No Perfect Hero, page 20
“No? Well, ma'am, if you insist...”
“Oh, don’t even pretend to have noble intentions now. You’re not some knight in shining armor, Warren. You may have screwed my brains out, but I didn't lose any IQ points.” She lifts her head from my shoulder, propping her chin against it instead so she can look at me with her eyes glimmering bright through her soft tangle of dark brown sex hair. “We've got to be sensible. Even if you did come charging to the rescue...”
I shrug. “Tara was upset. Can’t ignore a lady in distress.”
“Oh, I get it now. You did that for my niece. Not for me. Totally.”
Her saucy grin is irresistible, and I lean in to steal a taste, kissing her lightly. “I did it because if I tried to do it just for you, you’d take my balls off. Least Tara gives you a safe buffer that lets you accept help without really accepting it.”
Haley blinks, going oddly quiet, her smile fading. “Am I that easy to figure out?”
“Maybe to someone who’s just like you,” I say. It’s harder than I want to admit to get these words out. To just calmly package up these old pieces of myself into words and give them to someone else like it’s nothing. “My sister and I grew up without parents. It was just us and Grandma...a single older woman with two kids on her hands, trying to start a business in a backwoods town. She would’ve given anything for us, but we didn’t want to make her. So we tried to need as little as possible, so we wouldn’t be a burden.”
Eyes misting, Haley smiles slightly. “Sounds familiar. My sister and I are kinda like that too. But I don’t think Wilma would ever consider you a burden.”
“Maybe not. Still, so kind that we didn’t want to take too much from her. Grandma was all we had.”
“If it’s okay to ask...what happened to your parents?”
“We don’t know.” I turn my head against the pillow to fully face her, until our words fill the small space between us to make this thread of whispers, connecting us. “They went on a road trip one day and never came back. No one ever found their car. Police never turned up a glimpse of them. Maybe they drove over a ravine. Maybe they started a new life somewhere else. Maybe they just vanished into nothing.”
My chest aches. It's been more than a decade since I told anybody that story.
Damn.
I’d never really thought of myself as anybody with abandonment issues. My parents are just hazy figures. I can’t even remember their faces. I was only four when they disappeared.
My mother, I remember as a tumble of black hair spilling down over me and a scent of lilacs.
My father, the scratch of his stubble and the way his hands were so strong. When he picked me up, he always held a little too tight without meaning to, but I didn’t mind because it meant he had me.
Then Grandma eclipsed all of that. This flood of light and the yellow of the daffodils always in the vase in the front foyer, the silver of her hair and the kindness of her smile, the sharp wit in her eyes and the way she touches everything – from a simple curtain to a clinging, frightened grandchild – with such utter, pure love.
She’s all I’ve ever needed for family. Her and Jenna.
Fuck, no wonder it hurts to think of my parents leaving after all this time. It’s the same, really.
Jenna left, too.
And I won’t have Grandma forever. Her thinking about retirement, getting the inn mixed up with asshole Bress, is one more reminder.
What’ll happen then?
Who will I call family once she’s gone?
Is a man like me even fit to have his own?
I’m pulled from my blank, circling thoughts by Haley’s fingers. She brushes them gently to my temple, then slowly traces backward to my hairline, as if she’s exploring me. Mapping me.
And as her fingers slip into my hair, her weaving it in soft, delicate touches and strokes down to the scalp, I close my eyes. That hard, fucked up knot in my chest loosens like she's taming the most savage of beasts with a sweetness I’d never have guessed underneath that hellion’s fire.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Sorry you’ve had to live with so many unanswered questions your entire life.”
“It’s not the only one. Or even the worst. I’ve learned to deal, Hay.” I turn my head to brush my cheek against her wrist, the faint flutter of her pulse moving against my skin. “Shit, sorry. This is a little heavy for pillow talk.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” There’s a smile in her voice that I don’t need to open my eyes to see. “At least now I know we’re really not that different.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. My mom didn’t exactly abandon me...but it felt like that when she died. Leukemia. I was so mad at her for leaving me and my sister alone with him. It took a long time to stop hating her for something that was out of her control.”
That him, the soft crack in her voice, prompts me to open one eye, watching how the hazed shadows of afternoon fall over her face through the blinds, dwelling in her eyes. “Him?”
“Our father,” she answers bitterly. “The alcoholic.”
“Oh.” Then it clicks – oh, shit. “Is that why you seem so uncomfortable around Flynn?”
“Mr. Bitters?” She shrugs, her whole body moving soft and slow against me. “A little, maybe. I just can't look at him and feel much contempt like most people do with alcoholics. It’s a disease, and it’s one that hurts them so much...but it doesn’t change the fact a lot of alcoholics hurt people, too. So, yeah, I get all mixed up. Sympathy and resentment and confusion. Whether I ever loved my dad or hated him.”
That protective anger for her returns, bubbling in my blood, but I yank on its leash as hard as I can and try to keep my voice neutral. “Did he hurt you, Hay?”
She’s quiet for a long time. Almost too long.
And then she bows her head, pressing her brow to my shoulder, her hair hiding hers, her voice small and muffled.
“Sometimes,” is the only word she'll say. I can’t stop myself.
Wrapping both arms around her tight, I sweep her into me, shifting my body like I can shield her from past demons if I just use my bulk to take the blow. Every dose of reckless pain she’s ever felt.
“Sorry,” I say. “No man should ever do that shit. Not to his daughter, not to anyone.”
“It’s fine,” she whispers against me, still trembling. “I learned to survive. So did Marie. We...we learned to fend for ourselves, even if sometimes it meant leaving the other person to take care of herself. We had to. We couldn’t both go down when one of us could be saved.”
I inhale slowly, trying not to let my hands form fists. Not that they'd do any good on a dead man.
“Dad was a cop who knew people, so protective services never showed up. No matter how many teachers we confessed to, or how many anonymous tips were called in. We just learned not to ask for help because it never seemed to come.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve help, Hay. That you don’t deserve help now.” I’m about to explode with the depth of feeling rushing through me right now. This wild, overwhelming need to just make everything perfect for her, give her everything she could ever need to be happy, safe, and alive.
I’m burning with it. Scared I'll scorch the woman in my arms into ash with the coarseness racing through my veins.
“Warren?” She looks up at me.
“It’s all right to need help, Hay. That’s why people have friends, lovers, families. So we can all lean on each other. Pull together when it’s too damn hard to do the pulling alone.”
“Yeah?” she whispers, and her small arms creep around me, her hands curling against my back, clutching for dear life. “Who do you lean on, then?”
“Don't really know,” I admit. “I don’t. Still trying to figure that out, maybe.”
Hay lifts her head, looking up at me with red-rimmed, glimmering eyes, still too proud to let out those tears she’d spent earlier, holding her smile bravely. “I’d say you could lean on me...but you won’t tell me why you need to, will you? I know. Because you’re trying to protect me from the dangers of Heart’s Edge.”
It’s not Heart’s Edge that’s dangerous.
It’s Haley.
Because that smile, that soft and hinted plea for me to lean on her, to let her be something to me is too rare. Too precious.
Fuck, she could destroy me with the slightest touch.
Far more easily than Dennis Bress ever could.
I don’t have answers for her. Not one that'll satisfy this ache in my heart that wants to let her in but won't endanger her. Not one that'll ease the pained look in her eyes.
So I give her one thing right now – the promise of forgetfulness. A sweet distraction that lets both of us stop thinking about old pains and just live in the now, the moment, the pleasure of her body with mine.
I kiss her like it's gonna be the last.
And as I slowly ease her back down to the bed, savoring how small and lush and supple her body is under mine, I try to show her with every touch that it’s not her I’m shutting out.
Not by half.
I touch her like I'm engraving myself on her skin and branding her on me.
Like I can somehow ease the thorns, making this new thing between us both painful and wonderful, the agony of every prick bleeding with pleasure.
It’s pure torture, watching how her glistening lips part as I kiss and bite and lick her jaw, her throat, trailing her pulse with my mouth.
I chase it right down her body to her smooth, curving shoulders, her delicate collarbones, her lush, full breasts.
The taste of her skin is better than any black label booze.
I drug myself on her, making myself dizzy sucking sweat off her skin, caressing the texture of her nipples with my lips, my tongue. It burns damn hot inside me.
Then she arches for me, threading her fingers in my hair, holding fast to me like I’m the only thing in the world anchoring her – and I can’t hold back.
Can’t hold back from needing her all over again so soon.
Even if my cock hurts from strain, I don’t care, dammit.
Wanting Haley is pain, and I’ll take every last stab aching through me as my body throbs for her, craving that soft, pink sweetness inside her.
My face moves between her legs. I'm on her clit, this time no teasing, just raw focus on bringing her off.
Making her forget. Making us both fucking lost in our haze.
She whimpers pure sugar, dragging her nails through my hair. I pull her legs in, bringing her fully to my face, and then I'm all teeth and tongue and feasting madness.
I could eat this pussy for days.
Days.
Too damn bad she comes like a rocket in a couple minutes, her ass moving on the bed, flames hitched in her lungs, a breathless scream ripping out her ruby lips as I suck her clit to heaven.
Yeah, darlin', right the fuck like that.
Come for me.
I spend another minute savoring her taste after she's able to open her eyes and come back to me. All I can stand before I have to be in her.
Her legs part, and I take my sweet time aligning my dick to take her again. I've unloaded in her three times and I'm still hard as a brick. Fuck.
If that isn't something special, then I don't even know.
I love how she cries out as I slip into the welcoming heat of her pussy, gliding on a yielding wetness and gripping, pulsing flesh. Her heat sucks me off, right down to my balls, sending a vicious kiss up my spine.
“Shit, darlin'. You're gonna kill me with this pussy,” I say, barely an understatement. Right before my words melt into growls as I start to move.
Then we go hard.
Yet when I stop, slowing my thrusts, trying to prolong this addictive hellfire, she pulls me down, kisses me fiercely, her mouth wet and sweet underneath mine, her breaths coming harsh, slender hands cradling my cheeks.
Her thighs wrap around my hips, taut flesh gliding against me, binding me to my own damn senses.
Maybe she's a witch, and I’m completely fucking beguiled. Maybe this pussy feels like perfect sin on my cock because it's enchanted.
Whatever it is, my shoulders tense, and I can't stop myself from driving into her again and again, throwing everything I've got against her body.
It’s not just about the pleasure, the mesmerizing heat gripping me tight, wringing me from my own head with a gasp.
It’s about wanting to sear myself on her from the inside.
Claim her real deep.
It's insane. This can’t be permanent. Can’t be real. Can’t be anything more than an impulse and a fling.
But Hay’s already deep inside me, making me feel every tender, broken place in my heart that’s been craving a gentle touch for too long. Craving to be with someone the way I’m with her now, so completely locked in focus, sweat dripping between us as I bury deeper, hotter, faster.
Fuck, I need to see her face. Need to see her lose control – and it's like she knows.
She tosses her head back, crying out my name again and again with the most beautifully lax expression of raw, captive ecstasy etched in her pretty features. I want to see her make that face again and again, want to hold out just a little longer, but I need to come more.
She pulls me in, draws me deeper.
I've got no control with this one.
A feeling like rushing lava wells up in my balls, bringing my pleasure to a head and turning me wild, monstrous, driven to extremes by her smallest touch and the sound of her voice.
I come so fucking hard it turns me inside out. She takes every drop.
Takes all of me, and I'm only left wishing for one thing.
I wish I could truly give her everything.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
But Haley and I crash into each other like wrecking balls past noon, and I’ve been through days of military training that didn’t wear me out as much as sex with that little firestorm in there.
It’s evening by the time I wake up.
There’s a text on my cellphone saying to let Hay know that Tara’s fine, and Grandma made her dinner but don’t forget to wake Haley up on time for the pub. I can’t help a faint smile.
Grandma’s treating her like family already.
Looking out for every little detail, minding the p's and q's.
It's like she's goddamn psychic.
It’s still a couple of hours before Hay needs to get moving, and she looks so peaceful curled up in her bed. At some point while we were unconscious, she turned away from me, snuggling her back into my side.
Her pert little ass nudged up against my thigh, and her entire body curled around one of the pillows while her hair spills across the sheets. I can’t help a grin.
Maybe the pillow was easier to tackle than me, when she can’t even fit one of her slim arms fully across my chest. But it makes it easier to ease out of bed without waking her. I slip carefully off the mattress, then pull a sheet up to cover her so she’ll be tucked in without sweating to death in the lingering evening heat.
I step into my jeans and hitch them up around my hips, then slip out onto the back porch and rest my elbows on the railing, looking out over the view.
Times like this remind me of when I used to have a free moment during deployment. I’d always slip off guard duty and find a quiet place to lean against a portable camp, or maybe just a rock, and have a smoke.
I haven’t smoked since Jenna, but the low clouds slipping across the sky serve the same purpose. Their winding, wind-driven patterns draw me in the same way the slow curls of smoke used to, letting me blank out and ease my mind.
Night back then was always silence over desert sand. An endless quiet, one that sucked me in deep and blanketed out everything else.
It could be frightening, if you’d let it – but I always found it soothing, having just a few moments where, for once, things weren’t trying to crawl inside my head and lay down roots.
The sounds of night sinking over Heart’s Edge are almost as soothing, too.
Charming Inn is far enough from the main town that I can’t hear cars in the streets or the rowdies already getting started at Brody’s. Won't take long before light and music will be spilling out of open windows and doors with the carefree mood of people who either want to forget their troubles or have very few of them to start with.
Here, though, it’s just the sound of crickets. The whisper of the wind fingering the tops of the trees, the occasional frog that wandered off a little too far from the creek down in the valley.
Small sounds of people, too. The other vacationers in the cabins making dinner or putting a movie on or calling home to tell their loved ones how much fun they’re having in such a rustic little place.
I’d never thought Grandma would be able to make a backwater like our town into a tourist attraction, but it makes sense.
There’s nothing special to attract people to Heart’s Edge. No monuments or history or legends besides our little romance tale about the cliff. But when you spend your life surrounded by city stress where everything moves at a million miles an hour and there’s always this gnawing anxiety over the smallest thing, it can be a relief to get away somewhere.
A place time moves at the speed of honey-gold afternoon sunlight and the only thing to do is take in the beauty and the silence.
For people facing deadly hypertension before they’re thirty, a place like this is a dream.
Yeah. Yeah, I get it now.
I felt that way when I finally came back, too. Never mind the fact that I originally came home to finally settle the score with Bress.
Didn't matter. I felt like I’d come home.
Maybe I should stop using the house hunt for a cover and think about finding somewhere real.
I’m so sunk in my thoughts I don’t hear the door opening behind me, or the soft footsteps creeping up.
I just feel the warmth as Hay presses her body into my back, something thin that feels like a t-shirt between us. It separates our body heat by the thinnest tissue-fine layer, doing nothing to stop my guts from igniting when her tits yield in soft curves against my shoulder blades.
“Hi,” she whispers almost tentatively, laying her cheek against my spine.
