Chapter Nineteen

Doc

My head and my heart battle for control. But this is a war neither can win. For an hour, I've watched Natasha sleep. I shouldn't have been so reluctant to involve Hidden Agenda. That one text message from Raelynn was all it took to reassure the woman I'm falling for. She's been asleep for almost ten hours now—a testament to how serious the infection was when I found her.

I know I'm not a good bet. I'm a fifty-six-year-old alcoholic who once showed up to my shift at the ER so intoxicated, the attending physician could smell the scotch on my breath.

I've lost everyone I've ever loved. My mother. Half my crew. Tessa. I couldn't protect them. What makes me think I can protect the woman in my arms?

You can't. You'll lose her too. And then what will you have? Nothing.

It's always his voice in my head. His words that come back to haunt me when I get low.

Why can't I silence him? He's been dead for more than thirty years. Killed in a bar fight that should have been the first sign for me to stay the fuck away from alcohol.

Instead, I followed him down that path. But where he took his rage out on the world around him, at least I only hurt one person. Myself.

Was that because I'm a better man? Or because my self-imposed exile left me no other choice?

Natasha stirs in my arms, and her ass brushes my aching dick. Only my boxers and her thin t-shirt separate us. My dick goes from half-hard to aching in a heartbeat.

I press a kiss to the curve of her neck. She smells like my shampoo, and I'm unprepared for the possessive growl rumbling through my chest.

"You stayed," she whispers.

I risk a deep breath, happy when my ribs only send a dull thrum of pain through my torso. "You seem surprised."

Natasha turns in my arms and blinks up at me. Fuck. There's a lifetime of sadness in her gray eyes.

"I haven't made any of this easy on either of us." She reaches up to stroke my cheek. "He'll find me eventually, Doc. I can't stay. But I hope you know how much I want to."

"I'm not letting you go that easily." My fingers cup the back of her neck, squeezing gently. "It's been years since I've felt anything but alone. When I met you, my heart started beating again. It didn't matter that you wouldn't give me the time of day. I still wanted you. With you, I'm alive again."

Tears shimmer in her eyes. "That's exactly why I have to go."

Arguing with Natasha won't get us anywhere. Yet. So I shuffle out to the kitchen to make us some coffee. My left leg is back to normal—thank fuck—and while I won't be chopping wood or carrying anything heavy for a while, I'm feeling pretty damn good for someone who had a tube in his chest only thirty-six hours ago.

I add the beans, jab the button to start the grind, and check my phone. Shit. When did that text message come in?

Raelynn: I gave you last night for free, Doc. But it's time to pay the bill. Check in or I'm coming over. With Ry.

It's barely 8:00 a.m. I thought I'd have more time.

Doc: I'm fine. Tell McCabe to go back to diaper duty.

The chocolatey scent of the Guatemalan blend curls around me as the first drops sputter into the pot. She'll give me a few hours. Maybe half a day if I'm lucky.

I've earned a little luck in my life, haven't I? Apparently not, since another message comes in too quickly.

Raelynn: Any word on Nat?

I should come clean. After all, that's what I require from my patients. Every time I saw Raelynn after her shoulder injury, I asked her if she was in any pain. If she was taking it easy. If she was doing her physical therapy exercises. And every time she tried to hedge—or outright lied to me—I called her on it.

But while Natasha might trust me at this point, she doesn't trust Hidden Agenda. Knowing her history, I can't blame her. She—and her brother—should have been safe with two MPs guarding them twenty-four-seven. Yet Parker still got in. And found her on Blakely.

Doc: Working on it.

Setting the phone down, I say a little prayer she'll accept that—for now. Before I can pour the coffee, however, the phone vibrates again.

Raelynn: You slipped up last night, Doc. Natasha? Not Nat? I know you've been in contact with her. I reckon I've got two hours before West asks me for an update, and I won't lie to him.

Fucking hell.

Doc: She's here. But if you show up now, she'll run. I need time. Please. Give me today?

The phone rings, Raelynn's name flashing across the screen. I send the call directly to voicemail.

Filling the mugs, I return to the bedroom and hope Raelynn doesn't break down my door in the next few hours. It's a real possibility.

Natasha's gaze latches onto me. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Fuck. I rush to get back in bed before she notices the bulge tenting my boxers. Or the phone in my hand.

But she's so focused on the cup in her hands—and her plans to run—I don't have to worry.

"I have to call Gladys before I go," she says, staring into the coffee like it holds the answers to life itself. "I don't know what to say to her."

Draping my arm around her shoulders, I wait for her to settle against my chest. Having her here—in my bed—feels right. We belong together. If only I could convince her to give us a chance.

"What about the truth?"

The quiet sniffle shatters my heart into dust. She's protected herself for so long, I'm not sure she realizes how much she cares for the older woman. Or how much Gladys cares for her.

"I can't. Anyone who knows who I really am…it's too dangerous. It's bad enough I told you." She lets her hand trail down my stomach, tracing the edge of one of the darker bruises. "You know how to take care of yourself. Gladys is eighty-three years old, and she's all alone up there. Or will be, now that I'm gone."

With each word, Natasha makes herself smaller and smaller. The coffee is half gone, and she clutches the mug like a shield.

"There is no world where he doesn't find me, Doc. It doesn't matter that he's still in Leavenworth—or was the last time I checked—he's connected. He has to be. The first attempt on my life was less than forty-eight hours after I reported him."

She won't meet my gaze, and it takes me a beat to understand why.

"Someone way above his pay grade was in on it."

Natasha's shoulders slump, and she nods. "That's why I have to keep running."

"You don't." I nudge her chin up so I can look her in the eyes. "Let me call McCabe. Or…West. Apparently, he's running things now."

She jerks away. "No. They're all former military, right? They could be part of this. God, I was so stupid coming here. Staying here. I should have gone directly to the bus station from the hospital. I could have mailed you that goddamn letter."

"Then why didn't you?" Anger sharpens my tone—or is that pain? I can't tell anymore. I thought we'd moved past this last night, but if she's still determined to shut me out, I was wrong.

"I didn't have a choice!" Natasha throws the covers back, jerks up, and starts pacing the room in short, choppy steps. "The first day we met, I saw your tattoo. My dad used to talk about PJs like they walked on water. When I left for my first deployment, he said, ‘You ever get in trouble over there, you find yourself a PJ and they'll get you out of it.'"

Pride stirs in my chest. It doesn't matter that I'm a civilian now. That I've been one for more than a decade. I'll always be a PJ.

"I thought if I stayed away from you, it would be easier." Natasha runs her fingers through her hair, wincing as her thumb catches on one of the butterfly bandages along her forehead. "But once Gladys sets her mind to something, there isn't a force on this earth that can stop her. And after that night—when we fooled around?—she made it her personal mission to get us together."

I'd suspected as much. "Gladys isn't exactly…subtle."

Natasha's laugh surprises me, but I think it shocks her even more. "God, no. She's the polar opposite of subtle."

Holding out my hand, I meet her gaze. Does she care enough—trust me enough—to come back to bed? "Please, baby. Let me hold you."

For a moment, I think she does. But she stops right in front of me, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. "Why couldn't you just read the damn letter?"

"Because I want to hear you say it. Whatever it is. Tell me why you trusted me."

With a sigh, she climbs onto the bed, straddling me. I cup her ass, digging my fingers into the soft globes.

Soft kisses feather along my collarbone. "What do I feel like, Doc?"

Her teeth score the shell of my ear. I reach up and pinch a nipple between my fingers. Her little whimper shoots straight to my dick. If I'm not inside of her soon, I'll be in a world of hurt.

"What did you tell me I felt like that night?" she asks.

"Home."

The single word hangs between us. It's in her eyes. In the part of her lips. In the breath catching in her throat.

In her tears.

Fuck.

"I felt it too. It terrified me. That's why I kicked you out. Why I stayed away for so long. Why I couldn't let myself talk to you, let alone…touch you. Because I'll never have a home again."

"You have one here, Natasha. With me. If you want it." I slide my fingers into her hair, twisting the silky strands so I can seal my lips to hers.

Grinding her hips against me, she lets out a desperate moan. I'll feel every one of my fifty-six years later, but I don't care. I need her naked. I need to taste her. I need to watch her come apart in my arms.

The t-shirt bunches in my frantic grip, sliding over her head and baring her to me. I toss it aside, then flip our positions so she's on her back under me. "These too," I grit out before I slide the boxers down her legs.

She's laid out like a banquet, and I'm a starving man. I palm one breast and roll a nipple between my fingers. The other bud tightens under my lips.

Her fingers claw at the sheets. "Doc. Please…"

"You like this?" Scoring my teeth over her dusky skin, I reach down and press the heel of my hand to her mound. "Are you wet for me, baby?"

"God, yes," she whimpers.

"Show me." I sit back, watching her for any signs of pain.

Her lips curve into a smile. "Demanding, much?"

I'm about to apologize when she spreads her legs. Trimmed curls glisten with her need. The scent of her wraps around me, pulling me closer until I'm helpless to resist.

My first taste teases her clit. Her tiny gasp is quickly followed by a keening cry. I slide a finger into her channel, and her inner walls tremble.

"I'm going to make you come, Natasha. I want to hear you scream. If that's not okay, tell me right fucking now."

"Do it," she manages.

I add a second finger. She's so damn tight. Burying my nose in her curls, I let my tongue explore. It's been a long time, but after a few strokes, I find my rhythm.

Every few seconds, I flick my gaze to hers. I need to see the moment she shatters. Her mewls turn more desperate, and I pick up the pace.

"Oh God…I'm…"

Her body tenses, and then she lets go. There is no sweeter sound than her scream. Except, maybe the way she says my name.

I drink her in, slowing my strokes until her tremors start to fade. The pain in my side should warn me away from the next round, but this might be all we have. If I can't convince her she's safe, she'll run, and I'll have no choice but to let her go.

Oh. My. God. I can't move. He told me I'd scream. Did I scream? I think I screamed.

"Come here, baby." His deep voice soothes my raw edges. Strong arms gather me close. I could snuggle with him for days. Weeks. Maybe even a lifetime. He's…solid. In this room—in this bed—nothing can touch me. Nothing but him.

"You've seen me naked twice now." I curl my fingers around the waistband of his boxers and lick my lips. "That's not fair."

"I tried not to look the first time," he says with a smile.

"Even so…" He's hard enough I can see the outline of his crown. And the precum soaking the silk. "Don't make me beg."

"You were begging earlier."

The amused glint in his eyes is sexy as sin. This is the real Doc. The man I started falling for the first day we met. He's funny, protective, and demanding. And I'm dangerously close to being completely in love with him.

"I'll beg again. Later. Off with these." I hold my breath. The glint fades into what I think might be pain. What is he waiting for? Does he not…want this?

"I haven't been with anyone in almost six years, Natasha. I…shit. I don't have protection."

Oh. Relief floods my muscles and loosens my tongue. "It's been just me and my Magic Bullet since I ran. And I was clean before that."

I'm suddenly ready to give him my entire sexual history—what little there is of it—in under ten seconds flat.

"I'm not on birth control, but I haven't had a cycle in two years, so I don't think I even could get?—"

"I had a vasectomy after I retired from the Air Force." He's already on his feet. A grimace darkens his expression for a brief moment as he shoves the boxers to the floor. "I want this. I want you. But only if you're sure."

I can't tear my gaze away from his body. He's fit. Strong. But with a softness that makes him real. His abs angle gently into a v; his erection juts proudly from his patch of neatly trimmed white curls.

"Natasha?" He curls his arms over his torso, like he's afraid I don't like the view. "If you've changed your mind?—"

"Get over here." I scoot to the edge of the bed, spreading my thighs so he can step between them. "I'm sure. I haven't been this sure of anything since I ran. And I might not be sure of anything else ever again. I want you inside me, Doc. Now."

He wraps his hands under my knees and gives me a quick tug. I fall back onto the mattress with a yelp. "Next time, I'll be on top of you."

His tip nudges my channel. I stare into his deep blue eyes, finding another piece of home in the gold flecks of his irises. "Or I'll be on top of you."

The low rumble in his chest is almost feral. Doc's thick enough to stretch me to the point of pain. But I crave it. I need it.

Hooking my leg around him, I dig my heel into his ass and pull him closer. Doc sinks deep in one swift move. I swallow my gasp. "Again."

With the second thrust, pain gives way to pleasure.

"Again."

I don't have to ask a third time. Doc wraps his hands around my hips to hold me still while he pounds into me like a man possessed. "Touch yourself, Natasha. I need you to come with me."

My hands move to my breasts, twisting my nipples, skating my nails over the tips until sparks of electricity race all the way to my clit.

I'm close. Doc is too. He's harder now. Thicker. His eyes darken. The veins in his neck cord. I slide my hands lower. I'm so wet. My index finger glides over my clit. Again and again, until I'm panting.

"Won't last long," Doc manages. He wraps his arm around me, pulls me up, and climbs onto the mattress.

I cup the back of his neck. We're eye to eye now. Lines of pain crinkle around his lips, but he's a man possessed. With a low growl, he quickens his pace. The new angle lets his cock rasp over my clit.

"Let go, Doc. Let go with me."

He does, and we fly together, higher and higher until I'm not sure we'll ever come down.