The Problem with Peace (Greenstone Security 3)

Heath was watching, waiting, bracing for me to fall apart. I could see that concern mingled with the desire in his eyes.

But then he saw me relax, I knew he saw it because his eyes moved.

And then his mouth moved.

Right there.

My hands fisted the covers and I cried out in pure pleasure as Heath tasted me. As he devoured me.

Worshipped me.

I’d thought my first climax…after would be hard. It would take work. Concentration in actively not thinking about…before.

But there was no work.

No concentration.

Just Heath’s mouth on my pussy.

And my climax was not hard. It was soft, warm, and then it was an explosion.

It melted me. Completely and utterly melted me.

I didn’t even realize that I’d blacked out until Heath pulled me up the bed and his weight settled on top of me. His naked weight.

I frowned. My hands trailed his pec. My spot. “That was meant to be my job.”

He grinned, it was full of dark desire. “Yeah, well, you were otherwise occupied,” he growled. And then he pressed against me. There.

I jerked, because I was sensitive and because I was thinking.

Remembering.

Heath cupped my face, hands gentle, grin gone. “Sunshine,” he demanded. “Don’t go there. Don’t go anywhere.” He pressed his mouth to mine, coaxed it open, kissed me gently, achingly. “You’re here. That’s the only place you ever need to be.” He kissed me again. “And we don’t need to do more. Not if you’re not ready. Tasting your pussy…” He trailed off. “Fuck, babe, that was heaven. I don’t need more.”

My thighs jerked with his words. “No, I want to give you more,” I replied, my voice husky. “I want to give you everything.”

“You already do.”

I wrapped my leg around him, pressing him harder against me.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Fuck me, Heath, please.”

He growled. “As if I could say no to you.”

And then he did.

He didn’t go slow, gently. No, like last time, like the first time, he surged into me.

And like the first time, there was pain.

But not just physical.

No, there was a searing emotional pain that threatened to tear me in two.

“Polly?” Heath demanded. “You’re here. With me.”

His words chased away the worst of it.

Then he moved.

And there was still pain.

There always would be.

But we both found pleasure in it.

A lot of pleasure.

Heath

It was three in the morning.

Heath knew this not because he glanced at a clock, he couldn’t even if he wanted to, Polly didn’t keep clocks in the apartment. Something that should’ve bothered him since his home had always had clocks in every room since he’d become a Marine.

It didn’t bother him because he hadn’t had a home until this cluttered, colorful, chaotic, clockless apartment.

He didn’t glance at his phone to know either. Polly did not allow phones in the bedroom.

“We’re too connected. We should be allowed to have a sanctuary where we’re not accessible,” she’d said, snatching it from his hands the second week he’d been staying here after her kidnapping. Her face had still been bruised, swollen.

And it killed him every time he looked at it.

But he did his best to hide that.

Because he knew his pain at her injuries would add another bruise to his beautiful Polly, just one he couldn’t see.

“Plus, the light’s bad for your eyes right before sleeping,” she added.

Then she’d stomped into the living room, placed his phone in the fruit bowl, next to a banana and her own phone, stomped back, climbed into bed, rested on her spot and promptly fell into unconsciousness.

He didn’t tell her that he needed his phone handy as part of his job. He didn’t have set hours. And if he did, they would be closer to midnight till four than nine till five. He didn’t tell her that because no way in fuck was he saying no to her in any way shape or form.

He’d quit his fucking job if she asked. If it meant he’d get every single night of her laying on his chest and sleeping.

He planned on getting every single night.

But as she healed, as they got into a routine, he’d had to gently tell her about the need for his phone.

“Well, you’ll have a separate ringtone for work emergencies,” she decided. “One loud enough to hear from the living room. And though this apartment isn’t as small as yours, we’ll still hear it,” she decided.

He agreed.

Because he’d agree to anything with her, to get her back to her.

He didn’t tell her that ‘his apartment’ was no longer his. He still had the lease, of course, but was planning on breaking it. He wasn’t planning on sleeping another night in that fucking place. And not because he couldn’t physically sleep another night without Polly in his arms.

Because this was home.

No matter how broken it was right now.

Polly was home.

And now, things were a little fixed with that agonizing truth actualized. Burned into his brain like acid. It was something that he’d never get over. Forget. It was a wound that cut him to the core.