Unfinished Hero 03 Raid (24 page)

“Where are you?” he went on.

“At home,” I answered.

“Things cool in town?” he asked.

“Surprisingly, or maybe not so much
,
seeing as she had two jobs to do and she was getting paid for both
;
Heather was totally on top of things. It’s going to stink, having to put together
my shipments again
,
but I’m not behind.”

“Excellent,” he muttered then continued. “I’m just headin’ outta Denver. Be home in
about forty. I’ll pick you up. We’ll go to Rache’s for dinner.”

“Uh… I already put a chicken in the oven.”

“Right, then be there in forty.”

I didn’t exactly ask him to dinner but it seemed he didn’t exactly care.

“Raid
—
” I began
,
but he interrupted me.

“See you soon.”

Then he was gone.

I stared at my phone.

Okay then, I’d talk to him at dinner
,
and I promised myself I
would
talk to him at dinner.

I dealt with things in the kitchen.
After I did that,
I opened a bottle of white wine, poured myself a glass, got my wool and headed out
to the front porch.

I was swaying sideways on my swing, one leg bent
, my
foot in the seat
. T
he outside of my leg
was
resting against the back of the swing
. The other leg was
down, tips of my toes swaying me. The makings of an afghan were in my lap and Carole
King was coming soft through the windows of my living room when the Jeep pulled up.

I watched it, steeling myself to do what I promised
,
and
I
kept steeling myself as Raiden unfolded his body encased in tan cargo pants, tight
hunter green tee and boots out of the Jeep. I continued steeling myself as he slowly
walked up the steps, eyes on me and stopped at the post by the stairs.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey,” he said back in a way that that one word glided across the space and wrapped
warm and snug around me like one of my afghans.

I quit steeling.

But I did make to move, saying, “You want a
—
?”

“Don’t move.”

I settled because there was a command to his voice
,
but it was different. It was like the way he said “hey” except more. A lot more.
I stayed where I was, eyes glued to him, feeling funny in a way so good, it was absofuckingmazing
good.

When he just stood there, his eyes moving over me, I asked softly, “Sweetheart, are
you okay?”

His eyes came to mine. His body slanted to the side so his shoulder was resting against
the post and he replied, “You, just like that, any man would fight and die for the
privilege
of comin’ home to that every day.”

My breath left me in a soft, audible “oof”
,
like Spot had jumped up on my chest.

Raiden wasn’t done.

“Better, she accepts you just as you are
,
then makes a special coffeecake with apples and doesn’t skimp on the streusel, which
is the best part
. A
ll that to celebrate you givin’ her your trust and her givin’ hers right back to you.”

Tears crawled up my throat and started clawing the backs of my eyes
,
so my voice was husky when I whispered, “Raiden.”

“And you know, she learned at the hand of Miss Mildred
,
the chicken in the oven is gonna rock your world.”

It totally was. Grams taught me everything she knew
,
but my Mom was also no slouch in the kitchen.

“Please stop talking,” I begged.

He didn’t.

“Fight and die for that privilege, Hanna.”

I swallowed back tears then warned, “If you don’t shut up, you’re going to make me
cry.”

Raiden shut up
,
but didn’t move. He just stood there staring at me.

So I asked what I was going to ask before, “Honey, do you want a beer?”

“I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

He pushed away from the post and walked into the house.

I did not find the courage to talk to him about my concerns about our morning conversation.

No, the truth was that sharing my concerns didn’t once enter my mind.

* * * * *

That night…

Raiden was back on his calves, his hips powering up
.
I was straddling him, back to his front, his arms around me, his hands moving everywhere.

I was unraveling.

His hand slid down then glided across my belly
,
and not even thinking about it, my hand covered his and slid it up.

Taking mine with it, his slid back down to my belly.

I slid it up.

His hand stilled then glided to my side, down and in. My hand still over his, I felt
his middle finger press in, circle
. H
is hips surged up, he filled me, my head flew back, a moan drifted up my throat and
I shot to pieces.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes later…

Naked in Raiden’s arms, I cuddled closer, my eyes drooping, sleep close.

“What was that?” his voice rumbled into me.

“Sorry?” I murmured.

“With your belly, baby.”

I blinked into the dark, suddenly not sleepy in the slightest. “Uh… sorry?”

“Want all-access, Hanna. You got some issues with me touchin’ your stomach?”

Oh God.

“Um…” I mumbled then said no more.

Raiden’s body tensed then pressed into mine so I was on my back and his shadow was
looming over me.

Then he grunted, “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Do not wanna ask this shit
,
but did some fuckwad do somethin’ fucked with your stomach?”

I was baffled by this question so I repeated, “What?”

“Babe, you don’t want it, we won’t do it
,
but like I said, I want all-access and that might include me comin’ on you. Is that
gonna be an issue for you?”

I didn’t answer. My mind was filled with Raiden coming on me
,
and how if he did that I’d get to watch
,
and how I kind of wanted to do that immediately.

“Hanna,” he called.

“What?” I answered distractedly.

His hand came up and cupped my jaw. “Honey, talk to me,” he urged gently.

God, he was being sweet and he totally had the wrong end of the stick.

So I found myself blurting, “I have a pouch.”

I watched the shadow of his head twitch and he asked, “You have a what?”

This was not fun in any way.

But I couldn’t have him thinking some “fuckwad” did something “fucked” to my stomach.

“I, um… well, am not exactly
toned
there like you’re, well…
toned
… or more like
cut
,
well…
everywhere.
”

“So?”

I blinked into the dark.

“So?” I repeated.

“Yeah, so?” he asked.

I didn’t know what to do with that question so I remained silent.

Raiden didn’t.

He asked strangely, “Are you shitting me?”

I didn’t know what do to do with that question either. What I did know was I wasn’t
shitting him
,
though I also didn’t know what he thought I was shitting him about.

“Well, no,” I answered
,
and suddenly his shadow was gone and the bed swayed because his big body landed on
its back beside mine.

“Jesus, women are so fuckin’ whacked,” he informed the ceiling.

I pulled the covers up to my chest, lifted up on an elbow and twisted his way.

“Sorry?”

I felt his eyes on me in the dark. “Babe, guys like pussy,” he declared.

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“A woman’s gotta smell good and she needs to take care of herself. By that I mean,
she’s gotta wash her hair, shave her legs and work it, whatever it is she’s workin’.
Her clothes, the way she does up her face, the way she moves, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.
She does that and has a sweet pussy, a guy does not give a fuck and gets off on whatever
wraps that package.”

I wasn’t sure that made me feel better and I communicated this by saying a disbelieving,
“All right.”

Raiden got up on his elbow to face me, his arm moving to wrap around my waist and
haul my lower body against his.

“That’s not entirely true,” he carried on. “Some guys like big tits, some guys don’t
give a shit about tits and like a round ass. Some want long legs. Some want short
women they can protect or feel like they can dominate. But brass tacks, it’s about
the pussy.”

I
was
sure this didn’t make me feel better, therefore I asked, “So essentially, if it’s
female, a man will sleep with it?”

“No, essentially a man won’t fuck anything he doesn’t want and women have got to get
it in their heads that if he’s givin’ her his dick, he likes what he’s burying his
dick inside.”

Well, that was certainly clear, if crude, and something that again left me with no
response.

“Hanna, baby,” his voice had gentled and his arm pulled me closer, “what I’m sayin’
is, we like what we like, we’re drawn to what we’re drawn to and I wouldn’t be fuckin’
you if I didn’t want what you’re givin’ me.
All
of what you’re givin’ me. You’re pretty. You smell good. You’re legs are fuckin’
amazing. You’ve got great tits. You’re toned and in shape but soft in great fuckin’
places and I like it like that. Add you bein’ cute, dorky, sweet and fuckin’ hilarious,
it’s perfect.
All
of it.”

Okay,
that
made me feel better.

I thought
,
for the first time in a long time
,
about the woman I saw him with, petite and skinny-minnie.

“So, you, uh… like tall and curvy
,
not short and skinny?” I asked.

“No, I like tits and hair
,
however those come
,
but what they gotta come with, what turns me on most
,
are smells and personality. You might think that’s bullshit
,
but it’s true. You got all that
,
but add your legs and I don’t have to court a backache in order to take your mouth,
major bonus.”

That absolutely made me feel better so I smiled.

Raiden must have seen it in the dark because he leaned into me, taking me to my back
and again loomed over me.

“So, you gonna stop that shit with your stomach?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“All-access?” he pushed.

“Yes, sweetheart,” I promised.

“How about you give that to me now,” he suggested and a pulse pounded between my legs.

“Okay,” I breathed.

“Spread for me, Hanna.”

I opened my legs at the same time I had a minor preliminary orgasm.

Raiden put a hand flat between my breasts, slid it down, glided it over my belly then
it dipped between my legs.

My hips lifted and I bit my lip.

He shifted and ordered gruffly, “Wrap your hand around my cock, honey. Jack me off
while I play with your pussy.”

Readily, I did what I was told.

I came first.

Five minutes later, Raiden anointed my belly.

And I got to watch.

After cleaning him off me, I fell asleep with Raiden spooning me, big hand splayed
at my stomach.

And I fell asleep thinking this was good news for my sundae addiction
,
I liked my little pouch and I was going to keep it.

* * * * *

That Friday afternoon…

Grams was sitting on her back porch, feet up, eyes closed
.
I’d dragged her chair to the end of the porch so she was bathed in sun.

Raiden was at the far end of the backyard with the push mower, its engine droning.

I had a mess of afghans all over Grams’ porch furniture and my basket of ribbons with
me. I was folding, tying and tagging them.