THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 10

  Lenny just snarls and starts tossing my food back onto the shelves before shoving me out of the way and stalking off on a mission, her curses loud enough to be heard an aisle away.

  “You know what, Storm? That’s fine, because fair is only fair! Mama and Pete are having this charity auction thing in a week that I simply cannot miss if I want to live to see thirty-one, and you can just suck your shit up and meet them, too. So there, Mr. Smarty Pants.”

  I keep my smile to myself and do a tiny fist pump that she glares at, not telling her that meeting her parents is the only thing I have yet to do before I consider this a done deal.

  Of course, the sex is non-negotiable, that goes without saying, as does the fact that I refuse to use protection one day in my life with my woman.

  Now, you’re possibly thinking I’ve gone and lost my last marble, and that’s just fine. I don’t care. What I realized last night as I tossed and turned, all but beating my own ass up, is that I do love Lenny.

  Granted, it’s new and fast and slightly scary, but I’ve never been one to drag my feet when I see something I want. And what I want is more. With her. She’s everything I never knew I could want in a woman.

  She’s odd, she’s opinionated, definitely not altogether sane, and yet she’s the smartest, funniest, sexiest woman I have ever met. Nuclear smells aside.

  With her, I can be me and have no fear of being kicked to the curb when I don’t measure up. Her temper scares me some, since she knows just how to cut a man for maximum effect, but hell, I know how to kill a human being using nothing but the tip of my thumb.

  That makes us pretty damn well-matched in my book. Plus, well, Lex called Mama—that nutless fucker—and I know the minute she meets Lenny, I’ll be all but married anyway.

  The minute I realized I didn’t have one objection, it was on.

  Another thing. The need to kill a man I’ve been friends with for over ten years for nothing more than seeing Lenny’s pu—snatch. It was an accident I will forgive—with hesitance, grant you—being as it is, I’m pretty certain I’ve found my woman and, now that I’ve had a small part of her, I want it all.

  The logistics are still sketchy. I concede that point, and I’m praying that she agrees to move here and I won’t have to sell the house, which I will do, if push comes to shove.

  See. That’s how I know. Just to have her, I’m willing to sell a house that I built with my own two hands and move to the city where I feel shut in.

  “Stop daydreaming, Storm, and get over here. Do you like the fat-free kind or the yummy kind?” she asks, shoving mayonnaise at me with a scowl.

  My chuckle is loud when I point to the yummy kind she’s stroking and she grins as if I just gave her a prize.

  “Good choice.”

  I don’t point out that, as a doctor, she is kind of indebted, in a way, to choosing the healthier choice because, who am I kidding? Lenny is the antithesis of a doctor when it comes to food or her delectable little body. Thank you, Jesus; I do not like skinny women.

  It takes another hour for us to be done with her inspecting everything like it’s a bomb and making her selections based on “fat to ick” ratio.

  Her words.

  “I could eat a horse, Storm,” she mutters sleepily as she snuggles into my arm on the drive home.

  I could eat you, I think, as she drops off like a rock and starts drooling immediately, making me grin.

  Ah, Lenny, sugar. You are so mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lenny

  He keeps giving me looks as I flit around the kitchen, cooking up turkey bacon and chicken for the lunch sandwiches I’m making. Now, usually I would go all pig and screw the health issue, but I noticed a smattering of cellulite on my thigh while he washed me in the shower after, well, after…

  “You do not have cellulite, woman!”

  “Hush and let me cook, Storm.”

  “Only if we eat quick and can start fucking soon. I’m dying here,” he snarls, making my lips twitch.

  God, the man is a barbarian, plain and simple, and I adore it. Whoever thought I could have my love flower called a…a well…you know…and get all hot and bothered by the dirty words?

  I know, right. I’m stunned, too.

  It’s also driving me crazy, the way he keeps licking his lips, his eyes heavy as he whispers the dirtiest things to me. Me thinks Nicholas Storm might be one of those throwbacks Mama and Pete talk about when discussing the dismal pool of “men” we upstanding girls have to choose from.

  Hell, whatever it is, I just know I like it, and I really like the way he keeps squeezing my ass all possessively when I pass by him. The man could basically knock me over the head with a club, grunt, and drag me to his bed, and I’d be down with it, as long as he uses that tongue on me again. And again. And, sweet Jesus, once more, just to prove that I’m not dreaming up that miraculous event.

  I haven’t mentioned much about my relationship with Terry because, in all honesty, now that I have perspective, I have to admit it wasn’t a relationship so much as me working my ass off while that mook drained me dry and left me hanging.

  The sex? Not even mediocre. If I came once out of every ten times he deigned to touch me, it was a miracle, and Lord have mercy, the man did not understand the meaning of oral sex.

  That much is blatantly clear after what Storm did to me this morning.

  Whewie! I’m still pulsing a little hours later and my junk has not stopped cooing at me since. What else do I feel besides lust and an animalistic urge to ravish the hunk?

  I’m not sure. All I know for certain is that I will stalk his ass like a pro if he so much as thinks about dropping me like a used-up rag. That must mean something, right? Like…maybe—?

  Don’t you say it! You know what happens when you—

  “Love?” I say aloud, sliding the plates down, as I get lost in a dream world filled with pink onesies and baby powder.

  Maw.

  Dang it Lenny!

  “Sugar?”

  “Huh?”

  “What were you saying?” Storm asks, eyeing me askance.

  “What? I wasn’t saying a thing, Storm. Honestly, I was just thinking. You sure you’re okay? Whatever. Now, tell me all about your mama. And please, Jesus, do not shrug and say “Er, she’s my mama” because I will slap you silly,” I warn, taking a huge bite of my sandwich.

  Hell. I should have stuck to pork.

  Next time, hun. There’s always a next time.

  “Well, she’s old?”

  My lips twitch, and I stifle a giggle as he flounders around for something meaningful. Darn man is too adorable.

  “Do not ever say that to her, or not even my affection for you will bring me to administer medical assistance, Storm. That’s just wrong to say to any woman, no matter if she looks like a raisin or a supermodel.”

  “Fine. Hell. I don’t know. She’s old, but she looks good for her age? She likes shopping and baking, and she kicks my dad in the balls every now and then. Says it keeps him in line or something. Don’t do that to me, sugar, use words, yeah? Anyway, um, she likes flowers even though they keep dying. Daddy just replaces them before she notices and, well, she thinks she’s got the green thumb or something. Every year on my birthday she bakes a cake and lights candles, even when I’m not there to blow them out. She likes anything that doesn’t say low fat or fat free; I guess you’re like her in that, huh. What else? Uh, she’s against contraceptives unless, like she always says, two idiots got to knocking boots and made them a turnip.”

  He shrugs as if that’s the sum total of his mom, and I roll my eyes and thank the Lord that, between the two of us, our imaginary babies should be just fine intelligence-wise. I pray.

  No matter, I’ll love them anyway and just blame him for any weirdness, like a true Southern lady always does. Hmm, here’s to hoping she doesn’t take one look at me and see vegetables, huh.

  “You’re no help.”

  “Sugar, I just told you ten minutes ago t
hat my dick is hard as a forge, woman! I can’t think straight with you moaning with every bite you take and licking your lips for hell’s sake!”

  The sandwich goes flying, and I lunge at him when he looks ready to crack.

  Screw propriety and whatever the heck else society keeps saying about whores and whatnot. I’ll be anything this man likes, as long as I can get some more of his brand of loving.

  ***

  Nick

  All I can think about as she kisses me and starts mewling softly is the feel of her hot mouth and the raging need pounding through my blood. I’ve spent hours keeping my hands to myself, trying to prove that I want more from her than just sex, and I’m at my tipping point right now as she claws at my hair and tries to suck my tongue out of my mouth.

  She tastes better than anything I’ve ever sampled, except for her sex, and I feel myself going a little crazy as I stand up from the table and drag her up and into my chest, pressing her breasts into me, wanting to be as close to her as I can get.

  “Be’room,” she mumbles, licking me again and biting into my bottom lip.

  I hardly know how we make it up the stairs without killing ourselves and I don’t give a shit as I fling her to the bed and start tearing at my clothes, snarling orders at her to strip.

  “Off. Now.”

  I’m all instinct and pounding lust as I shove my briefs down and swallow tightly, urging her to hurry with every breath in my body. I’m ready to shame myself at this point, my dick so hard it hurts just to grab it and squeeze to stave off the orgasm I feel coming at me.

  I want inside Lenny and, dammit, I want this to last past a second before I blow my load in her.

  “Good Lord, that looks painful,” she moans, tossing her shirt away and coming to her knees, her face so close to my erection that I groan at the need to push closer.

  She takes that dilemma out of my hands though, when she pushes my hands away and closes her hand around me, her moan fueling my desire.

  “Sugar, don’t. I—”

  “You need to come before we go any further, Storm. Just relax and let the doctor administer treatment,” she purrs, before licking out and making my knees quake.

  She licks at me as if savoring a favorite ice cream cone, swirling and swiping her tongue up and down till I’m coated in her spit and hot pleasure.

  “Shit, fuck. Suck me, sugar. Hell, that’s it, baby. Harder.”

  Her mouth wrapped around me is so good I feel my semen rise up in the shaft in a hot, quick surge of pure desperation. She sucks, licks, and takes me so deep I have to grit my teeth to keep control before I embarrass myself any further.

  I can’t control it though; for the first time since I learned to leash my sexual need, I lose my grip.

  “Pull off. Coming,” I grunt through my teeth, but the little minx shakes her head and digs her nails into my hips to keep me still.

  I feel it start at my toes and anticipate the rise up my legs, my clenched ass, my spine. I don’t get that, though. One minute I feel it and the next it just hits me, exploding so hard and fast my muscles bunch painfully.

  Lenny is with me all the way though, and I manage to open my eyes to slits as I watch her take everything I give her.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Unnnn, ah. Enough,” I moan when I become too sensitive to enjoy her mouth a second longer.

  She falls back with a wicked smile and giggles when I crash next to her, my body still twitching as I unlock my muscles and sigh.

  “Hell, woman.”

  “Uummm. Good?”

  “The best. Give me a minute and I’ll be on you like a beast,” I mutter.

  “Hush, beast. Relax. We have time.”

  I pass out after pulling her closer and having the fleeting thought that I may just have met my match.

  When I wake what feels like hours later, we’re both stretched out, my little death sleeper still in the same position beside me, dead to the world. My smile is wicked, a little evil, I think, as I roll to my feet and just stand, staring at her beauty.

  What woke me in the first place grabs my attention, and I run to grab my phone as Jericho’s ringtone chirps quietly.

  “What is it?”

  “Nice hello, numbnuts,” he drawls sardonically.

  “Jericho, you just woke me from a very good dream and dragged my ass out of bed where my girl is still warm and snuggly. What the hell do you want?”

  “That car? It was registered to some asshole living on the seedy side of town.”

  “Okay. We expected that.”

  “What we didn’t expect, and what I find really interesting, is that we would find said car, abandoned, covered in a lot of blood, with a military issue sniper round embedded in the front passenger seat. There’s a reason those shots didn’t hit their target, Storm, and I’m guessing it has something to do with whoever the fuck shot at that car.”

  My mind is racing with the implications of this information, but no matter how I look at this, I can’t get a read or even a clue on what to think right now.

  The mere fact that it’s a military issue round could mean everything, and yet nothing in this world of traitorous assholes who’d sell their mama for extra cash, never mind what the US government is handing out to us like candy nowadays.

  That round though, if it’s what I think Jericho is talking about, can only be fired from a rifle that is very hard to get your hands on. Not something I see anyone using for a fast shoot-to-kill mission on a civilian doctor like Lenny.

  “So let’s assume this fuck isn’t an issue.”

  “I do because, from what Blaze and I remember from the park and the way shit went down, whoever shot this bastard at that car used one clean shot meant to take out the driver, or at least disable him enough to swing wide. That slight jerk saved not only Lenny’s life, but yours as well, Storm.”

  “You sure.”

  “Dead freaking positive, bro.”

  “Christ. What the ever-loving fuck is going on here, man? Lenny isn’t that high profile, and these assholes after her and the Kerns woman aren’t exactly—”

  “You and I both know it’s that chief of staff Kerns was screwing who set this in motion. I’m betting he left shit for a while after they reported that she was in a coma. Lenny just happened to be unlucky enough to stumble into that hospital room when someone was sent to eliminate Kerns once and for all, while no one should have been looking. I think Lenny is right, and she can identify the man she saw. I think she knows him, and that means they won’t stop till they take her out with Kerns. I also think that whoever took that shot is a friendly and—for some reason—is watching out for Lenny.”

  “Dammit. This is making me antsy as hell, Jericho. I don’t like not having all the variables to work with,” I mutter, pinching at the bridge of my nose.

  “You and me both, boss man. You and me both. Look on the bright side. Your girl is still in one piece, you get some alone time with her and—from what Lex is saying—you’re already marking your territory, you fucking Neanderthal. Be glad you have her to seduce, and let’s just hope and pray she remembers.”

  Yeah, I think impatiently, she needs to freaking remember.

  “It’s only been four days since she got hurt. It could take a lot longer and that’s without considering she blocked it out for a reason.”

  “I get that and I feel for her, I do, but Lenny needs to stop pretending things are fine because big scary Storm is there to body block a bullet from getting to her. She needs to start trying to remember, Storm; you know that. Fuck her and get your claim staked, and then stop being a pussy and do your job. No, she’s not just a job, I get that. So you can stop snarling at me, you ornery ass. But she can’t be anything more to you either if she winds up dead. You feeling me?”

  I fucking hate it that Jericho is right, and I hate more that I have to admit that I’ve been so focused on my own agenda that I totally spaced on what I should be doing.

  We’re as safe as can be, tucked away here in
my getaway where the world can’t touch us unless they go through high-voltage electric fencing, booby traps that will sever limbs, and an alarm system that will tell me what fucking cologne they’re wearing before they get within miles of the house.

  I can’t keep her hidden forever though, not if I have to go back out there and do my job, and not if I want to seal the deal with Lenny and somehow get her to be the doctor in this little town.

  “I’ll talk to her again.”

  “No. You’ll be too soft on her, and we both know it, man. It’s time to bring in LT, Storm, and get this show on the road, man. I’ve seen you interrogate men so close to death they had nothing to lose by withholding shit, and yet they sang like canaries. Get Lenny to talk, man, and get this shit done before the wolves start sniffing at your door again. I’ll stay on the parents and the others are on her friends.”

  “Call King in on this one. I want him watching for that sniper.”

  “Aw, hell. You sure? You know once that asshole hits town, things will start blowing up in his wake.”

  “Get him. Lenny has to go to some charity thing her parents are giving next week, and I’m not walking in there blind with an unknown looking after my girl. Get King and start praying this shithole city can survive the hothead.”

  Jericho sighs loudly, and I feel my mouth pull in a grin before he grumbles his amused displeasure and ends the call.

  Now that I’m awake and have more to think on I’m too restless to sleep and way too keyed up to go anywhere near my Lenny in any sexual way. So instead of crawling back to her, I pull on a pair of shorts and make my way down to the home gym in the basement, the alarm monitor clicked onto my waistband.

  I start with weights and slowly work my way to the treadmill an hour-and-a-half later, sweating, grunting, and still confused and pissed the hell off. Nothing I keep thinking goes anywhere but a dead end and, short of calling in a few Army buddies who are still active and liable to hold a favor over my head, I have nowhere to turn to solve this mystery.