Page 35 of Beckett (Warrior Security #2)

Beckett

Dawn bled across the Montana sky in shades of purple and ash, the kind of light that made the world look breakable.

We stood outside the kennels at Pawsitive Connections, the morning air brisk and clean.

Audra swayed slightly on her feet, and I fought the urge to steady her.

She looked destroyed—hollowed out by fatigue, her skin translucent in the weak light, dark bruises beneath her eyes like someone had pressed their thumbs there and left marks.

It was probably going to get worse before it got better. I just wanted to take her somewhere where she could rest and heal, but that couldn’t come until we found the bastard hunting her.

“Morning, sunshine,” Coop called to Audra, his voice carrying forced cheer. “Nothing a gallon of coffee and three days of sleep won’t fix, right?”

“Make it two gallons,” she admitted, and the honesty of it twisted something behind my ribs. Two weeks ago, she would have smiled and lied.

Aiden moved past us toward the feed storage without a word, already tagging what needed doing. His silence wasn’t unusual, but the way his eyes tracked every shadow, every movement—he was in protection mode.

“I need to see Jet,” Audra said suddenly, urgency coloring her voice.

The moment his name left her lips, we heard him—that desperate whine-bark he’d perfected, high and keening. The sound pulled her forward like a rope around her waist.

My fingers fumbled with the kennel latch, and then Jet erupted out, seventy pounds of German shepherd launching himself at Audra with enough force to stagger anyone. But she dropped to her knees and caught him, her arms locking around his neck as he crashed into her.

The sound she made—half sob, half laugh—carved straight through me.

She pressed her face into his fur, and her shoulders shook, whether from crying or relief, I couldn’t tell.

Maybe both. Jet wiggled against her, his entire body vibrating with joy, tail creating dust devils in the morning air.

He dropped a T-shirt he’d been carrying like it was a precious baby, and his tongue found her face, her ears, her hands, anywhere he could reach, small whimpers escaping him between frantic kisses.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, the words muffled against his neck. “God, I’m so sorry I tried to leave you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The scene was heart-wrenching. Coop and Aiden left, giving the reunion a little privacy. Watching them now, I understood what that choice to leave Jet had truly cost her. Her whole body curved around him like he was the center of gravity she’d been missing.

For these few seconds, the haunted look left her eyes. The constant vigilance, the perpetual scanning for threats—it all melted away. She looked young suddenly. Free. Like the woman she might have been if some bastard hadn’t decided to make her his prey.

The transformation was devastating to witness—seeing who she could be when she felt safe, knowing how rare these moments were for her.

“We need to discuss protection,” I said carefully, hating to interrupt but knowing it was necessary. “I know you love him, but Jet isn’t a good choice. Duke or Atlas has combat training. They could?—”

“No.” The word came out sharp and final. She stood, one hand fisted in Jet’s fur. “I know he failed every protection test you gave him. I know he can’t be what you tried to make him. But I want him with me.”

“This is about your safety. A trained dog is the best fortification we can give you. Jet is?—”

“No. This is about survival,” she interrupted, her chin lifting with sudden fire.

“But not just physical survival. Mental. Emotional. I need this.” She gestured at Jet, who was pressed against her thigh, gazing up at her like she hung the moon.

“I need softness in a world that’s been nothing but hard edges.

I need someone who loves me without being programmed to. Can you understand that?”

Christ, could I understand wanting something gentle when everything else cut deep? Yeah. I understood perfectly.

“He stays with you,” I said.

Her breath rushed out. “Really?”

“Yes. Come on. Let’s get you back to your cabin and get you unpacked.”

We walked slowly back to her car that was still parked by the gate, Jet weaving between us, his shoulder brushing Audra’s leg every few steps like he was making sure she hadn’t vanished.

The morning sounds of the ranch surrounded us—horses nickering, chickens scratching, Coop’s low whistle as he worked.

Normal sounds that felt surreal after last night’s revelations.

Inside her cabin, Jet immediately claimed the spot by the front door, turning three precise circles before collapsing with a satisfied grunt. Audra stood in the middle of the room, looking lost.

“I need to unpack,” she said quietly. “Put everything back where it belongs.”

I understood. Last night, she’d packed to disappear. Now she needed to reclaim this space, make it home again instead of just another temporary stop.

We worked in silence, returning her few belongings to where she’d had them. Each item she placed felt like a small act of defiance against the man who’d driven her to run. When she hung her jacket back on the hook by the door—the last thing—her hands trembled.

“The thought of you being back out there alone makes me want to tear something apart,” I admitted, the words rougher than intended.

She turned to face me, and the tiredness was still there, carved into every line of her body. But underneath it, something else flickered. Need. Raw and undisguised.

“I’ve been alone with this for so long,” she whispered. “But last night, showing all of you what he did to me…” Her hand drifted to her neck. “I thought I’d feel weaker. Instead, I feel… God, Beckett, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a year.”

“You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

She moved toward me, each step deliberate despite her exhaustion. When she reached me, her hands came up to rest on my chest, fingers splaying over my heart.

“I need you,” she said, and the words came out cracked. “I need to remember my body belongs to me, not him. Please.”

I cupped her face, feeling the delicate bones beneath skin stretched too thin by months of barely surviving. “You’re sure?”

Instead of answering, she rose on her toes and kissed me. It started soft, almost careful, like she was afraid I might dissolve if she pushed too hard. Then it deepened, became something wild and necessary.

I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively, and carried her to the bedroom. The morning light through the curtains painted her skin gold and shadow. I set her on her feet beside the bed, then stepped back.

“Let me see you,” I said.

She nodded, understanding what I needed—to catalog every mark, every bruise, to reassure myself she was really here and whole. We’d been together enough times that undressing had become familiar, but this morning, it felt different. Sacred somehow.

Her fingers went to her shirt buttons, undoing them with practiced ease.

The fabric parted, revealing skin I’d mapped before but that looked different in this fragile morning light—still pale from weariness but healthier than when she’d arrived.

The regular meals and safety of the past weeks had restored some of her curves, though shadows of exhaustion still clung to her.

I helped her with her jeans, my hands steady despite everything churning inside me.

When she stood before me in only her panties, I traced a finger along her collarbone, remembering how prominent it had been when I’d first seen her, grateful for every pound she’d regained while here.

Even while cursing myself for not pushing to find out more earlier.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, feeling her shiver.

I stood and stripped efficiently, watching her eyes track over my body—the scars from combat, the newer marks from ranch work. When her gaze reached my cock, already hard and straining, her breath hitched.

“Lie down,” I said softly.

She stretched out on the bed, and I took my time looking at her, memorizing this moment when she was choosing trust over fear. I started at her feet, pressing my thumbs into her arches, working out the tension. She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Stay with me,” I said. “I want you here, present.”

She opened her eyes, locking on mine as I worked my way up her calves, kneading the muscles that had carried her through months of running. When I reached her thighs, spreading them gently, she tensed.

“Trust me,” I whispered.

I leaned down and pressed my mouth to the inside of her thigh, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Moved higher, using my tongue to trace patterns on sensitive skin. When I finally reached her center, still covered by cotton panties, she was already wet, the fabric damp against my lips.

“Please,” she gasped.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband and drew them down slowly, revealing her to the morning light. She was perfect—pink and glistening, her clit already swollen with need. I spread her legs wider, settling between them.

The first touch of my tongue to her clit made her cry out, her hips bucking off the bed. I held her steady with one arm across her stomach, using my free hand to part her folds, exposing her completely.

“So beautiful,” I murmured, then lowered my mouth again.

I took my time, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit. When I slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that made her see stars, she grabbed my hair, holding me in place.

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “God, don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I worked her with mouth and fingers until she was writhing beneath me, her thighs trembling, internal muscles clenching around my fingers. When she came, it was with a scream she muffled with her fist, her whole body arching off the bed.

I gentled her through the aftershocks, then kissed my way up her body—her stomach, the valley between her breasts. I took one nipple in my mouth, sucking until it peaked, then gave the other the same attention. She was making soft, needy sounds that went straight to my cock.

When I reached her neck, I paused. “Can I?”

She nodded, turning her head to give me access. I pressed the lightest kiss to her nape, right where I knew the scar was. She shuddered, but not from trauma. The bastard had made this spot hypersensitive, turned it into a trigger. But triggers could be reprogrammed.

I spent long minutes there, using lips and tongue and gentle teeth to reclaim that spot. Each kiss was a promise— this belongs to you, not him . By the time I pulled back, she was panting, her whole body flushed with arousal.

“I need you inside me,” she said, reaching for my cock, wrapping her fingers around the length. “Now.”

I grabbed protection from the nightstand, but she took it from me, rolling it on with careful hands that made me groan. Then she pulled me over her, guiding me to her entrance.

I pushed inside slowly, watching her face as I stretched her, filled her. Her eyes went wide, then heavy lidded with pleasure. When I was fully seated, we both stilled, adjusting to the sensation.

“Move,” she commanded, wrapping her legs around me.

I smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

I started slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. The wet heat of her, the way she gripped me—it was almost too much. But this wasn’t about me. This was about her reclaiming her body, her pleasure, her power.

I shifted angles until I found the one that made her gasp, hitting that spot that made her squirm with every thrust. Her nails dug into my shoulders, leaving marks I’d wear proudly.

“Harder,” she demanded.

I gave her what she wanted, increasing the pace, the force. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard tapping against the wall. She met me thrust for thrust, taking control even from beneath me.

When I felt her starting to tighten around me again, I reached between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling it in time with my thrusts.

“Beckett!” She came apart beneath me, her internal muscles clamping down so hard I saw stars.

I followed her over, pumping into her as my orgasm crashed through me, her name breaking from my lips like a prayer and a promise combined.

After, we lay tangled together, both breathing hard. Her fingers traced the scars on my chest, occasionally pressing kisses to whatever she could reach. Through the door, Jet’s gentle snoring provided an oddly comforting soundtrack.

“That was…” she started, then stopped, seeming to search for words.

“What we both needed?”

“More than that.” She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at me with eyes that held something I hadn’t seen before.

Hope, maybe. “For fourteen months, my body hasn’t felt like mine.

Every touch, even my own, reminded me of him.

Of what he did. But just now? That was mine. My choice, my pleasure, my power.”

I pulled her down for a kiss, tasting triumph on her lips. “Your body has always been yours. He just made you forget for a while.”

I would make sure she didn’t forget it again.