The General (Professionals 4)

I was aware of his voice as I came back down, whispering something to me.

“What?” I asked, my voice breathless.

“Noah,” he told me. “My name,” he added. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, his hands moving down to cup my ass. “I like the sound of you coming no matter what, but it would sound better if you said Noah, not Smith.”

“Noah,” I said, testing the sound out on my tongue, deciding I like how it sounded. But I liked it more that a little tremble moved through him at hearing me say it by his ear, something he tried to mask by turning us both onto our sides. But I felt it. And it made something happen in my chest.

There was a crackling, like breaking, like crumbling of the barricades I had built up around my heart.

And I realized that I could, just maybe, be falling for him.

EIGHT

Smith

She had been half asleep when I climbed out of the bed to deal with the condom. But even so, when I came back, she sighed, rolling into me, nestling into my side, her hand moving across me to rest on my shoulder. And she didn’t move. Not the whole night. She stayed pressed against me, her breathing slow and deep, her body completely lax in sleep, grumbling if I moved, pressing close again when I settled.

Awake, Jenny was careful, unsure, second guessing every move, every touch. She didn’t trust herself, didn’t trust her impulses, her desires, her right to act on them.

Asleep, she took what she needed. Closeness. Comfort. Hands that meant no harm touching her skin.

From the outside, taking her to my house looked like I planned to sleep with her, that I was setting things up to act on the impulses that had been plaguing me almost since I met her.

That wasn’t my intention.

I just heard the bone-deep need for her to escape her life. Even just for a night. And after freezing her ass off at the funeral, and getting more goddamn bruises by selfish, careless men, then having to put on a show at the club – which was every bit as pretentious as it sounded – I figured she’d earned a night away.

So I wanted to give that to her. And not some fancy-ass hotel that would be just like the numerous ones she had likely stayed in with Teddy.

No.

I wanted to get her away away.

And the best place to do that without crossing state lines was to take her to my place set deep in the woods where no one could possibly see her, judge her, get ideas about her. She could just put down all the baggage, be herself.

I didn’t go in her room to climb into her bed with her. The fire had banked in the living room, waking me up to a room that couldn’t have been over fifty-eight. And if it was too cold for me, it was damn sure too cold for her since she didn’t have an inch of fat to pinch on her entire fucking body.

I just wanted to get her fire going.

Then I was going to take my ass back to the couch.

Where I belonged.

Because I was staff.

That was it.

She had all but said as much.

I never expected she might reach for me, might say she wanted me, that I wasn’t alone in my need, in my desire to feel her skin pressed up against mine.

But, fuck, was I glad I went in that room with good intentions.

Because a night with her was everything I thought it might be. More even.

She had a hair-trigger orgasm, like it had been years since she’d had a proper one. Which, well, may have very well been true. I couldn’t claim to know what went on between a battered wife and her abusive husband, but I was willing to bet good money that it was hard – damn near impossible – to feel anything good when he touched you after those hands had broken ribs, eye sockets, cut off all your air, pulled chunks of your hair out. And who the fuck knew what else.

It was why I made her ride me, why I thought it would be good for her to be in control of her own wants, desires.

And, fuck, it was a good view while she rode me.

Just the memory was getting me ready for a round two. And three. Four. A long day of doing nothing but enjoying each other’s bodies.

And as Jenny stirred, making a grumbling noise at the bright light shining through the windows, almost blinding with the world covered in the fresh fallen snow, I was sure we were about to go another round. Half asleep and lazy loving.

“Morning,” I said, running my fingers through her hair, finding it with a bit of a curl when she didn’t style it like she normally might, the strands sifting through my fingers like silk.