Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) (7 page)

“Those weren't your kisses,” she declares,
her tongue sneaking out of her mouth and slowly tasting her own
lips.

My dick stands immediately at attention like
he was requested for roll call.
Yeah. I know. You're present.
So. Am. I
.

A bit hoarse, I lean my face down to hers; I
choke out, “No?”

Her lips brush against mine, the contact so
brief, but so damn hot I nearly come on the spot. I hate that she
has that kind of effect on me. Well. Love to hate that small fact.
After all I'm the only one who'll ever get to have her this way.
It's for the best. Striker's ER would be a rotating door.

“Your kisses...” the hot breath shoots
tingles straight to my cock. “Are...right...here...” And with that
her tongue grazes my top lip.

With a growl, I yank her into me so hungry I
can't handle the small separation any longer. She squeals pleased
and I stroke my tongue against hers until she starts to let out
whimpers that if she's not careful are going to get herself thrown
down on the couch instead of our bed. Not sure Sir would forgive me
for that.

Pulling away from me, she bites her bottom
lip. I know that look. It's the “Take Me to Bed, Clint” look. It's
a look I'm more than fucking proud of. I lift her up by her ass so
her legs wrap around me and return my lips to hers. That’s the only
place they belong right now.

Upstairs, her dress finds a new home on the
floor next to my jeans, boxers, and my dress shirt. Undressing her
is always like unwrapping a highly anticipated expensive birthday
present. Slow. Deliberate. Careful. But the need to be inside her
is too overwhelming for the slow and steady routine that she
deserves.

Thankfully, she senses my eagerness and
moans, “Now, Clint...”

With a cannibalistic groan, I pull her thong
off, toss aside her bra she loosened for me, and immediately I push
inside her, the warmth taking me over. My eyes fall shut as my lips
fall back onto hers, her legs slipping open happy to accommodate me
yet again. Moving against her at a brisk but steady pace, I let my
face fall to her shoulder, as she flexes her body undermine growing
wetter. Fuck. There's nothing else like this in the world.

Flipping her over so she's straddled on top
with me underneath, I sink into the mattress as she tosses her head
back, my name coming out on what feels like every breath she
exhales. Amazing. Her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is hiding parts
of her face. Her breasts are swaying as her hips are bucking. It's
too early to come, but she's too hard to resist. She deserves for
me to hold on until she lets go first. I'll go again and again, but
she needs to come first. Always.

She folds her body down on top of me, forcing
our lips back together, sealing us. Completing us. Her body is warm
and welcoming to my touch. Every time we physically connect it's
like a welcoming committee throws up banners, shouts with whoops
and hollers, and is soothed by my return home. Her body is a
temple. My temple. My place of worship. Home. Haven Davenport is my
home. And no matter what's coming at me on that field, she'll
always be what I return for.

There is something completely serene about
having my angel sleeping in my arms. I know it's the peace from
these memories we are making that will keep me calm when the demons
of war threaten the forefront of my mind.

Unexpectedly, Haven's body starts thrashing
beside me. Without hesitation, my eyes shoot up as does my body.
Prepared to take on whoever is putting the woman I love in danger,
I'm surprised to see her eyes still closed. The whimpers from
behind a vulnerable sleep state.

Unsure of what to do, since it's been so long
since she's had a nightmare, I continue to watch her face form
various painful expressions. My heart aches. There's a heavy
distinct pull. One I haven't felt in months.

“Haven,” my voice whispers. “Angel...”
Another whimper. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. Fuck.
Come on,
Marine! Fix this?
With another deep breath, I gently stroke her
arm and try again. “Haven, Angel...I need you to wake up.” The
movements start to falter. “I need you to come back to me, Angel.
Please.” Thankfully, the thrashing continues to slow down. Feeling
like I've finally got her attention, I push on. I will save her.
From everything. “Open your eyes, Angel. For me. For us.”

On a sharp breath, Haven shot up off the
mattress, gasping for air and immediately grabbing the tags around
her neck. Not waiting for her to realize it's me she's beside; I
engulf her in my arms. She buries her face in the crook of my neck,
her heart beat pounding so hard in her chest it's trying to burrow
through to mine.

“Alpha,” I softly sigh while stroking her
back. “Alpha, angel.”

The two of us stay pressed together until I
hear her voice finally say, “Thank you.”

I pull my body back and stare into her bright
brown eyes that are laced with fear and confusion. It's been weeks
since this happened. When she changed medications, it seemed to
help keep down the nightmares to few and far between. I should've
known this was coming. After that news report about Old Man Banks,
I should've been more alert. Prepared for this better. Taken extra
precautions. Fuck.

“No need to thank me, angel.” my fingers push
the strands of hair behind her ear. Haven softly smiles up at me
and I press a kiss on her forehead. “Wanna tell me about it? About
what you were dreaming of?”

Haven immediately shakes her head.

“I think it might help.”

“I don't think so, Clint.” She tries to pull
out of my grip but I don't let her go. I'm not letting her keep all
this shit inside. I know what it's like to have havoc consume you,
and so does she. I'm not letting her slip down into that abyss. Not
with as far as she's come. As far as we've come. “Clint--”

“Angel I know talking to therapist has been
helping--”

“It has.”

“Can you talk to me about it too?” Her eyes
fall down from mine. With a long breath I continue, “I don't know
much about what you've gone through. Or your parents. Or anything
from before you came into my life and I'm okay with that angel. I
really am. But I think it might help if you talked about some more
of it. I know seeing that bastard on the news last night next to
your father did something to you. So please, angel please, don't
shut me out. Don't shut back down.”

When I feel her body relax, I loosen my grip.
Fuck. I don't want her to run away. I don't want her to push me
away. I don't want the angel I've come to love to go away. But I
know if I try to force her to stay, even in my arms, it's exactly
what'll happen. My heart starts thumping a little harder. Anxious.
Terrified.

Haven whispers, “Lay with me?”

I nod and let the back of my head hit the
pillow. She nestles her face on my chest and lets my arms wrap
around her again. Thank God. I will my racing heart to slow the
fuck down. To return to a pace that's not trying to send me to an
early grave. The two of us lay in the early morning light of the
moon glowing from my window. All is quiet. Silent. Still.

“I was dreaming about the first time my
parents introduced me to Old Man Banks.” My body strains against
her from that bastards name alone. I'm glad he's fucking dead. When
I don't comment she continues, “His name...his real name, was
Samuel Banks. The first time I met him we were actually here in
Texas. We had met Dad in Dallas so Mom could do some shopping and
so I could go to the zoo. We met Old Man Banks for lunch. He was
wearing dark jeans and a black button up shirt. A beige cowboy hat.
He was constantly sucking his teeth. Looking at me
like...like...like that way that makes your skin crawl. I was nine
for God's sake. Nine and he was looking at me like that.”

Tensing next to her once more I close my eyes
tight, the urge to slit that bastard throat growing all over again.
Fuck. I can't fucking hear any more of this. I know I said I wanted
to but I can't. If I have to hear any more about him I'm not sure I
can keep my composure. I know for Haven I fucking need to. I'm 2
days from returning to active duty. I have to get shit back under
control.

“I didn't have aunts or uncles. Grandparents
were already passed away. Old Man Banks was one of Dad's oldest
friends. They grew up in church together, so he figured he would be
a good person to raise me if anything ever happened to them. Mom
said Old Man Banks had a beautiful farm with horses and pigs and
all the other things a little girl wants to hear about it. And at
nine, I never thought I'd actually have to go there.”

I can't keep listening. She has to stop. My
eyes squeeze tighter and I hold her closer.

“When I finally did end up in his care a few
years later...I knew he was a bad man. Cruel, Sadistic, Sick and
calculated. And late at night when I would cry myself to sleep in
the beginning, all I kept asking God was why my parents couldn't
see it. Why would they leave me with someone like him?”

In a strained voice I try, “Haven--”

“My parents were great people. Loving.
Wonderful. I remember my mom bought me an Easy Bake Oven when I
turned 7 even though the box said for 8 and up. Told me, we
wouldn't tell Dad. It would be our little secret. And Dad...when he
was traveling would call every evening to make sure to kiss me
goodnight through the phone and tell me how much he missed me.
Every night. How could two people that special not see the sick
monster they had promised me too?”

My breath shortens as I struggle to breathe
through the pain of the new information. Of the realization that
the angel in my arms may have healed but has so far to go. So
fucking far and I have to walk away. From her. That she has to do
it alone. I don't want her to do it alone, but I have no fucking
choice.

10 months. 10 months since I've been home. 10
months since I've held that girl of mine in my arms. 10 months
since she's been more than a small video feed on a screen. An
email. A text. A phone call. Don't be mistaken. I love my country.
I'm proud to wake up every morning to fight for it. If I die in the
field, it'll be an honor not a curse. But fuck me; I'm glad that
I'm home. Well almost.

“So?” Glove cuts into the thoughts that are
bare knuckle boxing in my brain.

“What?”

“Are you going to tell us about Scout Sniper
School or just keep pretending we don't already know?”

Confused, I put my beer that I've barely
touched down, “How-”

Lordy sigh giving his reddish, brown hair a
scratch, “Come on, Grim, you know Glove.”

“I'm like Gossip Girl,” he states
arrogantly.

“That's not something to be proud of,” Lordy
pulls his beer to his lips.

A little laugh comes from me as the subject
circles the air, Glove determined to not let it die, “So?”

“So what?”

“You amped?”

I shrug.

“That's it? You always wanted to do different
special forces kind of shit and now that you're headed that
direction, all you have to say is a fucking shrug?” He jumps down
my throat.

My hands fiddle with the label on my beer.
Glove's right. Since he's known me, that's always been my
direction. My focus. My goal. The HEA at the end of my book. And it
was. It was before Haven. Before living a long life was an option.
Before I wanted to marry her. Before...I wanted kids. No. Not
today. Hell not any time soon. But one day. I can't believe I want
fucking kids someday.

“It's Haven, isn't it?” Lordy slips her name
into the conversation.

I don't respond. My finger taps the glass.
Tap. Tap. I pull at the label. Tap. Tap. Pull. Tap. Pull. The label
is really stuck on there.

“Come on, Grim, she's gonna be thrilled for
you!” Glove makes arm gestures large enough to pull my attention
off my drink.

“It's not about her not being happy for
him.”

“Then what's it about, Dr. Phil?”

Lordy glares at Glove before responding,
“It's about him having to be away from her again. Am I right?”
Lordy asks.

I nod. Lordy gets it. I still don't know how,
but I know he knows what it's like to have your heartache over
choices you've made or are making. And Glove is right. Haven is
gonna be thrilled until she realizes it's about thirteen more weeks
away from her. 90 more days with me gone. Hell, chances are when
I'm done, I have to turn around and complete another course at
another school. She may be thrilled because she's proud, but how
long is that gonna last? How long until my angel realizes she
spends more time without me than with me? What happens when she
cracks? What happens when she gets tired of dating my Google
account?

“Word of advice?” Lordy's voice pierces
through me again. “Don't wait to tell her.”

“Please don't wait to tell her,” Glove chimes
in. “I can't handle a repeat of what happened last time. I thought
I saw the white light of Heaven after I let it slip.”

The memory pops back in my head. “You and
you’re got damn loose lips.”

“You know what they say about loose lips?”
Glove points to the table at the waitress to bring him another
beer. “They're put to good use once the girl strips.”

My head tilts at his stupidity. Just when I
thought he couldn't get any more moronic, he surprises.
Impressive.

“That's not how that goes.” Lordy begins
turning to face him.

“Yes it is.”

“No it's not.”

“Yes. It. Is.”

“No, its loose lips sink ships.”

“I prefer tight lips to make my ship sink.
But if that's how you get down,” his response is followed by the
waitress putting down his new beer and retrieving his empty
one.

The two of them begin bickering once more and
my attention wanders back down to the wooden table we're sitting
at. I gotta tell her. I know I do. I won't make the same mistake
twice and wait weeks. But I can't tell her right when I get home
that 'hey, I'm leaving in a month for another three. Great huh?’
That makes me a dick. God just thinking of her...I need to hear her
voice.