Pin Down (Men out of Uniform Book 1) (9 page)

The bastard.

Lexi glanced over at the boxes she still had stacked against
the far wall of her workshop. Six large, beat-up boxes that looked as if they’d
seen better days. They’d arrived two weeks ago. She hadn’t ordered anything, hadn’t
been expecting anything, especially nothing of this size. There’d been a single
sheet of paper with bold, slashing writing right on the top when she’d peered
inside.

Made me think of you. N.

God, they’d been from him. From Nash. The wave of sensation
that had rocked through her body had been so powerful the delivery driver had
thought she’d had a seizure. She’d barely been able to draw in enough air. She
still couldn’t whenever she looked at them, which was as little as possible.

The boxes had been like opening a treasure chest. An eclectic
collection of twisted shapes of metal—bits and pieces of God knew what—that
most people would gladly toss in the trash, but to her…Yeah. He’d known.
Exactly.

And she hadn’t touched a thing from any of them. Hadn’t been
able to bring herself to even empty them. They were still all sitting here. It
was dumb. She’d itched to explore the unfamiliar shapes, had already built and
un-built a bunch of pieces in her mind already, but she hadn’t been able to so
much as take a single chunk out of a box.

God. Nash had sent her the one thing guaranteed to ensure
she was completely, all the way gone on him—a guy she’d never see again.

Or so she’d thought. Until this.

Landing at 13:10. – Nash.

She’d been sitting staring at the text message for a good
hour. It had come in during the night from a blocked number, but she’d gone
straight to her studio to work that morning and hadn’t thought to check her
phone.

Funny. The dread she used to feel from a text was now a
distant memory. Nash hadn’t said anything, but she hadn’t received any more
unwanted texts since just before he’d left and she was certain that wasn’t a
coincidence. She didn’t know what he’d done or how, but she knew it was because
of him.

Damn, it was already lunchtime, which meant he was due in in
just over an hour. She swallowed the lump that rose into her dry throat, had
been there pretty much since she’d seen his message, along with the knot of
tension in her gut.

Now what?

She hadn’t heard him from him since he’d left—
months
ago—unless she counted the boxes. Nothing. Nada. Squat.

She walked back to her living room and threw herself down on
to the sofa. She’d read and re-read the message. God, it wasn’t even a
sentence. The bottom line was she couldn’t read a damn thing into it.

What? He was flying back in and wanted to give her an FYI?
He wanted her to meet him? Or not? He was leaving it up to her? But
why
?
And did she really want to open up those raw wounds again because sure as hell
he’d be headed off again to God knew where? She rubbed her forehead, at the
dull ache behind her eyes. Jeez, who was she kidding? None of those wounds had
ever healed, they hadn’t even scabbed over.

She was hot and tired and in a foul mood. Her latest work wasn’t
going the way she expected, the way she wanted. Actually it was a piece of shit
if she was honest with herself. For the longest time her studio had been her
sanctuary, her art her escape, but lately? She’d lost the feel of it, lost the
feel
for
it and it was a bummer because she craved that oblivion she used
to take for granted, so bad.

Lexi tossed the phone on to the coffee table, put her feet
in her heavy boots up on the dark surface and crossed her arms. Fuck it. If he
thought she was going to get dressed up and high-tail it to the airport to pick
him up just because he’d summoned her, he had another think coming.

*****

Nash cleared his throat and dumped his duffel in the middle
of Lexi’s living room with a dull thud. God, he needed a shower. Bad. It might
help to make him feel halfway human again. Maybe. The flight had been beyond
grueling—correction,
flights
. He’d hopped flight after fucking flight to
get back here as soon as he could and he— He thought the tension would have
eased from him once he finally got here, saw her again, touched her, yet his
skin still felt as if it were stretched too tight over his bones. Yeah, he should
have called first but he hadn’t had the guts to, plain and simple. And he’d
never run from anything or anyone in his life before.

“Thanks for the ride,” he managed to force out. “I—I need a
shower. I need to shave. I…”

I need you, just you, right now, right fucking now, naked
and spread out under me.

The words reverberated in his head until he thought it would
explode from the effort it cost him to stop from roaring them at her. She’d
barely said a word to him from the moment he’d seen her and it made him as
uneasy as hell.

Maybe there was someone else. Maybe she’d moved on and had
picked him up out of the goodness of her heart. Maybe he didn’t do a Goddamn
thing for her anymore. And maybe, just maybe he’d made the biggest fucking
mistake of his life when he’d left.

She’d met him at the airport, had been waiting for him when
he cleared security. If he hadn’t been so nervous he might have laughed at her dirty
work overalls, heavy boots and messy, sticking out hair. As it was, she’d
walked into his arms and he’d felt as if he’d come home for the first time in
his life. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, had forced himself to ease away from
her and then…nothing but ice, cold and biting.

They’d ridden in the car to her place as if they were
strangers and he hadn’t been able to think of a single fucking thing to say to
her, nothing that mattered anyway. Perhaps he should start with why he was
here. Better late than never, right?

“Lexi—”

“Strip.”

Say…

“What?” Nash frowned. He would have been more than happy to
oblige, except she didn’t have the look of lust on her face, she wasn’t looking
at him with passion, need. It was hard-nosed determination and yeah, maybe some
anger.

“I said strip.”

Or else.

It was unspoken, but he got the message loud and clear. God,
he wanted her so bad, needed inside her so much, but he could be determined
too. And patient. Taking his clothes off got him one step closer to what he
wanted, so what the hell?

He heard her breath catch when he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Turn around.”

“Why?” He smiled. “You want to check out my ass?”

“Turn.”

There was no answering smile. Not even a flicker, but he did
as she asked. No, demanded.

He frowned when she walked around him slowly. “What are you
doing?” He couldn’t tell shit from her expression and that bothered the hell
out of him.

He knew the exact moment she saw it. The gasp was a dead
giveaway. The wound was still an ugly pale pink against his darker skin and had
hurt like a motherfucker. Luckily the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital, had
been more of a flesh wound than anything. It had still taken a decent sized
gouge out of him though.

“Damn it, Nash,” she forced out, her voice hard, strained. “I
can’t do this. Put your goddamn shirt back on.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Her mouth tightened. “You had a wasted trip.
You’re not getting laid. Not by me, anyway.”

“Lexi…”

“Out. Get out. You need to leave.”

“What the
fuck
is your problem?”

Nash was exhausted, his brain operating on minimal capacity
and he had no idea what the hell was going on. He saw the single tear track
down her cheek and everything in him stilled.

He groaned. “Lexi…”

“Out. Now.”

Was she crying? Fuck, she was crying.

Shit.

Of all the things he’d ever pictured concerning her, crying
had never been one of them. She always seemed so strong and “together”, so
tough and he probably just took it for granted. The sight of her wet cheeks made
it feel like broken glass was twisting in his gut.

He pulled her down on to his lap on the sofa. He’d never had
to deal with a crying woman before. If there’d ever been tears, he’d been long
gone.

“Lexi, tell me what’s wrong.”

God, he was so out of his element here.

She shook her head and turned her face into his chest.

He could fly any type of aircraft, fire any type of firearm,
kill a man soundlessly with his bare hands, yet for the life of him he didn’t
have a clue why she was crying or how to fix it. Maybe he was just making
things worse. He should have left things the way they were. And he should have
thought this through better instead of being so damn selfish.

When she didn’t say anything he said, “If you want me to go,
I will. I thought—”

“Stay.”

It was soft and so low he barely heard it, but that one word
eased the tension from his entire body like nothing else could.

“Lexi, what—”

“You were hurt,” she murmured. “God, Nash, you were hurt and
I…”

“I’m fine though.”

“But I didn’t know.”

“It was just—”

“A scratch?” she hiccupped. “Yeah, where have I heard that
before?”

He smiled. “I’m fine. It wasn’t that bad, really. And it’s
healed now. Mostly. Okay?”

God, that was it? That he’d been hurt? He cupped her cheek
and turned her face to him. He wiped at the moisture with his thumb, hating the
tracks the tears had left. Damn. No one had ever cried for him before.

“Tell me something?” she whispered.

His gut clenched. “Sure.”

“Who was it? Texting me? I know you took care of it.”

The rage was still there and he had to temper it with an
effort. He’d debated telling her. What good would it have done? The threat had
been removed and the guy would never bother her or anyone else again.

“He worked in the management office here at the complex, had
full access to your contact information they keep on file. He got your new
number each time as soon as he realized you’d changed it.”

He felt the sigh. “It wasn’t anyone I knew.”

“No. Just a sick fuck who got his rocks off terrorizing
women.”

Terrorizing
his
woman. It was a miracle Nash hadn’t
killed the pervert. Nah, he’d made himself turn him over to the cops.
Eventually.

“He won’t bother you or anyone else ever again. I promise. And
let’s just say the security procedures and background checks of personnel here
have been substantially upgraded.”

He’d made sure of that too. Personally.

“You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”

“Stupid? No.” Satisfying? Hell, yeah.

Nash eased her off his lap when she nodded, a simple, but
absolute show of trust that choked him up. He needed to get his body moving—
now
—before
he wasn’t able to any more. Already exhaustion threatened to take him under. “I
need a shower, okay?”

He waited until she nodded before he grabbed his bag and
headed to the bathroom. It was an effort to drag one foot in front of the other,
but he showered in record time, his stomach bunched in knots. When he came out
she was waiting for him. On her bed. Naked.

His chest ached, every part of his body shook and his cock
was so hard, the pain almost made him gasp out loud. He’d forgotten how fucking
beautiful she was.

He took a deep breath, lowered his body down beside hers. He’d
flown nonstop to get to her, over forty hours of ridiculous connections. Man,
he didn’t have the control for this, not the way he wanted to be with her, the
way he wanted to please her and he’d be damned if he’d ever leave her hanging
again. It just wasn’t going to happen.

“Wait,” he managed when her hands reached for him, heading
right for the towel he’d wrapped around his hips. If she touched him now, it
was all over.

“Not happening. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

“Let me—I need to…” He shifted away from under her, keeping
her hands locked in his. “Let me take the edge off first, okay?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Lexi…”

“As much as I’d kill to watch that, if anyone’s going to
take your edge off right now, it’ll be me.”

Whoa.

He groaned as images crowded into his brain, not so
different from the ones that had haunted his dreams and most of his waking
moments since he’d left her. They were so clear, so real, he thought there was
a chance he just might combust from them. Except Lexi was right here in front
of him and looked as if she wanted to eat him alive.

“I’ll come if you so much as breathe on me,” he grated.

His breath hitched in his throat when she leaned closer, pursed
her lips and blew a soft stream of air over his heated skin. He groaned,
gritted his teeth and fought the sensations that threatened to engulf him. He
hadn’t been far wrong.

His heart hammered in his chest at the expression in her
eyes, determined, intent.

“Lexi?”

She slid down his body until she was kneeling between his
legs. He tried to control the trembling he felt in every limb as she flicked
the towel from him, but it was fucking useless. Even though he was braced for
her first touch, the slide of her smooth hand on his cock sent an electric
current along his length, straight into his balls, along every nerve ending in
his body.

She bent her head, put her mouth to his balls, licking,
sucking, totally fucking destroying him.

“Fuck, Lexi… You have…no…idea…”

She worked him with her hand, the movements timed to
perfection with her mouth. God, she knew what he liked and exactly how he liked
it and God, why did that feel so much like home?

“Jesus, I’m gonna come.”

Ten seconds, ten fucking seconds.

“I’m counting on it,” she murmured hotly against him.

And that was it. Nash stiffened, hands fisted in the sheets,
a groan as much pain as pleasure ripped from him as he spurted hotly in her
hand and across his abdomen as she continued to milk him, still sucking gently
on his balls.