Chapter Five
Doc
I drove us back to the apartment in silence, the evidence secure, our hearts racing for reasons far beyond the narrow escape.
Her taste still lingered on my lips, sweeter than anything I’d known in years.
My fingers tingled where they had touched her skin.
Out there on that lonely road, we had crossed a line I’d drawn the day she walked into the clubhouse.
Some lines, once crossed, refused to be redrawn -- and I wasn’t sure I wanted to try.
Nova stared out the passenger window, her profile flashing in the sweep of passing streetlights. I ached to reach for her hand, but something stopped me. Duty? Fear? I couldn’t name it. I only knew it kept my hands locked at ten and two on the wheel.
Out of nowhere, I remembered where I’d seen the name Mercer. I glanced over at Nova. “Officer Mercer won’t be an issue anymore.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I just remembered why he sounded familiar. He died a week ago. Killed in the line of duty, but now I’m thinking maybe he was killed by someone who wanted to keep him quiet.”
“What about the judge?” she asked. “Do you know anything about him?”
I shook my head. “But we can look him up online. Have you run any searches for something recent?”
“No. I haven’t done much research on him for the last week or more. And even when I did, I mostly used my mom’s notes.”
She pulled out her phone and did a Google search. “Damnit.”
“What?” I glanced her way again.
“There’s an article in the local paper about him retiring and moving out of the country.”
“So, he either really moved, or someone wanted everyone to believe that’s what happened. Either way, he’s out of our reach now.”
We reached the apartment, parking as close to the door as I could. Security cameras mounted on the corners gave me some comfort -- at least here, we were under the protection of the Dixie Reapers. After what had happened at the crash site, I knew we needed it.
“We should be safe here.” I broke the silence as I killed the engine.
Nova nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “For now.”
That small gesture -- so normal, so feminine -- sent a jolt straight through me.
I’d spent years learning to compartmentalize, to keep my professional life separate from personal desires.
In the military, that discipline had kept me alive.
With the club, it had earned me respect.
But watching Nova’s delicate fingers brush against her cheek made my carefully constructed walls crumble like sand.
I followed her to the apartment door, scanning our surroundings from habit. No signs of disturbance. Still, I entered first, checking each room before nodding to her it was clear. Old habits from combat zones die hard.
Nova set her bag on the small kitchen counter. Her hazel gaze searched mine. The air between us felt charged, electric with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. Her lips parted slightly, and I found myself staring at them, remembering how they’d felt against mine.
“Doc,” she whispered, her Southern accent thicker now, drawn out into two syllables. “Winston.”
My given name on her lips broke something in me. No one called me Winston anymore -- not since I’d joined the club. Hearing it now, in her soft voice, was like being recognized for the first time in years.
“Nova.” I took a step toward her. “What happened in the truck --”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” She closed the distance between us. “Don’t you dare say it was a mistake.”
Her chin tilted up defiantly, those hazel eyes burning with an intensity that matched the fire in my blood. She was so small standing before me, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulders, yet in that moment, she was the strongest person I’d ever known.
“Wasn’t planning to. Was going to say it wasn’t enough.
” My hand lifted to cup her cheek while the other slid around her waist, pulling her against me.
This time, there was no hesitation, no surprise -- just hunger.
Her arms wound around my neck as our lips met, her body arching into mine like she couldn’t get close enough.
I backed her against the counter, lifting her easily to sit on its edge, stepping between her thighs as the kiss deepened.
Her hands slid beneath my cut, pushing it off my shoulders.
It fell to the floor with a soft thud, my T-shirt following moments later.
The first touch of her fingertips against my bare chest sent electricity racing across my skin.
I groaned against her mouth, my own hands finding the hem of her hoodie, seeking the warmth beneath.
“Yes,” she breathed as my palms skimmed her ribs, her skin impossibly soft under my calloused hands. “Please, Winston.”
Her hoodie joined my shirt on the floor. The sight of her in just a simple cotton bra, freckles scattered across her shoulders like constellations, nearly stopped my heart. I traced them with my fingertips, connecting invisible lines between them as she shivered under my touch.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmured, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat.
She laughed softly, the sound vibrating against my mouth. “And you’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I asked, finding the clasp of her bra, waiting for permission in her eyes before releasing it.
“Someone colder. More distant.”
My hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing across her nipple as it hardened beneath my touch. “Tried to be. Tried to keep my distance.”
“I’m glad you failed.” Her hands slid to my belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle.
I lifted her from the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the bedroom.
Her files and notes still covered most of the bed.
I cleared a space with one arm, laying her gently among the scattered papers, a dark irony not lost on me.
The very danger that threatened her life had led her to my arms.
Her jeans and underwear dropped to the floor.
I shed the rest of mine with military efficiency.
Naked, she looked even smaller, more vulnerable, but the set of her jaw reminded me of her strength.
This wasn’t a woman who needed saving -- she was a warrior in her own right, fighting for justice with every weapon at her disposal.
I covered her body with mine, skin against skin, the heat of her setting fire to parts of me I’d thought long frozen. Her hands explored me with curious fingers, tracing scars from my time in combat, learning the map of my body with gentle precision.
“You sure about this?” I asked, bracing myself above her, giving her one last chance to change her mind.
In answer, she reached between us, her small hand wrapping around my cock with unexpected boldness. “I’ve been sure since you handed me that coffee,” she drawled, her accent making the words sound like honey.
That was all the permission I needed. I entered her slowly, watching her face as she took me in, her lips parting on a soft gasp. The tight heat of her nearly undid me then and there. I held still, fighting for control, unwilling to rush this moment.
“Doc.” She lifted her hips to take me deeper. “Don’t hold back. Not now.”
Something in her voice -- a raw need that matched my own -- snapped the last of my restraint.
I began to move, each thrust drawing soft cries from her lips, her pussy gripping me like she never wanted to let go.
Her nails scored my back, pain and pleasure mingling until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
We moved together with desperate intensity, all the fear and tension of the past few hours finding release in the rhythm of our bodies. I whispered her name against her skin, tasting the salt of her sweat, feeling her trembling beneath me as she climbed toward her peak.
When she came, her whole body tightened around me, her cry muffled against my shoulder. The feeling of her pulsing around my cock pushed me over the edge, my own release crashing through me with an intensity that left me shaking.
Afterward, we lay tangled together. Nova’s head rested on my chest, her breath warm against my skin as it slowly steadied. Her small hand traced lazy patterns across my stomach, occasionally pausing over a scar, silently asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to my chest.
I stroked her hair, softer than I’d imagined during all those times I’d watched her tuck it behind her ear. “Force of habit.”
“About this?” she asked, gesturing vaguely to our naked bodies.
“About everything. The evidence. Bailey. The Blood Pagans. What it all means.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those intelligent hazel eyes. “And this? Us? What does this mean?”
I reached up to trace the line of her jaw, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath my rough fingers. “It means I can’t pretend to be just your bodyguard anymore. It means I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Not because it’s my job, but because I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
She smiled then, a real one that reached her eyes and softened the worry lines etched there since the day I met her. “Good.” She leaned back against my chest. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”
As she drifted to sleep in my arms, I stared at the ceiling, listening to her steady breathing.
For the first time in years, I felt something like peace, despite knowing that beyond these walls, danger was still hunting us.
But for now, for this moment, Nova was safe in my arms. And I intended to keep her that way, no matter what it cost me.
The fact I’d just taken her without protection also weighed on me. We hadn’t discussed some rather important things, but it would have to wait. Right now, we had enough on our plates.
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