Chapter 16 #2
Tyrone flopped onto the bed on his back. “You may need to do most of the work on this round.” He had no idea how his dick was hard again; they’d had three rounds, or was it four?
Glenna straddled him, her fingers tracing the ink on his chest, the Raider tattoo that had started all of this.
Tyrone’s hand slid up her thigh, his thumb brushing over the faint bruises he’d left there. “He was a good man.”
“He was.” Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it—something raw and unguarded. “But he’s gone, and you’re here.”
Tyrone’s grip tightened, his cock twitching beneath her. “Yeah,” he growled. “I am.”
Glenna rocked her hips, her wet heat sliding over his length. “I’d like to see where this goes.”
“Me too.” He flipped her onto her back, his body covering her as his mouth crashed down on hers.
His cock slid home with a single, brutal thrust, her gasp swallowed by his kiss.
He fucked her slow this time, his hips rolling in deep, measured strokes, his hands exploring every inch of her—her breasts, her waist, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
She arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his hips. “More,” she begged, her voice a desperate whimper. “Harder.”
He groaned, his control snapping, and drove into her with a punishing rhythm, the bed creaking beneath them, the headboard hitting the wall, but all he could focus on was Glenna’s cries filling the room, her body tightening around him, her orgasm building with a ferocity that matched his own.
“Come with me.” He slid his hand between them, his fingers finding her clit. “Now, Glenna. Now.”
She shattered. Her release ripped through her, her body clamping down around him, her nails raking down his back as she came with a broken cry. Tyrone followed her over the edge, his cock jerking inside her as he spilled into the condom, his body shuddering over hers.
This time, when he collapsed beside her, he didn’t let go. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her skin. Glenna’s breath was slow, her body boneless with exhaustion, but her hand found his, their fingers twining.
Tyrone pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice a rough murmur. “Sleep. I’ll be gone when you wake, ‘kay?”
“Yes. It’s too soon for Kelsey to see you sleeping in my room.”
“Agreed.”
The first gray light of dawn crept through the cracks in the curtains, and he exhaled slowly.
Didn’t I do this already?
Yes, yes, I did.
His fingers flexed against the dip of her waist, memorizing the warmth of her before he forced himself to pull away.
Move. Now. Before you decide to stay and Kelsey does find you here.
He slid from the bed and Glenna murmured in her sleep, rolling onto her side, one hand reaching blindly for where he’d been.
His chest tightened. He caught her fingers, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then let her go.
He found his pants easily enough, but didn’t want to turn on the light to search for his t-shirt.
It’s fine, I only have to go across the courtyard.
He winced when the bedroom door clicked shut behind him with a barely audible snick.
The apartment was still, the only sound the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint rustle of Kelsey’s breathing from down the hall.
He went to her door and paused for a second, listening. But there was no movement or small voice calling out. Good. He wasn’t ready to face the kid yet…not with the ghost of her father’s laugh still echoing in his skull and the taste of Glenna on his tongue.
He grabbed his boots as he walked down the hall—he didn’t even remember kicking them off—and moved toward the front door. The lock disengaged with a soft thunk. He eased it open?—
“Morning, sunshine.”
Fuck!
Colt’s voice was a low drawl, amused and far too awake for this ungodly hour. The hammock swayed gently under his weight, the ropes creaking as he shifted, Bandit the cat a smug, purring lump in his lap.
“You’re up early,” Tyrone said, keeping his voice neutral. He didn’t turn around.
“So are you.” Colt’s lips curled into a smirk. “or is it you’re up late?”
Asshole.
Tyrone’s molars ground together. He stepped out, pulling the door shut behind him with deliberate slowness. He crouched, lacing up his boots with sharp, efficient movements. “I fell asleep after reading Kelsey a bedtime story.”
That sounded like a decent excuse, right?
“Uh-huh.” Colt’s hammock swayed as he stretched, the cat leaping down with a disgruntled mrrow. “That’s not what it looked like from my wife’s vantage point.”
Tyrone’s hands stilled. He didn’t look up. “You got a problem, Radar?”
“Me?” Colt’s boots hit the pavement as he swung out of the hammock. “Nah. But Dwight might.”
Fucking asshole.
Why is he being a dick?
The name landed like a gut punch. Tyrone’s head snapped up, his fingers curling into fists before he forced them to relax. Colt stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable in the dim light. The cat wound between his legs, tail flicking.
“Don’t—”
Colt’s eyebrow quirked. “Don’t what? Point out that you’re fucking your dead teammate’s baby mama less than three days after she lands on our doorstep?” He tilted his head. “Or don’t remind you that you’ve got a kid in there who’s gonna wake up any minute asking where her magic-bird man is?”
Tyrone surged to his feet, the movement sudden enough that Bandit bolted for the shadows. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know guilt when I see it.” Colt’s voice dropped, the teasing edge gone. “I also know you. You’re either running toward a fight or away from one. So, which is it, Zorro? You tapping that to punish yourself, or because you actually give a damn?”
His breath came sharply through his nose. He took a step forward, close enough that he could see the stubble darkening Colt’s jaw, the faint scar above his eyebrow from that botched extraction in Yemen. “Watch your mouth.”
Colt didn’t flinch. “Or what? You’ll throw down right here in the courtyard?” He spread his hands. “Go ahead. But you might wanna ask yourself why you’re more pissed at me than at the fact you just banged your best friend’s girl while his kid sleeps down the hall.”
The words hit like a blade between the ribs. Tyrone’s hands twitched, itching to put Colt on his ass. But worst of all, Radar was fucking right.
He exhaled and took a step back. “Not your business.”
“Bullshit.” Colt’s voice softened, just slightly. “Everything in this compound is my business. Including when one of our Operators starts spiraling because he’s got his dick and his conscience tangled up in knots.” He jerked his chin toward the apartment door. “She good for you?”
Tyrone’s jaw worked. The question hung unanswered between them.
Colt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, man. I ain’t judging. But if you’re gonna do this, own it. Dwight’s gone. You’re here. But that kid in there?” He nodded toward the door. “She’s already lost one father. Don’t half-ass this and make her lose another.”
The courtyard fell silent, save for the distant chirp of birds waking in the olive trees. Tyrone’s throat was tight. He gave Colt a single, curt nod, then turned on his heel and strode toward the archway leading to the main house.
Colt’s voice followed him, quieter now. “And for the record? Lock the damn door next time, so my wife doesn’t walk in on shit when she’s just trying to drop off a forgotten show. Damn it, Zorro. I didn’t need the visual she gave me.”
Fuck. My. Life.