Chain of Command (8 page)

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Authors: Helenkay Dimon

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Chain of Command
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The tapping continued. Grew louder. “How am I sneaking? I picked up my keys and told him I’d be back this morning.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. “You won’t give him a name.”

“You guys need to get a life and stay out of mine.”

That wasn’t likely to happen now. “Yeah?”

“He’s not out.”

It took a second for the comment to register in Sawyer’s mind. He barely heard it since Marcus spoke low and directed the reply to the table. But then it all came together. Marcus acted secretive because he had to.

“The guy you’re seeing?” Sawyer couldn’t imagine living that way. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He was way out of league. Not sure what to ask or how to phrase the questions, he relied on short sentences and hoped Marcus would take the lead. “Is it serious?”

Marcus finally lifted his head. Whatever he tried to hide a second ago completely disappeared now. His expression could only be described as blank. “Hard to be when you can’t go out in public together.”

For years, Sawyer had watched Marcus struggle with what he could say and couldn’t and now he’d landed right back in that spot again thanks to another guy. Everything about this sucked. “You want to talk about it?”

“I just did.”

Sawyer wondered if it was really that easy. “Good point.”

The chair creaked as Marcus leaned forward. An intensity rolled off of him. “I’d rather understand your plans for the night. What is the end game here?”

No way was he engaging. Sawyer had known Marcus long enough to understand the guy drove into battle, verbal or not, expecting to win. “Food. Dinner.”

Marcus shifted in his seat, leaning harder on the table under his elbows. “If you sleep with her, then try to negotiate about the property, she is going to kick your ass.”

Abso-fucking-lutely
. “You don’t even know her.”

“I’m extrapolating from the bat incident.” Marcus traced the edge of one of the files with his finger. “All I’m saying is, if you lose control and do have sex with this woman, at least be good at it.”

Yeah, taking advice from Marcus about handling women might not be the most solid plan. “You’ve been really helpful.”

Not that the dry tone fazed the guy. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Remind me of that tomorrow.”

Chapter Eight

Hailey heard the knock at her front door five minutes after she buzzed Sawyer in at the main property gate. The man was punctual. A lot of good things, actually.

She wiped her hands on a towel as she opened the front door. Debated picking up the bat as a joke but decided scaring the poor guy off was not the way she wanted to go tonight. Not that he seemed to scare all that easily.

“Hey.” She stepped back and watched those long legs carry him inside. Black jeans and a blue long-sleeve shirt. She guessed this counted as his business uniform. She preferred the tees but he did look good. Delicious even. “You’re early.”

He stopped and spun around to face her. “Should I wait outside?”

“Because that wouldn’t be weird or anything.” She noticed he carried a familiar pink box wrapped with white ribbon. “What do you have there?”

“Cake. Lemon pound cake with frosting, to be exact.” He balanced the box in one palm. “Kat said it’s your favorite.”

Confirmed
. Looked like Kat definitely could add matchmaking to her list of available services at The Bakery. “It is.”

“Where should I—”

“Oh, right.” Something about the question in his tone jump-started her brain. “I’ll put it in the kitchen.”

She wandered in and he followed. He walked a few feet behind her but his presence loomed large in the small house. It almost enfolded her.

When her nerves took off on a zapping frenzy, she tried to occupy her hands with busywork. Checked on the baked chicken. Turned down the oven temp. Tried to figure out where she put that potholder...did she even own a potholder? She had some memory of using kitchen towels and wadding them up in a ball earlier to keep from burning her fingers. Not that her mind could focus on anything but him at the moment.

While she acted the part of the merry cook she snuck in a few peeks at him. He didn’t stand around looking uncomfortable. Not this guy. He sat on a barstool and moved the wooden cutting board in front of him. A second later he began cutting the cucumber she’d left there for the salad.

The guy just got sexier and sexier.

He glanced around. His gaze hesitated on the huge television perched over the fireplace and the couch and chairs circled around it for maximum viewing. “Where’s Barkley?”

“He’s actually not mine. He’s Kat’s. I bring him here during the day so he can run around.” She loved having him on the property for company and for security reasons.

“Fresh air is good for him.”

“It makes him kill things. If he brings me one more dead bird or tiny rabbit from somewhere deep on the property as a thank you gift I might throw up.”

Sawyer laughed and the deep sexy sound filled the kitchen. “He’s trying to impress you.”

“And do you remember the slobber?” When Sawyer smiled she continued. “He’s very good at licking himself and everything else around here.”

Sawyer stopped in midcut before retuning to his expert vegetable-dicing work. “Sounds like every other dog I’ve ever known.”

“Barkley has issues.” But his face made Hailey forget the bad parts. Kind of like what she kept doing with Sawyer. “He’s eaten two sofa cushions and failed doggy training twice.”

Sawyer glanced at the dark television then back to her again. “That little dude?”

“He has you snowed.” She turned the oven to warm. “He’s a bundle of nerves. Actually ate his crate.”

“Whoa.” But Sawyer looked impressed. Kind of like he appreciated the idea of biting through steel to be free.

Wasn’t that interesting.

“The vet calls it puppy separation anxiety, so Kat takes him to work sometimes and I keep him others.” Basically, the dog spent two seconds a day without a human being waiting on him. Hailey had long ago decided she would trade lives with Barkley in a second.

“Sounds like you’re providing dog day care.” Sawyer finished cutting and pushed the board toward the middle of the counter. The move gave him the space to lean in on his elbows.

She struggled to keep her mind off the man and on the dog. It was a weird mind trick but thinking about Barkley’s collar seemed to help. “It’s exactly like that. Kat got him at a pet adoption and is working with him to get used to her going in and out.”

“By never leaving him alone?”

“Admittedly, the plan has some flaws.” Hailey had pointed it out once or twice but Kat was so attached to Barkley that whatever system she wanted to employ worked for Hailey. After months of crying and staring blankly after the loss of Rob, Barkley made Kat smile again. Hailey had vowed to keep the dog in sirloin for life to repay him.

“He’s a good dog.” With a shrug Sawyer’s gaze went to the living room again.

Something had his attention and the grumbly sensation in her stomach suggested she wished she could bring it back to her. “You keep staring at the television.”

“I’m in awe because it’s bigger than mine,” he said in a voice that echoed the appreciation in his words.

Technology envy. That Hailey could understand. “So, this is a size issue?”

“Oh, I don’t have any problem with my size.” He winked at her.

She decided not to jump on that joke or they’d never get to dinner. “I like to watch football when it’s almost life-sized.”

He leaned in even closer to her side of the counter. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?”

“I...well...” The sexy draw of his voice had her stuttering. She tried to get a sentence out twice before settling for a beat of silence.

When she remembered how to speak again, she still waited, opting for leaning into the corner where the cabinets met in an L-shape. The wood supported her, which was a good thing because the ideas spinning in her head had her balance faltering.

“Hot because I know sports?” She didn’t like the sound of her voice at all. All scratchy and uneven. She just hoped he didn’t recognize the emotion for what is was—need.

“That’s a very small part of what makes you so attractive, but it’s pretty damn exciting.”

Suddenly she wanted the whole list. “Do tell.”

“The pants. The way they highlight that ass of yours. Your walk with that slight sway of your hips.” His gaze dropped, traveling down her legs in a lazy line then back up again. “That thing where you leave a few shirt buttons open and give a hint of something lacy underneath. It’s both a tease and a temptation.”

Her hand went to her neckline. She had to fight the temptation to play with the buttons and touch her skin. “I see you’re a wardrobe man.”

“Clothes on, clothes off. I’m good with both options.” He slid off the barstool. Didn’t cross over to her side of the counter. Didn’t really have to.

Energy pounded her. And when he finally started that deliberate stalk around the corner and into the kitchen area where she stood, her stomach dropped to her knees. Just hung there while her heartbeat hammered with enough force to knock her over.

“You’re not very subtle.” Though she doubted he was trying to be.

One of his eyebrows lifted. “Really? I think I’m being pretty civilized compared to the thoughts spinning through my head.”

He stopped in front of her. Not touching. No, the short distance proved much more effective. She could almost feel the heat radiating off him.

He balanced the heels of his hands on the counter, effectively trapping her in the corner. His chest grew closer. That face hovered in front of hers as his gaze wandered over her to settle on her mouth.

She wanted to lick her lips, drag him closer—something. She went with testing his interest level. “What would you do if you weren’t controlling yourself?”

“That is dangerous talk.”

No kidding
. “I’m feeling lucky.”

“Maybe we should stick to eating.” But he didn’t back away or sit down again. He loomed, all big and hot and inches from touching her from mouth to knees.

Forget being safe. Forget her promises about finding a nice desk job guy. She dove in. “You would say you wanted to have sex. Am I right?”

“No.”

With one simple word the air punched out of her lungs and a soreness settled in her chest. “No?”

This time he inched closer. If she reached out she could run her finger over that stubble as she’d been dying to do.

“Fuck.” He dropped the word then stopped.

Something skidded to a halt in her brain. Her common sense, maybe? “What?”

“Some people have sex. Some make love, or whatever the hell they say to pretty it up.” Those intense eyes stared at her without blinking. “I like to fuck.”

“There’s nothing delicate about that.” The comment, so raw and earthy, raced right to the heart of her. Every inhibition and doubt fell away. She had to grab onto the countertop to keep from wrapping her arms around him.

“Sure as hell isn’t.” He traced a finger over her collarbone and up her neck. “That interest you?”

“I may need to know more.” She struggled to get the words out over the shiver moving through her.

“Hot, deep. Strip those clothes off you and spread you out on your bed. Crawl between your legs.” He nuzzled the side of her face as his nose skimmed her hair. “Keep licking and touching you until you scream my name.”

The last words rumbled against her. His lips touched her ear and her knees buckled.

Hell, even her vision blurred. She’d never lost the power of sight over a guy before. “You’re so subtle.”

A bell dinged in the background. It seemed out of place until she remembered the chicken and the timer. Food...something about food.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” His lips brushed over her forehead. “The need only got stronger the second time.”

“Even with the bat?” For a guy who claimed not to like romance he had a knack for it. He hadn’t even used those hands to really touch her yet and the room spun on her.

“That only added to your hotness.”

“You have some fetish that includes being beaten?” Man, she hoped not. The whole hot, wet and deep thing...count her in. Punching each other? Not something that revved her up at all. She liked touching and tasting, not pain.

“Not even a little.” After a brief kiss on her nose he pulled back. Stared down at her. “But I do have a thing for women who can handle themselves. Something about seeing them in control and strong makes me think they’ll be wild in bed.”

And with that the last of her resistance crumbled. He broke through her defenses and unless he screwed up big in the next few seconds, she was going to be all over him.

“I vowed to stay away from military men.” And he tested that big-time. Tested, won and sent her personal promises down in flaming defeat.

“Why is that again?”

The string of deaths started with her parents and continued through to Rob. She no longer had a defense except to push out men that might hurt her. Not by being jerks but by dying. “That danger we talked about.”

He skimmed his lips over her cheek. “It’s more than that.”

The touching and deep caress of his voice had her giving in. “I’m tired of losing people.”

He kissed her forehead. “Me too.”

She pulled back so she could see his face, search his eyes. She saw nothing but honesty there.

“I figured you’d made at least a temporary exception on your military blackout when you invited me to dinner here.” His thumb traced over her bottom lip.

The soft touch was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever felt. Or it would be until he did the next thing. This guy had serious skills.

“A reasonable conclusion,” she said, half babbling and half trying to stay connected to the conversation in some way.

“But not accurate?”

“Your sex talk did up the stakes.” Made her forget about food. Even the pound cake didn’t hold any interest for her right now, and that was saying something because she could hoover one of those things for breakfast without ever picking up a fork. All five billion calories of it.

He cupped his palm over her cheek. “You mean my talk about fucking.”

There it was again. The word that darted through her until her carefully constructed defenses blew apart. “Right, fucking.”

“You know what I think?”

She didn’t really care what he said next. It was all starting to sound like gibberish in her head. All but the “fucking” part. “I can’t really breathe at the moment.”

He stood up straight and lifted her hands off the counter. With a gentle pull, he wrapped them around his waist to rest on his lower back. “We could spend the next hour trying to choke down food while we think about what it would be like to taste each other, or—”

“What?” Her insides jumbled and tension welled.

“I could kiss you now.”

Excellent plan. Kissing, touching, dropping to the floor. She was in for all of it. But first things first. She held up a finger then broke free of the circle of his arms.

“What exactly are you doing?” He sounded more amused than angry.

“I’m betting once we start kissing we won’t stop.” She found a towel and folded it over and over before opening the oven. The scent of baked chicken mixed with rosemary and lemon spilled out. She dropped the pan on the cold burner with a clank before turning back to face him. “And we may be hungry after, so I don’t want it to burn.”

He smiled. “You are so fucking hot.”

Then he was on her, around her, holding her. His hands slid into her hair as his mouth touched hers. Not a gentle peck either. Oh, no. This man could kiss. Long and lingering. Heat burning until she expected to smell smoke.

His lips crossed hers. The warmth of his mouth and the firm chest rubbing against hers. The breath rushed out of her and she couldn’t get close enough. She practically crawled on top of him as he deepened the kiss.

His mouth lifted for a second. She thought she heard him say “okay” then he pressed even harder. One hand went to the back of her neck to hold her head steady as his tongue licked along the seam of her lips.

The sensual back and forth, the play of strong hands and warm lips had her grabbing on to him to keep from falling down. Then his leg was there, sliding up the inside of her calf. His knee rose and their clothing rustled.

She heard a pounding sound in her ears and when his knee pressed against the space between her thighs she broke off the kiss on a sharp inhale of breath. She rested her forehead against his as she tried to get her bearings.

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