“You cannot. That was like forty years ago.”
“Not quite forty. And I sure can. He was in jeans, a button-up flannel, and he had boots on. It was a Friday night and earlier that night he’d made the winning touchdown.”
“Thought Dad played quarterback?”
“He did. But there was three yards to go, no open receivers, so he went for it.” I was looking right at my mom so I didn’t miss it when her gaze turned soft and wistful. She really did remember the exact moment she fell in love with my dad. “So to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re in love. And I have to tell you, I like him.”
“There’s a lot to like about Drake.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But I specifically like the way he is with you. He’s good with you.”
“Gee, Mom, good with me, like I’m an animal?”
My mom rolled her eyes at me, something she did frequently when I was being a drama queen.
“Yes, good with you. He’s protective but in a way that works for you. He knew you needed to be involved in the investigation into Roman and didn’t hesitate to bring you in—without discussing it with anyone. Likely because he didn’t care what anyone else had to say about it and not in a nasty, disrespectful way. But he was prepared to give you what you needed and that’s what he did—gave you a voice.”
“I did need it and I didn’t know I did until we got here.”
“Sign of a good man, Liberty, knowing what you need before you have to ask. It means he’s paying attention. I like that about him, too. He’s sharp.”
“I’m going to ask him to move in with me,” I announced and held my breath.
“Why are you turnin’ red, girl? You’re twenty-seven, not twelve.”
“Do you think Dad will be upset?”
“Honey,” my mom started and smiled. “Your dad is far from stupid. He drove to Virginia and knew within five minutes of meeting Drake that not only had I been right, you were in love with him, but that Drake was also in love with you. Five minutes after that, your dad came to the realization he was standing in front of the man he’d walk his daughter to. Trust this—Drake wouldn’t be here in Georgia if your dad wasn’t very sure he was the man he wanted for his only child.”
“Thanks, Mama. You’re the best.”
“I know I am, toots.”
And with that, I burst out laughing.
That was my mom—humble.
39
It was official—Liberty McCoy would be the death of me, or at least the cause of permanent damage to my dick.
Last night after we’d said goodbye to Trey, we went to dinner then came back to my hotel, whereupon Liberty initiated a sneak attack, and before I could stop her, she’d jumped me. Really and truly jumped into my arms, wrapped her legs around me, arms around my neck, mouth on mine. I stumbled back as her body hit mine, and she used it to her advantage, throwing herself forward until my legs hit the bed and my ass landed on the mattress.
All of this happened within seconds. And as it was par for the course, when Liberty’s mouth and hands were on me, I lost my mind. She’d taken me to the brink and it was by the last thread of my control that I got creative and shut down her quest to get me undressed. To accomplish this I used my mouth and fingers.
This time, I got her naked before I got my mouth between her legs and it took a good amount of tasting, sucking, and biting. And as I lay there in bed, with Liberty’s still-naked form pressed against me, my hand cupping her ass, I still thought as I did the night before that her body was perfection. It was also an astounding feat I was able to turn down her many offers to have her—all of her. My dick was seriously angry when I’d repeatedly refused.
There was a niggling in the back of my mind that told me to wait. I’d never been a romantic type of guy, never made nor needed declarations or promises before I fucked a woman. But this was Liberty. My Liberty. She was not a quick and dirty fuck. I wanted more and I wanted her to understand my intentions in a way she’d never doubt. Before I took her again, I needed her to know where I was at, and she wasn’t ready to hear what I had to say about our future.
So there I was, in bed with a naked Liberty and her hand was on the move.
“Mornin’, babe,” I said and grabbed her wrist.
“You know, I’m starting to feel like a total hussy beggin’ for sex.”
Hussy, that’s funny.
“Then stop asking.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Because I won’t give you my—”
“Gah. Why are men so crass?”
I rolled her to her back and in my haste to tease her, I didn’t think. Her bare breasts were on display, her dark hair fanned out over the stark white sheets, the sexy column of her neck, her shoulders, all of that so enticing my cock swelled more and we needed to move. I twisted us back, then another roll, until I was off the bed and bringing her with me.
“Whoa. What was that?” she asked breathless.
“Time for a shower.”
A slow, sexy smile curved her lips up.
Fucking shit.
She was going to be the death of me.
I grabbed her hand, pulled her into the bathroom, turned on the tap. But before I could turn, her hand was on my back. No, not her hand, her finger tracing my tat. Goddamn, that felt good. So good, I stayed still while she took her fill. I knew she was done when she pressed her lips to my skin. I waited some more, letting the scorch of her kiss warm my skin.
I shucked my shorts and pulled us into the shower. This, too, was torture—memories of us in Golan Heights assailed my mind. Both painful and sublime. But right then wasn’t about sex or memories, it was about taking care of my girl and getting us out the door before what was left of my restraint snapped, my cock took over, and we spent the rest of the day with me buried deep and her mindless.
I tagged the body wash off the shelf, dumped a healthy glob into my palm, and braced as my hands went to her back. I concentrated on the bubbles rather than her soft, smooth skin as I lathered. Shoulders, down her spine, to her lats, and I dug my fingers in, massaging the muscles there, drawing out a low moan. Liberty dropped her head forward, jutted her ass back, and my eyes automatically lowered.
Fucking shit.
So close.
My cock pulsed and jerked, begging to close the inches that separated us.
I knelt and continued to soap her calves and thighs, bypassing all the parts I wanted to touch and taste.
I stood, fortified my resolve, and turned Liberty, reversing our position so her back was to the spray, grabbed the wash, dumped more into my palm, and repeated the process to her front. This time, I couldn’t ignore all the good parts. My hands glided over her breasts, her nipples hardened, and without thought, I closed my thumbs and forefingers over them and pinched. Gently at first, until she gifted me with one of her sexy mews.
Torture.
My hands moved to her taut stomach, down to her hips, thighs, then I was so close to breaking, I pulled my hands off her. Staring down at Liberty, her eyes closed, face relaxed, so fucking beautiful my breath caught. I wanted this—every fucking day for the rest of my life I wanted to take care of her. Small ways. Big ways. Every way.
“You’re good at that,” she mumbled but didn’t open her eyes.
“Glad you think so.”
I reached for the shampoo and seconds later, I was massaging her scalp as she purred. An honest to God purr. Hell, yeah, I wanted this.
I tipped her head back to rinse the soap from her hair and she froze.
Every muscle tight.
Chest not moving.
Stock-still.
“Breathe, baby.”
Liberty came unstuck and when she did, her fist came up and connected before I could stop it. Pain exploded in my jaw, the blow so powerful my teeth ached.
“No!” she shouted. “Don’t touch me.”
“Liberty,” I clipped. “Baby, stop.”
She didn
’t stop, her arms flailed, her eyes snapped open wild and raw.
“No, no, no. Don’t touch me.”
Christ.
Liberty thrashed. I slapped the water off, taking another hit, this time to my gut, and in an effort to stop her before she slipped and fell, I wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Stop, baby. You’re safe. Come back to me.”
Jesus, the woman was strong. Liberty squirmed, pitched, struggled, kicked her feet.
“Liberty!” My arms tightened as I jerked her roughly, trying to break through her terror. “Baby, come back.”
She didn’t stop. With no other choice, I pushed the shower door open. Liberty took advantage of her new freedom and clocked me in the temple with her elbow. My head rattled, my chin was taking a beating, and my jaw throbbed.
Of course my woman didn’t slap and smack. No, not Liberty. She fought.
I got a slippery and struggling Liberty out of the bathroom. We shuffled to the bed, I dropped her on the crumpled sheets and stepped back. Now that she wasn’t going to slip and fall in the shower, she needed space.
“I won’t do it,” she growled.
“Do what, baby?”
“I won’t tell you. I’ll die first.”
Her words shredded me.
Sliced through me and pierced my heart.
Christ.
“Kill me,” she taunted. “Do it. Just kill me.”
Kill me.
Fucking Christ. What was left of my shredded insides splintered.
“Liberty. Come back. Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re in Georgia. You’re home and you’re safe.”
“Just kill me,” she cried.
The sound guttural, so painful it snuffed out the oxygen in the room, leaving nothing.
Raw.
Ravaged.
Wrecked.
Fuck this. I went to the bed knowing she was going to strike out, and when she did, I was ready for it. My hands moved to her face and I held her where I wanted and slammed my mouth onto hers. As I’d predicted, Liberty went wild—not her normal, sexy wild when I put my mouth on her.
Savage.
She clawed at my chest, raking her sharp nails over my skin until I was sure she’d drawn blood.
I pulled my lips off hers and begged, “Please come back to me.”
I didn’t let go of her face, keeping our faces close as I tried to break her free.
“Liberty, baby, come on. Please. Settle and look at me. Swear, you’re safe to come back. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Her hands clawing at me slowed to a less frantic pace, but her nails were still dug into my flesh. I bit back a bark of pain as they gouged deeper.
Then I waited. I waited for what seemed like forever for her to blink. Some of the devastation started to clear but none of the grief.
“That’s it. Look at me.”
Her hands fell away but I didn’t loosen my grip on her cheeks.
“There you are,” I whispered.
Liberty’s eyes flared. A whimper slipped past her lips and I felt that sound—down to my bones, I felt the bitter despair.
“You’re…you’re bleeding,” she cried.
“Just keep looking at me and breathe.”
I knew I was bleeding, the evidence of that was on her own lips where I’d transferred it when I’d kissed her.
“I did that,” she sobbed. “I hurt you.”
I dropped my hands, slid them under her armpits, and moved her farther onto the bed. I climbed in behind her and yanked the covers over us.
“Relax,” I told her when her body went solid as I pressed my front to her back as tightly as I could, leaving not a centimeter of space between us.
“I…I did that.”
“Liberty, please do me a favor. Take a minute and relax.”
She took the time but didn’t relax. We lay in silence for a good, long time, with her stiff as a board. Long enough that my phone rang and hers did, too. I heard several text messages beep but I didn’t dare move away from her.
I couldn’t.
“You should check our phones,” she told me. “One of those calls is probably my dad.”
Shit, she’s right. I rolled just enough to reach over and grab my cell from the nightstand.
Three calls. Levi. Trey. Levi.
Two texts. Both Levi.
Levi’s first message was checking in to see if everything was all right. That text was sent after I was officially thirty minutes late to work. The second message said I had ten minutes to check in before he started a search party. That was eight minutes ago.
I sent a short reply telling Levi we were fine, but Liberty had a rough morning, and that I would explain everything later. Before I could toss the phone back, Levi replied, demanding I call in within the hour.
Whatever.
I’d call him when I knew Liberty was safe.
“We need to talk,” Liberty announced.
Her brittle tone told me I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. Even still, I offered, “I’ll listen to anything you want to say.”
“That’s not talking,” she pointed out.
“No, you’re right. Because right now, I’m going to listen as you talk through what just happened.”
“We can’t do this,” she declared. And since I was ready for it therefore I’d braced, and the hit, that would’ve been painful wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been but it still killed. When I said nothing, she continued. “I’m serious. I hurt you, Drake. I don’t remember what happened but you’re bleeding and I know I did that. You can’t be around me. You’re not safe.”
I smiled, happy she couldn’t see my grin. Likely it would piss her off, but it was cute she thought I wasn’t safe. I remained quiet.
“You should leave.”
I tightened my arms around her and teased, “Baby, this is my hotel room.”
“Oh, right. I should go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Were you not listening?” she snapped.
“I was. So now that you got that out of the way, talk to me about what triggered it.” She went back to her solid state and I ignored it and pushed. “What was it that took you from me?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
“Liberty, that’s the only thing that matters. We need to talk about it so first we know what to stay away from or ease into and you need to get it out now before it festers. The wound is open, baby, now’s the best time.”
Stubbornly, Liberty went silent, and since there was nothing I could do but wait her out, that’s what I did. I lay behind my woman and allowed my hand to glide over her hip, up her side, and back down. Over and over until I finally heard her sigh.
“I’m sorry,” she softly murmured.
“Nothing to apologize for.”
“Drake, you’re bleeding. I hit you. I have a lot to apologize for.”
“Fine, you can apologize by telling me what set you off.”
“The water. I think when I tipped my head back and it splashed in my face it triggered a memory.”
“You mean when I tipped your head back,” I corrected. “In the future, I won’t rinse your hair.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“You can tell me anything.”
I felt Liberty’s lungs expand and heard the audible whoosh as she released her breath.
“I don’t want you to leave me.”
“Baby—”
“Please don’t leave me. No matter what I say, don’t do it. That’s part of it, the PTSD.” The left side of my chest tightened. That was the first time she’d admitted to me she had post traumatic stress disorder. “My therapist warned me, I’ll disconnect and fight to cut myself off. She explained that I need to recognize and say it out loud. That I need to amputate those thoughts and to do that, I have to give myself the power and voice them. So, please, don’t leave me. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m asking. I don’t want to lose you and I’m trying real hard to get back
to myself.”
She slayed me.
Humbled me.
Brought me to my knees.
Amazing. Christ, so fucking amazing and strong.
“Swear to you—on my life I will not leave you. I promise I’m gonna walk this path with you.”
“Thank you.”
“Baby, you don’t gotta thank me for loving you.”
Finally, my woman relaxed.
And it was another hour before she fell asleep and I texted her dad—Liberty was good but we were taking the day off.
Levi’s response was simple: Take care of your girl.
But it said everything. He was acknowledging she was mine. And for a man like Levi McCoy, I suspected that was hard.
Though the man wasn’t stupid, he’d already known.
If you’re the man I’m walking my daughter to, then I got nothing but joy and appreciation.
I closed my eyes, held my woman close, and drifted.
40
“Come on, say it again.” I laughed and holstered my Glock.
Then I looked from Drake to Carter, then to Brady.
Drake looked amused. Carter looked peeved—and he would because he just lost. And Brady looked his normal bored. Then my eyes went back to my man and I saw the bruise on his jaw and carefully concealed my wince.
None of the guys had said a word about it so I knew Drake had explained what happened, and while he was at it, probably told them not to say anything about it. So no one did. My mom and dad had both asked if I was okay and when I answered that I was, both had taken my word and dropped it. Mom, faster than Dad. He’d given me a long, assessing look before he gave me a jerk of his chin and a smile.
He trusted that if I wasn’t okay I’d say something, and if I didn’t, Drake damn sure would.
“You win,” Carter grounded out.
“Yep. I did,” I jeered, earning me another scowl.
“You’re the worst winner out of all of us,” Carter complained.
“Well, let’s see. I just outshot two former SEALs and a former…” I stopped because I didn’t know what branch of service Brady came from. I assumed he was former SFOD-D like my dad and the uncles but I wasn’t sure. “Former whatever Brady is. So I think I get to brag.”
Taking Liberty: The Next Generation Page 30