Sometimes I don’t want to recognize my limitations. I just keep ignoring them, until they slap me in the face.”

  “You seem to do pretty well,” Marjorie said. “And Hawk doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “He’s very supportive, but there’s a line where support can turn into pity. Once that happens, the balance is thrown off.” Zoe’s attention strayed to Hawk as he used the drill to sink sheet rock screws. A ridge of muscle along his shoulder blade stood out beneath his t-shirt. Her mouth went dry as she thought about running her hand over his strong back and feeling the movement of his muscles beneath her hands. “Relationships are all about balance, don’t you think?”

  Marjorie brushed her sun-streaked hair over her shoulder. “I hadn’t ever thought about it like that, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “When one partner is too demanding or has unreasonable expectations, the relationship can escalate into something unhealthy and painful for both people.”

  Marjorie’s features grew slack, then shuttered. “I suppose so.”

  Zoe stifled a sigh. She sensed she’d gone as far as she could. She didn’t want the woman to shut down completely and push her away. She changed the subject. “What do you do, Marjorie?”

  “I’m a software analyst for a corporation that makes computer games.”

  “That sounds way more interesting than being a physical therapist.”

  “It doesn’t to me,” Marjorie said with a smile. “All those jocks who come to you for treatment—” She fanned her face as though hot. “You and Hawk haven’t slept together yet, have you?”

  Having the tables turned triggered an instant urge to retreat. Yet how was she to expect Marjorie to open up to her, if she wasn’t ready to do the same? She drew a deep breath and looked up from smoothing the compound at the bottom of the seam. “No we haven’t. I had a really bad experience in college, and it made me a little wary.”

  “Hawk’s a really good guy. He’d never hurt you.”

  The momentary possessive, predatory look of jealousy on his face as he had grasped her arm that morning in the bathroom came to mind. It had been jealousy, hadn’t it? Or had it been something else? He had never been out of control though, and had immediately backed off. “No, I don’t think he would ever hurt me, intentionally. I suppose all men have the potential, but it all boils down to control.” His behavior at the hospital after Brett had been slapped occurred to her. “I’ve seen him furious, but he never lost it. He turned his anger toward getting something accomplished, not trying to destroy anything.” She had sensed his frustration tonight after returning from the hospital. He had done the same thing.

  “I suppose it helps that they can go blow something up now and then and release their aggressions.”

  Zoe nodded toward the three men hanging sheetrock. “Or they can do something constructive with a hammer and nails.”

  When Marjorie remained silent Zoe looked up to find her studying Derrick’s broad back, a look of sadness on her face.

  Emotion settled in the pit of her stomach as heavy as the bucket of sheet rock mud she dipped into. For as much sympathy and concern as Marjorie inspired, Zoe dreaded having to share her suspicions with Hawk just as much.

  *

  Hawk tossed the damp towel into the hamper and tugged on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He needed to talk to Zoe. But the things he needed to say couldn’t be said to anyone outside the team. God damn it! Every day something happened that hammered at his trust in his men. God he needed a drink, he needed something.

  Leaving his room, he turned toward the kitchen, but noticed the light still on in the living room and changed direction.

  He paused at the entrance and watched as Zoe rubbed a towel against the mass of hair she draped over her shoulder. She looked up as he took a step into the room.

  I think Doc might be strung out on drugs. He nearly said the words aloud just to feel the weight of them. He couldn’t be. The team was tested for drugs all the time. And even compounds like steroids showed up in the tests. Surely Zack wouldn’t risk getting canned from the team. Not for drugs. Not for anything.

  He’d been alone so long. Held his own council over things that had revisited him over and over. Things he couldn’t share with her. But the pain of this was too much.

  “There’s something going on with Doc. When I asked him if he and Bowie had been fishing lately, he said he hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks. That’s some kind of record, because those two are tight and, besides chasing women, fishing is one of their favorite pass-times.”

  Zoe set aside the towel and combed her fingers through her hair. “Maybe he’s really been sick and Bowie’s stayed away to keep from getting it.”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with frustration. “I’m going over to his apartment tomorrow and have a talk with him.” He was tired of these suspicions. He was going to get to the bottom of this shit.

  “Hawk—” Her tone sounded tentative and laced with something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He focused on her. Her hesitancy had his stomach churning.

  “I think Derrick might be abusing Marjorie.”

  The shock of it hit him like a punch.

  “She had a bruise on her arm that looked suspicious. She said she’d hit it on something, but you could see the finger marks. I tried to talk to her, but she clammed up.”

  “Jesus! What the hell is going on with these guys?”

  “They’re just guys, Hawk, under tremendous pressure. All of you are.” She rose to her feet and came to him. When she put her arms around his waist and pressed close, some of the pain eased.

  “We send you to awful places and ask you to do things, terrible, painful, necessary things, and then we ask you not to think about it, remember it, or internalize any of it. We ask the impossible.”

  She leaned back to look up at him. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the circumstances surrounding our first meeting has affected how I feel about Derrick, made me suspicious of him to begin with. Maybe I read the whole situation wrong. Maybe it really was an accident.”

  God, he hoped so. He ran his hands over her back and traced the slender shape of her through her t-shirt. Just touching her made him feel better. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. See if I can draw him out. If these guys are in trouble, I have to reach out to them and get them squared away. They’re my men, Zoe.”

  “I understand.”

  Was that possible? Could she really understand how his loyalties were being pulled in a dozen directions? One of them might have attempted to murder a member of their team? The thought hit him in the solar plexus every time he thought it. It made him sick. But until he figured out who was responsible, they deserved the best he could do for them.

 
; “I want whoever hurt Cutter to pay, Zoe. But unless he wakes up and tells us, we may never know.”

  “I know.”

  “He may already be paying for it. It would have to be eating at him.” How could it not? “If it’s one of them, and I find out which, he’ll pay. I promise.”

  Her blue eyes settled on his face. “I know.”

  He brushed her lips with his and rested his forehead against hers. He wanted to lie in bed with her and hold her and be held in return. Acknowledging those feelings brought with it a surge of pain and desire he didn’t know how to deal with.

  She touched his cheek, her fingers caressing. “You don’t always have to stand alone.”

  Hawk swallowed as need clamped around his throat and made it impossible for him to speak. They had both sustained emotional blows today. But was that a reason to make love?

  “You’re such a temptation to me.” Her voice sounded husky and soft. She nestled closer and stood on her tiptoes to rub her cheek against his.

  His heart took up a heavy rhythm and he fought the urge to cup her hips and drag her closer. So there was more there for her, too. Finding his voice he said, “Giving in to a little temptation now and then can be good for you.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Can it?” Her lips brushed his jaw.

  This shy, playful, kittenish thing she had going was killing him. “Yeah, it can,” he forced out between breaths. He grasped her hand and tugged her down the hall. Pausing at each switch for quick kisses, he turned the lights out.

  The instant they crossed the bedroom threshold, he read Zoe’s feelings of awkwardness. Color deepened in her cheeks, and she avoided looking directly at him. When she pulled away, he thought she might beat a hasty retreat, but instead she moved to the opposite side of the bed and he realized she was removing her socks.

  He shucked his t-shirt and tossed it atop the basket in the closet. As he turned, her bundled socks shot past him, ricocheted off the lid and fell into the hamper. He looked up.

  Focusing on his face, Zoe stretched out on his bed; her arms bent beneath her head, leaving her midriff visible, the skin creamy and smooth. The lamp on the nightstand played upon her features etching the curve of her cheek and turning the reddish blond highlights in her hair to copper. She smiled at him. Blood rushed south, and he grew harder.

  Visions of him peeling off her sweat pants and thrusting inside her played through his mind. He climbed onto the bed beside her and buried his face in the pillow with a groan. He just had to block out that smile until he knew he had himself under control.

  Zoe’s hand ran over the back of his head and neck in a caress, and he turned his head to look at her. The tenderness he read in her expression intensified the ache.

  “It’s been a long day,” she said.

  “A week at least.”

  She smiled again, then grew serious. “Our living together—it could become—awkward.”

  Was she looking for an excuse to back away again? Or was she giving him an opportunity to do the same? He turned on his side to face her and tamped down the old feelings of pain and abandonment. “If you let every difficulty keep you from reaching for what you want, Zoe, you’ll never truly live.”

  “I was thinking of you.” She ran her fingertips along his shoulder, her eyes tracking the movement. Her light, caressing touch raced through him to the bottoms of his feet. She focused on his face, her eyes dark, her pupils nearly swallowing the pale blue irises. Her voice sounded husky as she said, “Turn out the light.”

  His heart stuttered then beat hard against his ribs. He leaned back and extinguished the bedside lamp. For a moment, the darkness was profound until his eyes adjusted to it.

  She kissed him, her lips parted in invitation. All the nights he had lain awake, craving her, rolled over him like a tank. With a groan, part relief, part need, he crushed her close. Hungrily, greedily, he tasted her passion in the eager sweep of her tongue against his, and in the way she molded herself against him.

  His hand shook as he ran it up beneath her t-shirt. Her skin felt like warm silk, her breast full and soft. Her nipple beaded beneath his palm and she groaned. He wished he could see her expression as he touched her. He strived to be gentle, but felt starved for her touch, for the feel of her body against his own.

  He tugged her t-shirt upward and she wiggled free of it and pressed her breasts against his chest. Her bare skin brushing against his felt like heaven. When he rolled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, she slid her hands down his back, cupped his buttocks, and rocked against his erection in a way that nearly sent him over the edge. He had to slow things down. But sweet Jesus, he didn’t want to. He slid downward, latched onto her nipple, and sucked.

  Zoe’s breathing caught and she thrust her fingers into his hair. The sweet, empty ache inside her grew with every touch, every kiss, until she thought she might fly apart at any moment. She couldn’t touch him enough, couldn’t get close enough. His lips against her stomach, his breath on her skin, his tongue dipping into her navel, all had her nearly sobbing with need. When he dragged the sweat pants and panties down her legs, she couldn’t wait to be free of them.

  Then he was on top of her, kissing her, trembling against her as he touched her between her legs, his fingers so wonderfully, carefully gentle. That he trembled with wanting her fired her blood and made the empty, writhing need inside her grow in intensity.

  She ran her hand down his chest, over the flat muscular plane of his stomach and beneath his shorts. The size and heat of his erection was both startling and arousing. He groaned her name, his voice a low rumble against her ear that vibrated along her nerve endings and raised goose bumps on her skin.

  “Come inside me,” she managed, the words a breathy, pleading whisper.

  He shook free of his sweats, and leaned over her to reach in the nightstand. The wispy crackle as he tore open the condom sounded loud, underlining the huge, terrifying, wonderful step she was taking, they were taking. With his first push of entry, the sweet intimacy between them caught at Zoe’s heart and she drew him down to her, her lips seeking his. The wanting, the needing, tangled into a surge of love and desire so strong she could barely breathe. The quick burning pain of his possession seemed nothing compared to the closeness she shared with him.

  “God, Zoe, tell me I’m not hurting you.” His lips skimmed her cheek, her brow, and came back to her lips.

  “You’re not.” Not yet. She cut off the thought and ran her hands up and down his back urging him closer. He moved deep inside her, triggering an answering thread of renewed need. He groaned her name again, his voice ragged. His slow, gentle rocking movements quickened. She clung to him and turned her lips against his throat, tasting the heat of his skin. She lost herself in the play of his muscles beneath her hands, and the damp brush of his taut belly against hers. Her breathing grew labored as she gave herself to him, moved with him, moved against him. At the first pulsing wave of his release, pleasure erupted inside her, so sweetly satisfying, she gasped his name.

  *

  When his breathing had returned to normal, Hawk searched for and found Zoe’s lips. “The next time we do this the light stays on,” he said, his tone adamant as he slowly eased out of her though he was reluctant to move.

  Her hands ran up and down his back in a caress. “Maybe.”

  “No maybes. I want to see you when I touch you next time, Zoe.”

  “Maybe we can work our way up to that, a little at a time.”

  “You just trusted me enough to make love with you. How can you do that, and not trust me enough to let me see you while I’m doing it?”

  “In the dark, I can be as beautiful as any other woman for you.”

  Pain grabbed him by the throat. “Oh baby—” He rested his cheek against hers and swallowed against it. “You are beautiful, Zoe. Every time you walk into a room, I get hard. I’ve been going around for weeks in that condition.”

  “I have too, I mean, not hard, but, you know.
” Her voice was just above a whisper. Her lips parted and warm touched his shoulder.

  An instant response shot through him and he turned his lips to hers. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

  He eased away from her and off the bottom of the bed. Closing the bathroom door, he turned on the light and moved to the toilet to discard the condom. He froze. “Oh, shit.” A dropping sensation hit his stomach worse than a three thousand foot parachute jump. As the prophylactic hit the water, he drew several steadying breaths, a thousand thoughts and emotions bombarding him as he watched the useless thing circle the toilet bowl and disappear down the drain.

  He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, leaving the light on. She had gotten under the covers, and as he crossed the threshold, she drew the sheet up over her breasts. Two long steps put him at the foot of the bed. The pale light from the bathroom etched one side of her face and shoulder, leaving the rest in shadow. She looked so young, so small. Responsibility lay like a weight upon his shoulders. “We have a problem, Zoe.”

  Chapter Fourteen

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  “Are you on the pill?”

  Hawk’s face was in shadow and she couldn’t read his expression, but his tone held a note of—forced calm.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “The condom broke, Zoe.”

  She stared at him, trying to take in what he’d said. Shock hit her and her facial muscles stiffened. She struggled to control her scattered thoughts and count days. “I think it will be all right. But I guess, if we’re going to do more of this, I’d better call in the morning and see about some kind of backup birth control.”

  “Jesus—” He rubbed both hands over his short hair. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  She swallowed as the bathroom light played upon his long lean body, highlighting the muscles of his stomach, and the precarious grip the towel held on his hips. Even with anxiety still curling her toes, she wanted him all over again.