Officer out of Uniform (Lock and Key Book 2) (30 page)

Every detail except one. He held back the fact that when he’d thought she’d died, he’d nearly done something drastic.

Grey knew. Would he keep Henry’s secret? Probably. Still, maybe there would come a time when it would be appropriate to tell her. Either way, it definitely wasn’t now. He was glad, because the idea of admitting what a low point he’d gotten to – the stupid thing he’d nearly done – wasn’t one he relished.

There was something he wanted – needed – to tell her though.

“Sasha, I love you.” He’d told her before, around the time she’d been throwing up. She probably didn’t remember. “You mean more to me than you can probably imagine.”

She broke out into a big smile. “I love you too. More than
you
can probably imagine. If I hadn’t been trapped in that basement, I definitely would’ve helped you take down Randy Levinson.”

He grimaced.

“We could’ve been a team, like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Bonnie and Clyde were thieves.”

“They had guns though, and they were madly in love.”

“If they were alive here today, they’d probably be locked up at Riley.”

“You’re really sucking the fun out of my example.”

“Sorry. I’ll let the fact that you just compared me to a famous convict slide just this once, in light of your injuries.”

She grinned, and looked like she was about to say something else.

Her mother walked back into the room first, talking loudly about the coffee and generally making a lot of noise, like she’d expected to walk into the room and find Sasha and Henry half naked and tumbling through the hospital bed sheets or something.

Henry accepted the coffee and thanked her for it. Maybe it wasn’t that weird that she’d expected to walk in on something a little inappropriate. She’d lost her husband in an accident and had to be reliving all that now. She’d probably expected Sasha and Henry to be celebrating passionately, like she would’ve if her husband had survived, if she’d been handed a miracle like theirs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take better care of your daughter,” he said to her, acutely aware that Sasha’s mother was one of the people he’d failed by allowing Randy to get his hands on Sasha.

“Don’t you dare say that. Everything turned out wonderfully.” She waved a hand around the room. “It may not seem wonderful now to you, but it could’ve been so much worse… Don’t beat yourself up over what you could’ve done differently when you still have everything that matters.”

He nodded, didn’t say anything else. He still felt like he was in her debt, but he didn’t want to argue. He wanted to get along with her. If he had his way, she’d be his mother-in-law someday.

“Henry?” Sasha’s voice was a little softer than it had been before. The burst of energy provided by the sugary ice cream was probably fading away.

Still, he eyed the button that would summon a nurse, ready to press it if she showed any sign of needing attention. “What?”

“Since mom is staying at least until I get out of the hospital, I thought we could plan something for when I get out. I’d like to make dinner for you both, like I was supposed to do the other day, before all this happened. I’m sure you’ll still be on hiatus from work because of your hip, so how about we shoot for the day I’m discharged?”

It seemed like a good sign that she wanted him to do something with her and her mom, but if she really thought he was going to let her slave away in the kitchen any time soon, the painkillers were affecting her thought process more than he’d realized.

“Dinner sounds great. I’ll cook though.”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “Really?”

“I insist.”

“Guess I’ll have to make sure I’m stocked up on ranch dressing, then.”

“Wolf will gladly eat anything you can’t force down with the help of some Hidden Valley.”

She laughed and this time, with the promise of something normal to look forward to, the sound swept over him, resonating. He reached out, took her hand and realized that despite everything that’d happened in the last 24 hours, he was happy.

 “Now who’s hitting who in the face?” Sasha sat on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Henry stared back at her, a hand raised to his mouth. When she met his eyes, he jerked it away.

“I’m sorry. Is your lip okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“It looks a little swollen.”

“It’s not bleeding.”

“At least now we’re even.” She grinned as the nightmare she’d just woken from lost a little of its hold on her and began to fade into her subconscious. Her smile didn’t get rid of the goose bumps on her skin, though.

“You were having the dream again, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no point in trying to hide it from him; his fat lip made it obvious. And she’d already told him about the nightmares that’d been haunting her for the past three weeks, since the fire at Wisteria. At least he, of all people, could understand.

Luckily. If he didn’t get it, it would be kind of hard to explain why she’d flailed in her sleep and elbowed him in the mouth.

He leaned back against the headboard, made a sound deep in his throat. “You want breakfast? I picked up some bacon yesterday.”

“It’s 4 am.”

“It’s not like either of us have work today.”

They were both still off work due to their injuries. Wisteria’s fire damage was being repaired anyway. While the restaurant was still open, the house wasn’t, which meant there weren’t many diners. Faye assured Sasha that they were fine without her for the time being.

“No, but we do have the beach. We’re supposed to meet everyone there at ten.”

He shrugged. “Okay. I just know how much you like it when I cook breakfast. And I know it can be hard to go back to sleep once you’re up.”

His thoughtfulness warmed her despite the chill of the air conditioned room. He loved to sleep in the cold, and they were at his place.

She hadn’t been alone at night since the fire. After she’d been discharged from the hospital, her mom had stayed at her apartment for a few days. Then she’d spent every night afterward with Henry. He either came over to her apartment, or she went to his place.

She liked to think that she’d be fine on her own, but knew it would be hard to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she was reminded of lying down on the basement floor and squeezing them shut. Waiting but not ready to die.

Randy Levinson was gone, but what he’d done lived on in dark corners of her mind and haunted her.

Henry’s body heat and touch helped to tame the memories, the feeling of absolute loneliness that had swallowed her up in the basement. At Henry’s suggestion, she’d started seeing a therapist for help with dealing with the PTSD that manifested itself in nightmares and – worse – waking flashbacks.

Confronting Randy Levinson in the woods and fighting him off with a knife had been one thing. She’d made that decision – she’d been the one in control. Being surprised by him and locked in the burning basement to die had been another thing completely.

He’d stripped all control and hope away from her, leaving her as half a person. She remembered more of what had happened in the basement now. The moments she’d spent behind that locked door, fully expecting to die, had been the darkest of her life. They’d changed her, though she wished they hadn’t, wished she could just shake them off and leave the past where it belonged: behind her.

She’d never imagined herself having problems like this, and asking for help had been embarrassing. Her therapist was genuinely likeable though, and no one besides Henry and her mother knew that she was seeing one at all.

Henry had initially convinced her to try it by telling her that he’d seen one years ago, after returning from his second deployment. That fact went a long way toward helping her feel less defective for seeking therapy. It was nice to have someone who could work through the aftermath with her without being hurt by it. It wasn’t like she could burden her usual confidants like Kerry, Alicia, Henry or her mother with her darkest emotions – they’d all been through hell too, and she didn’t want to force them to relive it.

“On second thought, I think I’ll take you up on breakfast,” she said, tempted by the thought of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee. There were no better smells in the world. “But I think we should hold out. It’s still so early… And there’s something else I’d like first.”

“What’s that?”

It was hard to tell whether he was playing coy or had simply forgotten who he was dealing with. Neither of them was wearing much – she a tank top and cotton shorts, he nothing but underwear. That made it easy to get skin-to-skin with him, drawing him close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his swollen lip.

His mouth was hot, and so was his body. It was obvious why he liked the room temperature so cold: he was a human furnace. She eased herself into his lap, holding him tight, her hands drifting all over, brushing the scars on his back, chest and left hip. Every inch of him was familiar, but she never got tired of looking or touching.

He groaned, his breath rushing hot against her cheek as he turned his head. His cock was hard and pressing against her shorts, a fact that stimulated her senses and her imagination. At times like this, Henry was one hell of a distraction.

Of course, she would have wanted him anyway. Neither one of them had gotten much sleep lately, a consequence of sharing the same bed. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him – except for when he cuffed her, of course.

There was nothing like that going on this morning, though. He’d turned to reach for the nightstand, where a small bottle of lube waited. She was pretty wet already, but didn’t say anything, just slid out of his lap, giving him some room.

Watching him pour the lube into his palm, pull down the waistband of his underwear and wrap his fist around his shaft was quite a show, definitely worth the delay.

He pumped his hand slowly up and down his shaft, spreading the shiny liquid over his hard flesh, from the root of his cock to the broad head, round and glistening, now.

Everything inside her drew up tight, and she tucked a thumb into the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling gently, revealing the curve of his hip, all bone and muscle. The scar was there too, a permanent souvenir of their bizarre, life-changing summer.

“Do you ever dream about it?” she asked.

He stood and stripped down to nothing, revealing the powerful mass of muscle and scars that was his body. “Sometimes. I dream that I’m chasing him, but then I wake up… And it’s okay. I know that I got him, in the end. The chase is over.”

She nodded and almost said something else, but bit her tongue at the last second. This wasn’t the time. He looked way too amazing standing there with his hard body, hard cock. Blond hair that was just long enough to be a tiny bit messy from sleeping. Every inch of muscle, every curve and angle of bone, screamed ultimate temptation.

When he sat down on the bed, she got back into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissed him again. Their tongues tangled together, and she wrapped a hand around his shaft, exploring the length and breadth of it, palm sliding easily against his slick, hot skin.

He rocked his hips, thrusting into her hand. The head of his dick barreled through her fist, and then the rest, until the dark blond hair at his groin was pressing against the edge of her palm. Her lips tingled as a rough sound came from somewhere deep in his chest and was trapped between their locked mouths.

A split second later he had her on her back, was pushing her thighs apart and lowering himself between them. A jolt of anticipatory pleasure struck her when she felt the head of his cock pressing against her pussy lips, and before she could catch her breath, he was inside her.

His heat and hardness set off a domino effect of tightening muscles and buzzing nerves. He pushed in deep, made her forget about everything but him and this – the small world the bed had become.

Her lingering unease faded. It was hard to feel weak when his strong body was wrapped up with hers and her heart was beating faster, making her feel alive. She rocked her hips, riding him from below, sending him even deeper with every breathless movement.

He sighed and moved to her rhythm, stretching her with powerful, deliberate strokes. He was never tentative when they were fucking, no matter what had been going on. He knew what she liked and wasn’t afraid to give it to her. It was one of her favorite things about him. Her appreciation for his lack of inhibition ran deep, like his cock in her body, hitting places that made her arch and gasp.

She raked her hands down his back, gripped his ass. It was tight and firm, all muscle. Holding onto it while he drove himself into her made her even wetter – when she gripped him like this, she could feel the power behind every thrust, the way his entire body worked to give her what she wanted.

And what he wanted, too. His breath was coming faster now, and his muscles felt taut but charged with unspent energy, like a livewire. Expectation raced through her like electricity, burning away the last barrier between her and climax.

“Henry, I’m going to come.” She dug her nails deeper into his skin, burying them in the crease where his ass met his thigh. He bore down on her and his groin rubbed against her clit each time he slid in all the way, tearing a gasp from her lungs every time.

“I can tell.” His voice was rough with desire, and probably lack of sleep, too. “Your pussy is like a vice when you get close. So tight it almost hurts, except – fuck – it doesn’t. It just…” He pounded into her, hard. “Just about makes it impossible for me not to come too.”

She couldn’t reply. Not with words, anyway. Her body was wrenching tight around his cock, and pleasure hit her in waves. First one, then, quickly, more than she could count. It was the kind of bliss she could drown in, losing words but not her voice. She cried out in reflex, arching hard against him, catching irregular hints of his racing heartbeat as her breasts were crushed against his chest.

“Aw, fuck yeah…” He reached down with one hand and gripped one of her ass cheeks, squeezing as he rocked hard into her. “Don’t just scream. Say my name.”

He fucked her like he meant to knock the breath right out of her, his balls slapping against her ass and his fingertips digging into one cheek, close to where he was joined with her, every inch of his dick getting lost in her body.

She rode out the last seconds of her orgasm, then struggled to clear the fog from her brain. When she could breathe, she said his name not just once, but over and over, until he was groaning and swearing, pushing her down into the mess of blankets and sheets as he came.

He kissed her before he pulled out, long enough that she could feel her lips becoming as swollen as his. And when she closed her thighs, she could still feel his come hot inside her. She loved that feeling, and had told him so plenty of times. She loved it even more when he reached out and buried a hand in her hair, ran his fingers through the loose locks before standing up and getting dressed.

Semi-dressed, anyway.

“I’m going to start breakfast,” he said when he’d pulled on underwear and jeans.

“Okay. I’ll be out as soon as I get cleaned up. Will you make the coffee extra strong?”

“I don’t know any other way.”

She watched him walk out of the room, letting her gaze linger on his back, perfect muscle striped with scars she could describe while blindfolded, if she had to. And then she simply stayed still for a few moments, quieting her mind and taking everything in.

Everything seemed so perfect, she just had to sit down and think about it, trying to find some flaw, some hole that would reveal the perfection as a veneer rather than a solid foundation for lasting happiness.

She couldn’t find one, and had to laugh at herself for trying. Sure, she had a few scars – the one on her arm, and the other ones on the inside, where she could feel them but very few people could see them. But so did Henry, and that wasn’t stopping them from being together and loving it.