Book of the Month: TAKE ME HOME: Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The door closed behind him. In the part of his brain that was still functioning, he heard the deadbolt click in the lock. Heard her keys hit the entryway table.
He’d followed her to her place. Letting her go, letting her get into her own vehicle had been fucking torture.
Because the riot he saw in her eyes made him step back from the ledge. He wanted her to be sure. Needed her to take that step toward him. Needed her to thread her fingers through his hair and kiss him. To remind him that this was okay. That it was okay for them to steal this quick moment of pleasure when everything was going to shit around them. He knew she was running from those packets, from work, from the cases that stood between them…
He wanted the same escape. Needed the human connection that would let him escape from the torment, the weight of the decisions he was supposed to make every single day.
The normalcy he felt right then was something he hadn’t felt since he’d been pulled into the commander’s office two weeks ago.
At that moment, he felt real and whole and alive.
There was no threat of abusing his power. No way to screw this up unless he underperformed.
He bit his lip, hard, needing the reminder that he could not screw this up. Something about her had drawn him to her, from that moment when he’d first plowed into her at the office.
She was fierce. She was loyal. She was scarred.
***
The door closing was a finality. She could still change her mind. Still ask him to leave and keep her secrets, her scars to herself.
But Ben had trusted her. Tonight, it was her turn to trust him.
Fear slithered, cold and prickly, up her spine. She shivered, afraid to show him the physical reminders of her failure.
She hugged her arms around her waist, summoning her courage, shoving aside the doubt and the fear and the lingering insecurity that he would recoil from the marks on her body.
She felt the air stir as he stepped in front of her. Heat radiated off his body.
And then he cupped her face gently.
Urged her to open her eyes.
She tried to hide the fear, the uncertainty.
But one look in Ben’s eyes and she knew it was futile. Because he saw the truth she struggled so desperately to hide.
***
He didn’t know who had put the scars on Olivia Hale but they were there. He saw the ache in her eyes, saw the pain. He wanted to smooth that pain away but not if this wasn’t what she wanted.
Her lips curled as she stepped into his space, hooking her index finger beneath his uniform jacket and into his belt. His stomach jerked beneath her touch.
“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” She lifted her face to his, rising up to press her lips to the edge of his.
He nuzzled her lips gently. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured against her mouth. He sucked on her bottom lip, cradling her face in his palms. Absently, he traced her temple with one thumb.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “That feels so good,” she said.
Her voice whispered across his skin. His mouth went dry. He wondered when the last time was that she relaxed. Really relaxed.
And he had an idea. A way to get his hands on her beautiful body. A way to make her squirm beneath his touch. He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Down the hall. First door on the left.”
He lifted her then, a single movement that pulled her flush against him, bringing her into intimate contact. Her breath was a gasp as she wrapped her thighs around his waist. She didn’t protest when he padded across her carpet with his boots on. She simply nibbled along the edge of his jaw as he walked, her body sliding against his. Her teeth pinched the edge of his earlobe and sent an erotic thrill through his blood.
He crawled over her bed, lowering her to the grey and royal purple coverlet before he captured her mouth again. Her tongue danced with his, sliding along his and doing something that twisted up his insides.
She pushed up then, until he knelt over her. His breath caught in his throat when she slid her hands beneath his t-shirt and jacket, pulling his clothes free from his uniform trousers. “Olivia-“
She reached up, unzipping his jacket. Lifted his shirt to reveal the dark edges of the black ink that started at the seam of a wicked-looking scar. She wanted to ask. About the scar, about the intricate tattoos that wound over his shoulder and down his chest and the scars that looked
like burns beneath the black ink. He could see those questions in her eyes and braced for them. But she didn’t. And he was grateful because he didn’t know what he’d say. Instead, she pressed her lips to his stomach, just above the waist of his pants. Next to the narrow scar on his abdomen. Her breath stirred the hair on his belly as she nuzzled him there.
His stomach tightened and he tensed at the tenderness of the gesture. Still, he didn’t move as she lifted her lips away from the sensitive skin near the scar and the ink. He couldn’t breathe as she unhooked his belt and flipped it open. Then the buttons. One by one, she opened his pants, pressing her lips to his skin, close to that damned scar that he hated and resented and wished he could carve from his skin.
She ran her fingers over the hard edges of his hip bones and Ben’s control nearly snapped. He eased back, out of reach of her hands and her teasing lips.
“We’re going to have a stunning disappointment to this evening if you don’t stop,” he said, taking her hands and lifting them over her head as he laid her back on the bed.
“Coward,” she whispered, but there was nothing but sensual heat in her words as she surrendered to his touch.
“Yep.” There was no shame in his answer. “My ego really couldn’t handle having a misfire right now.”
“As opposed to some other, more opportune time?”
He laughed and pulled her jacket open. The zipper made a rasping sound as he slid it open, revealing the concave hollow of her belly beneath the same tan t-shirt he wore. “There really isn’t a good time for that,” he said.
He framed her stomach with his palms, sliding them higher, higher, pushing her shirt up, exposing the edge of her bra. It was functional, pale beige in soft, soft cotton and he’d never seen anything sexier. He tugged and she shifted, rocking and twisting until she’d shrugged out of her uniform top and t-shirt.
And waited.
***
Time was a frozen, shimmering thing as his eyes traced over the scars on her body, clearly visible now that she was stripped bare.
Her breath locked in her throat and it took everything she had to keep from crossing her arms over her stomach.
He dropped to his knees in front of her.
Cradled her ribs gently in his hands.
“Tell me about these,” he whispered.
She pressed her lips together in a flat line, her eyes stinging as the memories struggled to escape.
“My father,” she said. “He died from a mixture of painkillers and alcohol.” She looked away.
“He hit you,” Ben whispered. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the pity in his eyes at her painful admission.
The silence was heavy and thick and filled with so many questions. Neither of them moved.
Then she felt it. The gentle slide of his thumb over the largest scar on her rib. A gentle kiss where his thumb had been. A shiver ran through her as he traced the scar with the tip of his tongue.
She summoned her courage and looked down. Her gaze collided with his and the patient desire she saw looking back at her slammed into her. Her breath shook in her lungs. Trembled before it escaped.
“That’s nice,” she whispered when she could speak. She scraped her fingernails through his scalp. She tugged and urged his mouth to hers. And she lost herself in the powerful arousal in that kiss.
***
When she kissed him, he forgot his own name. “Those pants have got to go,” she said, using her boots to push them down his hips.
He wanted them gone, wanted to feel the sensual slide of skin on skin. Wanted to feel her thighs wrap around his waist as he slid inside her and watch her face as he started to move.
The waist of his underwear caught on his erection. “Ow, stop!” he said with a laugh. He lurched backward, his body missing the heat from her skin. “I’ll do it. Before you unman me.”
She sat up and laughed, unlacing her own boots and shucking her own uniform pants. It was strange sitting on her bed, pulling his boots off as she stripped off her own uniform. Everything about this felt surreal. Strangely rational and sexual all at once.
He’d never imagined he would see her relax or that it would be his touch that pushed away her stiff exterior to reveal the sensual woman underneath. She was a live wire, complex and sinfully erotic standing there in her panties and bra. He had the sudden urge to see her in his t-shirt. He wanted to see the edge of the fabric brushing against her upper thighs. He wanted to push it higher, to reveal the sweetness at the center of her.
Instead, he simply sat for a moment, reveling in this soft and sexy side of Olivia Hale that unlocked something he’d thought he’d put away for good. This was something secret. Something special. This was something she would deny in the harsh light of day because it didn’t fit into her personal save-the-world narrative. But right then, Ben could live with being something secret.
He wanted this woman.
He leaned down to shuck his own boots. Her arms slid around his waist from behind. Her palms folded against his heart, beating its fierce, wild rhythm beneath her hands. His skin burned him where she touched him over the black tattoos that covered his heart, and he braced for the questions.
They didn’t come. The intimate gesture was nothing more than a simple touch. A touch from one lover to another.
Ben paused for a moment. Savored the feel of her breath on his back. The softness of her hair on his spine. The casual weight of her arms around his waist was an erotic comfort. There was a warmth in that touch that unnerved him.
This was something powerful. And he’d be damned if he was going to screw it up.
***
His back was smooth and hard against her exposed skin, his skin hot against hers. She folded her hands together over his heart and rested her cheek against the solid wall of his back. He stilled. Then his hands came up to close over hers. It was a quiet gesture. A connection in the midst of casual sex that spoke of something deeper.
Something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
She pressed her lips along the edge of the black art that ran the entire line of his spine. Felt him stop breathing as her tongue flicked over a spot. She scraped her teeth over his back and his hands tightened over hers. A surge of power rocked through her as the man trembled beneath her touch. She licked again.
He dropped his head back, exposing his throat. She pushed up onto her knees, licking his throat. She sucked gently at the edge of his jaw, then ran her tongue along the sensitive tip of his ear. A gentle tasting. He let her take the lead, let her set the pace, and she fell a little harder for the man in her bed.
Monday at work would be awkward but she’d deal with that then.
He released her hands as she slid around his body and into his lap. His hands scooped her bottom and pulled her closer.
“No regrets, Olivia?” he whispered.
She traced her fingertips over his cheeks. “No.” She bussed her lips against his. “I need this,” she breathed.
He stood and crawled onto the bed, lowering her beneath him. He braced himself on his elbows. “I want to make this good for you.”
Her lips curled of their own accord. “As opposed to just bending me over and having your way with me?”
He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. The laugh tore out of him and shook through his big body. “I cannot believe you just said that,” he said when he could breathe again.
“You’re not the only one who can make jokes,” she said.
“I like your sense of humor when you’re mostly naked,” he whispered. “It’s so fucking sexy.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his fingers tracing her cheeks. It made her feel cherished. Protected.
Needed.
“It’s better for me at work if people are wary of me.”
“I think you’re scary at work.” He brushed his nose against hers. “But after tonight. I’m just going to picture you like this.”
“As long as you don’t tell anyone.” She licked his bottom lip then captured it in her teeth with a gentle tug. “Can we stop talking?”
He traced tiny kisses over her lips, her jaw. He captured her hands, sliding them up over her head. Held them with one of his hands while he explored her body with slow, languid strokes.
Who would have known Ben Teague was a thoughtful lover? But somewhere along the line, thoughtful transformed to heat and heat to passion. Her blood sang with his touch. Arched beneath his lips as his fingertips slid down her arms and over her ribs.
He slipped her bra free and lifted it away from her body.
And watched his eyes darken when he saw the scars tracing over her ribs and down her right side.
Her mouth went dry as his gaze took in the damage to her body. “I’ve thought about getting a tattoo to cover them,” she whispered.
His fingers danced over the mottled flesh, the gnarled ramifications of a failed decision.
“Tell me,” he said. His voice was deadly calm, steel beneath ice.
She cradled his face in her hands. “It’s not important,” she whispered.
He opened his mouth to protest and she kissed him. Claimed his tongue, his mouth, his breath. Stole coherent thought and the rage that she saw building in his eyes.
They were new lovers. The anger in his eyes shouldn’t have been there. Not this quickly. But Ben had a strange sense of justice. He was the kind of man who would lie to let a kid get a benefit he’d been a few weeks from earning. It might have been wrong to the letter of the law but in Ben’s world, it was just.
In Olivia’s, it was enough that he cared. For his men. For his unit.
For her.
There was care in his touch now as his fingers slid down her body, hooking in her panties and sliding them down her hips.
He urged her onto her back, using teeth and tongue and fingers to coax her body to heights she’d never flown. And when he kissed her where she ached for him, she nearly came off the bed. He held her, his hands on her hips as he feasted on her body.
It was only when she shuddered and tried to scoot away that he relented, a satisfied male smile on his lips even as he continued to stroke her slick, swollen heat. “Like that?”
“Oh, you definitely know how to make someone forget a bad day,” she said, shivering when he slid one finger inside her. “Oh!”
He kissed her as he stroked her body. Kissed away the darkness, the sadness, the sense of feeling nothing she ever did would be good enough.
He wanted this to be good for her. He’d known that when he’d agreed to follow her home. But as he slipped between her thighs, capturing her hands, threading her fingers with his as he found her center and slowly filled her, he realized he wanted more than just a casual encounter. She made sexy noises in her throat. He kissed away the pain she caused when she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. And he urged her to ride the pleasure. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “Let go.”
She did. And it stunned him and dragged him under with her.
***
It was the tipping of the bed that woke her.
Her body hummed with latent arousal as she came fully awake. The sheets were warm on her skin where they wrapped around her body.
But it was the emptiness of the bed beside her that caught her attention.
Ben sat on the edge. She didn’t have to see his hands to see that he was pulling his boots
on.
He glanced over at her when she sat up. He leaned into her and pressed his mouth to hers. No hurt. No acrimony.
But something less than what they’d just shared.
“I can’t sleep,” he confessed against her mouth. He lowered his forehead to hers. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay,” she said. She lifted her hand to let it rest on his opposite shoulder. Where the black ink bordered on clean, hot skin. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” she asked.
He looked away. “Yeah.”
“I think I can cure your insomnia,” she said.
He glanced back over at her. “Oh yeah?” Her breath caught in her throat as she let the sheet slip low over the swell of her breast. Her nipples peaked at the sensation. They were sensitive and sore from his mouth, his touch, but still she wanted more.
He lifted one finger. Traced the outline of her nipple over the sheet warmed from her body heat.
His gaze locked on hers as he continued to stroke her gently. He tugged the sheet down, down over the stiff flesh.
She had never done this. Never looked into a man’s eyes with his hands on her body. Never watched his eyes darken and his breath catch as he touched her.
He slid his thumb over the bottom swell of her breast. A teasing touch, meant to torment. It was Olivia who moved.
Who crawled into his lap and straddled his uniform-covered hips.
“Don’t go,” she whispered against his mouth.
And then there was no further thought.
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