Chapter Eight
BULLET FELT FINLAY’S hand on his shoulder and sat up, breathing deeply as she applied the ointment and bandaged the wound in silence.
“Is this hard for you? Letting me take care of you?” she asked as she used the washcloth to cleanse the dried blood that had seeped through his shirt onto his torso.
“A little.”
“Because you’re the protector?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she lifted the washcloth and said, “Lift your chin. There’s some blood on your neck.”
The longer she cared for him, gently bathing his arms, hands, chest, and torso, the easier it became for Bullet to relax. Her touch became the salve to his emotional wounds, her sweet, caring nature, the sutures to the fissures tonight’s flashbacks had caused.
“When my dad would get a cold, or sick, which wasn’t very often, he’d do everything he could to keep from resting,” she said as she rinsed the washcloth. “And my mom would tell him that it took a stronger man to let someone take care of him than it did to be the caretaker.” She gazed into his eyes and said, “I think that goes for you, too, Mr. Whiskey.”
“I’m not feeling very strong at the moment,” he mumbled more to himself than to her.
“Strength of character is stronger than power of muscle. That’s another of my mom’s sayings. You have both, and what you did tonight proves how strong you really are.”
He pulled her closer, wanting to kiss her, to soak in her goodness, but he didn’t want her to feel like he was taking advantage of her generosity. “Are you close to your parents?”
“Yes. But we lost my father a few years ago, and then my mom moved to Montana, where she was from. She said she saw my dad everywhere, which I understand, because I still feel him around sometimes. Then she remarried. I’m happy for her, and it wasn’t like she was running away from me and Penny. She just needed to move on and couldn’t do it here.”
“I’m sorry you lost your father.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “That must have been awful for you.”
“It was. My biggest regret was that I was living in Boston at the time. He worked at the power plant and there was an electrical misfire or something. They classified it as an industrial accident. I guess they were lucky no one else was hurt.”
He pulled her into an embrace, wishing he could have been there for her when she’d lost him. “Are you okay here? Being back in town?”
“Yes. I needed to be here, closer to Penny.” She pushed away, busying herself with the washcloth again, but as she washed him, her touch changed.
No longer was she washing him with a corner of the cloth. She spread it over her hand, bathing him from shoulder to shoulder, slowly and sensually, furtively glancing up as she moved over his chest and down his ribs. Her eyelids grew heavier, and he wasn’t sure she realized it, but she moved closer, until the space between them was barely big enough for her hand. Desire filled the space between them, growing hotter with every stroke, but the conflict in her eyes told him she was struggling—to decide if she should go for it or ignore it, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her, either. And when he rested his fingers on her hips, she trapped her lower lip between her teeth, inching even closer.
That subtle, telling move brought their mouths a whisper apart. Their gazes locked, lust pulsing between them like a drum. He wanted to tell her it was okay. Just let go. Surrender to me. The urge to take was strong, but his desire not to screw this up was even stronger.
The tip of her tongue swept along her lips, and he gritted his teeth.
“We should…” She nibbled on her lip again. “Um. Let’s check out the cut on your stomach.”
She crouched before him, and holy mother of God, seeing his blond angel crouched in front of his cock shoved all the ugly thoughts of war and flashbacks aside. The therapists had never shared this tactic with him. Wanting Finlay Wilson was magic. When she put one hand on his stomach, the other on his thigh, balancing as she inspected his wound, he clenched his teeth harder.
She squinted, her lips twisting in contemplation. “That definitely needs some attention.”
Fuck yeah. She had no idea how dirty his thoughts could be.
She reached for the washcloth, and he caught her hand. Their eyes connected and the temperature spiked. Her eyes turned midnight blue, and the pulse at the base of her neck throbbed erratically. The hell with the cuts. He wanted to seal his mouth over that frantic pulse and drive it up even higher.
She licked her lips again, and he placed his other hand on the back of her thigh, bringing her closer. Sparks showered around them, sizzling and popping, but neither one said a word. He fought the need to kiss her, wanting to stay on this emotional high with her, suspended from the rest of the world forever.
She didn’t say a word as she reached for the washcloth and carefully cleaned the cut. The energy between them shifted again, spiking hotter, delving deeper, as if their confessions had bound them, creating a pulse all their own. Every swipe of the cloth against his skin brought more awareness—of her stilted breathing, stolen glances, her legs brushing against his inner thighs. He wanted to feel her legs against his bare skin, to have her hot little hands all over his body, healing his fractured soul.
“Okay,” she whispered, and set the cloth down. She patted the area dry with a paper towel, her face a mask of attentive sweetness.
She reached for the ointment, and he ran his fingers along her arm from elbow to wrist. She stilled, her hand inches from the ointment, her soft exhalations filling the silence. He pressed his thighs tighter against her legs and traced the curve of her hip with his other hand. She tensed at the first stroke down her thigh, but she didn’t look away, a whirlwind of emotions passing between them. Wordlessly, she reached for the ointment again.
He wanted her to reach for him, but he knew that wasn’t her way. She was like a scared rabbit coming out of its hole, then retreating, only to return and sniff the air, inching closer until she trusted him completely.
He watched as she applied the ointment to his wound, admiring her for so many reasons. She wasn’t living her life angry at the world for stealing her father and her man away, or walling herself off for fear of being hurt again.
“How do you do it?” The question came unbidden.
She picked up a bandage. “Clean out your cuts?”
“No, Fins. How’d you move past the hurt? You’re so happy.”
“Now? Sure, but back then? I cried a lot, talked my friend Izzy’s and Penny’s ears off. I cooked and baked enough food for a small army, and I prayed a lot. I’m not religious, but I thought if I sent positive, loving thoughts into the universe they would somehow make it back to Aaron and my dad. And you know, I was so young. Twenty-one when Aaron died, and then we lost my dad a couple years later. Time may not heal wounds, but it allows for perspective. I’m thankful I had them in my life.”
She put the bandage down and said, “I’m afraid to put that on your cut.”
She was as adept at changing subjects as he was. He understood that. Sometimes enough was enough. Beating things into the ground wouldn’t bring people back.
“It’ll stick to the hair on your stomach and hurt like crazy when you take it off.” Her eyes widened. “I could shave a path around the cut.”
“Real men only shave for tattoos and blow jobs. Get up here.” He motioned to his lap.
“Why, Mr. Whiskey, are you getting frisky with me?”
He lifted her onto his lap, guiding her legs around his hips, and ran his hands along her outer thighs. Her cheeks heated, and he loved that about her. The women he’d been with had never blushed. They’d never felt real either. They were a means to an escape, a release, while Finlay…She was the only reality he didn’t want to escape.
“Don’t worry, lollipop.” He wound his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer, speaking directly into her ear. “I’m not asking you to blow the whistle or ride the train.” He slicked his tongue along the shell of her ear, earning a lusty moan. “I just want to taste you, get a little sugar rush to hold us over.”
He sealed his mouth over the sensitive skin at the base of her neck, and a sexy little gasp slipped from her lips as he took a long, sensual suck. She inhaled a series of sharp breaths as he loved his way along the column of her neck to the other side.
“You’re so sweet,” he said between tastes. “So perfect, lollipop, but I need your mouth on me.” He told himself to slow down, but she whispered, “Yes,” silencing his thoughts altogether.
She bowed toward him, pressing her sweet center against his hard shaft. He pushed one hand up her thigh, and when she ground harder, he slipped his long fingers beneath her shorts. The scratch of lace pulled a groan from his lungs as he filled his palm with her tempting bottom. His emotions reeled, as he groped and kissed, sucked and nipped, and the real world failed to exist. His hands were everywhere at once, caught up in the spiral of desire, on a mission to feel as much of her as he could. He pushed under her sweatshirt, palming her breasts as they rose with her heavy breaths. Her sexy moans and whimpers drove him out of his fucking mind. He rocked his hips, and she pushed her hands into his hair, grinding harder, kissing him deeper. She was too much, too good, too willing, filling him with all that sweetness.
He tore his mouth from hers, needing to see her beautiful face, to make sure he wasn’t imagining her eagerness, wasn’t forcing and taking, too caught up in her to catch her signals. Her lips were swollen from their kisses, her cheeks pink and scratched from his beard. It probably made him an asshole, but he loved knowing she’d feel his mouth on hers tomorrow.
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, and lowered her face toward his again.
The kiss started out soft, sweet, but within seconds they were eating at each other’s mouths, ravenously taking and giving in equal measure. Greedy sounds slipped between them like they’d both been waiting years for this connection—and in his case, he’d waited a lifetime. He claimed her neck again, loving the way she quivered and shook with each stroke of his tongue.
“I’ve got to feel you against me, Fins.” He rose to his feet with her in his arms and laid her on the lounge chair, coming down over her.
She was so small, so feminine, his protective urges surged, and he was getting too carried away. He forced himself to move beside her. They lay facing each other, kissing and smiling. Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled when he’d kissed a woman. The last time he’d cared.
He ran his hand down her leg, and words poured out. “I love your legs. Your soft skin.”
He hooked his hand beneath her knee, bringing her leg over his, her knee resting by his hip. Oh yeah, that was nice. All her softness pressed against him. She arched forward, rubbing against his cock, and he lowered her onto her back and gazed into her eyes, overwhelmed by the trust and emotions staring back at him—for him.
He wanted to be the man she counted on, to see that trust in her eyes always. To be the man who would be there for her when she hurt and when she celebrated. And he had a feeling Finlay’s life would be full of celebrations, because she didn’t wallow, didn’t let the darkness overtake her. She was open and caring, and that trust just about did him in. Bullet knew all about trust. It was the very foundation of his being. His brothers at arms had an unbreakable trust, and the club brotherhood and his blood family lived and breathed by that bond. He wanted that with Finlay, and he knew it all started now.
“Tell me to stop, Fins, and I’ll back off. You own tonight.”
She craned up and touched her lips to his. “I don’t want you to stop, and I don’t want to own it. I want to share it with you,” she said earnestly, unleashing his desires.
He explored the dips and curves of her body as they made out like they’d waited their entire lives for each other and they may never get another chance. She arched and moaned, pressing her whole body against his. He pushed his hand up the leg of her shorts, beneath her panties, seeking her slick heat. She bent her knee, letting it fall to the side, giving him better access to tease her silken flesh. Emotions bubbled up inside his chest, mounting and throbbing as he discovered just how badly she wanted him. She was so wet, felt so incredibly warm and sweet. He dipped his fingers inside her, gently taking her where they both needed her to go as he kissed her deeply.
He crooked his finger and her head fell back with a long, surrendering moan. Her hips rose to greet him, and he tugged up her shirt and unclasped the front of her bra, freeing her magnificent breasts. He stole a glance at her closed eyes, the flush of her skin, wanting to remember this moment forever. The closeness, her openness. He dragged his tongue over her taut nipple as she met each of his probes with a thrust of her hips, her breathing coming in shallow, needful gasps. She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, probably carving scars he’d proudly wear.
When he lowered his mouth over her breast and sucked, she cried out, “Ah! So good!” Her hips rose up, up, up, and when he sucked harder, she bucked and cried out again, her sex pulsing tight and hot around his fingers.
“That’s it, baby. Jesus, fuck, you’re beautiful.”
He reclaimed her mouth, circling her clit with this thumb, keeping her at the height of her orgasm. She whimpered and mewled, panting into his mouth. When another orgasm slammed into her, sending her into a wild, rocking frenzy, his name flew from her lips like a demand, again and again, until it was nothing but a whisper. And when she collapsed back to the chair and he withdrew from between her legs, she was shaking all over.
He gathered her against him, kissing every spec of flesh he could reach.
“Bullet,” she pleaded. “Good Lord. You were heaven sent.”
“More like the devil. I’m thinking very sinful thoughts about you, lollipop.” He lowered his lips to hers. God, he loved her mouth.
He drew back for only an instant, to look at her beautiful face, and then he returned to her delicious mouth, loving it thoroughly, pushing his tongue in and out, deep and insistent like he wanted to do with his cock. He cupped her jaw, holding her cheeks so he could feel their tongues moving inside. More sinful sounds bubbled up from inside her. He kissed his way down her body, slowing to love each breast with his hands and mouth. He wiped her arousal from his fingers on her nipple and licked it off, tantalizingly slowly, reveling in his first taste of her.
“Bullet—” she said desperately.
Good Lord, she was his undoing. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Her hair was tousled around her trusting face. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, the purest, kindest, and perhaps one of the strongest women he’d ever known. He wanted to stay right there, loving her until the sun came up.
But he knew he couldn’t, and because of that, he said, “Open your eyes, sweet girl.”
FINLAY OPENED HER eyes, her body still tingling from head to toe. Bullet was looking at her with the most tortured, and somehow also contented, expression. He slid his tongue along her lower lip and drew up quickly, as if he wasn’t sure he should have done it. She couldn’t stifle another greedy noise from slipping from her lungs. She’d never felt so needy in all her life, but there was an energy, a hunger in Bullet that fed the empty parts of her. He was so visceral, so intense and closed off most of the time, but in the moments when those barriers lifted, he was warm and passionate. Tonight he’d allowed her to peek beneath his complex layers, deepening their connection well beyond the physical. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d revealed a side of himself that had been long ago sealed shut. And the more she learned about him, the more layers she peeled back, the more complex and real he became.
He cradled her face between both hands and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hi.”
“It’s nearing the witching hour, when guys like me turn into werewolves.”
An uneasy feeling floated through her. “You’re leaving right now? Seconds after…?”
“Not on your life,” he said in a raspy voice full of so much emotion it calmed the worry that had crept up on her.
He kissed her neck and carefully hooked her bra and righted her sweatshirt, which was so unexpectedly sweet, it felt intimate and special. Then he gathered her in his strong arms, and she snuggled into the curve of his body, feeling safe, even though she didn’t really know where they were heading or what a night like this meant to a guy like him. For the first time since she’d been with Aaron, her heart was beating for something more than her job, and it felt too good to dissect the meaning of it.
He tipped up her chin and pressed his lips to hers. “I just need to put on the brakes so that doesn’t happen.”
“I didn’t know the Bullet train had brakes,” she teased.
“That makes two of us,” he mumbled.
A pang of discomfort trampled through her. “You mean you don’t ever stop before going all the way?”
He kissed the top of her head, but no answer came. She pushed back so she could see his face, and wasn’t surprised to see his go-to serious expression. The one that told her—and everyone else—to back off. But they’d just been more intimate than she’d been with any other man in forever, and she didn’t feel comfortable backing off.
“Seriously?”
He sat up and said, “You don’t want to go there, Finlay.”
“I shouldn’t want to go there, but I do.”
“Why would you put yourself through that? Why does it fucking matter what I did with anyone else if I don’t do it with you?” He stood up, and his boots thumped across the deck as he paced, his massive frame looming in the darkness.
She pushed to her feet, her mind spinning. Her cognitive brain knew it shouldn’t matter what he did with anyone else. They weren’t even a couple, but she wanted to know. Needed to know, needed to understand him.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I feel like I should understand what you’re usually like so I know if you’re different with me. I mean, you stopped, so that’s obviously epically different for you, right? But what about diseases?”
“I don’t ride bareback, and I’ve never had a damn disease,” came barreling out of him. “I’ve got a handful of women I screw when the urge hits. They’re clean. They know me. They don’t give a shit if I leave afterward.” He threw his arms out to the sides, an annoyed expression on his face. “What else do you want to know? I don’t fuck them naked. I don’t even give a shit if they come. It’s quick and dirty.” He stared back at her, his jaw clenched tight. “It’s not like it is with you. Nothing in my life has been like it is with you. Not even close.”
Finlay crossed her arms and sank back down to the chair, trying to grasp how she could be so attracted to a guy who could say, much less do, those things. A handful of women? Quick and dirty? “So, you use them?”
He stopped pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “We use each other.”
He let out a long, steady breath, watching her as she processed the information. His features softened as he knelt before her. “Finlay, nothing about me will fit the mold of who you see yourself with. We talked about this.”
“I know, and I don’t really care about that, because when I’m with you, I want to be with you. But it’s one thing to think you’ve done those things and another to have confirmation. I don’t want to be a one-night stand, or one of the girls you use.”
“Don’t even fucking say that.” His eyes narrowed angrily. “I’d never do that to you. I stopped before we went further. Doesn’t that tell you everything you need to know? Do you think I’m proud of the fact that I can’t have a normal relationship? That I can’t sleep without my fucking dog for fear of nightmares? That it took every ounce of strength I had not to walk away instead of coming over to apologize to you?”
“You can’t sleep without Tinkerbell?” Oh, how he made her heart hurt.
“Tink can’t sleep without me, either. She’ll be clawing at the window whining until I get home.” He huffed out a laugh. “She hasn’t slept alone since I found her. Some asshole threw her out of his car with a load of trash on the highway. She was in a green garbage bag, rail-thin, scared to death. I took her directly to my buddy, a vet and a member of our club, and spent weeks nursing her back to health. She’s been by my side ever since. She gets me. On the rare occasion when I have a nightmare, she wakes me up before it pulls me too far under.”
Finlay swelled with love for both of them. It was no wonder he didn’t want to leave her.
“We’re both messed up,” he said, “but we work. I need her and she needs me.”
The love in his eyes was tangible. “And you debated not coming over at all? Just leaving me hanging?”
He took her hand in his, his gaze as apologetic as it was honest. “I debated saving you the grief of having a guy like me in your life. I was coming down from major flashbacks. That scene unearthed all sorts of shit. Fin, everyone’s got baggage, and I know I’ve got a whole cargo load of it. I know what I am, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m a survivor. My life is what it has had to be in order for me to make it through each day. I’m good at protecting others. I suck at”—he lifted their joint hands—“this. Even as a kid I didn’t go on dates. I’d nod at a girl and we’d hook up. That’s all I’ve ever known or wanted. And then you came into my life like a star falling from the night sky, and all I wanted was to catch you.”
His honesty was like a drug, soothing the harshness of his confession. “It was all physical at first,” she reminded him.
“Absolutely. You’re gorgeous.”
“So if I had accepted a ride on the Bullet train, that would have been it?” The thought made her uneasy.
“We’ll never know for sure, but I can’t believe for a second that I would have fu—gone through with it, or that I would have let you walk away afterward. Not if we had spent ten minutes having a real conversation. You’re too special. You said there was a difference between surviving and living, and I know you’re right. It’s evident in who you are and how you live your life. When I’m around you, you lift me up, make me see and feel. Because of who you are and who I want to be for you, I brought you flowers from my garden, showered, and shaved before our date—”
She glanced at his beard. “Shaved?”
He looked down at his privates.
“Oh my gosh. You did think we’d sleep together!” As she said it she realized she’d been thinking about what he’d be like in bed for far longer than just one day.
“I don’t recall saying real men shaved for sex.”
She gasped. “You thought I’d…on the first date? I mean, I let you touch me, and I’ve never done that on a first date before, but I wouldn’t have…” Would I? Oh gosh! I might have!
His brows lifted, and they both laughed softly.
“Clearly whatever this is between us is new and different for both of us,” he said, a spark of hope glimmering in his eyes. “I just found you, Finlay. Please don’t let my messed-up life scare you away. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t want to just survive. I want to live.”
“Bullet,” she said breathlessly, trying to solidify her melting heart. “I haven’t been really living either. I know it looks like I am, but I didn’t move back only because I missed Penny. I moved back because I was lonely. I tried to feel something toward a man after Aaron died. I went out on a few dates and I tried to be intimate, but I was too broken to feel anything, even as recently as last winter. I moved back home because I figured I might not be able to love or be loved by a man, but at least I could love and be loved by Penny. And sisterly love is better than no love at all.”
“That breaks my heart. You’re too sweet to be alone forever.”
“But I felt something tonight,” she admitted. “I felt a lot. So much, it’s a little scary.”
“Don’t be scared. Just be with me. Give us a chance.”
She wanted that now more than ever, despite their differences. She’d never met anyone as honest, or as selfless, but at the end of the day, there was a certain level of respect she needed from others, and for herself. She gathered her courage like a cloak and said, “I can’t if you’re going to be with other women. I don’t have it in me to share you. Protecting others is one thing, but giving your body to them is another.”
“I won’t share you,” he said with the demanding tone that for some crazy reason endeared her toward him. “And I’d never expect you to share me.”
“Okay.”
His breath rushed from his lungs with a long, “Ah, lollipop,” as he hauled her onto his lap and kissed her breathless.
“Tomorrow,” he said against her neck, “I’m making up for tonight and taking you out on a proper date.”
“You are?” She couldn’t wait to see him again.
“What are your plans during the day? I have to work at four, and I want to stop by the hospital in the morning and see how the Beckleys are doing, but I could pick you up afterward.”
Her heart filled at his thoughtfulness. “How about you pick me up in the morning and I’ll go with you? I have to order the appliances for the bar, and I was going to work on the menus, but I can do that after four, when you’re at work. I think I’ll also bring some of the goodies I made tonight to the bar. The customers really liked the cookies.”
“Just what I need, more guys going apeshit over your goodies.” He groaned, smiling, though she was pretty sure he wasn’t teasing. Then his tone turned serious again, and he said, “But you don’t need to be around that sad stuff in the hospital. I’ll swing by afterward.”
She wound her arms around his neck and said, “Mr. Whiskey, let me give you a little lesson in relationships. It’s okay to let people who care about you be there for you. That’s how coupledom works. You might not need me there, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to be there anyway. Just in case you need a hug, because even big, tough protectors need hugs sometimes.”
“What if I need to be kissed?” His eyes smoldered, and he pressed his lips to her neck.
Shivers ticked over her skin. “Mm. That could be arranged.”
“And touched?” He nipped at her jaw.
“Maybe in private,” she said coyly.
He brushed his lips over hers and said, “Ah, so you do want to touch my privates.”