Chapter Five
Gideon
"Well, well, well," Zayne says, strolling into the lobby with his arms crossed and a shit-eating grin stretched across his stupid ass face. "Look who finally returned from the dick appointment."
"You know you were an accident, right? The condom broke."
"Ma was supposed to swallow you," he retorts, his maniacal smile not budging. "But here we fuckin' are anyway."
"How are we brothers?" I shake my head, genuinely mystified how I got saddled with his big ass.
"Dad didn't pull out."
"Jesus Christ," Zion mutters, coming to a dead stop in the hallway. "Why do I always walk in at the wrong fucking time with you two?"
"Because your older brother is an idiot."
Zayne flips me off and then chuckles. "Seriously. You were gone all day yesterday. What's up?"
"New client," I mutter. "I'm only here to get some shit."
"What shit?" Zion asks.
"Cameras. She has a stalker. He's been leaving her fucked up little gifts."
"How fucked up?" Zayne wants to know.
I pull up the poem on my phone and toss it to him before striding to the supply closet to grab a couple security cameras to hang around her apartment. The complex probably won't allow me to hang any around outside, but no one said I couldn't put them up inside her place in case anyone breaks in. I'm also going to rig one up to hide by her front door somehow. Maybe in a plant or something inconspicuous. She's on the first floor so she has an outside entrance to her apartment.
I also grab alarms for all of the windows. Home security systems are great, but the reality is that they're ineffective when used alone. Most monitoring companies just don't give a shit. Half of the time, they don't even have updated contact information for their clients. They collect their fees, call in alarms to the PD, and call it a day. It's not enough, especially when the PD is tied up on other calls. It may be an hour before anyone is able to respond to an alarm call. Motherfuckers with bad intentions know this. They've done it long enough to be aware they've got time to get in, grab shit, and get out.
But if you make enough noise, someone notices. Window alarms like these make a whole helluva lot of noise if they're set off. It's usually enough to scare off anyone trying to break in, especially in areas like apartment complexes where they're more likely to be caught.
If this motherfucker wants to get in, he's going to have to work for it.
"Jesus Christ," Zayne breathes after reading the poem. "That's fucked."
"That's not even the worst of it. He left a dead songbird at her front door a few days ago. Wrapped it up in a gift box with a bow on it."
"Fucking hell," Zion mutters. "And you left her alone?"
"Nah. She's at the studio, surrounded by her band and producers. She'll be there all day. They're working on her first album." Wild horses wouldn't have dragged me from that studio if I thought she was in any danger. But the studio is closed, meaning no one without authorization is getting in. Kenna knows not to even step foot outside without me. She's as safe as she can be without me breathing down her neck.
And right now, she doesn't need me breathing down her neck. She needs to do her job, and I need to do mine. She needs to know that she can trust me not to drop the ball just because we're mixing business and pleasure. This is foreign territory for both of us, but she's the one taking a big leap of faith here. Not just because she's afraid of things ending badly, but because this is her career and her future at stake. If I fuck up, it's her life on the line.
That's not a risk I'm willing to take with her. My job isn't just protecting her. It's protecting everything she's worked to accomplish. She has to know not only that she's safe, but that everything she's worked for matters to me. She hasn't sacrificed as much as she has just to watch it slip through her fingers now because I wasn't careful enough or didn't take it seriously enough. Women are asked to choose between love and their careers all the time. I won't be the motherfucker forcing her to make the same choice. She will have both.
Love. Jesus. Is that really what I want from her? Her heart?
Is it even a question? Fuck yeah, that's what I want. I won't settle for anything less.
"Any suspects?"
"Not yet. I just took the case yesterday."
"Mmhmm. And I know how you operate," Zion says, leaning against the wall beside the closet. "You've got a sixth sense for shit like this."
"I'm not sure if it's her manager or a fan," I mutter.
"It's usually a fan."
"You haven't seen the way her manager looks at her."
"He's fucking her?"
"He's not fucking her," I growl, narrowing my eyes at Zayne.
He and Zion share a telling look. I don't say a word. We'll have a conversation eventually, but not today. Right now, I want to keep what's happening between me and Kenna just between the two of us. It's ours. No one else has a place or a say in it, not even my brothers.
"So he wants to fuck her," Zayne says after a moment.
I shoot him a death glare. "He's not fucking her. Doesn't matter what he wants. She's not interested."
"Okay then," he says, looking at me like I've lost my damn mind. Shit, maybe I have. Hell if I know. But I don't want to think about another man putting his hands on her. I don't want to even think about one considering putting his hands on her. The fact that her prick of a manager wants to sleep with her pisses me off.
But does it make him guilty of anything more than being an asshole who preys on his clients? I don't know. The jury is still out on that one.
"I need you to look into him for me," I order Zion. "See what you can dig up."
"Send me what you've got on him and I'll take a look," my younger brother agrees.
"Thanks."
"By the way, you missed the shitshow here yesterday," he says with a grin.
"Fuck off," Zayne immediately growls. "There was no show."
I cock a brow, not sure what the fuck they're talking about.
"Zayne tried to score a date with Emma Cooper, Camila's assistant." Zion's grin grows. "Ask him how it went. Please ask him how it went."
"How'd it go?"
Zayne starts muttering under his breath. I can't make out a damn word he's saying if he's even speaking English. But his face is red. The motherfucker is actually blushing. It must have been a disaster if he's blushing because Zayne has no shame.
Zion cracks up. "He mistook her for a client, wouldn't let go of her hand, and then told her that they could get the dating shit out of the way so he could put a ring on her finger. She basically fled from the office like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. I'm waiting for Nashville's finest to show up with an Order of Protection."
"Jesus Christ, Zayne." I stare at him in shock, caught between the desire to laugh in his face and commiserate. I know exactly how it feels to be knocked flat on your ass by a woman you never saw coming. Kenna certainly sent me reeling. But Jesus. My oldest brother wouldn't know subtle if it bludgeoned him over the head.
"Fuck both of you," he growls. "It wasn't that bad."
"No? She asked you to let her go and you said no. You also said you weren't touching her; you were holding her hand. As if there's a fucking difference. I had to remind you that touching people without their permission is illegal. And then she turned you down twice in a row."
I roar with laughter, unable to contain it any longer. My older brother isn't an idiot. He's whatever comes after idiot.
"No wonder Ma wanted to give you both up for adoption," he says, stomping toward his office. "You're both wicked, evil children."
"We love you too, big brother!" Zion calls after him.
"Fuck off!" Zayne shouts back.
"Tell me about your show tonight," I order Kenna while I hang a security camera in the living room after picking her up from the studio.
"It's at Rucker's," she says, curling up on the couch with her legs underneath her and a blanket draped over her lap. "It's a bar down on Broadway. Really popular little place. It gets a lot of foot traffic."
"You play there frequently?"
"A couple times a month usually."
"Same crowd?"
"There are regulars, but there are a lot of tourists too." She tips her head to the side, watching me. "Are you really sure I need security cameras in here?"
"Yes. If anyone breaks in, this will catch them."
"It'll also catch me if I decide to walk around naked," she mutters.
"You won't hear me complaining."
She huffs, rolling her eyes at me. "You say that now. Just wait until you're the one walking around naked and some creep hacks into the live feed and plasters your rear end all over the internet for the world to see."
"You watch too many movies."
"You don't watch enough true crime."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "No one will be able to access the feed, Sparrow."
"Says you."
"I'll make you a deal," I say, prowling across the living room toward her. "I'll hang it as close to the door as I can, and we'll mark off the floor at the edges of the feed. So long as you stay outside of that area, anything you do will be off camera."
"What about sound?"
"It doesn't record audio. This one just records video."
She thinks about it for a minute and then nods. "I guess that'll work then."
I grin, leaning down to brush my lips against hers.
"But if my butt shows up on the internet, I'm going to murder you in your sleep, Marine. I mean it."
"If your gorgeous ass shows up on the internet, I'll hand you the pillow to smother me with it, Sparrow. Just as soon as I finish hunting down every motherfucker who saw you and gouge their eyes out."
She laughs against my lips, looping her arms around my neck. "You would, wouldn't you?"
"Without hesitation. No one sees what you don't want to show them." I drag her bottom lip through my teeth. "No one sees what belongs to me."
"Gideon," she groans. "I'm not property."
"Good to know, Sparrow. Because I don't want to own you." I slide my hand behind her head, tilting it back to give me better access to that perfect fucking mouth. Jesus. I could kiss her all day. "You don't need a keeper. You aren't submissive. You're my equal in every way. But this mouth? That body? Every fucking piece of you was made for me and only for me."
"Then you better be only mine too, Gideon Carmichael," she whispers, twisting her fingers up in my tie to pull me closer. "That filthy mouth and ridiculous body better belong to me, too."
"You think it doesn't?" I grab her hand, placing it over my cock. The bastard is hard as a rock again, pressing against the zipper of my pants in a bid to get to her. She feels him and tries to wrap her hand around him. "He hasn't been like this for anyone but you since I was a fucking teenager, Kenna."
Her eyes go wide, her mouth parting. She can't even pretend she doesn't like knowing that. It's written all over her face. "You haven't been with anyone since ?"
"Never, Kenna. I haven't ever slept with anyone."
"But you just said "
"I know what I said. I was a teenaged boy. All you had to do was breathe in our direction and our dicks reacted. Doesn't mean we're all dumb enough to whip them out every time it happened," I murmur, tucking strands of hair behind her ears. "Some of us actually had plans for our lives that didn't involve getting some girl pregnant in high school."
I knew early that I was going into the military. There was no way I was going to risk that by fucking around and getting some girl pregnant. And then I spent ten years in the military. I wasn't going to fuck around and get some woman pregnant, just to leave her alone to raise my baby. I've never wanted marriage. It seemed irresponsible to risk bringing a kid into the world when I wasn't prepared to offer the white picket fence.
People assume because I'm a guy that not sleeping around is hard. That's insulting. We're not ruled by our cocks, and abstinence isn't much of a hardship when it's all you've ever known. No one has ever tempted me to change that. Until now. Until the little sparrow fluttering in my hands.
I want the white picket fence. I want my ring on her finger. I'm willing to play the long game if that's what it takes to get her on the same page.
"I never have either," she whispers, squeezing me through my pants.
I groan, pressing my lips to hers again. "You keep that up, you might not be much longer," I warn her. "Your hand feels a helluva lot better than mine."
"Yeah?" Her lips curve into a satisfied, womanly smirk. "I bet it'd feel even better if your pants weren't in the way."
"Jesus Christ," I growl.
"Well, I was aiming for something a little less holy and a lot more wicked," she teases, squeezing me again. "But we can call it heavenly if you want."
I grab her around the waist, swinging her up into my arms. She squeals, locking her legs around my waist. My hand comes down on her ass in a sharp smack before I steal her seat, sitting with her straddling my lap.
"I came last night, Sparrow. It's your turn."
Her eyes darken, her cheeks turning pink.
"You can stop me."
"Don't," she whispers, barely able to force the sound out.
I nuzzle my face into her throat, nipping at her soft skin. She smells incredible, like berries and sunshine. My hands rake up her side, drawing her simple t-shirt up her body. She shivers but doesn't stop me.
I pull it off, tossing it over the back of the couch. Her violet bra is simple but gorgeous against her golden skin. There's something so artless about her. She doesn't try too hard or put on airs. She's a country girl, simple and effortlessly beautiful.
I bury my face in her cleavage, growling. Her tits are incredible. I'm going to spend hours worshipping them. I already fucking know it. I press kisses all over the swells of them, biting gently as she moans, clutching me to her.
"Gideon," she sighs, rocking her hips against me, seeking friction.
I slide my hand down the soft swell of her belly, willing to give her whatever she wants. I dip below the waistband of her pants, making her shiver again. I haven't even seen her panties, but I know they match her bra. Practical, yet beautiful. Just like the woman in my arms.
They're also soaked with her juices.
"Fucking hell." I lift my gaze to hers. "You're bare and you're drenched, Sparrow." Both are suddenly my favorite things.
"I know!" she cries, writhing against my fingers.
"Is this all for me?"
"Y-yes."
My eyes light up. Fuck, yeah, it's all for me. I part her slit with my thumb, running it up to her clit. She cries out, her head falling back, exposing the soft, graceful arch of her throat.
I set my lips against it. Drag my teeth down it. My thumb runs in circles around her clit. I'm not sure if I'm teasing her or torturing myself. I want to flip her over, yank her pants down, and eat her until she's screaming for mercy. Maybe then I'll be able to breathe past the lump in my throat. Maybe then I'll be able to think straight.
Right now, I can't do either. I'm just a ball of warring desire. Take, claim, want, and need. I thrust my other hand into her pants, tearing her panties to make room. My fingers circle her tight little hole, eager to get any part of myself inside her.
"Gideon!"
"This is mine, Sparrow." I push inside her, claiming it. Claiming her. "Only mine."
"Yes. Yes. Yours." She rocks against my hand, babbling her agreement.
I add a second finger, fucking her with both. She sobs, her cries of pleasure growing louder. I watch her face, fascinated at how she gives herself over to it. She doesn't fight it. She falls into it, reveling in every touch, in every tremor.
I grind my thumb against her clit, curling my fingers up to stroke her G-spot at the same time. She claws my shoulders, her eyes rolling back in her head. My cock is so hard it hurts. And still, she writhes on it, grinding against my lap as she rocks against my hand.
"Give it to me, Sparrow. I know you want to give it to me."
"Gideon. Gideon. I I "
"Give it to me," I growl, leaning forward to nip her throat. "Now, Sparrow."
A keening cry escapes her lips as she falls forward in my arms, landing against my chest. She shakes and trembles, her pussy clenching around my fingers as she grows wetter.
Feeling her wriggling all over my lap and cock is enough to send me hurtling over the edge with her. Cum spills into my boxers in spurts. I groan, burying my face in her hair as we ride it out together, tangled up together on the couch.
She's right. We definitely don't need that fucking camera able to see the entire living room. Because this right here? We're absolutely doing it again at every available opportunity.