Chapter 13 #2
The guilt hit like a physical blow. I’d been so focused on protecting her from my darkness that I’d left her to face her own alone.
“But I understand better now,” she continued softly. “You were fighting your own demons. That last mission—your friends dying, one of them killing himself afterward. You were drowning and didn’t want me to know it.”
I was humbled by her understanding, by her ability to see past her own pain to recognize mine. “I still wish I’d been there. If I had known, Kitten,”—the old pet name fell out of my mouth unbidden—“I would’ve been there.”
“I know that. I believe you.”
We sat in silence together for long minutes, just holding each other.
“Did things ever get any better for you?” she finally asked.
“Yeah. Time heals all wounds, right? Or at least gives you clearer perspective.” I shifted so I could see her face better.
“I moved to a small town a couple hours from Missoula. Garnet Bend, Wyoming. Population 2519. Working with the Warrior Security guys—they understand PTSD. They’ve been there. We look out for one another.”
“Warrior Security?”
“We do personal and corporate security. It stemmed from the Resting Warrior Ranch, a place started by a group of Special Forces guys where former soldiers having trouble adjusting to civilian life could find support and a place to stay for however long is needed.” I found myself actually smiling slightly. “It’s been a great fit for me.”
“It sounds like it.”
“You would like it in Garnet Bend. One of the Warrior Security guys, Beckett, works with therapy animals at this place called Pawsitive Connections during his time off. Helps train them for people dealing with trauma.”
“Therapy animals?”
“Yeah. Dogs mostly, but they’ve got everything. Guinea pigs, horses, cats, even an alpaca named Al Pacacino.”
She laughed. Actually laughed, the sound surprising us both. “Al Pacacino?”
“I swear to God. This alpaca struts around like he owns the place. Beckett says he’s got more attitude than any guard dog they’ve trained.”
She was still smiling, and the sight of it did something to my chest. This woman who’d been through hell, who’d just broken down completely—and she could still laugh at a stupid alpaca pun.
Before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself of all the reasons this was a bad idea, I was kissing her.
An actual kiss. Not a performance for perverts.
She made a soft sound of surprise, then her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer.
The kiss started soft, tentative, six years of separation making us almost strangers.
But then she nipped at my bottom lip, and something snapped.
The kiss turned desperate, hungry, three days of terror and six years of want combusting into pure need.
I pulled her fully onto my lap, her legs straddling mine, the dress riding up higher on her thighs. My hands found her waist, holding her steady as she rocked against me, the friction making us both groan. The kiss broke only when oxygen became necessary, both of us panting.
Her mouth found my jaw, kissing along the stubble there, down to my throat. I tilted my head back, giving her access, my hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. She bit gently at the spot where neck met shoulder, and my hips bucked involuntarily.
“Coop,” she breathed against my skin, and the sound of my name in her voice after all this time nearly undid me.
I captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply while my hands explored. The curve of her waist, the soft skin of her thighs, the racing pulse at her throat. She was grinding against me now, little movements that had us both breathing hard.
I trailed my mouth down her throat, finding that spot behind her ear that used to make her melt. Still did, apparently. She gasped, her nails scraping down my back through my shirt. The fabric was in the way, too much between us.
She seemed to have the same thought, tugging at the hem.
I pulled back just long enough to yank it off, and then her hands were on my bare chest, exploring.
Her fingers traced scars she didn’t recognize, the shrapnel marks from that last mission.
Her touch was reverent, learning this new geography of my body.
I found the zipper of the dress, pulling it down slowly, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Her shoulder, her collarbone, the soft swell of her breast. She arched into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders.
The dress pooled around her waist, and I took a moment just to look at her. Thinner than before, marked by survival, but still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I skimmed my hands up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, watching her shiver at the touch.
Her hands went to my belt, fingers working at the buckle with increasing speed. I helped her, both of us fumbling in our haste. Then my mouth was on her breast, tongue circling her nipple, teeth grazing gently, and she cried out softly, the sound muffled by the rain.
I picked her up and laid her on the bed, taking my time now despite the desperation thrumming through my veins. Kissed down her stomach, felt her muscles jump under my lips. I pushed the dress up and off completely, leaving her bare.
I traced the scars on her legs with my fingers, kissing each one, showing them the reverence they deserved. She was trembling now, not from fear but from anticipation. When I kissed the inside of her thigh, she gasped, hips lifting off the bed.
I took my time between her thighs, using my mouth to explore every sensitive inch of her.
My tongue circled her clit slowly, teasingly, while two fingers slid inside her wet heat.
She was already so ready for me, her body responding to every touch like it had been waiting for this.
Her hands fisted in my hair, guiding me, showing me exactly what she needed.
I curled my fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her gasp and buck against my mouth.
When she got close, her thighs trembling against my shoulders, her pussy clenching around my fingers, I pulled back, kissing my way back up her body. She whimpered at the loss, but I wasn’t done with her yet.
My thumb replaced my mouth on her clit, circling and strumming while I kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. I worked her higher, adding a third finger, stretching her, feeling how wet she was for me. Her hips rocked against my hand, desperate for more.
“Please,” she gasped against my mouth. “I need—”
I knew what she needed. I pressed harder against her clit while curving my fingers inside her, and she broke apart with a cry, her whole body arching off the bed.
Her pussy clenched rhythmically around my fingers as waves of pleasure rolled through her.
I worked her through it, drawing out every aftershock until she was boneless beneath me.
Before she’d fully recovered, she was pushing me back, her hands shoving desperately at my remaining clothes. “Need you inside me. Now.”
“Wait,” I managed, though my cock was so hard it hurt. “I don’t have—”
“I’m on birth control,” she gasped, wrapping her hand around my cock and making me groan. “Have been for years. Please, Coop. I need to feel you.”
That was all I needed to hear. I hadn’t been with a woman in years. I knew I was clean. And I had no doubt the same was true about Mia.
She guided me to her entrance, and when I pushed inside her tight, wet heat, we both went still, overwhelmed by the sensation. She was so fucking tight, so perfect around me. Her eyes met mine, dark and wide, and for a moment all the pain and separation disappeared.
“God, you feel incredible,” I groaned, pulling back slowly before thrusting deep again.
We found our rhythm quickly, desperate and intense, like our bodies were trying to make up for six years in just moments. She wrapped her legs around my waist, changing the angle of each stroke.
“Harder,” she demanded, nails raking down my back. “I won’t break.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I set a punishing rhythm, driving into her hard and fast. The wet sounds of our bodies coming together mixed with her moans and my harsh breathing. She met me thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take me deeper.
“That’s it,” I growled against her ear. “Take all of me.”
Her pussy clenched around my cock at my words, and I could feel her getting close again. I shifted my angle slightly, making sure to hit that spot inside her with every thrust while grinding against her clit.
“Oh god, right there,” she cried out, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks. “Don’t stop.”
I could feel my own orgasm building, my balls tightening, but I held back, determined to make her come again first. I reached between us, rubbing her clit in tight circles while maintaining my rhythm.
She shattered with a scream she muffled against my shoulder, her pussy clamping down on my cock like a vice.
The feeling of her coming around me, the rhythmic pulsing of her inner muscles, sent me over the edge immediately.
I drove deep one last time and came hard, groaning her name as I filled her with everything I had.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, breathing hard, the storm still raging outside. Reality would crash back soon enough—Oliver would return, we’d have to put the cameras back, continue the charade. But for now, in this moment, we had each other.
For now, that was enough.