Chapter Eleven #2
His kiss was desperate. His hands were shaking as they held her. He could barely keep himself in check, and John knew he should be exercising more caution. Giving her pleasure. Stroking her. Caressing her. But at the touch of her mouth against his, everything changed.
He rolled on the bed, bringing her on top of him, knowing that the position would give her more power. Her knees were on either side of his hips. The robe had parted, and her sex pushed against his cock. Her naked sex. She wasn’t wearing panties. Sweet fuck.
He yanked at the belt of the robe and the robe parted, revealing her tight nipples, those perfect breasts. He leaned up and took one into his mouth even as his hand slid between their bodies.
Get her ready. Don’t take. Get—
His fingers slid over her sex. Pushed against her clit. Had her moaning against him. Arching.
“I don’t want to wait,” Shelly gasped. “Don’t make me wait.”
He was already at the edge. And her voice, her sexy plea…no, he’d never make her wait. He positioned his cock and drove deep into her with one hard thrust. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed.
He nearly lost his mind. She was so tight and hot. Perfect paradise.
Then Shelly lifted her body up, only to push back down.
His hands flew up and grabbed the headboard. He heard the creak of the wood. He held the wood tight while she rode him, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her body so eager and sexy.
He tried to hold back. Tried to let her take the lead but…
“John!”
He rolled them again, and this time, he was on top.
She came beneath him, her body bucking as the pleasure poured through her, and he let go.
His climax slammed through his body, and his breath heaved out.
He pressed his mouth to her neck. Kissing her, marking her, fucking loving her as he came.
The orgasm went on and on, and when it was done, when he was finished…
He lifted his head. Stared down at Shelly. And realized—“Fuck, baby, I didn’t use anything.”
Her smile came, went, but left a faint glow in her eyes. “It’s okay, I’m covered. And I wanted to be this way with you.”
“Shelly…I…” He was already getting hard inside of her again. Because he craved her, endlessly.
“I’m clean,” she said, and her words hitched a bit as she pushed her hips up against him. “And I’m figuring if you can heal from any injury, well, you’re probably clean, too.”
He pushed into her, loving the way her body tightened around him. Slick and hot. Heaven.
“Again?” Shelly asked, her voice the purest temptation he’d ever heard.
Again. Always. He withdrew, pushed back, and when she moaned for him, he felt like Christmas had just fucking come.
His dream was in his arms. She was holding him, arching up to him, giving him her sweet body, and she stared at him with shining eyes, wanting him, needing him, just as wildly as he needed her.
John kissed her and he fucked her, and he knew he’d always want her. He wanted her pleasure, her whispers, her dreams. He wanted every single thing about her.
His mouth trailed over her neck. Over her silken skin.
She gasped and quivered. Oh, hell, yes, she liked that spot.
He made a mental note to always kiss her right there, on the curve of her shoulder.
Then he slid down, his fingers teasing her breasts.
Her legs locked around his hips as she gave a quick cry of his name.
His name on her lips. A name. Not a number. He was John. And Shelly—Shelly was his. A woman who wanted him. Needed him.
Loved him?
Hell, no, probably not yet, but maybe…maybe one day.
She came again, crying out his name once more, and he followed her, driving into her, over and over again, until the climax ripped through him. Until she was all he knew.
All he wanted.
***
“She’s going to die…”
He couldn’t move. John was on the ground, twisted on his side. Dirt and grime were all around him, and his chest felt ice cold. Car horns sounded in the distance, and he could see the faint green edge of a dumpster.
“You thought you’d play the hero, didn’t you?” That taunting voice demanded. Shoes were in front of his face. Black boots. “But you’re just going to die.” The guy crouched in front of him. He recognized the bastard’s face.
Devin. Devin Donley.
“You always thought you were better than me, didn’t you?
The better soldier. The better fighter. The better fucking man.
” Devin stared at the bloody knife in his hand.
“Guess who’s better now, old friend? And when I have all of her money, when that company is mine, no one will ever fucking think I wasn’t good enough. ”
Devin was going to kill Shelly. “Sh…Sh…” John couldn’t talk.
“There’s a whole lot of blood pumping out of you.
Guess you didn’t think this was how it would end, did you?
That’s why it was so easy. You always looked for a threat from the outside.
You thought you were protecting her from someone else.
” Devin smiled. “That’s the thing with people.
They never see the real danger, not when it’s up close.
That’s why Shelly hasn’t known. Why she’ll have no clue when I come for her.
Maybe I’ll use the same knife on her. Think that’s fitting, don’t you? ” Devin rose.
John’s fingers slid toward him, creeping along the grime and dirt and blood.
“It’s taking you a fucking long time to die.” Devin drove his boot into John’s side. “Maybe let’s just speed this shit up.”
The knife came at him again. Sinking into him, driving deep. Fast. Hard.
“You loved her, didn’t you, John? The mighty John finally fell. Too bad, she’ll never know.”
A siren screamed in the night.
“Fuck,” Devin muttered. Then he was running away. His feet thudded across the broken pavement.
John tried to move. Tried to drag himself forward, but his whole body was numb. A pool of blood surrounded him. He knew he was dying. He could feel it. And if he died…
What about Shelly?
Shelly…
He had to help her. Had to—
***
John jerked upright. His heart was pounding and sweat covered his body. Immediately, he reached to the side, needing to touch Shelly, needing to make sure that she was still close. But she wasn’t there.
His head turned. Shelly stood at the window, gazing out at the street. Sunlight spilled in, creating a soft glow around her.
John sucked in a deep breath. One, then another. He knew he’d just had another memory. This time, it had been a memory of his death. When he was close to Shelly, fuck, the memories came more often. They were stronger.
“It’s not fair.”
Her voice was low, soft.
He slid from the bed. Grabbed a pair of jeans and jerked them on. “Baby?”
She turned toward him. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, having no idea what she was talking about.
“I haven’t been fair to you.” She closed the distance between them. “You came into my life, and you just wanted to help me. I was afraid of you at first. I doubted you, and because of me, you were nearly blown up.” Her hand pressed over his heart. “You were stabbed.”
“You know it takes a lot to stop me.” Because of whatever had been done to him. A science experiment gone so wrong.
Her gaze searched his. “I was looking out the window. And I saw people—families, couples—they’re walking down the street. Laughing. Shopping. Christmas is just a few days away.”
His brow furrowed. Where was she going with this?
“I woke up, I woke up safe and alive and in your arms—and I realized I haven’t been fair to you.”
“Shelly—”
“I wasn’t celebrating Christmas because it hurt me to remember the past. It hurt to remember what I lost. But you’ve lost more than I have. And you still keep going. You keep fighting. You don’t give up.”
He would never give up on her.
“And I won’t give up, either,” she promised.
She gave him a quick smile. “Things haven’t been fair to you, but I’m going to change that.
I just, I swear, I almost feel like Scrooge.
In the story, when he looks out the window and realizes that he didn’t miss Christmas?
That’s me, right now. I looked out the window, I looked out the window and realized there was still time.
” Her words were coming faster now. “Because of you, I still have time. We have time. The past is gone, but we can start new. We can make new memories. We can make better memories, and we can do it together.”
“You’re not Scrooge,” John told her, even as he felt his own lips kick into a slow smile.
Her gaze held his. “But you are my Christmas.”
That was…shit, now his chest was aching, right beneath her touch.
“I didn’t miss you. I didn’t miss the chance to know you.
I won’t miss anything with you again. And I’m not going to drag you down into pain and sadness with me.
It’s not fair,” she said again. “Instead, we’re going to celebrate.
We are going to be happy. Just like all of those people out on the street. We are going to be—”
His arms wrapped around her. John pulled Shelly up against him. He lifted her and held her easily as his mouth took hers. Not in a fierce, demanding kiss, but soft. Caressing. Tender. With her, he could be tender.
“Happy,” she whispered against his mouth. “We’re going to be happy.”
He was happy right the hell then. What he’d been through, the damn lab, the battles, they didn’t matter. He had her. “You don’t need to pretend for me.” He knew how much she hurt. “I don’t need whatever you think those people outside have. I don’t need—”
“You need to make good memories. And memories are what I want to give to you.”
He slowly lowered her until her feet touched the floor. “Baby…”
Her smile lit her face. Made her eyes shine. Made him want to give her the absolute world. “Will you have Christmas with me, John?” Shelly asked him, the words coming in a fast, eager rush.
Hell, yes. Didn’t the woman get it? He’d do anything, give her anything. He cleared his throat and said, “I think that maybe we should start with a tree.”
And if anything, her smile became even bigger.
Right then, everything made sense to him. And he realized that Devin—dead bastard that he was—the guy had been right about one thing.
John did love Shelly. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew why she’d been the one person he remembered. Why she was able to crack through the darkness in his mind and give him slivers of his past.
Because what he felt for her went beyond the moment. It went beyond just a memory. She’d worked her way into his heart. His soul.
And she was always going to stay there.