This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (7 page)

But the part of her that’s the most different are her eyes.

Her sparkling, innocent blues have been replaced.

They’re darker now. They hold secrets—secrets that will probably haunt her for the rest of her life, and I wonder if she’ll ever find the strength to divulge them. Her eyes bear the pain she’s endured and I’d give anything to make it go away. To see the soft look she used to gaze at me with once again.

“I brought you some things. You should shower and dress,” I say softly, letting my eyes drag over her scantily clad body. When I’d rescued her, she’d been wearing nothing but a T-shirt despite the frigid morning air.

I cringe to think what would have happened had I not been released on bail sooner. If my mom hadn’t have thrown a hissy fit to get me out of there, despite the fact I hit my father. The moment I was released, I was back in my truck, hauling ass out to this cabin, without so much as a muttered word of thanks.

I was almost too late.

But I wasn’t.

I’d been there at exactly the right time.

It was fate.

“You think he’ll bleed to death?” Her whispered words draw me from my mind and I follow her stare to Gabe. His head is leaning forward and his eyes are closed. After I shot him, he’d thrown on a T-shirt and the blood from his wound has soaked the sleeve. But it’s not gushing. I had only clipped him—barely grazed the bastard.

“I wish,” I huff and run a hand through my unruly hair, my newest habit, “but I think it’s just a flesh wound. He’ll probably be just fine.”

She nods and leaves the room without another word. With a sigh, I trot out to the truck and retrieve my bag. Once back inside, I hear the shower running so I make my way into the bedroom and set to pulling out some things for her.

The room reeks of sex.

Of him and her.

Together. In this fucking bed.

It nauseates me.

She hasn’t told me what he’s done to her, but I know. He was inside of her, tarnishing not only her virginity, but her sanity. Baylee’s different. How could she not be? And I hate what he’s done to her.

I’m lost in my thoughts when she emerges, wearing only a towel. The circumstances are shit, but I can’t help the way my cock thickens at the sight of her. We can finally be together. I’ll finally be able to make love to her, make her feel safe again.

“Do you feel better?” I question with a hoarse voice.

Her eyes meet mine for a brief second before she drops them to the floor. Taking her cue, I walk over to the window to stare out while she dresses.

“You brought my favorite hoodie,” she murmurs softly, ignoring my question. “Thank you.”

She shuffles around behind me dressing, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and watch her. But she’s been through too much. I won’t victimize her too.

“If I remember correctly, it’s my hoodie,” I tease, a smile hinting at my lips. “You stole it.”

A small chuckle escapes her and it’s bliss—fucking bliss to hear it again. Her perfect, throaty laugh. “It looks better on me anyway.”

I can’t help but peek over my shoulder at her. She’s already slid on her yoga pants over her panties and is tugging the hoodie over her head. Her small breasts—bare because I didn’t think to grab any bras—jiggle as she pulls it on. Before her head pokes through, I turn away and adjust my erection. “That it does, babe.”

The bed squeaks behind me as she sits. I turn to see her slipping on her socks and tennis shoes. It bothers me that she’s sitting on that bed—a bed they shared last night—but I refrain from saying so. Instead, I stride over to her and sit beside her. My arm snakes around her waist and I hug her to me. She winces and freezes in my arms which only serves to anger me. It makes me want to jerk away from her and go back to the kitchen so I can beat the fuck out of Gabe.

“I’m going to take care of you,” I vow. “I swear to it.”

She lifts her chin and turns to look at me. “How’s Mom? And where’s Dad? Why weren’t they looking for me?”

I can’t help but sigh at her words. I knew this conversation was inevitable. I’d hoped for more time to hold her. To kiss her. To hug her. To love her. More time before having to crush her. To break what’s left of her spirit.

“Babe, maybe now’s not the time—”

“Don’t.”

I frown and scrub my palm over my face. My tongue is thick and sticky in my mouth, unable to find the right words.

“Tell me,” she urges, the plea in her voice desperate. “Please, Brandon.”

“Baylee…”

Our eyes meet, my lips just inches from her quivering bottom one. A single tear rolls down her cheek and drips from her jaw. “N-N-No.”

“She passed away,” I choke out, emotion threatening to suffocate me. “I’m so sorry.”

“God, no.” Another tear chases the last one and her nose darkens to a deep shade of red. “My poor dad.” She stifles a sob but the tears run down her cheeks as she silently cries.

Rage bubbles in my chest, eradicating the sadness I felt for her and her mother, at the mention of Tony.

“When?”

I slide a hand along her cheek and swipe away some of the wetness with my thumb. “A few days after you were taken.”

Her eyes dilate and her sadness quickly morphs into anger. “A few
days?
You mean, t—this was all for nothing!” Her statement is shrill and she stands abruptly. Matching her stance, I rise to my feet and grab onto her shoulders.

“That bastard didn’t even tell me!” she shrieks and attempts to jerk out of my grasp but my grip is too strong. “And my dad! He never mentioned it once while I emailed with him, Brandon! Not once! Where the hell is he? Why wasn’t he looking for me?”

A wash of dread trickles through me and I make a decision. She’s had enough for one day. I won’t be the bearer of any more bad news.

“I don’t know where he is. But when I went by your house to get your clothes, a neighbor said he’d gone to San Francisco.” The words easily roll off my tongue. “Maybe he was sparing your feelings. Maybe he wanted to tell you in person. And maybe he really is looking for you there.”

Her entire body wracks with sobs and I hug her to me. Me, comforting her, it feels like where I belong. I’ve held her crying body on numerous occasions as she struggled with coming to terms with her mother’s illness.

“San Francisco? What the hell’s in San Francisco? Something’s not right, Brandon. Do you think Gabe hurt him?”

I freeze. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He hurt you.”

She nods and tilts her tearstained face to regard me. “I’ve lost everyone.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here.”

As if my words enrage her, she jerks away from me. Guilt flashes over her features, leaving me puzzled for a moment. Then, she storms from the room on a mission. I chase after her to find her standing in front of Gabe with her hands on her hips, staring at him.

“Wake up!” she snaps and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his head back.

Gabe doesn’t even flinch. He’s breathing but he’s out cold.

“We can interrogate him later. You should eat something and rest a little.”

She jerks her gaze to mine, disgust written all over her face. “We’re not staying here long. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll get him to tell me where my dad’s at, and then we’ll go find him.”

I cringe, knowing this conversation with Gabe won’t end well. “Fine,” I say, placating her, “but you will eat. You’re pale as hell.”

She relaxes a bit as I walk over to the refrigerator. I open the freezer, hoping to find something easy to make her. Instead, I only find foil-wrapped vegetables.

“What a fucking weirdo,” I murmur in disgust as I widen the freezer to show her.

Her face blazes crimson as she charges for me. I gape at her as she starts grabbing them from inside and begins chunking them at Gabe. They may as well be rocks because each one that manages to hit him makes a thud. I stand there in stunned silence as she throws every last one of them at him.

My Baylee. My sweet, sweet girl. She’s lost.

All that’s left is this angry, distraught little animal. I’m afraid she’ll never be the girl I once knew and loved.

Doesn’t mean I could ever stop loving her. If anything, I love her even more. We’ve both changed. Not just her. She and I are different. We’ve seen things—done things that have altered who we are and forced us to grow wise beyond our years.

When she has nothing left to throw at him, she slaps his unconscious face over and over again. I let her release some of her inner rage and emotion before scooping her into my arms. Her hand clutches onto my neck as I stride with her into the living room. I sit down and bring her with me into my lap.

She smells clean and her skin is soft. My arms grip her tight against me as she curses God, sobs, and screams. We stay like that until she’s nothing but a quivering, sniffling, hiccuping shell of herself.

“Rest now, Baylee,” I murmur against her damp hair. “You’re safe now.”

“W
HEN WE MAKE
love, I forget to count your breaths,” War murmurs in the dark, his fingertip tickling over my ribcage as he drags it up and down along my skin. “But they’re quicker and more frequent. I like the way they sound, sharp intakes followed by whimpering exhales. And the ragged, uneven way about them is perfection.”

I smile and snuggle against his warm body. “Maybe we should do it again. You know,” I tease as I kiss his neck, “so you can count them.”

A deep, rumbling chuckle reverberates from him, and I fall deeper for him. His laughter has the ability to work itself under my skin and imbed warmth there for eternity. With each laugh or smile, he fills me. I’m whole with this complicated, beautiful man.

“Bay, I’ll make love to you any day,” he says with a growl, “but I can assure you I’ll always forget to count.”

He rolls on top of me and nudges my thighs apart with his knee. When he rests his hardened cock against my belly, I let out a gasp.

“When we
fuck
,” he murmurs, making sure to enunciate the word as he thrusts against my body, “I only think about you. The black abyss inside my head is obliterated by your light. I’m too absorbed in your tight body and swollen lips. You chase away my demons. I’m nothing more than your servant—put on this earth to worship you until the end of time.”

His words cause a heat to burn through me, all the way from my heart to my core. I squirm against him and thread my fingers into his dark hair. “Fuck me then, servant,” I taunt, pulling his head down to mine.

He must be turned on by my dirty talking because he lets out an animalistic grunt and forcefully enters me. My body is wet and ready, as it always is with him, and I moan against his lips.

“One,” he mutters aloud as he bucks against me. The delicious tightening in my lower body intensifies with each powerful thrust into me. He’s counting my breaths and I’m counting stars.

“Two.”

All of them.

“Three.”

Glittering behind my closed eyelids as I greedily grab for the orgasm his body will no doubt give me. His lips steal over mine and he kisses me hard enough to steal the breath right from my lungs.

I love all the parts of War.

But when he makes love to me, he owns not only my body but my mind as well. We become one and I relish in the way we connect in blissful harmony. His hand slides to my breast and he squeezes reverently. Our lips don’t disconnect as he fucks me right over the edge.

“Oh, God!”

My words seem to have a ripple effect because his cock feels as if it grows inside me before he bursts his release into me, marking me as his.

And it’s true.

I’ll never belong to another.

War owns me and I own him.

Together we are peace.

“My sweet Baylee,” he croons, his lips now peppering kisses all over my face. “You’re so goddamned perfect.”

I smile and tenderly stroke his cheek with my thumb. “And so are you.”

His body crushes me and I revel in the way he consumes me. Despite his afflictions, he’s strong and powerful in his own unique way. Warren McPherson is a force to be reckoned with. He’s a dark storm, raging from his inner demons. I have an appetite for his destruction. My soul craves to be completely overtaken by him.

Lucky for me, though, War would never hurt me. He may be chaos, brewing and festering on the inside, but with me, he handles me with surety and gentleness. My War protects what belongs to him as if it is precious.

I
am precious to him.

“How many breaths?” I question as he pulls out of my body, his hot cum running from me and warming a trail between my butt cheeks as it leaves.

He grunts as he climbs off the bed in search of a towel. “I was at three breaths before time stopped.”

The bathroom light flicks on and soon I can hear the water running in the shower. He returns with the towel, the light silhouetting his muscular frame. His hands make quick efficient work with the towel as he cleans me before guiding me out of the bed.

“Time stopped for you too?”