Going In Blind_Brotherhood Protectors World Read online

  “Then get us inside, soldier.”

  Hell yeah. He could do that. While he wasn’t sure how far they’d get—if he’d make it all the way down the hall to her bedroom—surely, he had the discipline to open the door and get inside.

  He lifted her against his chest, moaning when she wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. He slid one hand under her ass as he groped for the door, half falling through the doorway then against the far wall. He kicked the door closed, turning and leaning against it for balance when Addison palmed his face and claimed his mouth.

  Fuck, nothing tasted better than her mouth. Sweet. Hot. Her tongue battling with his as she clung to him, trusting he wouldn’t let them fall.

  Hell no.

  Rigs twisted, bumping his way down the hall before making it into her room. The door bounced on the hinges as he carried her inside. He continued across the floor until he reached the foot of the bed. He thought about just launching them both onto the mattress. Stripping her bare then climbing on top—finally sinking into all that soft, warm heat. The heat he’d felt through his damn sweats when she’d ground against him.

  But the soldier in him—the part still firing messages to his brain—managed to set her down. Release the death grip he had on her. Addison reached for his shirt, pulling it up until it caught on his holster.

  “One second, sweetheart.”

  He removed his collection of weapons, then leaned forward, helping her tug his shirt over his head before stilling. She stood inches away, her hands raised but not quite touching him. Her head tilted to the side, then she reached one hand out—placed it on his chest.

  And fuck if he didn’t tense. Didn’t clench his damn muscles despite the heat that burned from her touch. The need hammering inside his head.

  Addy paused, her fingers curled over one of his scars. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” He cupped her waist, brushing his forehead against hers, again. “It’s just… No one’s touched them. Touched me, since…”

  Her smile made his damn chest constrict. God, it was all ruby-red lips and joy and something more that made his hands shake. Had a light sheen of sweat beading his flesh.

  She drew a small circle with one finger on his chest. “I haven’t been with anyone since the raid, either. I don’t even know what I look like. If I’ve changed. What you’ll see under these clothes.”

  “You’re beautiful. No two ways about it.”

  “So are you. In a manly, rugged sort of way. Look…” She stepped back then grabbed her shirt, lifting it over her head then letting it drop to the floor. The soft rustle of cloth was followed by her bra, and then she was bare. From the waist up, nothing but smooth, creamy skin and pink-tipped breasts.

  Addison held out her hand, taking his and placing it on her upper chest. “You’re not the only one with scars.”

  Puckered skin moved beneath his fingertips, the obvious bullet injury breaking through his lust-dazed haze. He closed the scant distance between them, tracing the edges of another identical wound on her shoulder. A third on her ribs.

  “Fuck. You were shot? Did they get the fucker who hurt you?” Because if they hadn’t, Rigs had a new name on the top of his shit list. One he wouldn’t think twice about seeking out. Eliminating.

  Her lips quirked. “Kent.”

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  Like hell, he was. She’d been injured. Taken to the brink of death judging by the wounds, and he’d be damned if anyone threatened her like that, again. Cop or not, he’d stand up for her. Put himself between her and any threat that came along. It was the only way he could picture it. Because he wasn’t letting her go. Not, now, that he’d found her. Let her see behind the curtain.

  Addison placed her hand over his. “I meant that you don’t seem fazed by my scars. By the invisible ones inside my head. The ones making me blind. So, why is it so hard to believe I don’t see yours?” She placed her hands back on his chest. “That all I feel are strong powerful muscles. Dips and curves I want to trace with my tongue.”

  She dropped her hand lower, squeezing his dick through his pants. “This long hard ridge I want to take in my mouth. Bet I could suck you dry.”

  “I don’t have any condoms.”

  Fuck. That’s not what he’d planned on saying. But it was true. After he’d been released from Walter Reed, he’d abandoned that side of him. Had forfeited any hope of finding someone like her. So carrying around condoms had felt like a wasted effort. A constant reminder of what he couldn’t have. Would never have—until Addison.

  She smiled. “Something tells me you’re a pretty healthy guy.”

  “Minus the disfiguring marks—hell yeah. Clean bill of health, and as strong as I ever was. Ice and Midnight saw to that, the sadistic bastards.”

  “And neither of us have been with anyone in a while. I’m on birth control, and I know I was tested for everything under the sun, so…”

  Rigs froze. Fucking froze because she was telling him he could go bareback. Bare-fucking-back inside the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Ever had the pleasure to touch. That after two years of abstinence, his first time would be inside Addison, with all her warm, wet flesh surrounding his. No barriers. Nothing but her arousal and his. Skin on skin.

  He growled. At least, it sounded like a growl. Deep. Throaty. A declaration of his intent to claim her. That’s how he felt. Raw. Primal. She was far from helpless. Had dedicated her life to serve and protect. But right now, right there—she was his. His to love. To sacrifice for. To risk his life for. He’d do it for strangers. For her…

  He’d do the impossible for her. And he’d do whatever it took to make this a permanent arrangement—her in his life.

  Kent slid his hand up her torso, cupping her breast. It was so soft, so smooth, her pink nipple beaded into a hard little point. He leaned forward, nuzzling the tip as he inhaled. God, she smelled good. Sweet. Warm. And he knew when he took her pants off, she’d be wet.

  Wet for him.

  Christ, it still amazed him. That she wanted him. Scars and all. And not in a casual sort of way. Everything about her screamed that she felt the same fire. The same unrelenting need he did. How her body flushed whenever he touched her. The dreamy look in her eyes, even if she wasn’t actually seeing him. How she clung to him, right now, trusting him to take her where they both wanted to go.

  God, if he was an asshole, she’d be at his mercy. She wouldn’t be able to fight him off. Even with her training, she didn’t compare to him. He could snap her in two without breaking a sweat.

  That was something she wouldn’t have to worry about, again. He wasn’t going anywhere. Wasn’t going to let another man touch her the way he was. She’d always be safe with him. He’d guarantee it, or die trying.

  “Kent?”

  Shit. Here he was, in her room, her body trembling with need in his arms, and he was obsessing over her safety. On all the ways she could get hurt. Instead of focusing on her. On seeing that blush deepen. Her nipples harden even more. He wanted her chest heaving, her voice harsh from screaming his name. From coming over and over until she could barely open her eyes.

  He hummed against her skin, smiling at her sharp inhalation. Was she anticipating the first brush of his lips on her breast? Of him taking her nipple inside his mouth?

  He was.

  Rigs licked the tip, and she gasped, sliding her hands off his shoulders and into his hair, anchoring him in place. She tugged, and his damn dick jerked. Christ, another couple reactions like that, and he’d lose it.

  He made a second pass, licking. Sucking. Tasting her until she squirmed—begged him for more. Oh yeah, there was more.

  He switched sides, loving every throaty moan, every flex of her fingers against his scalp. While he’d been in a rush before, hearing her obvious pleasure made him want to draw it out. Make it last all day. Hell, the next week. Endless days and nights of her writ
hing in his arms, coming apart.

  “God, Kent. I need you.”

  He eased back, lifting his face level with hers. “Right here, sweetheart. Not going anywhere.”

  She tugged on his head, drawing him to her for a long, slow kiss, holding him close when they finally came up for air. “Now. It needs to be now.”

  He smiled at the strained tone. How her voice was deeper than usual. He dropped another kiss on her nose then reached for her pants. A few swipes of his hands and she was naked. Gloriously bare and trembling in his arms. Her scent surrounded him, her skin beading with goosebumps as he trailed a finger down her hip then between her legs, stopping on the soft vee of her mound.

  “Fuck, you’re soaking.” The words were out before he could think. Consider that she might not like rough talk.

  She moaned, wiggling in an attempt to move his finger lower. “Do you honestly think I’ve been dry since you drove me home? You’re a hard man to forget.”

  “Shit.”

  Just thinking she’d been fantasizing about him touching her. Sliding inside. Loving her. It broke the fragile control he’d clawed back. The part of him that thought he’d be able to wait. To touch, and lick, and kiss without needing more. Without following her down on the bed and sinking inside her.

  She seemed to grasp the change in him. The way his muscles tensed. His dick swelling against her stomach before he backed away—removed his clothes. Had he ripped a seam? Then, he lifted her and placed her on the bed, crawling over top as her hair settled in a curtain of gold across the pillow.

  He paused. She was so damn beautiful. Her skin gleaming in the sunlight. The pale, creamy tones contrasting nicely against his tanned flesh. How her soft curves complemented his hard planes, their bodies molding together perfectly.

  He wedged his hips between her thighs, his cock nudging her opening, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He went to his elbows, holding her close as he claimed her mouth, sinking the first inch of his shaft inside her.

  Damn, if he’d thought her mouth was hot, he hadn’t anticipated how mind-blowing her sheath would be. Nothing but warm wet walls surrounding his flesh, squeezing along his length as he slowly inched his way inside.

  Fuck, how was he supposed to do this and not come on the first stroke? Once he was finally fully seated inside her? Because it was already the best damn sex he’d ever had—the slide of his shaft. The press of her skin against his. She was making those throaty noises, again, her fingers digging into his back as she tilted her pelvis, sinking him even deeper. She had her eyes closed, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth.

  Rigs kissed her mouth, smiling when she released her lip in order to open from him—tangling her tongue with his. He hissed out a breath just as he bottomed out, his balls slapping against her ass.

  “Damn, so tight. Am I hurting you?”

  She nipped at his chin, moaning when he drew back then gave a sharp little thrust. “God, no. More.”

  Her legs crossed behind his back, her body arching into him. He shifted onto his right elbow, using his left hand to palm her thigh—trace the silky skin to the back of her knee then up, again. She was wrapped around him, yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

  Would he ever have enough of her?

  He lowered, giving a few experimental strokes. His chest rubbed against hers, his light dusting of hair likely abrading her nipples. But if the sensation was too much, she didn’t show it. Didn’t ask him to stop. In fact, she clawed at him, dragging him closer—lifting her hips to meet each thrust.

  He started off slow—a long glide out, then a slow push in. Each time a bit harder than the last. Slightly deeper. Arousal soaked his flesh, the wet sound of each stroke only making him harder. More desperate.

  He increased his pace, the slap of his body against hers echoing around them. She called his name then lifted her hands off his back, wedging them between them until she cupped his face.

  Her fingers danced over his features, and he realized she was trying to see him. Map out his face. Visualize his reactions. Was she worried he wasn’t into it? That this was a one-off for him?

  He pressed into her touch, still sliding in and out of her sex. “Still right here, sweetheart. Lost in you. God, what you do to me.”

  Her fingers stilled, one hand poised right over that fucking scar. “You’re shaking.”

  He smiled. Did she know what that meant? For an ordinance soldier to shake? Because she was right. His hands and arms trembled—whether from holding himself up or just the fact he was finally where he wanted to be. That he’d realized he’d come home without knowing he’d been searching for one—he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that she held more power over him than the Marines ever had. That he was more devoted to her than he’d been to his brothers. Because she was his. Archaic or not, it was true.

  He’d killed to protect her.

  Still would.

  “That’s how far you push me. And you don’t have to see me to see me. Feel what you do to me. How you’ve got me strung tight. That it’s taking all my strength not to pound you into the bed. That I’m harder than I’ve ever been. You don’t need your vision for that.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, then she was arching back, contracting around him. Her walls clamping down on his dick, her heels pressing hard against the small of his back.

  “Fuck, yeah, sweetheart. Come for me.”

  He let loose. There was no other way to describe it. One moment, he was in control. Thrusting in perfect sync with her racing heartbeat. The next, he was claiming her. Pumping so hard, so fast, her bed shimmied against the wall, tapping out a rhythm he knew he couldn’t maintain.

  Addison was chanting his name, still coming around him, as fire scorched his nerves, shooting forward and taking him with it. He came. Dick pulsing, balls pulled tight. Stars danced in front of his eyes, dimming his vision until the sensations ebbed, and he collapsed on top of her.

  Their ragged breathing filled the room, eventually evening out as his heart rate returned to normal. Part of his brain told him to move. That he was most likely squishing her into the bed. But damn if he could get his muscles to listen. To support him.

  Addison kissed his mouth, sighing into it. “Kent.”

  His name. That’s all. As if just saying that one word had drained her. Though, maybe it had. It drained him. Drew him under. Threatened to push him into a coma-like sleep.

  He had enough sense to shift over—take her with him. Spoon into her back—one of his thighs over hers, his arms looped around her, wrapping her in his embrace. He’d clean them off—once he’d caught his breath. Had the energy to move. She burrowed against him, slipping into sleep a moment later.

  Rigs listened to her soft breaths. The way her chest pressed against his hand with every inhalation, her heart thumping against his palm. She was safe. At this moment, nothing could touch her, but him. And he’d see it stayed that way. Whatever the personal cost.

  Addison Bailey was his. And he’d use every trick he’d learned in MARSOC, every skill he possessed to protect her—or he’d die in the process. Simple as that.

  Chapter 14

  Addison woke to the hard press of muscled man against her back, steel-like arms wrapped around her. It took her a full minute to realize she still couldn’t see, instead of the instant jolt she normally had when she opened her eyes. When the darkness wouldn’t go away.

  Not that being blind didn’t still sting. Still send a shiver down her spine despite the heat radiating off Kent’s body. But being snugged against him took the edge off. Made it less frightening. He was solid. An imposing force when she’d felt as if she’d been swept away. And he was hers.

  The thought should have scared her. Kent wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been in a serious relationship. Addy had thrown all her energy into her career. Making detective before thirty had required laser focus. Occasional trysts or short-term affairs had been the norm—until Kent had bumped into her, and everything had changed. She’d chan
ged.

  Now—now, she couldn’t imagine going back to that lifestyle. To pretending she was happy alone. That even being a cop had ever her feel this…complete.

  Kent hummed against her neck. “Something tells me you’re thinking far too hard for waking up in my arms. Makes me wonder if my technique isn’t quite as flawless as you claimed. Do I want to know what you’re thinking?”

  She inhaled as his fingers made slow circles down her torso then along her hip. “There’s nothing wrong with your technique. And I was thinking…umm, god, I love the way you touch me. But won’t Russel be back soon?”

  He smiled against her neck, inching his hand lower. “I called him while you were sleeping. Told him to hold off—rendezvous with everyone else tonight. Now, back to you. Your body begs to be touched. Your skin is so soft. But you didn’t answer my question. What were you thinking?”

  Thinking? How could she think when every neuron was focused on the slow progression of his fingers across her thigh then up the inside of her leg, pausing just shy of touching her folds—the ones she knew were drenched with arousal. Had she been like this all afternoon? Spent the hours longing for him without knowing it? She vaguely recalled Kent getting up—the sound of water splashing before he’d returned and cleaned up their combined releases. She’d been about to tell him she could do it herself, when he’d made a contented humming noise—as if caring for her brought him a sense of peace.

  She’d decided to stay quiet—enjoy being cherished. Because that’s how he made her feel. Cherished and special, and anything but a burden.

  His finger dipped down—circled her clit. “Sweetheart.”

  It was her turn to hum. “Yes. Right there.”

  He chuckled. “Are you sure that’s where you want me to touch you?” He made another pass.

  “Please. Kent. I…”

  Her voice trailed into a moan as he focused on the spot she wanted, billowing heat across her body. One touch, and she was on the edge. Desperate to come.