Chapter Three
“Your home?” Athena asked him with raised eyebrows. “I imagined you lived on something like a military compound.”
“I do. But the compound is where I live. This is my home.”
“Oh.” She looked back to the tiny cabin and a smile softened her features. He knew then that she saw what he saw. Shelter. Security. A place of his own.
“And the people you work for don’t know this place exists?”
“As far as anyone knows, this land was bought in cash by a Mary Olson, who died not much longer thereafter. The land is now managed by a trust. I’m the trust.”
“Clever.”
“Let’s head inside and get cleaned up. I haven’t been here in a long while, so once you’re settled, I’ll run and get us some supplies.”
After the events of the evening, the silence of the forest was almost deafening in comparison. There were no cars, no gunfire, not even the hum of electricity marred the perfection of their seclusion.
He jumped out of the car and ran around to her side to open the door for her, and again her brows rose as if surprised by this display of chivalry. He led her up to the front porch and she laughed when she spotted the massive lock on the door.
“I thought you said no one knows this place exists.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not prepared.” He laid his thumb on the scanner and punched in the five-digit code. “Wait here. Let me check inside.”
The interior was empty and untouched. A good layer of dust covered the wood-burning stove and countertops. But other than that, the place looked just as he had left it several years before.
He gestured with his flashlight for her to come in and indicated the chair by the front door. “Sit there and I’ll go turn on the generator out back. Don’t move.”
He made quick work of running outside and starting up the generator, not wanting to leave her alone longer than necessary in the dark. Through the cabin’s tiny windows, he saw the lights flicker on as the generator kicked to life with a rumble, disrupting the quietness of the night.
When he returned, he saw Athena staring at the large king-size bed that took up a third of the space. He never planned on having visitors, so it made no sense to have multiple rooms.
The living room fit right into the tiny kitchen complete with a small stove, a table and two chairs, and a bathroom just off the main room. That was really all a man on his own required.
“It’s cozy,” she said when he came back in. “I take it you don’t entertain often?”
“Nope. You’re the first guest. Give me a second to get a fire started.”
Athena took another few laps around the room while he got a nice little blaze started in the wood-burning stove. From the kitchen he retrieved a pot and filled it with water and set it on the flat top of the stove to boil since it was going to take a while for the water heater to fill. Next he gathered up a first-aid kit, a bottle of whiskey, a hand towel, and a shot glass.
“What? No dinner first?” Athena said with a smile.
“That comes later. Have a seat at the table. That cut looks bad and I want to make sure infection hasn’t set in.”
Taking the simmering pot of water off the stove, he mixed a portion with cold tap water in a bowl and washed his hands with some antibacterial soap. Once his hands were dry, he took his place at the table and cut the blood-soaked bandage off her arm, restraining the urge to head right back out and gun down the motherfuckers who hurt her. The four-inch gash running up the inside of her arm had split wide open again and blood had began to dry along the edges.
He mixed another batch of hot and cold water then dipped a towel into the water.
“Hey,” she said when he reached for her. “Don’t I get a shot of whiskey first?”
“The whiskey is for afterward. I don’t want you to bleed out on me.”
“Come on. Just one shot.”
“Here.” He lifted the bottle and held the opening under her nose. “I’ll let you smell it.”
“Oh, you’re funny too?”
“How about this?” He withdrew the scabbard from his belt and set the knife in front of her. “Bite on this if it hurts.”
“Smartass. Just get it over with.”
As he cleaned the dried blood and gore off of her arm, Athena’s jaw clenched. “Damn. Where’s a Percocet when you need one?” she joked through gritted teeth.
Once the wound was clean, he washed his hands again before he took out a packet of needle and thread from the first-aid kit and threaded the needle. He poured a generous amount of whiskey in the glass and pushed it across the table.
“One for now.”
She sucked it straight down in one swallow, barely sputtering as the fire burned down her throat. “Thanks.”
This wasn’t the first time he had had to provide aid to someone who had been injured, but this wasn’t a fellow Marine wounded in battle. This was a woman he had come to care for in a short time. A woman who showed more strength and courage than any man he had fought beside.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and gripped the needle tight between his fingers, determined to make the procedure as quick and painless as possible.
The needle pierced her skin like a hot knife in butter. Athena hissed and gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. He kept the stitches neat and evenly spaced, all the while knowing he was causing this beautiful woman pain. But damn, did she try not to show it. A moan would escape now and again, and her eyes filled with tears with each pass of the needle but she refused to let them fall. By the time he tied the knot, sweat rolled down his forehead and his hands were beginning to shake.
“Done,” he said and cut the thread of the needle.
“Thank fuck.” She collapsed across the tabletop and mumbled. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being weak.”
“Are you f-fucking insane? You are the toughest woman I have ever met, and I know a lot of badass women.”
Her smile was weak but grateful as she reached for the towel and used the cleanest corner to wipe her brow.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He jumped to his feet and went into the bathroom. “It’s going to be a few hours until there’s enough hot water for a shower. Give me a minute to improvise.”
“No problem,” she said around the mouth of the whiskey bottle and took a healthy swig. “A bath sounds lovely.”
Bath. Right.
Guess she hadn’t noticed there was no tub in the cabin. And even if the cabin had been four times the size it was, he wouldn’t have a bathtub. Bodies of water made him jumpy. Even something the size of a kiddie pool gave him the shakes. A side effect of almost drowning in the Moscow River. A shower was about all he tolerated. Quick, short, two-minute or less showers, where all he did was soap his hair and his nuts and jump right back out.
After the night they had had, he wished he could give Athena the bath she longed for, but she was going to have to make do with a sink full of warm water.
“Sorry. No tub. This is the best I got.” He gestured to the sink.
“Then I guess that will have to do.”
He stepped aside to let her enter the tiny bathroom, then slid the pocket door shut to give her some privacy. Through the door he heard a few muffled oops, groans, and a few colorful curse words before the door slid open again, revealing Athena with her T-shirt twisted under her injured arm.
“I can’t seem to get my shirt off,” she said in a quiet voice.
He took a breath, and then another. The sight of the fresh bandage on her arm kept his libido in check as he gently lifted the torn shirt up and over her head, but there was no way to stop the blaze of arousal that streaked down his belly as the generous mounds of her breasts encased in black silk were revealed.
“Thank you,” she said with a voice husky and soft. “I can get the rest.”
“Let me,” he replied, daring to take the risk. “Let me help you. I’ll be good. I promise.”
Obviously Athena was no fool, for she shook her head with a smile that suggested she knew that statement was more than likely a lie. However, suspicion turned to contemplation as her gaze took in his measure from the top of his head over his chest and down to his booted feet. Every muscle in his body hardened as her lips parted and the tip of her little tongue swept over the pillows.
Without a word, she handed him a washcloth then turned to face the mirror. The water was still hot as he dunked the cloth to get it wet, then with a gentle touch, he lifted her uninjured arm and begin to wash a long evening’s worth of sweat and dust from her creamy skin.
He continued with the fingers of her hands and the long line of her neck. Their gazes collided in the mirror as he slowly reached for the clasp of her bra, waiting for her to stop him. Her breasts rose and fell as her breath quickened, then stopped altogether as he released the hooks. The heavy weight of her breasts sagged without the support, and he almost fell to his knees, desperate to feel their weight in his palms. Wanting to feel the softness against his face.
Easing the straps down her arms, he placed the garment over the shower rack then had to stop himself from reaching out and taking what he wanted. Instead, he re-wet the towel then placed the wet cloth on the center of her sternum and drew a line down to her belly button. He then began to draw circles on her torso. Each circle grew smaller and smaller as he zeroed in on her pink-tipped mounds.
With each pass, their harsh panting filled the tiny bathroom, like an erotic metronome that marked the passage of time. He longed to feel her magnificent breasts against his bare palms, but for now he settled for the fabric of the washcloth between their skins. Soon, he would have all of her. Their coupling was inevitable, but this time was for her. To take care of her. To give her comfort.
He laid the cloth on the edge of the sink then knelt to remove her boots. He returned to stand behind her and pressed his front against her back as she gripped the edge of the sink. He rested his hands on the band of her jeans, his fingertips on the button and gripped the tab between his forefinger and thumb.
Would she let him continue? Would she give herself over to his keeping? Could he step away if she asked? Damn, he didn’t want to think about what he’d do if she asked him to stop.
But she didn’t stop him. She didn’t say a word. Just watched him in the mirror with so much need in her brown eyes, he succumbed to her silent plea.
The tick of the zipper releasing sent shivers up his arms, and he followed the progression of her jeans as he slid the denim down her long legs. While he was on his knees, her black satin-covered ass was right in the front of his face. Unable to resist, he laid his cheek against the curve of her butt and cupped her thighs in his hands, squeezing and massaging for a brief second before he pulled the bit of satin down her skin and revealing her nakedness to his gaze.
She was beautiful. Perfect. Marred only by the bruises on her arms and thighs from the events of the night. Even with the silver streaks of her stretch marks lining her belly and breasts, she was magnificent.
Across her lower back was a pinstriped tattoo with the names “Eddie” and “Kurt” scrawled across the top of the design that caused him only a moment of jealousy. She was with him now. That was all that mattered.
Water ran in rivulets down her legs and created a puddle on the floor as he continued to bathe her lower body with the wet cloth. Her knees shook and her breath hitched when he hit a sensitive spot.
Rising to stand, he caught her gaze in the mirror and wrapped his arm under her rib cage. He moaned at the sensation of her breasts resting on his arm. He drew her tight into the curve of his body, making no bones about how she affected him as he ground his erection into the curve of her ass.
Their reflection in the mirror was only from the waist up, so she couldn’t see his hand as he dipped the washcloth in the water. Her eyes widened when he touched the soaking rag to the inside of her thigh and skimmed closer to her sex. When the wet cloth met her hot pussy, they both gasped and her knees buckled.
Not a crease or fold was missed as he ground the cloth against the pad of her pussy while Athena writhed in his arms. What a glorious vision they made. The raven-haired goddess with her eyes closed in ecstasy, her fingernails clawing at his arms as she moaned out her pleasure while he stood tall and strong behind her, fully dressed with a red flush staining his cheeks and his muscles flexing and pulsing with the restraint to not take her to the floor and fuck her already.
While his fingers rubbed and teased, he gave into some temptation and placed his mouth over her skin where her neck met her shoulder, licking and sucking at the pulse that beat wildly against his tongue. He turned his hand to cup her breast and closed his fingers over the tight nipple.
“Thallium,” she gasped. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
It was too much. It was too good. He couldn’t hold out from touching her, truly touch her, any longer.
The cloth hit the floor with a soggy plop as he speared two fingers deep into her clutching sheath and sank his teeth into the curve of her neck.
Athena turned into a live wire in his grasp, bucking and jerking so much, he had to widen his stance so they wouldn’t fall over—but he never stopped tugging at her nipple as he ground the palm of his hand against her clit.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as obscenities fell from her lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes. Yes.” Her eyes flew open and she screamed, “Thallium!”
Fuck, yeah, he groaned against her neck, and squeezed her so tight, he had no doubt she’d have more bruises.
He continued to manipulate her body, doing his damnedest to draw out every second of her orgasm, even as his own body screamed for release. If not for the painful bite of the zipper digging into his cock, he would have come just from the wiggle of her ass against him alone.
Once she was completely spent, Athena collapsed in his arms, quaking with aftershocks. He reached for a bath towel and wrapped it around her body before scooping her up as if she were a child.
Funny. When she was in full control, Athena was larger than life, yet in his arms, weak, exhausted, he realized just how small she was, how fragile. With very little effort, he could break her with his bare hands. Huh, in some regards, he had done just that as he reduced her to tears.
He placed her on the bed, and she promptly rolled onto her side with an odd sob escaping every so often, but he sensed she wasn’t in any pain. He fetched one of his T-shirts from a small dresser and urged her to sit up long enough to slip it over her head, dressing her with care.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked as he wiped her tears with the towel.
“No,” she said with a wet chuckle. “That was—that was unexpected. Amazing, but unexpected.”
“Rest now. I’m going to get us some food and other supplies. Stay. P-please.”
He loved the way her eyes lit up when he said “Please.” He’d gladly endure the embarrassment of his stutter just to see the gold in her eyes sparkle.
“I’ll be right here,” she said.
Unable to resist, he tilted up her chin with his fingers and pressed his thumb to her lips, knowing she could smell the scent of her pussy on his skin.
The tip of her tongue flicked out to lick the pad of his thumb as her eyes grew drowsy with desire.
Right then, he decided she would be his. Or rather, he’d be hers. No matter what, no matter where, from there on out, his purpose would be to serve her and only her. Elite Ghost or no Elite Ghost.