5. Letty
CHAPTER 5
LETTY
F elix’s eyes search mine in the lamplight. His thumb traces over my lower lip, still bruised from his urgent kisses. The storm rages outside, but the room falls utterly silent after Felix speaks.
“What is it?” I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“I served with Jason.” His usually strong voice cracks. “Same squad. Same deployment. Same…attack.”
Time splinters into fragments. Jason’s laugh—clear and bright—echoes in my head.
The air freezes in my lungs as I try to process his words. “ My Jason?”
“Everyone called him Gordy,” Felix says softly, “because we had three Jasons in our unit.”
“Gordy,” I repeat, rolling the nickname around on my tongue.
Felix’s eyes never leave mine. “I didn’t realize until you said his full name at the meeting. I swear, Letty, I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose. I just wanted to find the right moment.”
I pull away, my mind racing to catch up. “Were you there when he?—”
“Yes.” His fingers slide under my chin. “I tried to get him out. But the blast…” He swallows. “They dragged me away. Told me I was bleeding out.”
His admission leaves me feeling hollow. I stare at Felix’s prosthesis, the carbon fiber gleaming faintly. The same explosion that took Jason’s life took Felix’s leg.
“You should’ve said something earlier.”
“I know. I just wasn’t sure how.” His fingers thread through my hair, grounding me. “I wanted you to see me first. Not just another ghost.”
A sob surges up my throat. But instead of grief, relief floods through me—wild and unexpected. This is a man who knew Jason’s voice, his jokes, the passion in his heart. A living bridge between my past and this dizzying present.
“Tell me something only someone who knew him would know.”
A small smile touches Felix’s lips. “He had this one lucky sock. Bright orange. Totally ridiculous. He said his abuela gave it to him. Wore it on every mission.”
Tears spring to my eyes. I’d forgotten about that stupid orange sock that my grandmother knitted for him. I’d teased him mercilessly about it.
“He talked about you all the time,” Felix continues, his voice soft and gentle. “Called you ‘ mi vida ’ . Said you could out-cook any Marine’s wife. We thought he was full of shit—until we got the care packages.” His laugh is rough. “Gordy only had to share once and he had us eating our words. Literally. ”
I choke on a laugh, tears spilling over, and Felix wraps his arms around me immediately, pulling me to his chest.
“He was so proud of you, Letty. So damn proud.”
I bury my face against his neck, breathing in his clean scent as I just let myself cry.
Felix tightens his hold on me and whispers against my hair. “I was the one who carried his tags back so they could give them to you.”
I pull back to look into his eyes, finding nothing but honest, raw pain there.
“I’m so very sorry for not saying something sooner,” he says, sadness creeping into his voice. “I just?—”
I press my fingers to his lips. “Shh. It’s okay.”
Strangely, it is. Instead of digging at the wound, Felix’s connection to Jason feels like the closing of a circle. Like Jason somehow led him to me.
“I know he’d want you to be happy, Letty,” Felix says softly. “That’s what he always said—that if anything happened to him, he hoped you’d find happiness again. We all had those conversations. The ‘if I don’t make it home’ talks.”
The knot of guilt I’ve been carrying in my chest for four years loosens to get the permission I never thought I’d receive.
I reach up and touch Felix’s rough, stubbled cheek. His eyes darken and he leans into my touch.
“Felix,” I whisper. “Kiss me again.”
He hesitates. “Are you sure? After everything I just?—”
I silence him with my lips, pouring every ounce of need and want and relief into the kiss. His response is immediate, his tongue tracing over my lower lip. I open my mouth for him, groaning, as he pulls me onto his lap.
This kiss is deep, hungry, edged with a desperation neither of us bothers to hide. His hands slide under my top, spanning my waist, leaving trails of fire on my skin.
“Letty,” he groans against my mouth. “God, I want you so badly.”
“Then you should take me,” I breathe.
His pupils dilate so much they nearly eclipse the green of his eyes. In one smooth motion he flips us, pressing me into the mattress. His weight over me is delicious and grounding, exactly what I need.
“It’s been a long time for me,” I admit.
“Me too,” he confesses, brushing his lips across my jaw. “About four years.”
The same as me.
He kisses down my neck, each press of his lips more urgent than the last. I arch up, needing more contact, more heat.
“Let me taste you.” His voice is rough. “Please.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, just drags my jeans and panties down together before tossing them aside. The cool air on my skin makes me shiver, but his hands spread my thighs, anchoring me as his breath ghosts over my core.
“My god,” he groans, reverence tinged with lust. “You’re soaked for me.”
The first swipe of his tongue on my pussy makes me cry out, and he pins my hips down as they buck involuntarily. Felix groans against me, the vibration sending fresh shockwaves through my body.
“So sweet,” he murmurs, before diving back in with singular focus.
His tongue laps at me with broad, vigorous strokes, then teases in precise circles until I’m writhing beneath him, clutching the sheets and babbling as he devours me. He drives me higher, faster, until my back bows and I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, brutal and bright, and I scream, tears trickling down my cheeks as he gentles me through the aftershocks with kitten licks.
As I lie there, spent, he kisses his way back up my body, helping me remove my top and bra. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking deep. Electricity arcs through me, pooling low in my belly.
Then he shucks off his own clothes. I drink in the sight of him—all tanned skin and rippling muscle, decorated with tattoos that tell stories of his life and service. The phoenix on his back is even more magnificent than I thought it would be.
When he reaches for his prosthesis, I stop him with a gentle hand on his forearm.
“Let me help,” I whisper.
He nods, uncertainty in his eyes.
My fingers tremble slightly as together we remove it, carefully setting it aside. The tissue below his knee is a roadmap of survival and sacrifice, of everything this man has endured.
I lean down and press my lips to the scars, feeling his sharp intake of breath. My kisses trail along his skin, my hands gently caressing the muscle of his thigh.
“Letty…” he says, voice thick with emotion.
“Every single inch of you is sexy, Felix,” I say with a smile.
His eyes shine as he pulls me up for a searing kiss, rolling us until I’m underneath him again. I can feel his hot, velvety cock resting thick and heavy against my thigh, and I reach between us to stroke it.
“Need to be in you,” he rasps against my mouth. “Now.”
“I’m on the pill,” I reply, guiding him to my pussy.
The sight of him—muscled, battle-scarred, trembling with need—undoes me.
He brackets my hips, pausing. Our eyes lock.
Thunder rattles through the room.
He pushes inside me in one powerful thrust, the stretch and fullness making me gasp. He’s larger than I expected, filling me completely, perfectly. He stills, giving me time to adjust to his size, his arms quaking with the effort of holding back.
“God…” I choke.
“You feel”…he thrusts shallowly, the words dragging from his throat…“like fucking heaven.”
All I can do is moan feverishly as he works up to a punishing rhythm that has us both crying out.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. I claw at his back, urging him on. His rhythm falters, then builds again.
Every thrust drives me higher, the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter inside me. The bed creaks beneath us as Felix pounds into me with abandon. I’ve never been taken so thoroughly, and the pleasure is almost too much to bear.
The bed rocks. Our bodies slap together. He pins my wrists, eyes blazing, as he fucks me into the mattress.
“That’s it, Letty,” he snarls against my ear, his pace growing erratic. “ Take me .”
All coherent thought flies out of my brain as he shifts angles, hitting a spot that sends fireworks exploding through my system. My entire body tenses, hovering on the precipice.
“I want to feel your pussy detonate around me,” Felix mutters.
His words send me catapulting over the edge, and I scream his name as my second climax rips through me, more powerful than any I’ve ever experienced. Every muscle in my body convulses, clenching around him like a vise.
Felix follows with a deep, hoarse groan, his hips slamming into mine one final time as he pulses inside me. The intensity of his release triggers aftershocks, smaller waves of pleasure that have me clinging to him desperately.
We collapse, panting, my legs still wrapped around him as he buries his face in my neck. For several long moments, we simply breathe together, our hearts thundering in sync.
When he finally rolls to the side, he takes me with him, keeping me tucked against him.
“ Fuuuuck... ” he says on an exhale.
“So to speak.”
We lie tangled together, my head on his chest, his fingers stroking my back. The storm has tapered off, a mere patter of rain against the window now.
“I…never expected this,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his sweat-slicked skin.
“Neither did I,” he admits, tightening his arms around me. “But I’m grateful for it. And for you.”
Felix’s breathing gradually evens out as he drifts off to sleep, his arm still wrapped securely around me. I lie awake, watching the shadows play across the ceiling, my mind racing despite my physical exhaustion.
What just happened feels monumental. For the first time in four years, I feel alive again. Happy . The sensation is so foreign it scares me.
Carefully, I extract myself from Felix’s embrace, pausing when he stirs briefly before settling back into sleep. I gather up my clothes, quietly pulling them on.
My chest tightens as I look down at him—peaceful and vulnerable, and so utterly sexy. Part of me wants to crawl back into bed, to wake up next to him and face this together…whatever it is.
But the larger part of me is terrified.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now, not with him. Not even when it feels so right it steals my breath.
I know that in the morning he’ll want to talk about us, what this all means. About next steps, and feelings, and a future I’m not sure I’m ready to face. It’s too much, too fast, too overwhelming. I need space and time to process.
I scribble a quick note on the inn’s stationery, letting him know I’m okay but need time to think. It feels cowardly, but it’s all I can manage right now.
With one last look at his sleeping form, I slip out the door and into the silent hallway.
As I drive home through the quiet streets of Deepwood Mountain, tears are sliding down my cheeks—not from sadness, but from suddenly feeling something other than grief for the first time in years.
Happiness shouldn’t be this frightening.
So why am I so scared?