Hard(44)

I knew a much better way to de-stress. It didn’t include a shower, but it was done naked. Again and again, just like my night with Shay in the theater. I took her four pulse-thumping, spine-shattering, ball-draining times.

But, by morning, she was gone.

I expected nothing less, but I hoped for something more. The words she said, the way she looked at me? Damn. Our cupid didn’t use arrows. He packed shotgun shells, and they stung a fuck-ton more than pixy dust when fired point blank.

Shay had a rough day, one she hadn’t planned on sharing with me. But she’d let me hold her. She dropped her guard and talked to me, revealed her innermost fears and dreams. I wasn’t used to being the emotional support for anyone—especially a woman. I’d firebomb the asshole professor who was given the power to crush her so completely, but that would get her a warrant, not a degree.

Shay needed someone to talk to. Even though she lived in a mansion and inherited more money than she could spend, her ambition in life was to help others. She wanted to work with kids, hold their hands when times got tough.

And they fucked her over.

I saw enough of that in my line of work. Good men, innocent people, got punished. I enlisted to stop those injustices. If I could help when I was overseas then nothing would stop me from protecting her at home.

Except she didn’t believe I was sincere. Shay shared her desires, but she didn’t stay long enough to figure out what happened next.

I didn’t want it to be another one night mistake. None of that bullshit where we fooled around in the dark to avoid our gazes in the light.

I told her I wanted a chance.

I proved I could take care of her body. Next up was her heart. I’d get that too. I wasn’t about to lose a girl that damned special.

And beautiful.

Sexy.

Passionate.

The things that girl could do with her lips, her body, her tightness. I salivated at the memory—too raunchy to waste during peacetime. Those memories were best saved for those oh-shit moments in the field when I needed a reason to stay alive and return to the sexy piece of ass waiting at home.

I ran my hand over my abs and lower. The water warmed me enough. I gripped my cock and pumped.

Nothing.

Another tug.

Nothing.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” I stared between my legs.

There it was. My namesake. A constant source of pride. Still impressive but lacking that certain spark that made it godly.

Fuck. I winced.

The headache was back.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I shut off the water and wrapped a towel over my waist. The mirror had no answers. Everything looked normal. Bags under my eyes, but that was expected after a night of sex and the swelling headache.

I had woken up with a headache the past three nights in a row. Hadn’t let myself think about it. Bottom line. It was happening more often.

I had two options. Ignore it and lay down until it went away…or I could take a chance and find Shay.

I was tempted to ask what she thought. I needed to explain this shit to her anyway.

She deserved to know that my military leave wasn’t as temporary as I let her believe.

Except that would piss her off. I’d replace the headache with her foot up my ass as she kicked me from the house.

Lay down and suffer alone or suffer in the arms of a beautiful woman?

Well, one of us had to make the first move after our night. I tugged on a pair of pants and searched for her in the usual spaces—kitchen, theater, library. She wasn’t hiding where I could find her easily, which meant she holed up in her room, the sanctuary where I promised I wouldn’t encroach.

But I spent the night buried to the hilt in the most beautiful woman in the world. That much pleasure earned a momentary right to trespass. But I was still a gentleman. I knocked before twisting the knob.

Shay wore a pretty little camisole, but she pulled her blouse over her shoulders and buttoned it before I got close enough to see anything good.

She tried not to look at me, but she loved my muscles as much as I loved her curves. Helpless to resist, stupid to refuse. The motto served me well for years.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

Shay busied herself with her makeup and applied a layer of lip gloss over her full lips—lips which had tugged over my cock, parted with pleasure, and softened with my kiss.

It was idiotic to envy a tube of lipstick, but the girl had me hard up for anything. A smile. A sigh. Any sign she wasn’t going to ignore what happened between us.

“Going out?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“With who?”

She shrugged. “A couple girlfriends. Nothing important. Need a chance to get out of the house.”

And away from me. I crossed my arms. The headache faded in her presence, and her touch was the sort of balm I’d apply directly to the forehead—and everywhere else.