Worn Me Down

I listen to the sound of her breathing as she drifts off to sleep and the only thought in my mind is that I didn’t use a condom.



Son of a bitch.



Chapter 18



Gwen



I awake in bed on my stomach, the feel of a hand skimming down my back. Blinking my eyes open, I stare out the window across from me and see that the sun is just coming up. It takes me a minute to remember where I am, but the ache between my legs brings everything back.



Turning my head on the pillow, I see Austin sitting up against the headboard. I swallow thickly when I get a look at his bare chest. It was so dark in the room last night that I could barely see him. His chest is smooth and cut with muscles, and there’s a tattoo over his left pec.



I stare at the words for a few seconds before reading them softly out loud. “All gave some, but some gave all.”



Austin’s hand stills on my back and he watches me read the names listed underneath the quote. There are two men’s names – first and last and their Naval rank.



“You’re job is dangerous.” It’s a statement, not a question. When I realized Brady wasn’t going to volunteer information about his work with the SEALS, I tried asking him a few times but he always changes the subject. I often wondered if he didn’t want to talk because it was top-secret stuff I wasn’t supposed to know about, or if there were things that happened that he didn’t want to remember.



A cloud passes over Austin’s face and I realize the latter is probably the truth.



Just as quickly, the haunted look in his eyes is gone, replaced by a lopsided smile. “I’m a SEAL, darlin’. We live for danger.”



I roll my eyes at him and turn over in bed, pulling the sheet up with me as I shuffle up to the headboard next to him. “You can cut it with the flirting and panty-dropping smile. I’m immune to your charms, Austin Conrad.”



He chuckles, reaching over and sliding the sheet down until my breasts are exposed to him. He places the palm of his hand over one breast, his thumb moving back and forth over my nipple until it hardens.



“Immune, huh?” he whispers with a raise of his eyebrow.



I swat his hand away, pulling the sheet back up to cover my chest. In the process, I have to lean away from him and my right arm is no longer pushed up against his. Too late I realize that everything that happened between us last night was done under the cover of night. The sun is up now and the light is streaming in through the windows. I quickly try to cover up the scar on my arm with my left hand, but Austin reaches out and stops me.



“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, staring at the long red scar that goes from my elbow up to the mid point of my arm.



I look away from him, blinking back tears. This is why I should have gone with my gut instinct and not done this with him. I have scars marking so many different parts of my body, but this one is the worst. Each mark on my skin reminds me of what a coward I was for so long and now Austin can see all of them. He told me I wasn’t weak or pathetic, but that was before he saw the evidence that I clearly was. I might as well shatter his illusions for good.



“This was from the last night I let him touch me,” I begin quietly, staring down at my hands in my lap. “William was always insecure and jealous, accusing me of sleeping with everyone from one of his fellow surgeons to the UPS man. He called me a whore and a tease and then shattered my Humerus bone in three places. My radial nerve was torn and I had to have surgery to put everything back together, and now I have a wonderful reminder to look at every day of what an idiot I was.”



Austin places his hand over my arm and rubs his palm up and down the scar that required twenty staples to keep it closed.



“How many times do I have to tell you to cut that shit out? Your scars do not define you. They’re a badge of fucking courage and you should be proud of yourself for surviving. You’re still alive, Emma is still alive and as far as I can tell, you’ve done one hell of a job making sure none of this shit touched her. We all have scars, Gwen, some of yours just happen to be on the outside.”



Leaning my head against the headboard, I reach out and run my fingers over the tattoo on his chest. “Is this one of your scars?”



I realize suddenly that I don’t know that much about Austin’s past. He’s always so sure of himself and cocky, but I know he’s seen things he wishes he could forget. He’s been to war and he’s been in countries where horrible things happen right in front of you and he’s lost friends that he felt so strongly about he memorialized them on his skin forever. He told me he grew up in foster care and that it wasn’t a picnic, but he never really elaborated. He knows everything about me now – all of my deep, dark secrets from my past and I barely know anything about him. Why did he join the Navy? What happened to his parents? Why hasn’t he ever settled down and had children? Much to my amazement, he’s been wonderful with Emma. He’s patient with her, makes her laugh and she seems to adore him. There’s more to him than the arrogant smile and cocky attitude and I want to know what made him the person he is.



I trace each name on his skin and wait for him to respond. After a few seconds, he mirrors my pose with his head against the headboard and sighs.



“No, not a scar, just a way to honor some men who gave their lives without a second thought,” he tells me.



Austin pulls my hand away from his chest and brings it up to his mouth, flipping it over and kissing my palm before bringing both of our hands back to rest against his warm skin. “This job, it means everything to me. Those men are my family and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for each and every one of them. I can never turn my backs on them and I can never let them down.”



He’s so strong in his convictions that I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to relay something else through these words. Even though I have no idea what this thing is between us and I have no idea what the future will hold, I would hope that he would know I would never ask him to give up something that important to him. I don’t know if this was a one-time thing or if it’s something more. Hell, I don’t even know if I want something more right now. I know the kind of person he is; I know his job is his life and it doesn’t matter if this thing ends right now or continues on after the mess of my life is cleared up, I would never try to make him into something he’s not. I have too much experience with that to ever do it to someone else.



Before I can try to put my thoughts into words, Austin’s cell phone rings on the nightstand. He lets go of my hand and reaches over to answer it.



While I listen to the one-sided conversation, I slip out of bed and fish my underwear out from the foot, buried under the covers. I walk over to the door and slowly open it, listening for sounds of Emma. When I’m certain she’s still asleep, I tiptoe out into the hall and go to the living room, grabbing my yoga pants off of the couch where I left them last night and slide into them. The gentle throbbing between my legs as I slide on my pants brings back memories of everything that happened last night. I’ve never done something that crazy before. I’ve never just thrown caution to the wind and begged a man to give me pleasure. In the beginning, William was the one with experience so he always took the lead when we had sex. After we were married, I lost my voice and all of my desires were pushed aside to make way for what William wanted, what William needed.



I knew as soon as Austin touched me that something was changing between us and I feel a twinge of insecurity wondering if it’s just one-sided. I was a fool to think I could sleep with him just to scratch an itch. I’m not that person. I’ve only slept with one other man in my entire life and I did it because I loved him. I don’t give myself to anyone easily and I barely gave it a second thought before I did just that with Austin.



He comes out of the bedroom a few minutes later wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as I finish folding the blankets and stacking them with the pillow on top at the end of the couch.



“That was my contact at the police station in New York. He did some digging and found out William was registered for a conference in Chicago, but never showed up. No one has seen or heard from him in a week,” he explains.



“My lawyer told me about the conference when I called her to check on his whereabouts after Karen called me that day in the park,” I explain to him. “Someone is bound to find out something soon. Word is traveling fast over there. My father called last night and wasn’t too happy that the police chief called him and told him I was staging some sort of ‘manhunt’ for William.”



Austin curses and shakes his head. “God dammit, I told Mark to be discreet when he asked around. I’m sorry about that.”



I shrug. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from my father. My parents have never taken my side in any of this. They are convinced that William was a model husband and father and I should put an end to all this nonsense.”



“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “How in the hell did you turn out so normal?”



I laugh and head into the kitchen to see if Austin has the makings for breakfast. Emma is going to be up soon and I want to make her something nice. After that, I’m going to call Ellie to check up on her and try to convince her to stay here with us until William is found.



“I don’t know if I’d call myself normal,” I tell him, pulling open the fridge. I glance at the contents and I’m surprised to see it’s stocked with food. I figured a single man, especially one who travels for a living, would just have mustard and expired cheese in here. I start pulling out eggs, milk, bacon, orange juice and cheddar cheese, stacking everything on the counter.



I turn to see Austin staring at me with a weird look on his face.



“What?” I ask in confusion.



He stares for a few seconds longer before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Nothing. I’m just… I need to make some more phone calls. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me.”



Austin turns and walks out of the kitchen and I get busy making omelets, forgetting about the expression on Austin’s face and the way he hurried out of the kitchen and away from me.



Chapter 19



Austin



“Okay, so, you’ve got your 9mm, your .22, your .38 Special, and your .357. You probably can’t handle anything more than that, so take your pick.”



Crossing my arms in front of me, I take a step back as Gwen looks through the display glass at the firing range for a gun she’ll like. After what happened yesterday, I’m not taking any chances with her safety. Brady will probably kill me for teaching his baby sister how to use a gun, but too fucking bad. I’ve left him a few messages and he hasn’t called me back.



Given her nasty ass temper, arming Gwen with a weapon probably isn’t the best idea, but I needed a distraction that only the shooting range can provide. I need to erase the picture of Gwen standing in my kitchen pulling the fixings for breakfast out of my fridge like she belonged there. I started thinking about lazy Sunday mornings and curling up on the couch with my two girls while we munched on pancakes.



And right there’s the fucking problem – they’re not my girls.



Even if they were, the lazy Sundays would be few and far between. There would just be two girls sitting at home alone wondering when the fuck I would be coming home from whatever mission I was on.



Time to think about something else, asshole.



We’ve been standing in the show room of the gun shop, which is attached to the firing range, for thirty minutes. I’ve gone over each firearm in detail ten times, and if she doesn’t pick one soon, I’m going to stomp my foot and throw a temper tantrum the likes of which even a woman with a kid has never seen.



“I want a pink one, Austin,” Gwen finally says, looking up from the case and straight at me.



“I’m sorry, what?”



She huffs out an irritated breath and mirrors my pose with her arms crossed in front of her.



“I said, I want a pink one. Where are the pink ones?”



I bite my lip so I don’t say something completely irrational like, “Are you fucking kidding me with this pink shit? Just pick a fucking gun already!” I take a deep breath and a step closer to her.



“This is a gun shop. A place where people come to pick out deadly weapons and then go out back to practice firing at deadly people. Pink does not equal deadly.”



Gwen takes a step closer to me as well until she’s right up in front of me with her hands on her hips and the subtle smell of her perfume is tickling my nose and making me want to lick her. My mind immediately fills with the sounds of her coming last night until I want to haul her into the closest room like a caveman and fuck her again. Unfortunately, the reminder that I didn’t use a condom overshadows all those wonderful thoughts. I didn’t use a fucking condom. What the hell was I thinking?



That nothing else mattered right then but getting inside of her.



Jesus Christ, what if she’s pregnant? Fantasizing about having her and Emma in my life for good is a far cry from it actually happening, and with a screaming baby in tow. It suddenly feels warm in here and I have to wipe a bead of sweat off of my forehead.



“I. Want. A. Pink. Gun,” she says softly, enunciating each word with a fierce gleam in her eyes.



She’s so tiny I could scoop her up with one arm and probably carry her in my pocket, but standing here right now, so determined with her hands on her hips and an attitude on her face, she looks ten feet tall. If I don’t give her what she wants, she’s going to find a fucking pink gun and shoot me in the balls with it.



“How about we just pick out a nice, shiny, black one for today, and when we’re done, I’ll order you a pink gun. I’ll even order you a pink holster with sparkles on it,” I beg her.