THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle Page 11

  I am grateful to this mystery shooter though; don’t get me wrong. Part of the reason I almost chewed Lenny’s head off after we got to Lex’s car is because I knew that she should be dead right then, and I should be just about hanging onto life at this very moment.

  The shooting was well-planned, well-executed, and too close for comfort. I’ve been trying to ignore that niggling intuition yapping at my mind that we got lucky and, from what Jericho said, we weren’t lucky, just blessed to have a friendly watching us.

  I need to know who, why, and what though. I’m just like that. I need to know it all and have control of the situation before I feel secure enough to move forward.

  And to do that, I have to stop being a fucking chump and salivating after Lenny at every turn. I want her. Fuck, how I want inside that woman, but for me right now it’s become clear that I have to push sex to the back burner and prioritize.

  Priority one being keeping her alive to screw another day. And every other day after that.

  “Hey, soldier. You’re looking pissed off and mean as hell.”

  I set the treadmill speed down and finish my warm down before hopping off and grabbing a towel, still avoiding looking at her.

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh oh. That sounds ominous. Tell me, were you thinking even the tiniest little bit about maybe finishing what we started earlier?”

  Not going there.

  “Coleman.”

  “Uh uh, Storm. Now you understand that I’m not one of your men who cower when the great Storm starts huffing and puffing, right?”

  “Lenny—”

  I damn near swallow my tongue when she sidles into my line of sight, naked and glowing. I’m pretty sure my brain stops working altogether and that gives her the chance to hook her ankle around mine and jerk, sending my ass to the mat.

  She’s on me and pinning me to the floor in a blink, and fuck me if I can do anything at all but stare in wonder as she yanks my shorts down, straddles me, and starts a slow grinding over my shaft.

  Be strong. Be—

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you right now, but I will not be happy if you push me away after that teeny taste. I’m dying for you, Nicholas.”

  My name on her lips has me going impossibly harder, and I find myself ignoring my head and grasping at her hips, lifting her at the exact right angle for my dick to home in on her sex and sink in as I lower her.

  “Ah, fuck me.”

  She’s tight as hell and so warm inside, I feel like she’s burning me alive.

  “I am silly, man,” she giggles, ending on a moan as I pull down while pushing up, my dick tunneling through her tight heat and hitting bottom in one hard stroke.

  “Ah! Oh, um, hell, Storm. Just give me a minute,” she squeaks, eyes going wide at the tight fit I know must be pinching for her little body.

  Lenny is small. I’m big, and no amount of finesse on my part with negate the fact that it will take a hell of a lot more than one love-making session to get her comfortable with my size.

  Whatever I do, I can’t get past that fact, but I know that I can overwhelm her with pleasure to the point the pain becomes something she craves and needs.

  Pinning her to my chest, I roll and come up over her, settling my groin into the cradle of her thighs, pushing till not a breath separates our sexes.

  “Don’t focus on the pain, sugar. Focus on this. Shit, you feel where my dick is hitting you, baby? Hell, ah, right there.” I groan when the little spot deep inside her throbs against the head of my dick.

  I twitch inside her slightly and see her eyes roll back as a moan escapes her slack mouth. Oh yes. Nailed it.

  I want to pound her, go nasty wild on her, and unleash every dirty desire on her. I go slow instead and thrust and retreat in a rhythm that has her moaning, tightening, clawing at my back as pleasure starts building.

  My baby is a natural at this stuff and, before I know it, she’s throwing her sex back at me, screaming, demanding more, as my strokes speed up and the wet slap of our sexes echoes in the room.

  “Storm.”

  “That’s it, sugar. Let me hear your sounds,” I grunt, hammering her harder as the need for release sinks its teeth into me and starts shaking at my resolve.

  “So wet and perfect for me. So tight. Only mine. Only MINE,” I roar, as she starts clamping down and the muscles deep inside her lock down and pull me deeper.

  Her contractions set me off, and I thrust harder, wanting to go as deep as I can get as I start coming in hot, hard drags that make my vision swim.

  My nuts hurt in the best way when I blink my eyes open and peer down at her long minutes later, our hearts pounding, bodies melding in a sweaty mix of satisfied bliss.

  Lenny’s eyes, when she finally manages to pry them open, are round and startled as her mouth flaps in silent awe. Best damn compliment ever.

  “You have got to marry me now.”

  Well, what the heck can I say? The woman drained everything out of me, including my mind. I’m pretty darn sure she’ll have to though because, pill or no pill, after the way I just erupted, there is nothing in this world that won’t get her with child after that.

  “We’ll see, Storm. Ahem. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” I roll my eyes and yelp at the teeth sinking into my wrist where it’s holding me up beside her head. “What the heck is going on, Storm?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lenny

  I’m way too sure that I don’t want to even know what has Storm pacing around the kitchen an hour after a bath that he refused to share with me and silence that forced me in here to start cooking before I did something stupid like bash his fool head in.

  Hasn’t anyone ever told this man that ignoring a woman after hot, nuclear-meltdown, leg-numbing sex is dangerous? Well, they should have because, as he keeps pacing while I fry pork chops and check on the greens and grits, I want to slap him stupid and kiss him all at once.

  I’m adrift here, people. Completely out of my element as the after-effects of that mind-blowing orgasm still quake through me. I expected a cuddle and softly shared words as we talked and he finally started sharing with me. Maybe round two, if I’m to be honest, since my sex was still raring to go and totally ready for more of that overwhelming brutality that is Storm.

  Instead he pulled out—saddest moment of my life besides the time I lost a winning lottery ticket—and barked at me to take a bath while he showered.

  Lands sakes! Who considers that acceptable in any way? Not me, that’s all I know. And I’m just about ready to clobber him for hurting my feelings by the time I dump our plates on the table and slide into the breakfast nook, my eyes going narrow and mean on his too-fine ass.

  “Eat.”

  “Woman.”

  “I said, goddamn it, eat your food before I give in to my temper and beat you senseless, Storm!” I growl.

  I may not be hungry, but what with the way I burned those calories and the temper I’m working up, I may need to eat a cow to fuel this fire. We eat in silence, me ignoring his glares and him just glaring as he gnaws at his food with a grinding jaw.

  When we’re done and I’m settled enough not to stab him with a fork, I lean back and sip at my tea silently.

  “That was a mistake.”

  Oh ho! That’s his play right now? After the best sex I have ever had and a blow job that was spectacular, even if I have to say so myself, which I so do, since the idiot hasn’t so much as showered me with one bit of praise!

  “You knoooow, that could be considered the worst after-sex pillow talk in history, and uh uh, no, I am talking now. I could safely say right now that, if I attack you and kill your ass, no judge in his right mind could blame me. You never say those four words to a woman, Storm. Never. That’s just plain...”

  Do not cry right now, Lenny. Be a rock. Be a boulder!

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh, and by the way, I am just fine! Why, I hardly felt a twinge after y
ou pulled that monster out and stormed away.” Heh. I made a funny. “What the hell is with you?” I yell, losing my shit when the hurt just gets too much.

  “We need to be talking about the case, and here I am thinking about nothing but sex with you. It’s unprofessional. I have to separate myself from the situation,” he grates, avoiding my eyes.

  Okay. That totally hurts, especially after I got that really interesting phone call, just as I woke to an empty bed and started calling for Storm. Lex is now one of my favorite bro friends.

  What he told me may not score him points with Storm—well, not that I have any intention of telling him about that conversation—but it enlightened me in a way that left me feeling powerful.

  Slightly sad, too, I won’t lie, since the man knows me clear to my Social Security number and has given me absolutely nothing in return about himself.

  I’m floundering now because, whereas before I took the information about Rachel and his previous relationship as a good sign that meant I could show him how not-Rachel-like I am, now I just feel…cheap and used.

  Now I just feel like an itch he had to scratch before forgetting the flirting, bantering, marriage proposal, for land sakes! He’s done nothing but remind me that I am a job. A JOB. After he deserted me in that gym room and stormed away.

  I could just smack him so fucking silly right now for making me believe one thing when, all along, I’m nothing to him but a job and some free, free pussy—God, I hate that word—on the side.

  “Okay, fine. So let’s get professional, Storm. Tell me what’s going on so that I can be prepared for whatever happens next.”

  I’m proud that my voice hardly quavers and prouder still that not one tear clouds my eyes though I feel like I’m about to explode with grief. I went and fell in love with this man in a matter of days, and he’s hurting me more than Terry ever did.

  I can survive this though. I will survive whatever the hell he throws at me because I am strong and capable and I do not need a man to make me feel like shit.

  I can do a good job of that all on my lonesome, thank you.

  His eyes are hard and still emotionless, as he shoves his plate back and looks at me.

  “We need to work on your memory, Coleman. I need you to remember who the hell you saw in that room.”

  My mind hurts just trying to think, and yet I force myself to do it, ignoring the pain, the spots that swim in and out of my vision, as I focus and try that step-by-step crap he taught me.

  I have to remember, for me, for him, mostly for my heart because, unbeknownst to Storm, I decided up in that bathroom while I cried a little, like a sap, that if he is going cold on me, I will not be staying.

  No sirree. If I’m to be coddled and treated like a job, I can do that just fine at Mama and Pete’s while she coos at me through a wall of bodyguards.

  I keep trying, trying, trying some more till I’m covered in sweat and so nauseous I could mess the entire kitchen and yet…nothing. That blank spot in my mind is still blank, and the niggling certainty that I know the man is still so strong. I feel my nerves quake.

  “Coleman.”

  “I can’t fucking remember! I just can’t, and now I feel sick enough to pass out, Storm. You happy?” I yell, banging my cast against the table in a huff. “Look, I need to lie down. My head is killing me right now, and I feel like hell.”

  “Coleman.”

  “Do not touch me right now,” I hiss as he goes to grab me when I try to walk by. “I need some time alone right now.”

  He looks ready to murder me, but nods instead and lets me go as he starts tidying up. I run all the way to the guestroom. Shit, I snort, leaning back against the locked door, what the hell was I thinking anyway? The man shoved me in a guestroom; that right there shoulda been my first clue that he was never serious.

  The whole mama thing? He all but told me she was coming to see him, not meet me. How could I be so fucking stupid?

  Because you almost died twice and part of you wanted to believe that it was some sort of divine plan to finally give you what you needed.

  I snort at that and snarl in shame, as I take deep breaths and push away from the door, going for the phone Storm never thought to take from me. I dumped it in the drawer, thinking I wouldn’t need it and yet, as I check the battery and see one bar, I thank God for the mercy of his one oversight and dial the number.

  “Leonora, honey! Oh, thank you, Jesus. I have been going out of my mind with worry, baby. Where are you? Are you all right? Mama needs to know you’re all right, baby.”

  “Shhh. Hush, Mama. I am fine. I promise. I…I just…can Pete and his guys come get me, please?” I whisper, my eyes darting to the door when I hear muffled footsteps.

  “What? Why? Is something wrong? Is that Storm fella not looking after you, honey? Pete! Pete, get your ass over here, honey. Our Leo wants to come on home to us.”

  “Mama. Mama! Everything is fine. Storm has been great and all, and no, you do not have to get Pete to kill him,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at her mutterings. “I just miss you, and I’m a little scared. I need my Mama Bear,” I choke, shuddering on those blasphemous words.

  Oh Lord. I went and did it.

  Her screech of joy nearly bursts my ear drum, and I look guiltily at the door, convinced Storm must have heard her holler of maternal delight.

  “Oh Pete. She wants you to go get her, honey. Where are you?”

  “Er, well, I don’t really know, Mama, but you still have that tracking on my phone, right?”

  Mama and Pete pay for my phone; it was my one concession after I moved to Mrs. T’s since Mama looked ready to die of terror at the thought of losing her “baby.”

  Pete comes on after wrestling the phone away from the banshee, and I feel tears form when his kind, gruff voice settles over me.

  “I’ll be there in an hour tops, Baby Bear. Don’t you worry none, you hear. Papa Pete won’t let a thing near his cub. Now, you need anything before I get the car ready and call Jeth?”

  “No, Papa Pete. I just need you to come get me. Now, when you get here you’ll see some fencing and a gate. Do not try to breach it without using the intercom. Storm has to let you in.”

  “Hmph. It sounds like the boy ain’t ready to let you go, girly.”

  “Well, that’s too damn bad, isn’t it!” Calm down. Breathe. “Ahem. I mean, that is not my problem, Pete. I want to come home. Now.”

  “Girl, you fixing to get me killed?”

  “Please? Please, Pete. I…just…I hurt and I need some time to get over it, but it’s my fault you know and…and I just…come get me?”

  “You bet your ass, little lady. Papa’s coming. You just sit tight and leave that punk to me.”

  ***

  Nick

  I hate myself. I hate this situation, and all I want to do as the look on Lenny's face haunts me is go in there and shower her with all the love I feel for her.

  Yes, love, because I now know that it can’t be anything but love. She’s my perfect match, and I knew it the moment I looked at that photo of her and saw her toothy grin.

  I can’t do anything though. I need to be strong here and keep things professional so that I can end this and get my girl. With lust and emotion clouding my mind, I am bound to make mistakes, and this is one mission where screwing up could literally get me killed.

  And I mean that. If anything happens to her, I might as well be dead anyway. That’s how fast I’ve come to see her as my reason for living.

  It’s weird and scary and maybe more crazy than anything else, but it is what it is. And, like my daddy once told me, there ain’t no accounting for the lightning bolt God throws at you.

  He once joked that if he’d known what would happen when he looked at my mama for the first time, he’d have closed his eyes and run like hell. I feel the same way as emotions try to bombard me and shake me from my resolve.

  It’s as I’ve made up my mind to go to her and start questioning her again that the security alarm beep
s on my belt. What I see on the monitors though has me tensing and grinding my teeth.

  “You shouldn’t be here! You could lead them to her,” I yell into the intercom as Pete Anderson’s face smiles at me through the camera.

  “Boy, I flew in Desert Storm. I wasn’t born yesterday. Now open the gates and let me see my baby before I do something you don’t want me to do.”

  Goddammit.

  “Old man, there isn’t a thing you could do that would make me open those gates.”

  Not yet, not till I suck it up and tell her why I’ve pulled away so swiftly. Right now I know she must be hurt and confused, and that’s my fault. Hell, I know better than to treat a woman who feels for me like a job. Dammit …

  “Son, I would really hate to do this to you, seeing as you saved my baby’s life and all, but you will open these gates and let me take her home, or I’ll call every TV station and news channel and tell them you’re holding her against her will.”

  I want to say that he’s bluffing, but I am very quickly dissuaded of that notion when a ball of whooping joy flies by me, wrenches the door open, and starts running hell bent for the gates.

  “Coleman! Goddammit.”

  “Screw you, Storm! Open the freaking gates already. Petey! Oh Lord, you are a sight for sore eyes,” she yells, just before I hook an arm around her waist and pull her up short.

  She fights, of course she does, and I’m forced to set her down just before her fist connects with my jaw and her blazing eyes meet mine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Separating myself from the situation,” she drawls, blinking back at me innocently. “It occurs to me that this whole mess may have been doing things to my emotional stability that are not healthy for either of us. Why, just minutes ago I was dead to rights that I love your ass when, really, that cannot be true since I don’t even know you. Tsk, tsk, poor Lenny and her silly notions. Look, Storm. We had some smoking hot sex, and I will forever be grateful to you for opening my eyes to the benefits of letting go and living a little. But I need to take a step back before I fool myself a minute longer.”

  “Coleman.”

  “I’m just not in a good place to be making life-changing decision, and you said it right, we can’t focus on the real matter at hand if we keep going at each other like animals. Now, open the gate so I can leave. Please.”