Wounded Hearts: Men in Blue, Book 5

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Wounded Hearts: Men in Blue, Book 5 Page 20

by Jayne Rylon

The instant his come decorated her skin with the proof of how she affected him, the animalistic hunger in her eyes faded to something manageable, though no less steamy. She looked up at him with a combination of fulfillment and gratitude.

  The final surges of come dripped from him onto her skin and he suddenly needed to kiss her. To show her that the fierce loving he’d given her had come from a place deeper than lust.

  Lucas settled over her, staring into her eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to hers for the sweetest, most tender kiss he’d ever had the pleasure of giving or receiving in his life.

  While they sipped from each other, he kept rocking softly over her, as if the motion were burned into his motor memory. Hell, it probably was.

  His softening cock rested between them and the mess he’d made of her, which mingled with their sweat to help him glide lightly across her entire front.

  It took a while for him to wind down from the incredible peak she’d lifted him to. When he did, he flopped to his back, gathering her to his chest, wondering if she could hear his heart speaking so deafeningly to hers that he could hardly hear anything but the three words it dared him to utter.

  Lucas might have.

  If the first of Ellie’s tears hadn’t fallen on his skin, making everything inside him freeze.

  “E?” He lifted her face so he could read her expression. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Shit, I’m sorry—”

  He couldn’t even say that he didn’t mean to be so rough with her, because he had.

  “I’m happy”—she sniffled then put her fingers over his mouth, silencing him—“so don’t ruin it with your big mouth.”

  When she took her hand away, he grinned. “Didn’t hear you complaining about that earlier.”

  She smacked his abs, reminding him to thank his trainer for torturing him with endless crunches. He’d used the hell out of those muscles today.

  Then she opened up to him, spilling her guts as surely as he had done in a more physical way with her minutes ago. “I feel like you’re finally being honest with me. Not holding back. Giving me your true self. And I’m so, so grateful. Thank you.”

  “E, that’s not necessary—”

  “It is.” She beamed up at him, a tear running down her cheek. “You’re the first person to treat me like I’m not broken. And maybe, after a while, it will be true.”

  The affection in her stare made him nervous. Could he live up to her expectations? All he’d done was give her what had been inside him for her from the start. Was that the same thing?

  He needed to think when he wasn’t riding on endorphins.

  As he mulled it over, she kept talking, shocking the shit out of him.

  “Lucas?”

  “Yeah?” He ran his fingers through her hair, loving the feel of the silky strands between his fingers.

  “I’m different than before.”

  She hesitated as if she didn’t know how to say what she meant. So he gave her a moment to collect herself while amusing himself by stroking her.

  “I like things I never tried before that time. Today…was amazing. Everything. Do you think we could experiment more later?”

  “With what, E?” He paused, lifting his head to look more closely at her.

  “I like when you’re in control,” she admitted. “Knowing that I can trust you to take care of me and satisfy my needs, even when I’m completely at your mercy…it’s freeing. I want to do more. Will you tie me up sometime? Stuff like that?”

  It was eerie how her thoughts ran along the same lines his had while he was buried balls deep in her body. But now that they were back to reality, he wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.

  “I don’t know,” he hedged.

  Her face fell and she nipped her bottom lip. “Is it weird that I would like that, considering…”

  “No.” He hugged her tight. “I just want to make sure we know what we’re doing. Would you mind if we talked to JRad and Lily about it? They’re experts. Not only in how to do it safely, but in the emotional aspects too.”

  She grinned. “Professionals, even. No, I don’t mind at all.”

  “We’ll do that then, E. Just know this. Whatever you need, I’m going to be the one to give it to you.” He curled his arms around her tighter, refusing to let her go.

  “In that case…can I ask one more thing? It’s fine if you don’t want to, though.”

  Her indecision made him sure he would say yes, simply because he wanted to deserve the trust she put in him even to ask.

  “Of course.” He brushed his lips over her forehead.

  “If we’re going to keep doing this”—she wiggled a finger between them—“would you mind coming to some of my sessions with my therapist, kind of as a couple?”

  “Is being physical with me upsetting you?” He frowned, hoping he’d gauged things correctly.

  “No, but I want to make sure we’re being responsible, you know? I don’t want any misunderstandings to sneak up on us when things are so new. It’s complicated between us. Confusing sometimes. I don’t want either of us to get unintentionally hurt. And I definitely think we should try to avoid either of us coping by putting distance between us again.”

  “It’s probably not a bad idea.” He shrugged, willing to do whatever it took to make their relationship viable long-term, even if they weren’t committing to that aloud just yet. He knew what she was really asking, and he planned to be there for her. “Sure, E. I’ll go with you.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him so gently, for agreeing to something simple and decent, he thought he might shed a tear of his own.

  “No, thank you.” He felt it was only fair to be as open as she was. “For taking me as I am, I mean.”

  “You’re finally listening, Lucas.” She tossed him a sassy wink as she patted his chest then sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on her knees so she could keep him in sight.

  Though he was sad to lose her heat, a sudden urge came over him.

  He dug through his shorts until he found his pocketknife. Fisting it, he said, “I’m going to open my knife. Are you okay with that?”

  Without tensing even a bit, she nodded.

  Maybe seeing him use the blade for something positive would help lessen her fear.

  He opened it then crawled to the tree trunk. While she watched, he carved a heart into the bark, putting their initials and the date inside it.

  He knew this was the moment he had irrevocably given his to her and prayed she kept it safe.

  Soon, when their lives had settled and they’d had enough time to adjust to what was happening between them, he would make sure she knew it too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ellie hummed as she flipped an omelet in the skillet she’d unearthed from Lucas’s cabinet. She hoped he liked ham, cheese and mushrooms with his eggs. As she cooked, she reflected on the past half of a week. How could it only be Thursday?

  This was her fourth morning at Casa Lucas. In some ways, it seemed like she’d just arrived, and in others she felt like she’d been here forever. In no way did she feel like she wanted to leave anytime soon, though.

  She smiled to herself, wondering if shacking up with him was a possibility. As long as her brother didn’t find out about it, anyway. Ryan might object, though maybe not if he saw how happy being here made her.

  Ellie danced around the kitchen island to pop some bread in the toaster. It would go along with the glass of orange juice and the folded paper napkin with her ridiculous good-morning doodle on it. She began to arrange everything on a wooden tray that had been a receptacle for clutter on Lucas’s counter, holding things like his keys, some random bullet casings, spare change and an assortment of device chargers.

  She’d swiped it with the intent of serving her man breakfast in bed.

  After the quality time t
hey’d spent making love the past two days, she figured his energy stores could use some replenishing. And he deserved to be pampered some, even if he would hate for her to think that way about him.

  When she’d gotten everything just so and slid the steaming omelet onto the white plate with navy edging, she tapped her lips, looking for one finishing touch.

  Outside the door, a clump of daisies swayed in the breeze.

  With a grin, she slipped out to pick a few.

  By the time she’d selected the prettiest ones and come back inside, Lucas was flying into the kitchen. He had his leg on and a pair of loose gym shorts, but nothing else.

  “Are you all right? Who’s out there?”

  He shoved her behind his back and began surveying the yard through the windows, even as he reached into a drawer she’d thought was full of junk. Nope. He pulled out a handgun. The other fist held bullets and he began to load it with rapid, deadly precision.

  “Holy crap.” She shook her head. “Lucas, calm down. There’s no one there. It was me. I went out to get a flower for your breakfast tray.”

  He turned around and stared at her with such a weird look on his face she had to laugh.

  “What?” His head tipped to one side as he studied her handiwork.

  “Would you mind putting the gun down?” she asked in a voice too high-pitched to be as casual as she was aiming for.

  “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He made sure it was unloaded, then tucked it back into its hiding spot. “I should have warned you about the alarms. I’m not used to guests.”

  Or being so domesticated, she imagined. For the better part of his life, he’d been surrounded by deception and violence. More than ever, she wanted to give him a normal day or longer. As much as she could manage before they either were torn apart or went their separate ways.

  Because sometimes she found it hard to believe that their lives—so drastically different—could actually mesh. That’s not to say that she didn’t hope for the impossible, like she had those times in Morselli’s dungeon. It just meant that she wasn’t betting on it.

  Lucas must have sensed her melancholy. He put his arms around her and kissed her “good morning” properly.

  His warm chest encouraged her to snuggle against it. Her hands wandered down his back to his perfect ass and rested there as she took another taste of him.

  Finally he pulled away, wincing. “It looks like I may have ruined a surprise in progress.”

  “Oh crap. Yeah. Your breakfast is getting cold.” She picked up the plate and carried it to the table, patting the chair beside the setting where she’d left her coffee.

  “Would you hate me if I wanted something else instead?” He was staring at her with enough hunger in his gaze to guess that he might rather eat her.

  “Save that for later. Come on. It’s not every day I go to this kind of trouble for a dude.” She grinned, knowing she’d gladly cook for him anytime.

  “Oh, so I’m a dude now, huh?” He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her, spinning her around until she was dizzy and laughing.

  She sighed as he lowered her, letting their bodies glide across one another so perfectly that she might have surrendered to his pleas for alternate nourishment if he’d been even just a bit taller, extending the contact.

  As it was, her body betrayed her, her stomach rumbling just when they grew quiet.

  “Didn’t you make yourself anything?” he asked.

  “I was going to share with you.” She smiled. “Unless you really plan to put all that away.”

  It was a mountain of food by her standards, but he burned a hell of a lot of calories each day. Maybe she should have made more. Ellie took a mental note for tomorrow, assuming she’d still be there. With him.

  “That sounds even better.” He sat, so she did too.

  For a while, they ate quietly, enjoying the meal she’d prepared for them. He fed her from his fork, making sure she had her fill before devouring the remainder.

  “Is that my music playing or yours?” he asked with a mouthful. She was just glad he’d enjoyed her cooking.

  “Oh, I hope you don’t mind. I swapped my phone for your iPod in the speaker thingy. I kept the Internet and location stuff switched off like you showed me. Just the incoming calls and the music player are enabled.” She wrung her napkin in her fingers. “Is that okay?”

  “Yup. Not to freak you out, E, but it’s less important to hide since those crooks who broke into your house probably aren’t still hunting us. It’s been too long. By now, they know the money has slipped between their fingers. If they’re smart, they’re laying low so that the people who were expecting the cash don’t realize it’s missing. And once we meet with the guys they were trying to impress, those assholes are going to run me. They’ll know where you’ve been hiding, but hopefully then they’ll think of us as their partners. Assets anyway, which will protect us until the true heist.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about that shit.”

  “It’s hard not to. I know you’re used to this kind of drama, but I’m not.” She frowned. “And I’m still not happy that I’m putting you in jeopardy.”

  “You didn’t do anything. We’re in this together. And you’re doing great, E,” he promised. “This is the worst part of a mission. The waiting. Distraction is key. So let’s go back to other things. Like how I think your choice of music is pretty funny.”

  “Why?” She scowled at him even though she realized he was probably trying to get a reaction out of her. It worked. Was it a sin to listen to music while doing chores?

  “It seems like we have all the same stuff. The last four songs have been ones I have on my playlist too.”

  “Really?” She grinned.

  “Uh-huh. I knew you had good taste.” He kissed the tip of her nose, transferring some cinnamon sugar from his toast onto it. Laughing, he reached for his napkin to wipe it off. And that was when he noticed her drawing.

  “Wow, E.”

  He set down the glass in his other hand and took extra time examining the hasty sketch she’d done. Of the tree, the heart he’d carved in it, their blanket beneath it and the lake in the background. She’d run out of room to really do the landscape justice, though.

  “You drew this?”

  “No one else here.” She shrugged, kind of nervous for him to judge her newfound talent.

  “It’s great. I can’t believe this didn’t take you like…weeks.”

  He seemed in awe as he ran his fingers over the grooves a simple ballpoint pen had etched in the paper. Still chewing his food, he stood up and crossed to his fridge, hanging her drawing on it with one of those magnet-backed bottle openers.

  “Hey, that’s your napkin.” She laughed.

  “I’ll wipe my hands on my shorts. No way am I going to get that greasy or crumple it.” He grinned at her. “I’m going to find a frame for this. You’re really talented, you know.”

  “Thanks. It’s just something I picked up. You know, to calm myself,” she explained.

  “Hang on, you mean to say you weren’t already an artist before…”

  “Nope.” She shook her head.

  He blinked at her a couple of times, then let it go at that.

  “What kind of stuff did Shari bring for you the other day?” he wondered. And she knew he wasn’t talking about her vibrator, because they’d already played with that the night before.

  “Paper, some small canvases, paints, a whole rainbow of markers—”

  “Like permanent ones?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Remember those tattoo designs you showed me last night? I wasn’t shitting you when I said I really loved them. Could you copy one of those, E? Maybe put one on my prosthesis?”

  “I thought you realized…um…I drew those too. They were original art, Lucas.”

  He marveled at her. “No
shit?”

  “No shit.” She beamed. Since it had been for herself, really, she hadn’t shown anyone her projects. “I can’t believe you like them enough that you’d want to wear them all the time.”

  “You know how I don’t really like to show people this thing?” He rapped his knuckles on his prosthesis.

  “I might have noticed.” She nodded.

  “Part of the reason is because it looks so…fake, you know?” He glared at the dull-peach carbon fiber that didn’t match his skin tone in any way, shape or form. It was blatantly not him.

  “Is that the only option? Aesthetically, I mean?”

  “No. They have cooler-looking ones that are black, and some custom options, but they’re pretty expensive. I get my stuff through the VA. They’re not always concerned about factors beyond the functional. With so many people in need, they can’t be, really. I get that. I’ve been fortunate. The hardware itself is good. My prosthetist is pretty fantastic too, which makes all the difference in how things fit and feel. Sadly, he has a lot of practice, considering how many guys are getting torn up overseas lately.”

  Ellie put her hand on Lucas’s, glad he was finally sharing some of this with her. “A prosthetist is a person who makes these, right?”

  “Yep. They’re custom jobs. Every one. Have to be to mold precisely to each person’s stump. Or stumps.” He winced. “Anyway, they assigned me to K-level 4, which is the highest. I guess that means I’m eligible for parts that will help me be most active, you know? My foot is actually kind of sweet—it bends and adjusts in a lot of ways to mimic a real one, instead of just being a blob on the end of a stick. Plus, just last week I got a running blade, which is cool. I can push my road workouts a lot farther now with that. I’m thankful, I am. You know, that I can do pretty much everything I did before, with some practice. It just means that my stuff isn’t always very attractive. I guess that’s a pretty vain thing to worry about.”

  “Nah.” Ellie stopped him. He was obviously a man who took a lot of pride in his body. And his self-expression. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so boldly decorated. His skin was his canvas. That peach socket was like a giant ink-blot stain on a magnificent painting. “I completely understand. It should feel like part of you.”

 

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