CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BLAKE
“Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.”
- Charles Bukowski
“What made you want to get into private security?” I asked as my fingers absently traced the tattoo on CJ’s chest, the one placed right over his heart. It was too dark in the room to make out the small details, but I knew it had the names of his sisters and parents carefully scrolled within the design.
After the mind-blowing sex, we’d curled up next to each other on the bed. One of my legs tossed over his as he lay on his back with me tucked into his side. The arm he had around my back tightened, pulling me impossibly closer as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
“It took me almost a year to recover from my injuries and learn how to use my prosthetic, and once that was done, I had no idea what to do with myself. During my physical therapy, I’d come across some other wounded soldiers, a lot of them in worse shape than I was. I started volunteering to help the other soldiers when I wasn’t doing my own rehab. It put my injuries into perspective. Kept me from allowing myself to wallow over things lost.”
His body was rigid, every muscle tensed. For a second I considered telling him to stop. He was obviously uncomfortable with the topic, and though I felt guilty for bringing it up, I wasn’t forcing him to talk. If he needed to get it out, then I would listen. If he wanted to drop it, I’d find another topic.
My head moved with his chest as he inhaled a deep breath then let it out long and slow.
“One day I was playing a game of cards with a soldier learning to use his prosthetic hand and he mentioned how hard it was to find work. A lot of men want nothing more than to get a normal job and spend time with friends and family, not having to worry about living from one day to the next. There’s nothing wrong with that, but like me, some soldiers weren’t ready to let go of the action. They wanted to continue to serve their country. Unfortunately, not many were willing to put veterans on the front line of anything halfway dangerous once they’d sustained a serious injury.
“One of the guys said a buddy of his worked at a private security place that hired mostly veterans. I looked into it, and there wasn’t anything like that around here. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of leaving my family again, so instead of relocating to take a job somewhere else, I decided to just start my own firm. I had enough connections to get started, plenty of money saved and not much to lose, so I figured, why not?”
At some point while he was talking, he’d started softly stroking my hair. It was putting me to sleep, but it also seemed to be relaxing him, so I blinked a few times and forced myself to stay focused on the conversation.
“So you only hire veterans?”
“No, not always, but I do when I can. I don’t always have a place for someone, but if that happens, I try to make some calls and help them out. In the early days especially, I couldn’t afford a large staff. I wanted to make sure all my employees had great insurance coverage, since the VA is shit, and I have a therapist who comes in once a month to talk to all the guys individually. Most of them won’t say anything if they’re struggling, and their lives are too important to put at risk over something as trivial as pride.
“Those benefits were costly, so I had to take just about any job that came our way. I got lucky and landed a couple of wealthy clients who referred their friends, and business just kind of took off from there. We’ve been very blessed.”
My finger traced a circle around the flat disc on his muscular chest, his nipple hardening and goosebumps spreading across his skin. His hand came up to trap mine, forcing my palm to flatten.
“Better stop that, unless you’re ready for round two.”
Automatically, my eyes darted to his dick, which twitched under the thin white sheet that barely covered his massive body. Tempting as it was to go another round, I wasn’t done asking questions.
“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked quietly, rubbing my calf gently against the soft skin where his leg stopped just short of where his ankle should have been.
CJ sighed, but it wasn’t a heavy one. More like…resigned?
“Long story short, the Humvee in front of ours hit an IED. It flipped and came down onto the hood of our truck. My leg got trapped, and by the time help arrived, my circulation had been cut off for too long. I was lucky, though. Six men lost their lives that day.”
Leaning down, I pressed a lingering kiss to the largest scar on his side. At least three inches long, an inch wide with jagged edges.
“Shrapnel,” he choked out.
When I continued sliding my lips over every scar, his breath hitched. After a few seconds, he’d apparently had enough. Tangling his hand through my hair, he pulled me up and pressed his mouth to mine. For several long-yet-not-long-enough minutes, our lips moved together in tandem, worshipping, memorizing with slow drags and soft nibbles. It was every bit as intimate as when he’d been inside of me just an hour before. I poured everything I had in that kiss. Expressed every emotion he made me feel, wordlessly pleading with him to understand how deeply he made me feel.
Eventually the kiss grew deeper, evolving from a mission of exploration to a bone-deep need to be closer. It wasn’t hard and frenzied like the first time, or slow and sensual like the second. It was somewhere in between the two. I knew he liked when I clawed at his back, and he knew I liked when he roughly tugged on my nipples with his teeth. Reaching our climax didn’t take long, but CJ made sure I went first, just like he had the first two times. I wanted to write him a damn thank you card for that. Or send him a bouquet of flowers.
“What about you? What’s your story?” CJ asked once our breathing evened out and we were back to our post-coital snuggling.
I laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you that isn’t already in my file.”
His body tensed beneath me. Tugging my hair, he tilted my head up so he could see my face. He was wearing his super-serious, no-nonsense face.
“I haven’t looked inside that file.”
My immediate reaction was to snort, but then I realized he was being honest.
“Why?”
His head fell back to the pillow, like he was suddenly too exhausted to hold it up. I crawled up his body, propping my elbows on his chest and cupping my face in my hands. Whatever admission he was about to give, he dreaded it. That made the answer all the more interesting. He groaned when he saw me staring down at him with a wide grin.
“Spill it, Peg,” I ordered.
He did that cute thing he always did when he was confused. Forehead bunching, eyebrows knitting together, nose scrunching.
“Peg?”
I shrugged. “Short for peg leg.”
The silence extended between us for so long, I started to worry I’d actually offended him. Then I felt the slow rumbling beneath me. With each passing second, his body shook harder and harder, until eventually, I thought he was having a seizure. But then he laughed. Hard. Like, so hard he could barely breathe. What choice did I have but to join in? Laughter was contagious, and I was helpless to resist. Seeing CJ’s face twisted up in a smile so big it took up his whole face? It was an image I hoped I could dredge up, even when I was old and grey and my memories were starting to fail me.
Our laughter started to die down, and CJ pulled me into his chest. The way he pressed his cheek to the top of my head and absently stroked his fingers up and down the sensitive skin on my back made tears prick the backs of my eyes. Never would I have imagined CJ showing such easy affection, like it just came naturally. As if touching me weren’t a conscious thought, but something his body needed to survive, like breathing. Or maybe for him it was more like burping. You know, like if you hold it in you get little cramps in your side and you feel all uncomfortable. So just letting out the air bubbles, as unattractive as it might be, was a necessary evil.
“Did you just compare snuggling with you to belching?”
Humor laced his tone. I was grateful he couldn’t see my face. My cheeks burned red hot. Accidentally speaking out loud wasn’t uncommon for me, but that was an especially mortifying time to forget to keep my words inside.
“What? Everyone knows letting out a giant burp after a really good meal or downing a bunch of soda means they’re fully satisfied.”
CJ chuckled but didn’t call me out on my shitty attempt to play off my slip.
“I just didn’t feel right about it.”
It took a few seconds for me to realize what he was talking about.
“You mean my file?”
I felt him nod. “My reasons for having Reed get that information…”
He trailed off and I sat up so I could see him. His eyebrows were knit together, the skin between them bunching the way it always did when he was deep in thought. I smoothed it with my finger, enjoying the way the skin went smooth under my touch. CJ was so intense all the time. The only time I saw the coiled muscles in his shoulders and back unwind themselves was when he looked my way. In a very short amount of time, he’d gone from basically hating me to regarding me with so much affection that it was all I could do not to melt into a damn puddle every time I sat on the receiving end of his crooked smile.
“Let me guess,” I said as I grabbed the sheet and held it over my bare chest so I could sit up. I didn’t mind being naked in front of him, but I didn’t want him getting distracted by my awesome rack when we were having a serious conversation. “You were trying to get up dirt on me.”
I laughed when his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“Did Reed tell you that?”
I shook my head. “No, dummy. It was obvious how much you couldn’t stand me. And all the information inside was, like, the least flattering information that could possibly be dug up on me. I put two and two together.”
“You aren’t mad?”
When I first saw the file on his desk, yes, I’d been mad. For about a minute. Hard to be upset with him when I was plotting ways to drive him crazy. The information he got on me was a hefty violation of privacy, but I understood his reasoning.
“It bothered me a little. I’m not sure how Reed even got some of those details.”
“Even if I had looked at it, I’d still want to hear it from you.”
I put my head back on his chest and listened to his heart beating steadily.
“When Michelle announced she was going to NYU for college, my mom fainted.”
CJ chuckled, making my head bounce.
“Seriously, I’m not even joking. We grew up in a little town just outside of Nashville. It was quaint and quiet. So not only was her baby moving really far away, it was a majorly drastic change in scenery and totally out of left field.”
I stopped talking and tilted my head so I could kiss his skin. I couldn’t help myself.
“I was always the wild card. Where I was always getting into trouble, Michelle was winning awards for being so studious. You’d think we would have been competitive, but it was never like that for us. We were so different. There was no comparison. Of course, my parents silently wished I was more behaved and levelheaded, but they never made me feel like I was loved any less. Even the time I stole a frog from the nearby pet store and put it in Mrs. Miller’s desk drawer the day after she sent me to detention for spitting spitballs at the back of Bobby Ray’s head.”
“You didn’t.”
“Of course I did. He’d told all the eighth grade boys that I wore day of the week panties because I still didn’t know how to tell which day it was.” CJ laughed. I would never get used to that sound. “Laugh it up buddy. It sounds silly now, but back then I was mocked for weeks. Mrs. Miller knew this, yet she still punished me. I firmly believed in an eye for an eye, which is why I didn’t fight them when they took me down to the station for theft.” Seeing Mrs. Miller scream and jump backwards so hard in her seat that it tipped over and left her legs sticking straight up in the air was totally worth the hours of volunteering at the pet store where I was forced to clean the poop out of all the cages.
“I tried to bring Chelle over to the dark side, but she could not be peer pressured into anything.”
“See, you do have things in common. You’re both stubborn as hell.”
I poked him in the ribs but couldn’t help smiling.
“I can’t remember her ever getting in trouble for anything. Even the time I snuck out and went to a party when I was eighteen and she had to come pick me up. The police broke up our underage booze fest right after she got there. Half the kids took off running. Some of them were too busy puking their brains out because we were idiots and didn’t know how to handle our liquor. Michelle stood there in the middle of the room, trying to keep me upright and she didn’t even blink an eye. She had no fear of getting in trouble for being there because her reputation was enough that the cops thanked her for helping without even asking her a damn question. They just assumed she’d come to rescue her rebellious sister. Which she had.”
CJ grunted. “Michelle sounds a lot like me when I was younger. Only I would have torn into my sisters if I had to go get them at a party where they were wasted.”
“Maybe you’re with the wrong sister.”
I’d said it in jest. The words came out before I even processed them. Yet they still sliced through me like a hot blade.
CJ must have felt me tense, because he forced me to look up at him again. The room was dark, only lit by the dim light of the hallway, but I could see the affection in his eyes.
“The person I’m meant to be with, the person I want to be with, is here with me right now.”
I didn’t even realize a tear had escaped until he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.
“I choose you, Blake.”
Always.
He didn’t say the word, but it was there. I could feel it in the tender way he held me, could see it every time he aimed one of those rare smiles my way.
Oh, I was in so deep.
-
“You know this is weird, right?” Clara asked me from across the panty bin.
I snickered to myself. Panty bin. It just sounded funny.
“Just pretend that CJ isn’t your brother,” I told her dismissively while rummaging through the massive pile of panties that were on sale. All the sizes and styles were mixed together and it was a pain in the ass to find ones I liked, but if you worked hard enough, the reward usually paid off. We were like underwear savages. “Score!” I shouted, followed by a fist pump when I found a silky pink pair in my size.
A few women nearby gave me a dirty look for my outburst. I just grinned until they got annoyed at my chipperness and walked away.
“I can’t just pretend he’s not my brother, Blake,” Clara whined. “It’s not that easy.”
A hot pink lacy teddy caught my eye and I scurried over to it. When I yanked one off the rack and held it up to Clara, she groaned at the sky.
“C’mon, this one is totally hot and you know it.”
“I don’t want to think about you wearing that so you can seduce my brother! It’s perverse and creeps me the hell out! I’m going to have nightmares!”
I laughed at Clara’s exasperation.
Michelle was busy with classes and I hadn’t wanted to go shopping alone, so I’d reached out to Clara. Truth be told, I didn’t know her or Josi all that well yet, but the time I had spent around them had been fun. They were both easy to talk to and just as immature as me, and ganging up on CJ with them was becoming one of my favorite pastimes. Although at the moment it was Clara I was picking on. The fact that I was buying lingerie to wear for her brother was freaking her out. I found that to be hilarious.
“Oooh, crotchless panties!” I squealed, holding them up in front of my jeans. “Really, though, what’s the point? If you’re going the crotchless route, why not just go commando? Unless there was a flap, like in onesies. Do they make underwear with vagina flaps? If not then they totally should.”
“Oh my God,” Clara said through gritted teeth. “Please quit using the words ‘vagina’ and ‘flap’ in the same sentence.”
“And seriously, why are nursing bras the only ones that come with a flap, too? Maybe I want a bra that will give a man easy access to my nips. Is that really such a bad thing? Is it really too much to ask to get both boob and vagina flaps?”
“I hate you,” Clara muttered. My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I put my underwear flap spiel on hold and pulled it out. It was a text from Michelle.
Chelle: Just caught my prof coming out of a supply closet with one of the girls in my class. Her lipstick was smeared and his toupee was on backwards.
I snorted and started to type a response, but another message from her came through before I could respond.
Chelle: Seriously. How desperate do you have to be to pass a class to hook up with a professor who wears a toupee?
Me: Is he hot otherwise?
Chelle: No. He wears white button up shirts with pit stains and suspenders and has a handlebar mustache.
Me: You’re lying.
A picture came through. It was taken from several rows back in a massive lecture hall, but even being a little blurry I could see that Michelle was telling the truth one-hundred percent.
Clara sidled up beside me, trying to glance over my shoulder to see what I was laughing at. I held it out so she could see it better.
“Oh my gosh, your sister is awesome. She really needs to come around more.”
The remark made me proud and sad. Michelle really was awesome, and I missed her.
An idea sparked. CJ was at Rose’s doing a bunch of work to the house, and I’d convinced him to ask all the guys to go over there and help. Clara was supposed to be there right now, but when I’d asked for a shopping partner she’d quickly bailed.
Me: What are you doing tonight? I need your help if you can spare an evening.
Chelle: I’ll work it out. Just name the time and place.
“Oh no. What is that look for?” Clara asked, already backing away from me with her hands up like she was surrendering.
“How do you feel about an impromptu party?”