THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle

by Kristina Weaver

  I almost choked on the foot-long worth of gall he was spitting out my way and very calmly informed him that I wasn’t stalking him like a lovesick idiot, but rather setting him up to get his gross ass busted by all the nurses sniffing after him.

  I still shudder just thinking about the way he chuckled before stroking my hand, but then Storm stomped in and threatened to powder every bone in his lascivious body, and let’s all just laugh when I say I have never seen the man that shade of white under his self-tanner.

  Of course, Storm was not at all impressed by that, and it took me damn near two days and a lot of concessions to get him out of his growling phase.

  Mama and Pete almost dissolved in tears when I told them I was moving in with Storm. And, I swear, I literally had to shake Mama off my ankle when I got up to leave, ready to go say goodbye to Mrs. T and her twins and venture forth on this new and exciting chapter of my life.

  To say that was hard is an understatement. The woman cried. It was very awkward since I thought she was Satan’s mother—and she slapped my knuckles with her cane, making me promise to come by and visit whenever my “man” let me out for air.

  The girls…they were pissed, but they got over it. Well, till I woke up one morning and drove into town with Storm only to see the five crazy women moving into a house on Main Street.

  Let’s just say that I seem to have picked up lifelong strays, and they ain’t letting go anytime soon.

  Whatever. I kinda like having my girls so close, especially with the way Storm has been handling me like cut glass this past month. The man refuses to have sex with me until I am healed.

  I tried discussing it with him reasonably and telling him that I am completely fine, but he just kept shaking his head. Then I yelled at him and threatened to use my vibrator and, well, that did not go down well.

  Let’s just say I am sick of oral sex. Yeah, I snort too, since I never thought I would ever say anything that damn stupid, but it’s true. I can’t help it though because, as Jill says, if you find a good dick, you need a good stick. That woman is crass, I know, but she says it in ways that I can’t deny.

  I miss him even though I only had him once and, dammit, I want that connection he’s denying me.

  “Stop mooning and let’s lock this bitch up. I am so ready for a glass of wine and some sleep, it isn’t even funny.”

  I concur and turn to my offices with one last look before I walk out the door and lock up.

  It’s official. I am now the hopeful doctor of a small town whose previous doctor is older than the first dirt on earth. I love that old man though, because he practically paid me to take this place over for him and gave me a slamming deal on the property, something I let Storm buy thanks to his scowling and begging and then just plain sneaky moves.

  By that I mean, one day I was still “thinking about it,” and the next the deed was on my pillow and he was daring me to argue.

  Whatever. All I know right now is that I am happy. Oh, so happy. All I need now is some wine, some good sex, and maybe to get one over on Storm who seems to be under my feet despite the calls I know are coming in constantly for him to go back to work.

  “See ya tomorrow.”

  I’m not even at the truck yet when he’s beside me and opening the door, handing me in and strapping my seat belt before loping around the front and hopping in.

  “Thank you, God. I was ready to start climbing the wall, woman. You finally done?’

  “Yep. Just need to relax and prepare for tomorrow,” I sigh, leaning back and closing my eyes as he pulls out and starts fiddling with the radio.

  He always does this. I guess it’s a defense mechanism since any time I get him trapped in a small place with me, I start hounding him for sex. I can’t help it; the man is hot. He walks around in shorts and nothing else all day as he potters around underfoot and I just want his dick.

  There. I said it like I mean it, and, no, I am not ashamed to be hankering after him for sex as if the emotional stuff has no meaning. I am emotionally stuffed with love and adoration. I need him to look at me and want me without a five-hour talk about how much he adores me.

  Blech!

  “Stop sulking and talk to me a little about how this is going, sugar.”

  “I do not want to talk about my freaking feelings another second more, Storm. Listen. I am good. I am not cut up and scarred from my ordeals, as you keep saying, and I am not on the verge of some meltdown, stressing about the practice. I am fine! I’m more worried about how things are ever going to work with us if you don’t stop smothering me!” I yell, watching his face turn stark white.

  Oh, damn. That’s a trigger word for him, Lenny. Honestly?

  “Don’t.”

  ‘No, you don’t. My uncle, a man I hardly knew so I didn’t even really like, tried to kill me. He failed and you put him in traction. I am fine. I survived; I’ve let you coddle me and smother me; yes, I said smother me, to within an inch of my life for a solid month. You bought me a practice and have been following me around like a stalker for weeks, Nicholas Albus Storm! It’s time for you to pony up, do me like you know me, and get your ornery ass back to work. Lex and Jericho have been covering your ass for weeks now, and they’re as sick of it as I am of you hanging around here, bored out of your gourd. Go to work.”

  He grits his teeth at me and pulls onto the bumpy road that leads to our home, his jaw tense as he opens the gate and floors it for the garage.

  I don’t get a word out of him as he slams out of the truck and stomps into the house, ignoring my calls. Damn mule-headed male. I swear I could just kick his ass. I have spent years living a farce and, if Storm thinks I will let him give up his life just to hang around protecting me, he has another thing coming.

  I guess I’m gonna have to get just as stubborn and creative if I’m to get him to accept that he won’t lose me. Am I still smarting a little about the Rachel thing and the fact that, no matter how I hint, the man still hasn’t cracked the vault on that part of his life?

  Yes. That’s partly why I am so desperate for the sex connection because, yeah, no matter how many times he tells me he loves me, or how close we get, I still feel as if I could wipe my eyes and lose him.

  That scares me a lot because, now that I am all-in with Storm, it’s that much more of a risk on my heart. He could wake up tomorrow and look at me and think, “What the hell am I doing? She’s not even my type.”

  It may sound unfair to him, but I swear I am not being unkind to him. I just never got what he sees in me, ya know. I am a bear in the morning without coffee. I can’t sleep in for shit and still wake up at sunrise. I drool; I have bodily functions that make me cringe and turn beet red; and I’m moody sometimes.

  I’m not even all that hot, if I take in all the separate parts of me. I say it all the time, and I refuse to accept that I am not awesome, but that is just me being hard-headed and stubborn with myself.

  The truth is that I don’t understand what he loves so much, and I can’t understand how I love him this much considering I hardly know him. Storm is super-private and has this knack for deflecting the conversation whenever I inch into things he doesn’t want to talk about.

  It usually ends with an hour long make-out session or him licking me till I pass out in defense. That’s all we have thus far, and that is scary, so scary, because I know it can’t go on. Darn it. Why is he doing this and making me make hard decisions again?

  Why do I always have to be the bad guy?

  Huffing, I slap the dash, take out my phone, and dial a number.

  “Honey, tell me that fool hasn’t lost you this soon.” His mama sighs on answering, making me giggle.

  “He’s being an ass, Prim. He’s still not touching me, erm, past…”

  “I gotcha. No sex?”

  “Nada. Nothing. I swear, a freaking tumbleweed rolled across the bed yesterday! I can’t deal with this anymore. He buys me all this stuff I don’t need, cooks, cleans, and tube feeds me, just like Mama. He keeps flinchi
ng as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it is killing me. He needs to relax and go back to work, but he won’t leave me long enough to even consider it.”

  “The boy is a stubborn cuss, just like his daddy. I’ve been married to the fool for over thirty years and he still thinks I don’t know about him replanting the flowers I kill. I swear, they’re worse than womenfolk.”

  She’s telling me!

  “This is not working, Prim, and I hesitate to say it, but I can’t see me and Storm going any further with this relationship when it’s just him looking after me and not doing what he needs to in order to be happy.”

  She sighs and I feel my heart sink, knowing that what I have in mind is so totally the right move, but one that I do not want to make. Storm has trust issues where woman are concerned. I know this and, okay, I get that my refusing to get engaged and married is part of the reason he’s grabbed on so tight and is refusing to budge.

  I could tell him tomorrow that I want to get hitched. Heck, I could drag him down to the courthouse right now and sign on the dotted line and he might, just might loosen the reins a little.

  I don’t want that though. I want him to know that he is it for me, all the way, forever. I want him to be secure in my love without me having to prove what I feel.

  I want him to trust me the way I trust him, and not see his past every time I make one comment.

  “You’re going to have to call Jericho and that Lex fella and get the ball rolling, honey, or I swear I will come down there and slap his head till it rattles something loose.”

  “Darn. I was hoping I could avoid this route, Prim, I really was, since the man has been so sweet.”

  A hard rapping on my window makes me squeal and jump and I look over to see Storm glaring at me through the window.

  “Gawd. I got to go; he’s about to bust me. Call Jericho and tell him to call me at seven, would you? I’ll say it’s Jill, but he will definitely be all up my ass if I call someone at that time of night.”

  She laughs, cackles, and splutters a little.

  “Honey, as far as I can tell, you’re praying that boy will get all up in your ass.”

  “Prim.”

  “Toodaloo.”

  “Who are you talking to?” he asks as soon as I get out and strut towards the door, my spine stiff with resolve.

  “Your mama.”

  “Coleman.”

  “It was your mama, Storm. I’m not lipping you; it really was her,” I say, dropping my purse and shoes in the entrance before hotfooting it for the kitchen.

  I do not have time to be talking to him and answering twenty questions if I’m to finally get a chance at cooking supper and getting my butt into the bathroom by the time Jericho calls.

  “What did she want?”

  The man is paranoid as hell and seems to think monitoring my every move and conversation is acceptable. It’s sweet in a strange, totally unacceptable way, but it is starting to drive me nuts.

  Chaser runs up and comes in for some love as I open the fridge and start piling out ingredients for a quick buttery pasta dish that adds pounds, but makes me feel loved.

  “Nothing. She just wanted to shoot the breeze and catch up.”

  “She called you last night. What the heck do you females find to prattle about?” he mutters, falling into the nook when he tries to take over and gets a growl from me.

  “Our periods, mostly. I was just lamenting the fact that I’m going to start gushing blood any day now and miss yet another opportunity at sex for a whole week, and she was commiserating.”

  His face is priceless and I stifle a giggle when he flushes and swallows. Oh yeah. He well remembers my last red terror and the mood swings. Good. I hope his balls shrink up in fear if he’s not going to use them to get me pregnant any time soon.

  Yeah. I may not want to cave on the whole marriage thing just yet, but my clock started ticking about two seconds after we got home, and I have to admit that I am not doing well thus far.

  If he doesn’t wise up soon, I’m bound to attack the man and do something illegal and immoral that I cannot come back from.

  “Sugar, that is just…it’s nasty weird. My mama is too old for that nonsense,” he shudders, making me titter behind my hand.

  “A woman never forgets, Storm. Trust me. It’s not all that easy to just amnesia away over thirty years of that hell. So, has Jericho called again?”

  His face shuts down immediately, and I almost regret asking until my temper flares. The man is such a stubborn—

  “Don’t do that again, Storm. Please. Just talk to me.”

  “So you can nag at me again. Shit. I thought you were supposed to want me around, not try to shove me out of the door this soon into our ‘relationship,’”

  Huh. Do not beat him with the meat tenderizer, I repeat to myself, watching him huff and puff and avoid my eyes.

  “I do, but it is driving us both stark-raving mad being this close without sex. And you’re so darn jumpy, I keep expecting to find your skin laying in a pile at your feet.”

  His own eyes narrow, and I see his teeth clench before he rises and prowls my way, all predatory and smooth, like the beast he is inside.

  “You saying what we do isn’t enough, sugar lips?” he drawls, pulling me close and reaching for the stove to turn it off.

  Poor Chaser must sense the mood in the room because he whimpers and slinks out, leaving us alone as Storm grinds into me and leans down so close our lips brush.

  I want to say “no” to avoid whatever he’s planning, but the imp in me narrows her eyes and bares her teeth.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  His grin just before he throws me over his shoulder is all wicked and temptation itself, and I swallow a mewl of delight when he slaps my butt and starts clomping up the stairs.

  I don’t get sweet kisses or love words as he clears the bedroom door, just a growl as he tosses me into the air, jumping after me as I land on the bed.

  My clothes are ripped clean off, and then I am at his mercy as he uses my torn shirt to tie me to the headboard before rising to start a slow strip that makes me bite my lips with need.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nick

  She’s been driving me crazy the last four weeks with her scent and the way she just seems to move in that seductive glide that makes me harder than heck.

  I’ve spent countless hours reciting drills and missions that are long gone and in the past, to stop myself from falling on her like a starving beast and claiming her to hell and back.

  I wanted to ravish her ten seconds after leaving the hospital and, God knows it hurts not taking her the way my body is hankering to do, but I haven’t. No. I’ve pulled back and endeavored to give her time and space to accept what we have between us.

  She loves me. I know that, trust me, it is not something I can miss with the way she sighs my name in her sleep and reaches for me. But she’s also holding back, and that drives me crazy.

  So I dug in and refused to give her this part of me, of us, while still holding on so tight I’m sometimes scared I may snap and break the fragile love that exists for us.

  Every time I touch her, put my mouth on her, or love her in any way, I run the risk of losing control and taking her. But I’ve endured and prayed like hell that she will finally submit to this one last thing I need.

  It’s not fair to her that I need my ring on her finger to feel secure, but it just is what it is. I’ve been down this road before, felt love and trust and hope, and had it yanked away right out from under me.

  No matter how many times I tell myself not to paint Lenny with Rachel’s brush, it all comes down to me being terrified to give in and lose in the end.

  But now she’s yelling at me that what I give her isn’t enough? Oh, hell, no. That will not be tolerated. She wants sex? I’ll show her sex and see if she can even walk straight into that damned office of hers tomorrow morning.

  I take my time undressing, just taking in all her softness and
smooth skin as she strains against the bonds I’ve placed her in and meets my gaze, her eyes challenging me.

  My smile is all heat, as I drop my shorts and take my dick in hand, stroking ever so slowly as she licks her lips. She loves licking me, and I can see the pleading in her eyes even as I stroke and tease her to the point that her thighs start glistening and she’s grinding her hips.

  “You want all of me, sugar?”

  “Yes.” Just that one word makes me feel all powerful, but I throttle back and tease some more, loving her whimpers and the way she bites into her lip.

  After long minutes of torture, both to her and myself, I kneel at the bottom of the bed and grip her ankles, opening her to my eyes. Oh, sweet hell, the need is almost rabid as I see how ready she is for me with nothing more than a smile from my lips.

  “I’ve tried to give you time, woman. But I see all I’ve done is made your stubborn ass dig in deeper. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  I don’t stroke or kiss her skin the way I always do, the way I need to every time I get my hands on her. Instead I just crawl up her body, line us up and push in, yelling out as her sweet heat swallows me whole.

  Feels so good, so damn good, it’s all I can do to stop from hammering into her with every pent-up moment of need in me.

  I tease her with short jabs that have her keening, my eyes never leaving hers as I fill her up and take what I know is mine, even if she keeps denying me.

  “This what you want?” I groan, setting a slow rhythm that makes me ache to come.

  “Yes. Please, Storm. More.”

  She’s writhing and digging her heels into my ass as I keep up the soft, slow pace, never varying, dangling her orgasm just out of reach as she struggles and fights against me.

  Her sex is molten and so tight it hurts to move, and yet I keep it up, loving her cries and pleas, the wet sound of us blending, her smooth sex taking me in.

  When I do finally relent a long time later, she’s screaming and cursing at me, biting her mark into my neck as she reaches that point and shatters beneath me.

  I follow right on her heels and pour everything I have into her, praying against all odds that it works this time because, I swear to God, if I don’t get just a piece of her I will lose my ever-loving mind.