Chapter Ninety-Seven
Blade
S melling like that caramel coffee shit, I got in the shower.
Then I heard her feet hit the steps.
Adrenaline spiked, and I quickly rinsed shampoo out of my hair before turning off the shower and grabbing a towel.
Her steps, light and uneven like she was tiptoeing, sounded in the bedroom, and I moved with stealth.
Knowing which angle she’d infil the bathroom from, I aimed for the opposite direction and waited.
Two fucking seconds later, her head popped around the door, exactly where I predicted.
I stepped in front of her. “Do you know why I turned off the water when you snuck into my bedroom?”
Startled as fuck, stumbling back, eyes wide, half deer in headlights, half caught red-handed, she stared at the towel around my waist. More specifically, at my hard cock. “Because you were done showering?”
Taking every fucking bullshit word she’d thrown at me since she’d stepped into the cabin, I broke it down into the three basic emotions that were written all over her face and in every single movement of that sweet body of hers.
Hurt. Fear. Want.
I fucking knew emotions.
I also knew this woman.
“I turned off the shower because I heard you coming for me.” Grabbing her around the waist, I spun her as I tossed her onto the bed face-first. Then I came down on top of her, gripped a handful of her hair, and ground my cock against that ass. “You want me to dominate the fuck out of you, hold you down, and call you a good girl while you take my cock, I’m game. You want rough, hard, your limits pushed, edging, hair fisting, a single corrective slap on occasion—fine.”
She groaned.
I yanked her head to the side and got in her face. “But if you came here for your dub con, non con, rape fantasy bullshit, get the fuck out.”
“I don’t kink shame you.”
“You don’t have kinks, woman. You have trauma. We didn’t discuss limits the last time I sank inside you, but we are now.”
Her whole fucking body went stiff. “Get off me.”
“I will.” I played the asshole card. “As soon as you tell me exactly how the fuck you think you consented to being used.”
She breathed heavy twice. “I never said no.”
“Did you say yes?”
She didn’t answer.
I gave her the parameters. “Yes means consent. Your safe words remain the same. You have my limits. You’ll tell me yours as they come up. I check in, you answer. You have a problem, speak up. You need to work through any trauma, we discuss it first.”
She closed her eyes, and her voice went quiet as fuck. “Please get off me.”
I rolled. Off her, off the fucking bed, and stood.
She didn’t move.
“Please leave so I can get up.”
“No.”
She turned her face into the pillow.
I waited.
No discipline, she lasted two seconds without speaking. “You’re still there. I can hear you.”
“You don’t hear shit from me.” My breathing controlled, my stance still, I hadn’t fucking moved.
She picked her head up and looked at me like she was wary as hell. “I can hear your judgment.”
That one I gave her. “No denial on that.” I was judging the fuck out of those dark circles under her eyes that never went away. “You need to stop hitting the caffeine.”
“Kink shamer, caffeine police, and tattoo-meaning secret keeper. Awesome. How did I get so lucky?” She turned her head away from me. “By the way, the Valhalla tattoo I figured out all on my own, Mr. SEAL.”
“Haakon.”
“What?”
Christ. “Name.”
She looked back at me with innocent confusion. “What name?”
I stared.
“Wait.” Her eyes went wide. “That’s your first name?”
Already having caved, I confirmed what I’d never given any woman I’d fucked. “Yes.”
“Hawk…?”
“Not a fucking bird. Haakon.” Chosen son. “H-A-A-K-O-N.”
“You’re—”
“American.”
“American,” she parroted, frowning.
Christ .
Seventeen fucking tours, over twenty years pulling the trigger, and I get worn down by a short-as-fuck smokeshow with tits and ass and an aircraft carrier full of issues.
“Scandinavian descent,” I admitted.
She nodded like she knew what the hell was transpiring here. “Haakon Blade Emrik and Georgia Lynn Lyons.” Her gaze drifted. “A hawk and a lion.”
“Not a goddamn bird, woman.” But she sure as fuck was a lioness.
She looked back at me. “You fly.”
“You stalk.”
Her slow nod resurfaced, but something was off. “Then I guess we are who we are.” She pushed herself up and got off my bed on the opposite side. “I’ll go.” Keeping a wide berth, she aimed for the door.
I opened my fucking mouth. “The only relationship I ever had was with the Navy.”
Halting, she looked over her shoulder.
I drove home the truth. “It wasn’t exclusive.”
She stared. Right through my bullshit attempt to warn her off. Then the woman one-upped me. “At least one of us has had a relationship.”
The lioness walked out.