Chapter 13
Amelia
Iwas in way over my head, I couldn’t think anymore. Every day after that day I laid in bed with him, it was torture. Replaying the warmth of his arms, the feeling of being safe, the gratefulness that I could close my eyes and just rest.
Shooter plagued my thoughts and when I got off work to head in his direction, it was another torture to see him, to want him, and know that I may not have had a place for him in my little messed up life.
I snuck out like a bad hookup leaving her one night stand. I felt ashamed that I allowed it to happen. In my mind I had to say no, but my body was a needy bitch that ached for that kind of kindness and devotion. And he was willing to give that to me. I wanted more, but how could I?
When I got home, Chris was still passed out, probably didn’t notice that I had gotten home.
When I laid on my own bed that morning, I felt empty like I was missing something and it wasn’t coming back to me.
I had this burning feeling like I was ready to explode but no way to let it out.
That’s what this man did to me; he left me feeling things I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Part of me hated this feeling, it was so foreign to me.
His warmth never left me; it was more like a ghost haunting me to come over to the afterlife.
My fingers trailed to the edge of my pants, itching to caress myself as if it were his fingers, as if he was lying beside me teasing me, whispering in my ear that I wanted this, that he wanted me to tell him what I wanted.
What I wanted was to be worshipped. I wanted Shooter’s hot breath on the nape of my neck trailing teasing kisses until he hit my collarbone.
I wanted his fingers to play with the fabric of my bra to see if my nipples could harden under his touch.
I wanted him to command me to be a good girl for him.
My fingers dove under the fabric to find a seeping wet heat coming from my pussy. Even my own slightest touch had me trembling.
I wanted Shooter to make me beg for it. My mind played it out, seeing Shooter’s strong body hovering over mine, his rough hands taking what he wanted.
I wanted to be pushed to the edge and then be brought back.
Dream Shooter would be yanking down my bottoms until I was bare, and he had the look of a starving man ready to dive into his meal.
Sounds escaped me from being lost in a daydream that I secretly wanted to become a reality.
I circled my clit, trying to get enough friction, but it wasn’t enough.
I grew frustrated and groaned as I leaned over to a nightstand and pulled out a blue mini vibrating bullet.
The buzzing sound was plenty to get me started.
The icing on the cake was thinking about Shooter finding it and using it on me multiple times.
Just thinking about how he would either bring me to the edge of release or keep wringing out pleasure until I begged him to stop.
I ached for that type of control. I needed it like a second breath.
I needed pleasurable pain to forget everything in my past.
The more I thought about Shooter, the more I felt like I was ready to explode. The final piece was thinking about his kisses. He didn’t kiss me the night before, but the lingering kiss from the first time. I rode the little bullet hard, my hips wiggling to meet the pressure.
In a cry of mercy, my body trembled from the symphony of happiness. My heart beat out of my chest, and a single tear dropped from my eye. The wall of emotions I had been masking broke free and my body started to feel like it was on a cloud.
He could never know about this. This would have added fuel to his fire, for him to latch on to with hope that I would give in to him.
Over the next four weeks, I tried to keep my distance, but it only took one night for that to stop.
When I walked in one night, he wasn’t sitting in his bed like he normally did.
He was standing, leaning on the desk, waiting for me.
Dressed in light blue jeans and a gray shirt with his cut, he stood as a man in charge.
My gaze widened just gawking at him. My mouth dried up and nothing, but squeaks came out of my unintelligent mouth.
Shooter smirked, pulling his desk chair out, suggesting I sit.
I hesitated, dragging my feet toward the desk.
He didn’t talk at first, instantly I thought something happened or someone died or maybe I was the next victim and this had been a game the entire time.
I slowly lowered myself to the chair, my heart beating out of my chest.
He pushed a plate with a cheeseburger that looked like it had the gooiest cheese in the world and a side of crinkled fries and ranch.
It was like the man knew I had been craving this as my stomach gurgled with a begging need to consume it all.
I looked at it, waiting for him to tell me something or even command me to eat it.
My stomach grumbled louder and he pushed the plate closer to me. He leaned forward away from the desk and went into his bathroom.
I was seriously thinking that the next moment I would be six feet under or drugged and would wake up in his sex dungeon or something. As much as I wanted to continue to contemplate about accepting the food or not, my stomach made the choice for me.
One bite into the burger and I was a goner.
The juiciest, tastiest burger I had ever had.
And crinkle fries, they were my favorite.
A soft moan left me as I devoured the food.
Maybe letting him feed me wasn’t such a bad perk for coming to do his PT sessions.
I lost track of time just trying to enjoy myself in that meal.
I guess I was too distracted when I didn’t notice Shooter pulling a chair behind me and just watching me.
He hadn’t spoken a word, and the silence was killing me. As much I fought every flirtation, every act of kindness he gave me, his silence was too much for me.
With cheeks full of food, I finally turned and teased, “You know this is a new level of obsession.”
He only smiled. “If only you knew.”
I stared deep into his eyes. I felt like there was something else to be said, but I left it alone.
“Are you just going to watch me eat?” I asked, finally swallowing the last bit of food.
“Have you not had anyone take care of you or do something that wasn’t transactional?” he returned with a question.
I wanted to argue, like the words were stuck in my throat and I couldn’t make them come out. I shrugged. “I never stop moving, hard for others to take care of me if I’m the one taking care of everything else.”
He hummed in response, going back to the silence. I didn’t like it. “Why do you care? It’s not like I’m your responsibility. I’m here to help and do a job and then get out of everyone’s hair.”
“Do I have to have a reason?”
I dropped the fry that I was about to put in my mouth. Why was I feeling more nervous about being around him? What did you really want with me? “Most people have a motivation behind it.”
He shook his head, leaning down and brushing a crumb off my lips. The light touch was enough to send my skin into goosebumps. I fought a shiver that wanted to move across my body.
“Then maybe I just like taking care of you. It doesn’t hurt to have someone else in your corner.” His voice was sincere. A pain in my chest almost crushed me.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Too late. Now be a good girl and finish your lunch, we have a session to start,” he said too smoothly. Why was it that I wanted to please him at that moment? That all the fighting nature in me wanted to give in.
I finished the plate, feeling too full to move. But we had a session to start and then finish so I could go back to reality that I was going to be by myself.
We ended up doing more walking along the trail around the compound.
The weather was bearable and it was better than doing an indoor session and being stuck inside four walls.
We were in step with each other, and I couldn’t help but glance over at Shooter.
The way the sun hit him made him god-like, a testament of brute strength, of someone to fear.
“Tell me why you wanted to be a nurse,” Shooter asked me, completely throwing me off guard.
“Um, I guess I wanted to go into medical school at some point, but nursing I felt was needed the most and still is today. I don’t know, I just figured that being a nurse was more.” I started rambling.
“More of what?” He kept pushing for a deeper answer.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like being a nurse was more where I needed to be, helping people through tough situations, being the shoulder to cry on, being a part of a team.”
He looked at me puzzled. “Medical school?”
“Pipe dream, but I wanted something that would match my pace. Some days it does feel like I’m more qualified than some of the residents that pass through the program. Look at it this way, I haven’t been fired for my actions toward certain people nor for my mouth.” I laughed.
“Medical school isn’t all that people make it out to be,” Shooter said nonchalantly.
I laughed even harder, “If you’re telling me that you being a military medic wasn’t a story...”
“Not a story. I wanted out of my hometown after college, and I was interested in the medical field. Military paid for my schooling and then shipped me off for tours until I got out a few years back,” Shooter said, acting like it was no big deal.
He just became more interesting the more he opened his mouth.
“Wow, brave, smart, and sexy, what more could a woman want.” That came out too smoothly and there was no going back.
“You think I’m sexy, evil nurse?” He chuckled.
My cheeks flushed with heat, trying to back track my words. “No. I just meant. Fuck, what I meant to say is that you make it sound sexy being in the military and a medic.”
I should really be more careful of what comes out of my mouth before it really gets me into trouble.
“Your secret is safe with me.” He threw in a wink for extra measure.
“You’re impossible sometimes; you know that, right?”
“I like to think there is some mystery to me after so many years,” he teased me.
“But military life wasn’t the easiest thing.
You try and save as many as you can, and then your heart breaks when you couldn’t.
Heartbreak turns into anger, and that’s the road that I stayed down.
I knew I couldn’t save them all, but when you take on so much guilt, it haunts you. ”
“You did the best you could, Shooter.”
“I can’t stand people getting hurt anymore, not if I can help it.”
I nodded in agreement, but he kept starting a new topic. Filling in the gaps of what I didn’t know and what I wanted to tell him. Until his next question.
“If you could bring a dream house, what would it include?” he asked, stepping alongside me.
I turned. “Really? That’s one of your burning questions?”
“Trying to get to know you.” He smirked.
I played along, knowing he was just trying to distract me. “I don’t know, I’d like a fully functional kitchen.”
“You cook?”
“When I can. But growing up, Daddy would be in the kitchen every morning and breakfast was my favorite with him. So yeah, a good kitchen would be nice. Um. I guess I’d like a little library, maybe a fireplace somewhere.
Oh, and a hammock in the backyard. Oh god, and a huge tub, but not the ones with the jet. That would be too much to clean.”
He just chuckled as I answered, like I was amusing him with my answers.
I just kept going because in the end we were just talking about dreams not realities.
“A huge bed, the fluffiest blankets. Maybe a decent-sized closet, where I don’t have to pack up the seasonal clothes.
A mud room or maybe even a Florida room or sun room whatever you want to call it.
I want natural lighting, where it feels like I can breathe in it. ”
“Sounds like you know what you want.” Shooter taunted, his brushing against mine, but never really grabbing.
“More like I know how to dream.”
I saw a different side of Shooter than most people.
He was collected, softer, and even nicer than when I first met him.
He had controlled his temper. And with one glimpse at his smile, your heart would skip a beat.
His rippling muscles were prominent from his long sleeves.
It made it worse when I had to look up at him, he was a tower of a man.
I silenced the thoughts in my head. I needed to stop fantasizing about him, especially knowing that I would be the one to scare him off.
“Peaches, your thoughts are very loud,” he said, stirring me from my thoughts.
He wasn’t completely wrong, but I knew that sooner or later he would be prying into my own silence.
He allowed my silence to keep going until he sighed very loudly, and I couldn’t help but laugh thinking it was almost brat behavior.
“There’s a lot in my head,” I confessed.
“Like what?”
“Why have you been nice to me?” I finally asked. “I mean, I get being on your best behavior, abiding by rules from Hound Dog. But all the attention, and everything else, why?”
He stopped dead in his tracks, as we got deep into the wooded area within the compound. He had been a couple steps ahead of me but turned around to stop me in my own tracks. My heart started to race again, and I didn’t know what to expect.
Shooter slowly stepped toward me, making my back hit a tree trunk.
He hovered above me, his burning eyes placed on me.
My chest heaved with a racing heartbeat.
It wasn’t anger but maybe confused, perhaps pity that washed over him.
My eyes flicked to his mouth and back to his eyes.
I needed him to say something. I needed to feel like more than a trapped mouse.