Baby, It's You (Uncharted SEALs Book 5) (9 page)

One corner of his mouth rose in a smirk. “She would if she knew all the nasty things I plan to do with you.”

Her breath caught. “You’re nothing but a tease, Carter Vance.”

“Think so? Dare you to say that again,” he whispered beside her ear.

Just the rasp of his voice was enough to send a tingling thrill through her body. Her breasts tightened, her belly quivered anew, and moisture seeped to wet her inner thighs. “I need you inside me, Carter. Please don’t make me wait.”

“You don’t think this is happening too fast?” he whispered.

She glared. “This morning, I told myself I should keep my distance. Not let my attraction lead me down this road again.” She gave a little shrug. “By mid-morning, I was there with you in the ravine, taking off my clothes. But fast? Carter, I’ve been waiting for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

She lifted her hand and put her forefinger over his lips. “Shut up. I don’t want an apology. I know what kept you away. And it wasn’t me. I didn’t play in that decision at all.”
I wasn’t important enough to you, asshole. I get it.
“We already agreed. We have this.” She reached downward and stroked his cock. “I want this.”

An expression crossed his face, one she couldn’t name. But then he smiled. Maybe it was a little thin, maybe strained, but she knew he was interested. The proof leapt in her hand.

“Put me inside you,” he said, his voice thrilling in its darkness.

Without hesitating, she drew him downward, slid the tip through her folds, then flexed her hips to lift herself. He slid inside.

Just an inch. Enough. He was there.

Pretty little Melanie
didn’t know it, but she was playing with fire. It felt like forever since he’d fucked anything other than his own fist. One thrust and he’d be deep inside her. She was ready for it—hot, wet, her pussy tightening around him…

He slumped against her. “Wait.”

Her nails dug into his backside. “No!”

“Condom,” he ground out.

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” He pulled free and rolled to his back. “Nightstand.”

She grumbled, but moved away, stretching to pull open the drawer, then swishing her hand around it until she pulled back. Moonlight struck the silver foil packet. She passed it to him.

Carter quickly cloaked himself, then lay there a moment longer staring down at his dick. “Mel…”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice small, sounding far away although their shoulders touched.

He turned his head toward her. “How do you know what I’m going to say?”

“Because you sighed. Like your dad does when he has to tell Emmy something she’s not going to like.”

He reached for her hand and gripped it tight. “We should wait.”

“For what? Is anything going to change? Are you?”

He squeezed her hand harder. “I want to do the right thing.”

“There’s not a damn thing wrong with this. We’re consenting adults. You just took care of any unwanted consequences.”

He didn’t like the bitterness in her voice. She’d shown a lot of courage coming to his room, opening herself up to be hurt by him again. He didn’t like disappointing her. “Emmy’s just down the hall. So’s my dad. And I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I want more, Mel.”

She tried to snatch her hand away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he forced her to her side, facing her away from him, and then scooted close. He let go of her hand and laid his arm over the curve of her waist. “Stay,” he whispered in her ear. “We both need sleep.”

She remained stiff for a few minutes, but then she drew a deep breath and relaxed against him. “Don’t know how much sleep either of us is going to get,” she said.

He smiled. “Promise he’ll stop poking at you.”

A snicker shook her torso. “You’re still wearing a rubber.”

“I’ll remove it. Later.” He nuzzled behind her ear. Surprisingly, he liked this—liked just holding her against his skin. “You smell like pie.”

“Not the smoothest compliment I’ve ever received. It’s my shampoo—it’s peach scented.”

“It’s nice.”

He traced a finger down the side of her cheek, felt the groove from her injury. “Does it bother you?”

“The scar?”

“The memory…”

She let out a long breath. “It’s just so sad. I don’t remember what happened after the flash of fire. I know I was in the hospital. I know they shipped me to Germany, then back to the States. That’s all a blur. But I remember every moment up to the explosion. If I close my eyes, I’m there again, waking up in a strange bed in their house in the diplomats’ sector. Going down to breakfast and catching Daniel kissing my sister. I remember the dress she wore, how pretty she looked. She didn’t kiss Emmy’s cheek because she was afraid she’d mess up her clothes. Cassie kissed her fingertips.”

He could hear the hint of tears in her voice, and slipped an arm beneath her, so that she could nestle her head against his shoulder.

“I was taking the baby to the window to wave goodbye. If I’d made it there, if we’d been standing closer…”

He kissed her shoulder and glided his hand up and down her side to comfort her. Not something he was accustomed to doing, but he must have been doing it right. She sniffed and settled. Minutes later, she slept.

Which left him alone with his thoughts. He could imagine what the blast had done. Knew there couldn’t have been much left of his brother or his pretty wife to send home. And he was thankful both Emmy and Melanie had been spared. Sure, she bore a scar, but it could have been so much worse. Emmy needed Melanie in her life. He needed her, too.

But did he need her for the right reasons? Since he’d left rehab, he’d felt restless, without a purpose. Useless.

He’d always been sure of himself, of his body. Knew how to use it, exactly how much punishment it could take. Now he felt as though his knee was a stranger. And he felt guilty for feeling sorry for himself over the fact he wasn’t going to be able to remain on the team, at least not in his former capacity, which meant he wouldn’t stay. Not and watch others he’d trained with ship out to parts unknown time and again, while he was grounded.

Hell, he was alive and well enough to gripe about it, when so many others never got a second chance at life, however changed.

Eventually, his erection relaxed. Melanie’s peach scent surrounded him; her warmth soothed him. She was willing, she’d said. To enter a relationship based on mutual gratification. Funny that he wasn’t. Hell, Mac would have bust a gut over this turn of events.

*

Five mornings later,
Carter awoke just after dawn. Melanie was draped across his chest. Her knee nudged his cock. Which wasn’t the only reason he was hard. He slipped from the bed then turned to glance one last time at the woman snoring softly on his pillow.

She wore a T-shirt. One of his. Something that had begun naturally the night after he’d refused to take her. As was becoming habit, after putting Emmy to bed, Melanie would slip into his room, rummage through his drawers, and find one of his meager stock of tees to replace the clothing she left in a puddle on the floor. Then she’d slide into bed beside him, and they’d talk about their days.

He’d found a therapist in town, one who was a friend of Wayne’s, and so he told her about his progress, about his visits with his dad, about what funny things Emmy had said that day.

Then conversations would turn sexier. Melanie was endlessly curious about his body and his reactions to her. She’d lightly trace the hills and hollows of his abdomen, circle a puckered scar and ask how he’d “earned” it, then she’d inevitably head south to tease around his cock.

Last night, he’d taken all he could. She’d asked what it felt like to masturbate with a hand wrapped around his shaft. He’d shown her, gritting his teeth when she leaned over to turn on the light on the nightstand because she wanted to see “everything.” She’d further frustrated him by asking questions all along the way, prolonging his session, and making it nearly impossible for him to resist flipping her to her belly and raising her hips…

That image had sent come burbling over the crown in thick spurts. Afterward, her nipples had been hard spikes against his tee. Her cheeks had been red. But she’d reached across to dip a finger into the cream glazing his cock, and then tasted it, her nose wrinkling. “I always wondered,” she said.

He raked a hand through his hair. She was going to kill him. She asked every night why he was so stubborn, and every night he deflected, because he wasn’t sure.

But he liked the way he felt every day as he walked out onto the porch and breathed in the air scented by the faint aroma of cattle in the distance and engine oil from the vehicles and tractors. He liked that he wasn’t ashamed of himself, didn’t hold a single regret over his treatment of her. He held her every night, but resisted his own impulses. Like he was paying his penance for so many sins. At some point, he’d forgive himself. At some point, he’d take her.

But not until he was sure where that action would lead them.

After using the bathroom, he quietly dressed and stepped into the hallway.

His father’s door opened. Ms. Davis curled a finger to beckon him. “He’s been waiting for you.”

His dad was waiting because every morning after Carter left Melanie, he slipped into his father’s room.

Today, Lee sat beside his bed. The two had their heads close together. When he cleared his throat, both men glanced up. Guilt kept Lee’s gaze from meeting his. His father’s expression was harder to read, but there was a glint of color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

“You’re looking well,” Carter said.

“That her car?” his dad asked Lee.

Lee stood and leaned on the windowsill. “Yup. She’s on her way.”

“Quick,” his father said, flipping back his sheet.

Lee pushed up the window and gave a whistle sharp enough to burst an eardrum. A couple minutes later two hands burst into the room.

“Ready, boss?” one of them asked.

Carter stood staring at the guilty expressions on the two older men’s faces. “Are you both out of your minds?”

“Man can’t spend the rest of his days on his back and still feel like a man,” Lee said.

His father nodded. “Make sure you give him my pills.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lee plucked a small prescription bottle from the nightstand. “His heart stops, you put one of these under his tongue.”

“Fucksake,” Carter muttered.

“Don’t just stand there,” Lee said to the two burly hands.

They moved in beside his father, seated him on the edge of the bed, then lifted him, their arms forming a chair.

“We’ll take him down the same as we got him up,” one of them said, winking at Carter. “His wheelchair’s already in his truck bed.”

“Jesus.” Carter followed them down the stairs.

With his father, Lee, and himself all crammed into the front bench seat, the drive into town was a cozy one. Carter kept one eye on the old man. He dozed, and then would fall forward. Either he or Lee would brace him until he raised his head.

“Just studying the backs of my eyelids, boys.”

Carter snorted. “What’s the purpose of this prison break?”

“I want a drink. A real beer. In the back of Shooters.”

“That’s it? We couldn’t have had a real beer at home?”

“I’m tired of looking at the same walls. And Lizzie hovers.”

“Lizzie?”

“Miz Davis. Woman thinks she owns me.”

“She handles your man parts every day,” Lee said grinning. “I’d say she’s right.”

“Wish they’d work. I’d give her a surprise.”

Carter shook his head, wondering who the old man was sitting beside him and talking dirty about his old high school nurse.

“I’m dying. Not dead yet.”

The trip took twenty minutes. Once they pulled into the handicap space in front of the saloon, Lee slipped from the cab and got the wheelchair, which he deftly unfolded. Carter wondered if he’d facilitated breakouts before. He lifted his father from the seat into the chair, then waved Lee away. “I’ll push.”

Inside, they found a booth at the back and rolled his father up to the end of the table. As soon as he stepped on the rubber brakes at the back of the chair’s wheels, a waitress was standing at his elbow.

“Your usual, Mr. Vance?”

“Yes, hon. Bring us a round.”

Carter sat and placed his cowboy hat on the seat beside him. He studied his father’s features. His cheeks still held a little color, and his gaze was sharp. He guessed he shouldn’t worry too much he was going to keel over any second.

“Now it’s just us,” his father said, pausing to take a short breath. “How come you haven’t done it?”

“Done it?” he said, his back stiffening, because he could only imagine one thing his father might be asking.

“Melanie. How come?”

Still not sure his dad knew about their sleeping arrangements, he narrowed his eyes. “How come
what
?”

His dad looked toward the ceiling. “She’s a pretty girl. Comes right to your bed. How come you haven’t done it?”

Carter blew out a breath that billowed his cheeks. “Who the hell’s spying on Melanie?”

“Tilda says her bed hasn’t been touched. And she’s found her panties in your room. But nothin’ on the sheets.”