“Cool name! Why that name?” she cuts in, making me grin.
“Old nickname they gave me in the service. I was the spotter, and I never missed a mark once I eyeballed him, so they called me The Watcher. Jericho was The Hammer and the others went by a few names that might not be polite to say in a lady’s company.”
She snorts and eyes me over the rim of her cup with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Anyway, like I was saying, someone’s been eyeing us for a while, and now that I have some free time, I’m thinking I should at least try to suss him out.”
“Ah, you being The Watcher and all.”
God, I love an intelligent broad.
“Something like that. I also just like you, Coleman. Something about you makes me not-so-happy to walk away when I hear some fuck decided to turn you into a punching bag. I’m thinking I should teach him all about being the smaller one in a fight.”
“Oooooh, my total hero, Storm. Just promise me I can kick him in the balls and give him a shiner, and we’re all good.”
Not in this fucking lifetime, babe. No way, no how will you get within feet of that animal while I’m still breathing.
“Scout’s honor,” I drawl.
Good thing I was never a scout, huh.
The rest of the evening is spent with Lenny pretending to watch some girl rap on the box, while I fiddle with the alarm system that Mat Head One and Two and I installed earlier.
I’m still iffy about that back door and hate having to rely on one replaced lock to keep the assholes out, but seeing as I couldn’t leave Lenny alone, and the Idiot Twins know next to nothing about security or home safety, I had to make do with what they picked up at the hardware store. Fucking morons.
Why I like them enough not to have throat punched them numerous times is beyond me.
“Well, I’m beat, Storm. I’m taking a painkiller and locking this one.”
My grunt is all the answer she gets and I wait like a coward for her to leave the room before dropping the lock I wasn’t really busy with and leaning back with a sigh.
Crap, Storm. This is a job, asshole! Lenny Coleman is not a woman you should lead on. She’s been hurt before and she’s gun shy, you prick. Stay the hell away.
But I don’t want to, and not just because the last woman I was inside and believed myself in love with was a job, but because I really, truly like Lenny and I wouldn’t handle it well if she didn’t like me back.
Sounds juvenile, I know, but at bare basics that’s what relationships and love really are. It’s the hope and uncertainty and the fear that you could ask the girl to prom and get shot down. It’s me looking at the sexy little doc and seeing babies in her eyes when she could just be really scared and looking at me for protection until she can go back to her life.
I’m a guy, yeah, and I do the hunting. That’s just the way it is. But I prefer my prey to be easier to deal with and certainly not “hot and cold” enough to make me sweat at the thought of being shot down.
Thinking of being rejected by her is not a thought I can entertain for long without needing to run, knowing that I can’t because one slip on my part could mean death for her.
I’d like a shot though. Fuck, yes, I would. That bath was so perfect and intimate and so damned hard to get through. I almost shot in my shorts when she opened her legs a scant inch and I got to see her slit.
Hhhhmmm. I like that she only shaves around her lower lips and leaves the mound of her pussy. I also like that she isn’t centerfold perfect between her legs but has some plumpness to her inner lips that will let me suck on them the way I like.
I really like that her clit is a peeker instead of a hider, and do not get me started on what my dick wants to do to her perfect C-cup tits. My other likes include her thighs, which aren’t rail thin, but are still toned enough not to be too soft, and her ass that is just enough for my hands, but doesn’t make her look like she’s hauling another human behind her.
Those lips …
And I have to stop thinking about her right now before I soil my pants and embarrass myself like a teenager getting his first glimpse at a pussy.
In short, I want to fuck Leonora Coleman into the mattress, my mattress, at home, in my bed, and keep her there till she’s a ragged unmoving mess who agrees to stay with me and—
And what, asshole? Wait at home for you while you’re off blowing up shit and doing your job, a job you love and will never give up? Is it really fair to you or her to be painting this crap in your head when we all know that no woman would knowingly commit to you and this life?
Look at Rachel. She was a journalist being held hostage on my last stint in Afghanistan. When we got the call to snatch and grab at all costs, I was the first in there.
Turns out it was a doozy of a clusterfuck, and we lost a crapload of good ones trying to save her. But we did. The first time I looked into her eyes as I swept her up, I swore my heart exploded.
That was followed not long after by my dick and those idealistic dreams I had going on in my head. That mission was the very last big one I pulled, serving out the last six months of my service, hanging back while we mourned Damon and his loss.
Rachel was all smiles and hearts and flowers that whole time, and I’m ashamed to say I was so in love with this idea I had of her that I proposed on one of our few meetings when she came over. I had these dreams of having the perfect wife who’d give up her dangerous career and make babies with me while I set up my business.
Turns out Rachel wasn’t so into that idea and started screwing her boss two months before I was set to fly home. I didn’t know that then, and I didn’t let myself see it even when I did get back home and started pushing her to plan the wedding.
Came time to get married and she left me standing at the altar, broken, filled with hatred and anger…and just tiredness to my soul. I threw myself into work then and almost killed myself getting contracts and jobs that wouldn’t interest me now that I have decided I want to live a full life with all limbs attached.
The ironic part? Rachel fell pregnant with her boss’s kid, ended up marrying him, and settled into housewifey bliss anyway.
Bitch.
The point now is that I won’t make that mistake again. I can’t see Lenny being okay with what I expect from a woman, not that I’m a caveman or anything, I just want to be the man in a relationship, that’s all. I want to be the provider, the rock, the one who protects and loves and does all the manly shit that people have forgotten about nowadays.
Is that too much to ask?
Before I can allow myself to get into that mood where everything is bleak and dark, I do one more check of the house, lock and secure all the doors and windows, and make my way to the guest bedroom with a sigh.
Sleep. Tomorrow’s another day, Storm. Just forget about that crap, all that romantic hearts and flowery dreams and stick to the freaking program, buddy.
I keep repeating that as I strip down to my boxers and stretch out above the covers. I fall asleep with those same words repeating in my head and almost go into full soldier mode when, hours later, I come awake to the sound of running feet and a shadow launching at me.
“I’m scared. I had a nightmare and I can’t go back to sleep.”
Lenny’s trembling like a leaf as she wraps herself around me, a huffing Chaser running in circles at our feet as her hiccupping breaths gust over my chest.
I’m pretty sure my dick went hard enough to poke her in the butt crack, what with the way her sex is plastered to my stomach and all, the heated slice branding into my skin. But I ignore that and cradle her closer, running my hands over her back as she continues to tremble in my arms.
I finally give up and sit down when, instead of calming, she seems to get worse and tries to crawl into my skin.
“Sugar, it’s all right now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I have the windows and all the doors in this heap wired, and I’d know if so much as a gust of air got past my security.”
“I-I know. It�
��s just that I had a bad dream, and I kept thinking he was coming to get me.”
Her hiccups subside with my soothing strokes, and I feel her relax minutes later, not stopping till I feel her muscles go lax before she slumps into me and starts snoring like a mini logging truck.
Chaser, the little runt, seems to smile at me in the darkness and drags his ass onto the foot of the bed, settling with a huff. Dammit, I’ll never sleep with her in my bed and I know it. But I can’t seem to let her go, instead finding myself lying back with her smaller frame tucked into my chest.
“Shut up, asshole.”
I can’t say whether I’m talking to the dog or my dick, but right now, as her slight weight settles over me and her snatch warms my cock head, all I can do is sigh and smile into the darkness.
Dammit, Lenny. Now look what you gone and done.
Chapter Seven
Lenny
Storm’s in a bad mood, a really bad mood, as we jog toward the park and the massacre that I know is waiting me. I say massacre because the minute those wolves scent Storm, they’ll either kill me violently, or I’ll end up killing them for sniffing around him.
Either which way, there is violence in my near-future and Storm’s scowl is not helping me at all.
“I said I was sorry about last night! Sheesh. I won’t ever run into your room again, Storm. I freaking swear. It’s not like I’m a sleep-kicker or a snorer anyway.”
“How would you know? For all you know, you could saw logs eight hours of every night. Which you did,” he growls, making my nose scrunch in offense.
“That wasn’t nice.”
“Never said I was nice, Coleman. By the way, either you or the dog is a sleep farter. My money’s on the dog, so you better keep that mutt out of my way for at least a day till I forget what came out of him.”
There is absolutely no talking to that ass right now, I guess, so instead of blushing, because I refuse to believe that Chaser is that gross, which—incidentally—leaves me as the farter, I keep jogging and trying to breathe through the pain in my lungs.
Jogging with Storm is like trying to keep up with a train. He’s striding like the giant he is and looking none the worse for wear while I feel as if a demon took a dump in my lungs and I gave a blow job to another.
Everything is burning. Everything. Including my crotch where my shorts have decided to start chafing at my lady lips.
“Can we just separate for like half-an-hour or something? Please? The girls are not man-friendly, Storm, and I really would rather not explain to those crazies that I almost got killed the day before yesterday. Please?”
“Nope.”
Dammit! That’s it? That’s all he has to say about something that is driving me nuts at five on a Thursday morning? Incidentally, I’m also not allowed to go to work, anathema to me since I’ve just mentioned that I need those extra shifts, but try telling a two-hundred-and-something-pound, grumpy bastard that at four in the morning and well ….
Okay, so I can maybe see how dragging him out of bed at that hour would be like killing him, but I made breakfast, all right?
“You call that slop breakfast? You juiced green sludge, added yogurt and raw egg, and watched me drink that crap,” he snarls. “I got exactly two hours sleep after you plastered your little ass to me, and then you got me up for a social run?”
“Asshole, I made you a tried-and-tested top secret weapon and begged you not to come running with me. Begged. Repeatedly. You could still be snoozing like the freaking ass you are, if not for your own stubbornness.”
“What part of someone is trying to kill you do you not get?” he snarls, pulling me to a stop with a rough jerk.
Chaser, the cowardly mutt, chooses that moment to finally justify the money I spent on his ass and lets off an ominous growl that earns him a fulminating glare from Storm.
I want to rip him a new asshole for his treatment of me, but honestly, I’m just grateful we’ve stopped, as I bend over and wheeze in a lungful of tortured breath.
“Shouldn’t you be fitter than this, considering you’re a medical professional?”
“Shouldn’t you just kiss my ass, you freaking robot! What the hell is with you this morning anyway? I said I was sorry for jumping into your bed and bringing Chaser with. I had a bad dream, okay, and I was freaked out. From now on, I’ll take a horse tranquilizer and stay away from you…you…you meanie.”
I’m still half-asleep and riding on the high of waking to Storm’s deliciousness beneath me. And yeah, I do drool. And hell, yeah, the man has morning wood that would make a freaking sequoia look like a sapling.
It took me long, looooong minutes to convince myself to move off him and not start licking him all over. Or grinding myself in places that would be considered illegal without consent.
I mean, really, what’s the big deal this morning anyway, huh? And there I was falling asleep with some goofy smile on my face because Storm was being all cool and gentlemanly while he was turning into a butthole the whole while.
I hate not knowing what to do about his mood, and I have even more of feeling that his mood is my fault when, really, what harm could possibly come from an innocent little freak-out in the middle of the night?
As for the whole running-this-morning-thing, I just need it, okay. Killer on the loose or not, which, by the way, I no longer believe. I mean, I’m just a lowly little doctor, who hardly saw a thing. No way will some bigwig and his hired goon come after me when they’ve got bigger fish to fry in the form of Belinda Kerns.
According to Sheila, who called me not even an hour ago, they’ve seen some spiking in her brain activity and hope she’ll be waking soon. God, I hope. Please let that bitch wake up soon so that Mr. Grumpy Ass can go home back to his troll cave of perpetual gloom and leave me alone.
No, no, I do not feel sad thinking that! Dammit, brain, would you cut it out? And what’s with the tears, huh?
Storm must mistake my glossy orbs for upset with him, and I see his entire face just melt at once before he pulls me closer and hugs me tightly.
“Aw. Damn, Coleman. I didn’t mean to upset you, sugar. I’m just worried like hell about you being this exposed, is all. I’ve tried to factor in every danger on an outing like this, but the truth is, I can’t predict anything with us being this exposed.”
Milk it, Lenny.
“But…but I need this run because it makes me feel normal,” I pant, sounding teary when in reality one of my lungs is still seizing from the pace he set.
Honest to God, no wonder the man is so delicious if he considers this a jog. I feel like I should be getting a medal or something, with the way I feel right now.
“I know. Dammit, I said I’m sorry all right. And besides, you’re so shitty at fake-crying, Coleman, I’m almost embarrassed for you,” he croons, giving my ass a squeeze as I shove away with a snarl.
“Dick.”
“Indeed, Coleman. I have a nice one which you snuggled all over. All night. Thanks for the all-night boner by the way. Made sleeping so easy.”
Dang it, don’t blush.
There the bitch goes, I think, as I feel my cheeks heat along with some other parts that have no business getting moist in these white shorts.
“I wouldn’t know since I sleep like the dead and saw logs, or whatever the hell it was that you threw at me upon waking. Damn, Storm, talk about not a morning person,” I grunt, crying a little as he forces me to start “jogging” again, my muscles quivering in protest.
“You do sleep like a corpse though. At one point, you went so limp and lifeless I thought you were dead, till you started deafening me with your nose farts,” he laughs.
“Bite my asshole, Storm,” I mutter, speeding up and groaning when he doesn’t even break a sweat, matching his strides to what I consider an all-out sprint.
The man is unnatural, is what he is.
“With pleasure, sugar. Though I suspect there are other parts of you I’d far prefer sinking my teeth into,” he purrs.
&n
bsp; Oh Lord, have a merciful thought for my poor, weak soul.
“I prefer you grumpy, Storm.”
“Eh. Not everyone has taste, I guess.”
We stop talking as Chaser starts yipping and I feel my heart palpitate when the girls come into view, their faces going from smiles, to frowns, to all-out looks of predatory delight.
“Don’t you dare flirt with them, Storm.”
His answering grin has my teeth set to shatter, and by the time I stop running and fall in a heap at Jill’s feet, I can’t remember one good reason for liking him.
He bends to pet Chaser and greets the girls with that southern twang and I see his ass outlined beneath those grey sweats. Now I remember.
“Need chocolate. Stat.”
Honest to God, if the man is this hot after a run and some banter, I cannot fathom what sex with him will be like.
Down, brain. No more thinking for you.
***
Nick
The woman is outright adorable and sexy enough to lick as she lies on the grass panting, glaring at me while checking my ass out as if it’s the first and last she wants to ever behold.
Of course, I milk that shit and squat for longer as the five hyenas now surrounding me lick their lips and stop just short of feeling me up, as they start preening and posing like supermodels on the job.
It’s flattering, I won’t lie. But I should probably tell them I’ve lost my dick and a good part of my heart to the little termagant glaring at me as she guzzles a chocolate bar.
Yup, she went and freaking caught me last night with nothing more than a sigh and the trusting way she melted back to sleep not minutes after flying at me in panic.
I told y’all. I like being the dick in a relationship, and nothing makes me feel like I’m packing a twenty-inch stiffy like having a woman trust in me enough to fall asleep with nary a thought because she knows I’ll keep her safe.
This morning? I almost blew my load when she woke up and started rubbing her heat all over my morning wood. And goddamn me if she didn’t lick up her drool and catch a nipple in the effort.
I haven’t had sex in a while, okay? That shit was like licking my dick, and I almost threw her to the bed and started attacking her before I remembered that little Miss Thang is gun-shy and likely to run if I spook her too fast.
THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 6