Chapter 14 #3
“Pixie,” he scolded affectionately, nuzzling his lips to hers.
“I’ve wanted you from the second I first saw you.
Every day has been worse because getting to know you only made the need sharper.
” His forehead touched hers. “I’ve tried to keep my priorities straight, to remember that I’m an intrusion into your life. ”
She would have denied that, but he didn’t give her a chance.
“You totally took me by surprise. I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never wanted a woman more than you. You have to know that. I’m used to wanting, though, so if you need more time, I can wait.”
“Well, I can’t wait.” Until she said it, she didn’t realize how true it was. “I want you right now. You, Brogan. No one but you.” She kissed him with desperation and with love. So much love.
“This can’t change things,” he said as he stood and stripped off his jeans.
Hardly able to believe what she was doing, and anxious not to waste the moment, Pixie lifted her hips and skimmed off her panties. “Meaning?”
“You can’t kick me out of your life tomorrow.” Settling over her again, skin to skin, their legs tangling, their heartbeats meshing, he said, “I want to be a part of your life.”
Thrilled to hear it, Pixie whispered, “You already are.”
That must have been enough for him, because there were no more words, just endless deep kissing, warm explorations, and more intimacy than she’d ever experienced. She felt the hard muscles under warm skin, and she felt the rough ridges of scars, especially on his right hip.
Soon she’d kiss all the places where he’d been hurt. And hopefully, his heart would welcome her. Loving Brogan meant wanting him fiercely, while also needing to defend him, to make his harsh life more comfortable. To show him acceptance and affection.
Just as he was showing her. Most of her uncertainty seemed silly now. That had a lot to do with the way Brogan branded himself onto every inch of her body. No, he couldn’t see her, but just as she’d felt his scars, she knew he could feel her imperfections.
Clearly, he didn’t mind.
She didn’t say the words out loud, but they were there, circling her heart, filling her head, stealing her soul. I love you, Brogan Rafferty.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered.
Smiling, she accepted his claim by replying, “And I’ll never let you go.”
An hour later, scrunched up on the couch together, with Pixie’s breathing finally soft and even, Brogan faced reality. “You should tell me to get lost.” She should—but he prayed she wouldn’t.
Pixie stirred against him, stretching with a small sound of contentment before twisting and shifting, almost sending him over the side and to the floor before she got settled atop him. Brogan knew if he was gifted a hundred years with this one special woman, it wouldn’t be enough to sate him.
Her small, cool hand cupped the side of his face. “You told me you didn’t want anything to change.”
“I don’t.” He turned his head to press a kiss on her palm.
“Here, in this moment with you, is the most perfect my life has ever been. The kids are both secure and well loved. Bramble feels like the most wonderful little town.” Mostly because Pixie and Andy were there.
“And you, Pixie. You’re like …” He shook his head, short of words that would correctly convey her importance to him.
When he finally figured out what to say, it came out raspy, thick with emotion.
“You’re everything good that I never imagined in my life.
I want this life, with you in it.” He wanted it so badly, it shook him.
“That sounds perfect to me.”
Idly resting both hands on her silky bottom, he said, “You deserve better than me.”
He felt her consternation, then her annoyance. “I don’t know what person could be better than you. I wish you would realize it.”
“Christ, Pixie.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m so freaking flawed, I don’t even like myself.”
“I like you enough for both of us. Besides, I’m flawed, too, and there are times I don’t like myself, either.
” She rested her cheek against his chest. “You don’t know what it took for me to do this—to get naked with a man, I mean.
To have sex. It helps that it’s dark because my body … ” Her words faltered.
“Your body is beautiful.” He swept his hands over her subtle curves. “So sexy.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re irresistible.”
“You can’t see me,” she teased. “I wouldn’t change a thing, because I love Andy so much, but carrying him, birthing him, and being sick for so long left their marks.”
He smiled despite the seriousness of the moment.
He locked his arms around her so she couldn’t move, then whispered in her ear, “Honey, I can see just fine.” Predictably, she tried to lurch away.
“Shh. You just told me how great I am, so trust me when I say your body is right out of my dreams, so small and sweet, and curved in all the right places.” As she eased, he stroked his fingers over her skin. “You’re so soft.”
“I … I have scars.”
Silly Pixie. “I have worse scars.”
She shoved herself up to glare at him, saying sternly, “Your scars are a part of you, Brogan. They show your bravery.”
What bullshit. “Anyone can get hurt.”
“Not everyone can be a SEAL. Not everyone can deliberately put themselves in dangerous situations. Not everyone can be as resilient as you’ve been.”
“Resilient?” Her unique perspective always threw him. “How do you figure that?”
“Look at everything you’ve been through. Everything you’ve lost—but you’re here, rocking the whole dad thing.”
Though he hoped that was true, he laughed. “Rocking it, huh?”
“Best dad ever, in my opinion. Anyone can father a child, but some people aren’t ready to take on the role of provider and protector. Not everyone knows how to love and nurture.”
“You think I do?”
“I see it every time you look at Shayna, when you hold her and care for her.”
“My little Sugar is pretty easy to love.” And so are you.
Pixie’s warm sigh teased his lips. “You’ll probably deny it, but you’ve been through hell.”
No, he couldn’t deny it, because at times the reminders consumed him.
“I hate the pain you must have suffered from your most recent injuries, but I love that you’re the type of man who faced all that, and you’re still caring enough to take on raising an innocent baby girl.
You’re man enough to love her. Man enough,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, “to come to Bramble and face down more possible hostility so that Shayna could know her brother.” She took his face in her hands and gave him a smile. “You’re enough, Brogan. For anyone.”
Those words sank into him, and in a way offered healing. Like a balm, her sentiment soothed the ragged edges of his guilt and emotional pain. “All of that can be said for you, too, Pixie.”
“I’m enough,” she agreed, though to him she didn’t sound convinced. “But I’d never have made it without Marlow and Cort. That’s a fact.”
He countered with, “I’d never have made it without Shayna.
I didn’t want to make it.” Her startled gasp almost made him regret the words, yet they were too important to be left unsaid.
“She gave me a reason to go on. I’m ashamed to admit it”—especially since she had such a high opinion of him—“but before Erin contacted me to tell me what had happened, I wasn’t trying to heal.
I ignored the doctors’ instructions; I told the physical therapist to fuck off.
I lay in that narrow hospital bed, welcoming the pain, wallowing in my misery, and wishing for death. ”
He hadn’t felt like enough, not for anyone.
Sounding heartbroken for him, Pixie whispered, “Brogan, no.”
“Yes. I didn’t save Sugar. She saved me.”
“I’m so sorry.” The tears in her voice revealed her distress.
“Don’t be.” The last thing he’d ever want to do was hurt her or make her feel bad in any way.
“I was on a self-indulgent pity trip. It was like I’d lost everything when my brothers died, and then I found out about Connie.
While I’d been feeling sorry for myself, she’d been dying—all alone.
” Reflexively, his arms hugged her tighter.
“I bet her last thought was for Shayna.”
“Maybe. But she trusted that you’d do whatever was necessary to give Shayna the love and care she needed. I’m sure that gave her comfort.”
His fingertips drifted up and down her spine, relishing that she was here with him, that she not only understood him, but saw the best in him. “I hope that’s true, but whether it is or not, I’ll always do my best for Shayna. I owe it to her, to Connie—and to myself.”
Pixie kissed his mouth, then each cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, and his chin.
He smiled. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you, because you’re amazing.” When he smirked, she insisted, “You are. Despite everything you’d gone through, the injuries, the grief, you still got it together when you needed to.”
“I should have gotten to Shayna sooner.”
“Give yourself a break. These injuries”—she kissed a shrapnel scar, then one that was worse, and the unsightly slash over his ribs—“they had to still be painful, and I know you were suffering from the loss of your friends. It takes a strong man, a heroic man, to be able to go on.”
With a roll of his eyes, he tucked her close to him.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Pixie. I really do, even if it’s not true.
I’m just me, doing the best I can—the same as you, the same as Marlow and Cort, or Gunther and Dee.
Everyone has their own strength. If they’re using that strength, doing what they can, then they’re no different from me. ”
“I can’t agree, but if it bothers you, I’ll try to remember not to call you a hero.”
Since he might have won that one, he tucked his chin down and said, “I want to tell you something, but I don’t want pity.”