Read Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) Online
Authors: Shana Vanterpool
Tags: #long-distance relationship, #social issues, #friendship, #soldier, #military, #new adult
“What?”
“I’m sorry for ever forcing you to make that choice. You did the right thing when you kept me away. I was in too dark of a mood to be around her. I still am, but I can breathe a little easier lately. You took care of our baby all by yourself while I lied to you, while I went to war—you did the right thing. I shouldn’t have ever forced your hand. And you’re trying too. You gave up your life for her.” I turned to her pale blue eyes. “Thank you for being there when I couldn’t.”
“Oh, Dylan. You don’t have to thank me. Aubrey’s the best thing that ever happened to me. To us. I’d do anything for her.” She rose and kissed my cheek. “What I have to do is break the news to her.”
“What news?”
She took a deep breath and then smiled timidly. “I got an apartment. On my own with my own money. Woot!” She held her hand up. “Pretty good for a woman who had to take care of herself her whole life, huh?”
I cracked a smile and managed to clap her hand. “Pretty damn good. In Houston?” I guessed.
“Yes. It’s closer to the dealership. I don’t want her getting used to this … lifestyle. It’s appreciated and Nena is so sweet putting us up and helping us, but I won’t ever make this kind of money. We’ll be a normal family in our normal apartment with our normal life. The way I never had.” She smiled proudly. “Now all you need is to move to Houston, and we can be a family. Not living together, of course, since you’re in love with Hillary, but maybe we can co-parent?” And then she winked, like the bad girl I no longer wanted.
I choked on my shock. “I’m not in love with her.”
“Yes, you are. You walked into that kitchen and talked her down when I couldn’t. The look on her face when she saw you was like you were the only thing in the entire world that could save her. That looked like love to me.”
“I. Am. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” My coldness frosted every word.
But Whitney was used to men like me. She rolled her eyes and continued to help me down the stairs, unimpressed by my outburst. “Let me be the one to tell Bach we’re moving out.”
I wasn’t in love.
That was the last word I’d use to describe this.
Love wasn’t on my mind.
It wasn’t.
Was it?
“Dylan? When you have kids with her, make sure Aubrey isn’t jealous of their eyes. I swear, Bach might be the sexiest bastard in the land of sexy bastards.”
I ditched her at the bottom of the stairs, walking as fast as I could out of the house as her laughter chased me. When I got outside, I inhaled deeply, pulling in breaths that weren’t tainted by Whit’s accusations.
This wasn’t love.
It was desperation.
It was wanting something good where there wasn’t any good at all.
It was losing myself in someone who was just as lost as me.
When I got to the guesthouse, I was exhausted. Inside, outside—I was tired.
The distinct sound of female laughter emanated from the living room. Hillary was sitting bunched in a ball on the white couch, eyes on the TV but faraway. She looked so small and afraid. I could tell by the look on her face she wasn’t with me. She was in the past being attacked, falling from the clouds.
“Hill?”
“I didn’t ask for that.” A tremor rocked her.
“You’re not there, baby.” I had to talk her down. When Hillary broke so did I. I’d been breaking too much lately, and she didn’t deserve another crack. “You’re here with me.” Gritting my teeth, I managed to get to the couch and sat down. The second my ass touched the cushion she was on me. Expecting it, I already had my arms open for her. She tucked herself inside, finding every crevice and space. She fit perfectly in my arms. I held her tightly, pressing my lips to her hair. “Take a deep breath.” Her exhalation warmed my chest. “One more. Again. Where are you?”
“With you,” she whispered.
“When you’re with me what are you?” When she was with me nothing could hurt her. She had to remember that.
“Safe.”
“Hill,” I said, at my breaking point. Letting go, unable to forget, wanting things I couldn’t have and having things I couldn’t keep—everything was too much. “We can’t keep doing this. I want to be … better. I want to feel better.”
We broke.
She sobbed against me, nodding because she understood. Understood and wanted that too. To know she wanted to feel better, to exist without feeling shattered, it effected a part of me I didn’t know I had. Warmth and pain spread through me for this girl. This sweet, good girl who was still all of those things even after what happened to her. I wanted to protect her, to make sure she never suffered, to hold her if she did, and stand in front of anyone who wanted her to suffer again. The feeling was a punch to the ribs. It was too hot and terrifying, but within that feeling I lost myself. It calmed me, made me think this wasn’t as hard as we both knew it was.
There was so much here that required clarification. There were rules and truths, but all I wanted was to admit that I wanted her. Everything else could catch up later. “What were you watching?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to go to bed?”
“I won’t be able to sleep.”
“You want something? Anything? I want you to feel better.”
“I’m fine right here.” She snuggled closer, our bodies pressed so tightly together I could feel every one of her beautiful curves. “With you.”
I ran my hands over them, her tiny waist, wide hips, and her perfect full round ass. For a few minutes, we remained in that position. My hands roamed over her body, over and over again, until I was so hard I couldn’t help envisioning how perfect it would feel to sink inside of her right now and fade away. “It’s probably a good thing my leg hurts.”
“Why would you say that? You’re in so much pain.”
“Because if I could, I’d take all of your clothes off slowly. Then I’d lay you down on the bed. I’d make sure your legs were open wide for me. Your pussy would be wet, wouldn’t it?”
“So wet, probably.”
“Probably?”
“Dylan.” She shook her head against me. “Really wet. It’s only gotten wet for you.”
Son of a bitch.
“It would be really wet. I’d get between your legs. In a perfect world there wouldn’t be a condom, nothing preventing me from feeling your sweet tight pussy around my cock.” When she groaned, I grinned. “Your pussy is tight, am I wrong?”
“Hmm.”
“I haven’t tasted it, but I know it’s going to be sweet. Dripping with your honey.” I swallowed the saliva that pooled in my mouth. “Can I continue?”
“Do. Please.”
“I’d thrust into your cunt so hard you’d scream.”
She inhaled sharply, pushing back to glare indignantly. “Dylan Meyer.”
I laughed at her anger, sliding my hands up and down her thighs. “What?” I asked innocently.
“That is a filthy word.”
“Thrust?”
“Stop.”
“Hard?”
“Cut it out.”
“Cunt?” I wanted to kiss her so fucking hard. Instead, I reached between her legs and grabbed a handful of her golden pussy through her shorts, cupping it roughly because I was a filthy man and she was the good girl I couldn’t help damaging. “You don’t want me to call it a cunt?”
“Absolutely not.” She grabbed my arm and pulled, removing my hand.
“What would you like me to call it?”
“I don’t know. Just not that.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pissed off, so hot.
“If you don’t know then I have no choice but to take the reins.” I put my hand back, cupping her more gently. “I could have sworn this was my pretty pussy. Isn’t it mine?”
She slid her hands up my chest to hold my shoulders, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and want. “If it’s yours it isn’t just yours when you want it. It has to be yours always.”
Her sweetness forced my hand from between her legs. I held her face and kissed her lips delicately. “I want it, Hill. I want it any way I can have it.”
“Then it’s yours,” she breathed, kissing me back just as soft.
“What’s mine?” I grinned again, unable to help myself.
“It’s your pretty pussy.”
What. The. Hell.
She sat back, grinning like a bad girl. She slapped her hand over her mouth as her laughter bubbled through. It didn’t hide her eyes, though. They were good and bad, tempting and pulling me in. “Keep going. I liked your story.”
“Stop interrupting me.” I glared to hide my humor—to mask my lust. “I’d be on top of you. The only thing you’d feel was me. I’d lose myself in you, Hillary Hayes, because right now that’s the only place I want to be. That’s why it’s probably a good thing my leg hurts. Because you’re not ready to give me that, and I don’t think I’m ready to take it.”
Our eyes locked. Her breathing deepened. “Maybe we should work on healing your leg. Because I want that, Dylan. I want it so badly it hurts.” She tried to kiss me.
I turned my head to the side. “Sit back.”
“I want your kiss,” she pouted, dragging her lips over my jaw. The feeling of her soft skin on my hard jaw made my balls ache for her. “Give it to me. Now,” she growled, capturing my mouth.
I gave in without a fight. Fell right in to her. She tasted like coffee still, this sweet, rich taste that made my mouth water. I tasted her so deeply I heard her moan from all the way between her legs. She kissed me back, tugging on my hair, twisting her tongue, showing me how much she wanted me. I held her to me. Her tongue was hot and wet, and everything I ran from left me the moment she wanted me. The feeling took hold of me. I wasn’t a soldier who barely survived, a shitty father, or a bastard who didn’t deserve her. I was someone she could lose herself in too; I was someone worth wanting.
But that couldn’t be.
That wasn’t the way.
My lips slowed. She shook her head, almost as if she could read my thoughts. Her kiss intensified, pulling me away from the edge. “You’re safe with me too,” she breathed, and then Hillary took me away, kissing me harder than any woman ever had.
Her hands roamed over my body hungrily. She found the bottom of my shirt and pulled, pushing up it up my chest and over my head. “I love your body. So hard, so smooth. Can I taste it?”
“Hill.”
She moved back to my jaw, over my pulse, brushing her lips over my pounding vein. “Yes or no?”
Taste what? Somehow I didn’t have the heart to ask. “Yes. Damn it. Yes.”
“Can we go to the bedroom?”
“Yes.”
She reached over and knocked my crutches away. She rose off my lap, breathing hard, eyes wild, but in control. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
It took one second to understand what she meant. “I can’t walk.”
“I want you in the bedroom. Let’s go.” She grabbed her own shirt and pulled it off, revealing her white bra, the tops of her perfect tits, her pale creamy stomach. She took a step away, putting her closer to the hall. “You can do it, Dylan.”
“Stop.” My hard on shriveled up. In its place was cold hard anger and beneath that fear.
She reached for the top button on her shorts. “Do you want these off?”
“Yes.” My growl was evil, wanting—I felt cornered.
They fell down her legs, leaving her in her sexy boy shorts and bra. Her body looked stunning. I could remember how soft she was. How mine she was. She took her hair down and tossed her clip on my lap.
“If you get up I’ll take this off next.” She cupped her breasts in her small hands.
The sight of her was confusing me. I wanted between her legs. I wanted to run. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to scream. “Hillary.”
“It’s going to hurt. But when you get to the bedroom I’ll make you forget. I
promise
.” Her broken voice broke my heart.
Someone like her didn’t need any more cracks in their heart. So I took a deep breath and held on to the cushion. I pivoted, thinking maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, until I stood upright on my left leg and realized what I really had to do. I had to walk on a leg that didn’t work. I met her eyes fearfully. “Please give me my crutches.”
She shook her head, the tears pooling in her gorgeous eyes. “Walk. We’re going to get better. Together.”
“Give me my fucking crutches!”
“Walk!” She screamed back just as loud.
With a growl, I hopped on one leg and took a step. The pain jolted through me, jarring. I hopped again, and again, until I got to the end of the couch. After that there was no more support but the walls, and that was all the way on the other side of the living room, seemingly miles away. In order to get there, I’d have to walk. I’d have to try. Aubrey’s face flashed across my mind.
“Are you sad because of me?”
she’d asked. I stood up and took my first step in six months.
Disgusting, sickening pain slammed into me. It made me dizzy; that’s how bad it was.
“Don’t be sad, Daddy.”
One more step. I bent over and puked. When I looked up Hillary was completely naked, standing there like an angel haloed by her goodness—she pulled me out of the darkness. I took another step, two more steps; my tears blocked by my eyes. When I got to the wall, she walked into the hall. I took a long break, pulling strength from places I didn’t know I had. Strength that helped me walk down the hall and into the bedroom.
When I got to the bed, I collapsed, covered in sweat, puke, and tears. Puke stuck to my mouth and chest. The pain had overflowed, leaving me shaking with it. I smelled like throw up, and my tears smeared around my face.
“I refuse to do that again.”
“You will do it again.” There was something warm and wet on me. I didn’t even look as Hillary straddled me and wiped me clean. She drug the towel over my face and chest, carefully cleaning me. “Do you want something to drink?”
I managed to nod. Her body left me. A few minutes later she returned with a glass of ice-cold water. She cradled my head and carefully pressed the glass to my lips, dripping the cool liquid into my mouth. It moistened my throat and chased the taste of puke away.
“I’m proud of you.”
I was in too much pain to talk. It radiated from my leg like a knife digging into my bone.
“So proud.” She sucked on my bottom lip. “I’ve never done this before,” she whispered, kissing me as if that’s all it would take to make me forget.
“Off.” I tried to push her, but my eyes remained closed. I needed a few more minutes to breathe, to push the pain aside.