Page 36

GAGE

“Baby, you feel so damn good.”

Rory’s lips part as a low moan slips out. Her fingers dig into my biceps, nails digging in just enough to bring a bite of pain amid the waves of pleasure.

Her head tips back, exposing the slender column of her neck. I bring my mouth to that sensitive spot just below her jaw, sucking gently at her satiny skin.

“ Gage .” Her nails dig even deeper. Arching her back, her breasts press against my chest, soft and plump and tantalizing.

I reach between us, palming her breast and flicking my thumb across her taut nipple. As Rory moans again, I pinch it lightly, knowing that, like me, she likes the contradiction of pain and ecstasy.

Her legs tighten around my waist, holding me to her.

I didn’t think it was possible to get even harder than I am already, my need to finish a throbbing, insistent pressure. Every thrust home is agonizing in the best possible way, as Rory’s inner muscles clutch at me and urge me to sink deeper.

It’s the most incredible chaos of sensation—my beautiful Rory hot and slick and tight around me, fitting my body like we’re meant for each other.

Like she was created just for me. And in turn, I for her.

Nipping at her neck one more time, I lift my head to gaze at the small pink mark left behind. Satisfaction warms my chest and sends a rush of heat downwards. Caveman-esque? Maybe. But I love it anyway.

I wouldn’t leave anything that couldn’t be covered with makeup, but in private, when we’re together, completely bared to each other, I love seeing the evidence of our love making. Just as I love seeing the tiny crescent-shaped marks left behind on my shoulders.

Her hand comes to my cheek, fingers brushing over my unshaven skin. It’s another incongruity. Soft against rough. Gentle while our bodies collide in a frenzy.

“Gage,” she breathes. “You feel so good, too.”

Emotion swells in my chest. It’s big. Intense. All-encompassing.

Taking my hand from her breast, I grab hold of Rory’s hip, changing the angle of her body so I can plunge even deeper. Then I draw back, so we’re barely connected; a delicious tease of what’s to come next.

Rory makes an unhappy sound and her eyes fly open, glazed with desire, the green nearly encompassed by black. Her brows pull together, etching tiny lines between them. “Gage. I’m so close .”

“I know, baby.” It’s obvious from the flush across her cheeks and chest, the fluttering of her pulse in her neck, the desperation pulling at her delicate features. “I won’t make you wait.”

Then I sit back on my knees, pulling her body flush against mine. I lift her legs and drape them across my shoulders. Then I thrust home again, feeling her inner walls rippling around me.

Once we’re fully joined, I hold myself still, commanding my eager body to wait. To give me these moments to just appreciate this precious gift I’ve been given.

Rory. Splayed out on the bed, her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breath, tipped with rosy pink peaks that call for me to taste them.

Her sultry gaze, dark with lust as she watches me.

Her sweet belly, flat with a hint of softness, and that cute little tattoo on her hip that I now know represents the first dog she ever adopted.

And then her velvety skin wrapped around me, slick and flushed with excitement. Seeing myself inside her, how perfectly we match, how she’s willingly giving herself to me…

It’s perfect.

As I start moving again, I watch everything.

How Rory takes me, tilting her body to allow me more access.

My erection, appearing and disappearing as I pull out and thrust deep once again.

The spots of perspiration glistening on her chest. The tiny curls at her hairline growing damp. The flush on her cheeks deepening. The tendons in her neck going taut as her head falls back.

The look in Rory’s eyes as she looks at me.

Not just with hunger. Not just with anticipation. But something more. Something I still haven’t said though I know it in my heart.

I can feel her legs trembling, a sign she’s getting closer. Seconds more, and she’ll go rocketing off the edge, taking me along with her.

Then I’ll see Rory at her most unrestrained. Her most vulnerable.

The Rory she only shows to me.

Reaching down, I find her sensitive bud, pink and exposed. Then I start to rub it. Slow first, then fast.

Her hips thrust in an erratic rhythm, instinctively seeking what I’m giving.

I pull back one more time.

Pinch that little bundle of nerves.

Thrust home. Deeper this time than any before. Joined to the point where we’re no longer two people, but one.

Rory cries out as she explodes around me, slicking me with another rush of heat. Her body stiffens while her inner muscles keep working, quivering and clutching at me. An expression of sheer ecstasy moves across her face, slackening her features and hazing her gaze.

My own release comes speeding upon me, pulsing in exquisite waves of pleasure as I fill her. Prickles of electricity surge across my skin and my lungs strain for the breaths I’ve forgotten to take.

Like a primal warrior claiming his prize, pride washes over me as I pull Rory to me, hugging our still-joined bodies together and feeling my seed seeking her womb.

I never considered that before. Not a wife or the possibility of a family. And while I know it’s not possible now, not with Rory on birth control, when I think of her round with our child, I like it.

I might even want it.

As I hold Rory to my chest, she rests her head on my shoulder, breathing hard. “Gage,” she murmurs, her breath a warm whisper on my skin. “I always think it can’t get better. But somehow it does.”

My heart somersaults. Flips. “I know, baby. Every time with you is magic.”

Her lips press to my neck. “That’s beautiful. I love that.”

And there.

The word I’ve been hesitating to say.

I’ve been holding back, and the truth of it is, I’ve been scared.

Me. Scared to say three little words.

I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. Seen things I wish I could forget. Suffered a career-ending injury. Struggled through a crushing depression. Hid myself away from the world for years.

But telling Rory I love her might be the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Not because I don’t feel it. But what if…

What if she doesn’t feel the same way?

What if I tell her too soon and it messes things up between us?

What if I screw up the best thing I’ve ever had?

But.

There’s that look in her eyes.

Thoughts thick in my head, I lay back onto the mattress, draping Rory across my chest. Tiny aftershocks are still sparking through us, and her heart is beating in the same staccato rhythm as mine.

Rory lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes close for a moment before reopening. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

Worry creeps over me. “Ror? Is something wrong?”

“No.” Her lips brush across mine. “I’m just… I want to tell you something. But I’m trying to get up the courage to say it.”

Hope ignites, kindling into a cautious flame. “What is it, baby?”

Her gaze holds mine, a depth of emotion within. “I’m worried it might be too soon. And I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Oh.

A giant fist slams into my chest.

Has she been scared, just like me?

As the thought spins in my head, realization sinks in. Of course Rory’s scared. She’s spent years on her own, too afraid to leave herself vulnerable to rejection. To outright derision, like that asshole from college. Saying how she feels is no small thing.

The caveman-protector side of me comes storming in, shoving aside my insecurities.

It’s my job to take care of her. My job to make sure she never feels scared again.

Framing her cheek with my hand, I stroke my thumb across her skin. I take a breath. Say a silent prayer.

“I love you,” I blurt out. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. But I was too damn scared. Too worried I’d screw things up. But I do. I love you, Rory. With all my heart.”

She blinks. “You do?”

“I do. I think… I started falling in love with you months ago. Maybe even the first day we met. But I didn’t know what love felt like. I wasn’t sure… I’ve never told a woman I love her before. Not like this. I mean, my mother?—”

My mouth clamps shut with an audible snap. Heat fills my cheeks. “That sounded weird. I didn’t mean it that way. But romantically?—”

“Gage.” Rory smiles. Presses her lips to mine. “I know what you mean.”

“But I’m sure,” I tell her. “So sure. When I’m with you, I feel… whole. Not some wounded warrior who’ll always be lacking?—”

“Don’t say that.” It’s stern. Fierce. Her brows pull into a little V. “You are not lacking. In any way. You’re a warrior, yes. But lacking? Never.” A beat, and then, “I love you, Gage. I have. And I was afraid, too. But now that I’m saying it… it’s not scary. It feels right.”

The flicker of hope explodes into a brilliant flame. “You love me?”

Rory nods. Moisture shines in her gaze. “I do. So much I can’t explain it. Words aren’t enough. But I really do, Gage. I love you so much.”

“Baby.” My throat goes thick. “I love you so much, too.”

I can’t remember the last time I hummed in the shower.

It’s always been in and out, everything done with the same efficiency and speed I trained myself to use in the Army. Quick shampoo, speedy soap, lather, and rinse, and then out of the shower so I could hurry on to the rest of the day.

But this time?

I keep getting distracted.

Rory’s face keeps popping into my head; her soft expression as she told me she loved me.

I keep hearing her words on repeat.

I love you so much.

I was afraid. But it feels right.

You’re not lacking. In any way.

I love you.

It’s like waking up from a dream to discover it’s real.

But my reality is so much better than I ever dreamed.

Before Rory, I couldn’t have imagined meeting someone who’d make me feel this way. Someone who would share their strength with me. Their support. Who thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.

I thought soulmates were a myth. Something only seen in books and movies. A wishful fantasy created by greeting card companies.

Now? I think I may have actually found mine.

Is it any wonder I’m humming? And some cheesy love song I hear every time I turn on the radio, no less. A song I would have intentionally turned off not even a year ago.

But I don’t want to spend too long in the shower, not when Rory’s waiting for me back in the bedroom. When I left her, she was just slipping into one of my oversized Army T-shirts and snuggling into bed with her phone in her hand.

“I just want to check in with Max,” she explained. “Make sure the dogs are all doing okay. I know we only left them this morning, but Fizziwig had a little cough…”

“Of course,” I told her. “I’ll jump in the shower and then see about making us something to eat. We have stuff for sandwiches in the fridge, plus cheese and crackers. And I snagged a bottle of wine from the bar to share after, if you want.”

Rory gave me a smile that was so big, so bright, it took my breath away. “That sounds perfect, Gage.” And then, as I headed into the bathroom, she added, “I love you. I can’t stop saying it now.”

I don’t want her to stop saying it. I want to hear those incredible words all the time.

Just as I’m rinsing out my hair and running through our deli meat selection—turkey or roast beef? Swiss or provolone?—I hear a faint knocking sound beyond the bathroom door.

At first, I pass it off as nothing. It could just be Rory hopping off the bed. Or messing with the dresser drawers, maybe finding that one of them sticks.

Then I hear it again. Dulled by the sound of the running water, but definitely a distinctive pattern of three quick knocks.

Raising my voice, I call out, “Ror. Is someone at the door?”

At first, she doesn’t respond. Worry spikes, even though rationally, I know there’s nothing to be concerned about.

Everyone who had reason to harm Rory is in jail.

We’re safe in this little cottage at a rustic resort on the shore of Blue Mountain Lake, with dozens of service members staying in the other cabins.

Then Rory’s voice filters through the door. “Sounds like it. Maybe it’s Webb. Or Sam. They both mentioned having a couple beers later, didn’t they?”

They did. But I doubt they would just show up without calling or texting first. Unless they’re a few drinks in and decided to stop by for a spontaneous visit.

“Did my phone ring?” I ask, wincing as soap runs into my eye. “Maybe they called? Texted?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” she replies. “I’m just going to throw on some shorts and check. It could even be Nora and Jack. Or Devin and Mal.”

Though it seems innocent enough, I can’t ignore the buzz of an alarm bell in my head. It’s probably just an aftereffect of everything Rory went through, but I’m not crazy about her answering the door when I’m not there.

“Just wait for me,” I call back. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Another pause, and then patiently, “I’m just checking the door, Gage. If it’s not someone we know, I won’t answer it. Okay?”

I grit my teeth as I answer. “Okay. But only if you know them.”

Yes, I know I’m being ridiculously overprotective. There’s no rational reason why Rory shouldn’t open the door. And what do I expect her to do when we’re at home? Wait for me every time someone rings the doorbell?

Well. I’d prefer that. But I know it’s not realistic.

Just as I’m turning off the water, Rory returns. “It’s Melissa,” she says. “She said she found some old photos of the team she wants to show you.” After a brief pause, she adds, “I think she’s upset. I didn’t open the door yet, but I can hear it in her voice.”

The belt strapped around my chest relaxes a notch. That certainly seems safe enough.

Still. I don’t feel entirely okay about it.

“I’m coming out,” I reply. “I just need to dry off and put on some clothes.”

“Okay. But I’m going to let her in. I feel bad making her stand outside in the dark, especially since our cabin is tucked back in the woods.”

And then, before I can respond, footsteps move away from the door.

Reaching for a towel, I quickly start drying off.

I try to tell my gut it has nothing to worry about. Melissa is harmless. She’s the widow of my former teammate. She’s probably hurting after spending the day remembering her lost husband. She needs my support, not my unwarranted suspicion.

In the other room, I hear Rory ask, “Melissa. Are you okay? Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m fine,” Melissa replies. Like Rory said, Melissa’s voice is shaky. She definitely sounds upset. “I just wanted to come see you two.”

It’s fine, I tell myself as I rush to put on my prosthetic, wishing it didn’t have to take so damn long.

I’m reading into things.

It’s like the counselor Rory recently started seeing said. PTSD can make you see threats anywhere, even in the most harmless of places.

Still.

I won’t feel okay until I get out there.