Chapter 24
Sarge
I’m done with games dressed up as love.
She invited me up the stairs, and I’d be a fool not to oblige.
This woman says jump, I’ll say yes ma’am and ask how fucking high. Taking the steps two at a time, a shit-eating grin covers my face. She squeals and picks up her pace.
With her feet taking only one step at a time, it doesn’t take long before I catch her at the top. Pulling her roughly into my arms, I spin her so she’s facing me.
She lets out a low hum as I push her against the nearest wall, pinning both her hands above her head with my good one. My mouth finds hers—hard and hungry—her laughter spilling between our kisses.
“Thought you were gonna outrun me, huh?” I murmur against her lips.
“Maybe,” she breathes, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re pretty quick for your age.”
“Excuse me?” I deadpan, continuing to kiss her. “I’m rather spry for five hundred.”
I nip at her lower lip, then trail a slow, searing kiss along her jaw. Memorizing every curve of her perfect body along the way. “At least, that’s how old the guys always joke that I am. Besides, I’m not letting you get away that easily.”
Mine. She should know it by now. If she doesn’t, I’ll spend the rest of the night making it crystal fucking clear.
“Five hundred, huh? I was thinking at least a thousand,” she teases, her eyes dancing with that spark I’m growing addicted to.
“Hey, just because you don’t see me punching arcade games at the bar or riding without a helmet doesn’t make me an antique.”
This woman drives me wild in all the right ways. She’s equal parts spunk and smarts; she knows how to put me in my place and isn’t afraid to call me on my shit. She’s funny and sarcastic and keeps me on my toes. I have confidence that I’ll never suffer a dull moment with her around.
I’ve never been the type to chase. That whole game brings a level of drama and noise I don’t have the patience for.
But I’d be a damn liar if I said I wouldn’t chase this woman to the ends of this earth.
I don’t do temporary, and I certainly don’t do fake.
That’s why I’ve been alone for as long as I have—that and believing that being alone might be best for me.
Her hands press against my chest to steady herself. “Whatever you say, old man. You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
I smirk, tugging her even closer until there isn’t a breath of air between us. “Not always. But when it comes to you? I am.”
She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the way her body melts into mine. I scoop her up, hooking my arms under her knees and back.
“Sarge!” she squeals, clutching my shoulders, her legs kicking half-heartedly. “You can’t just—”
“Oh, I can,” I say, cutting her off as I carry her down the hall to her bedroom. “And I will unless you tell me to stop.”
Her body goes still, and she stops fighting me. “Do you want that?” I continue to hold her, cradled in my arms.
“Because I mean it, Hannah.” My voice drops low, steady. “You want me to back off, say the word. I’ll walk out that door, it’ll hurt like hell, but I’d do it if that’s what you wanted.”
“No. Please stay.” It comes out almost as a whisper, but I hear it.
That’s all the permission I need.
I step over the threshold into the bedroom, as if it were some symbolic act that brings us to a new level of trust and intimacy.
The need to finally fill her almost consumes me, a low-burning fire that’s been building since I first saw her, but I know I have to take my time. Something happened in her past—something that left her careful, cautious, and scared.
She’s a hair trigger, and I’m the one holding the grip. I can either be the reason she fires, or the steady hand that keeps the safety engaged.
I haven’t had a woman on my arm in a long time, and I’m damn proud to have Hannah there. She’s one hell of a woman, and I’m going to make sure she’s treated accordingly.
When we reach the bed, I lower her until she’s standing face to face with me. I let my thumb brush her jaw, tilting her face up just a little. “If at any time you want me to stop, I’ll stop. But if you don’t...” I let the words hang, low and dangerous, the kind of promise I don’t make lightly.
She meets my gaze, chest rising and falling. “I’m not stopping you.”
I grin, slow and sure. “Good. Because I’m not here to play games, Hannah.”
“I hope not.” Her eyes hold mine, steady. “I’m done with games dressed up as love. You never see the knife coming until it’s already in your back.”
I lower my mouth to hers, the kiss gentle yet charged with meaning.
I want her to feel the truth in it, to know I mean every word I’ve said.
The first time I saw her light up that dingy bar with her fiery spirit and warm smile, I knew she wasn’t just another woman passing through a dive. She was something more.
The more time I spend with her, the more it hits me. She’s so much greater than I could have imagined.
She makes a man work for it. She wears her proverbial armor like a second skin. Every laugh, every smart-ass remark, it’s all part of the fortress she’s built to keep herself safe.
But for some reason, she’s letting me in. Not all the way, not yet. But enough. Enough for me to show her what I’m made of. She’s giving me just enough rope to hang myself, and I’m more than willing to take the risk.
It’s a test. Her version of a probationary period at a new job. She can fire me at any damn second. No warning, no explanation. And I’ll be honest—I don’t want to give her a single reason to do so.
I guide her backward until the backs of her knees meet the mattress. I press in, firm and steady, bending her backward while keeping her safe against the fall. My arm supports her, but there’s a quiet tension in my movements.
There’s a controlled, deliberate hunger simmering just beneath the surface. Once her back rests against the sheets, I grip her ass, lifting her just enough to slide her higher, claiming the space around her without rushing.
My knees rest on either side of her body as I hover over her. She wraps her legs around my lower back, drawing me in and deepening the kiss. My forearm rests near her head, bracing me, while my other hand begins to explore.
Across her collarbone, over the curve of her breasts, down her side, and finally resting on the swell of her full ass.
Her hips begin to move against me, and I pull her tighter, inviting the motion, feeling the press of her heat against my core. Every movement, every subtle grind drives a fire deeper inside me. One I’m fighting to keep in check.
I tilt my head, capturing her lower lip between my teeth. A moan escapes her hungry mouth, and I absorb it in a kiss.
The kiss is as hard and needy as I am, carrying what little restraint I’ve got left. My other hand pulls her closer, holding her steady. I might only have thirty percent function in one arm, but that thirty percent does plenty.
She’s testing me, teasing me, and I love that she has no idea how much of me is already her’s.
The scent of her, the warmth of her body, the soft arch of her back beneath my hand—it all makes it harder to stay focused. My teeth graze her shoulder in a fleeting, rough reminder: I am in control, but she’s the one I aim to please.