Chapter Twenty-Three

Doc

I have Natasha up against the wall in four steps. I haven't stopped kissing her, and the little moans coming from her throat are the stuff of dreams—or fantasies.

Her fingers dig into my ass. "Doc." She trails kisses along the curve of my neck, and her warm breath fans over my ear. "This…isn't a good idea."

"Why not?" I hitch one of her legs up so I can grind my hips against her. "Can't you feel how much I need you, Natasha?"

She answers with a whimper. How can one sound be so damn sexy? Her hands sink into my hair, pulling me closer for another desperate kiss. My tongue teases hers. We're at war—one I'm determined to win. She thinks she has to leave. I'm going to prove her wrong.

"Bedroom. Now," Natasha says when I break off the kiss so we can breathe.

Fuck, yes. I need to be inside her. She's woken something in me I thought died years ago. My need to keep her safe is almost feral, and it scares me.

The sway of her ass makes my dick throb with each step. I'm going to do serious damage if I don't get these jeans off soon.

"On the bed, baby."

"No." Natasha turns, the backs of her thighs pressed to the mattress. "This time, I get to be on top."

Fuuuuuck. I'm not one to give up control—never have been—but Natasha can do whatever she wants with me. To me. I'm hers every bit as much as she is mine.

Carefully, I work the zipper lower. My dick is so hard, even the slightest pressure is agonizing. As the denim hits the floor, Natasha sinks to her knees.

Her lips press to the bulge in my black silk boxers.

"Fucking hell."

"I never used to like this." She nuzzles my dick, inhaling deeply. "But I think with you…"

My shirt is in the way, so I strip it off while Natasha slides my boxers down my hips. Her tongue swirls over my crown. White spots float in my vision. I won't last if she keeps this up.

"No." The word escapes on a low growl. "I want to be inside you when I come. And you don't belong on your knees, baby."

I only take my eyes off her long enough to pull back the blankets. But in that time, she's shed her tank and jeans. The black cotton bra and panties shouldn't be the sexiest fucking things I've ever seen. But I'll be picturing her like this in my dreams for the rest of my life.

She starts to reach for the catch on her bra, but I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me. "The first night I spent on Blakely, I dreamed about you."

Releasing the catch, I take a step back and drink in the sight of her. Her breasts are perfect handfuls, the nipples hard against my palms. "But dreams are nothing compared to reality. You're so fucking perfect, baby."

Natasha's head falls back. Goosebumps cover her skin. I kiss my way from her jaw down the curve of her neck until I close my teeth over the soft flesh above her collarbone.

The sound she makes is something between a scream and a whimper. Her hand wraps around my dick. Slowly, she circles the crown with her thumb. "Lie down, Doc. I need you inside me."

I stretch out on the mattress as she sheds her panties. The bed dips, and she climbs on top of me. Wet heat coats the head of my dick. Her scent is intoxicating. It's the sea after a storm, something as sweet as candy, and so very her.

I grab Natasha's hips and guide her onto my length. She's my home—so tight and wet, I can feel my shaft pulse with each beat of my heart.

Her first thrust threatens to undo me. "Fast and hard, baby."

"No." Natasha braces her hands on the mattress and lowers herself down to press her lips to one of my nipples. Her tongue laves over the hard nub. I'm on fire for her, every kiss stoking the flames.

Natasha's hips move so slowly, it's pure torture. I try to reach for her, but she pins my wrists to the bed. "Not this time, Doc. This is for me."

I'll give her anything she wants. Everything. Including my heart.

Her lips skim the edge of each bruise. Each scrape. Each part of me that thought I'd never be happy again.

She guides one of my hands to her mound. "Touch me, Doc."

I rub my thumb over her clit. The little button rises to meet my touch. Her weeping channel starts to tense around me. She quickens her pace until she's slamming into me. I match her thrust for thrust.

I'm so close. My balls draw up tight. My release rockets from the base of my spine. With one last pinch to Natasha's clit, I take her over the edge with me.

I'm not sure I can move. Nor do I want to. Natasha is pressed to my side, her head resting on my shoulder. She plays with my chest hair, a soft smile curving her lips. But there's a sadness to her entire being.

"Talk to me, baby."

"I've never felt like this before." She peers up at me, her gray eyes shimmering.

"Like what?" I ask.

"Safe. And…" she drops her voice to a whisper, "loved." She's so gentle as she seals her lips to mine. Tender. And it hits me. She's saying goodbye.

It doesn't matter that it won't happen today. Or even tomorrow. A part of her heart is already shuttered. She's leaving me bit by bit and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Fuck. I wish I could bring her back to me. But I can see it in her eyes. She's made up her mind. All I can do now is make sure those assholes never touch her and hope that one day, she'll come back to me.

I said it. Well, almost.

"I love you" was too hard. I can't even be sure I do love him. But I do know he makes me feel loved. He makes me feel so many things I thought I'd never feel again.

Protected. Cared for. Safe.

Now, we sit on the couch, his arm around my shoulders, with a movie on the flat screen TV.

Doc made chicken piccata, and as he cooked, we talked. Favorite books and movies, stories from various deployments, funny stories from childhood. We sat across from one another at the table, shared a bottle of sparkling soda, had ice cream sandwiches for dessert. It was so damn normal. And I loved every minute of it.

On the quick shopping trip with Inara, I was able to pick clothes I wanted—including these purple yoga pants and a soft, pink tank—and I almost feel like me again for the first time in years.

Except for the overwhelming sadness at knowing I'll have to leave Doc soon. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I want—no, I need—to soak up as much of his presence as I can.

On screen, two of the characters battle against an invading horde of robots trying to kill all of humanity. "Clancy had a couple of movie channels, but I've never heard of this franchise. Clearly, I've missed a lot."

Doc chuckles. "I watch a lot of baseball in the summer. But in the winter, it's all action movies and documentaries. We'll catch up."

We. God. I want there to be a "we." And a future where we can "catch up" on all the life I've missed over the years.

"I like sci-fi. And Gladys got me hooked on true crime."

"Why am I not surprised?" Doc presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I can do true crime and sci-fi. I'll do anything as long as you're with me."

From the slight edge to his voice, he knows. But he's not calling me on it. Whatever it is I feel for him...it just took another step toward love.

"Baseball, huh? You better not be a Mets fan."

Doc clutches his heart. "God, no. Red Sox and Mariners all the way. I've never understood why the National League won't adopt the designated hitter."

My laugh lifts a little of the weight threatening to crush my heart. No amount of wishing can make my dreams come true. But for tonight, I can pretend I have a future with this amazing man at my side.

The pounding on the door wakes us moments before a woman's shout. "Doc, it's Raelynn! In thirty seconds, you better be decent!"

We scramble for our clothes. Doc pulls on a pair of sleep pants seconds before Raelynn bursts into the room.

"What is it?" he asks.

My heart pounds so hard, I'm surprised no one else can hear it. It's not quite 3:00 a.m. according to the clock on the nightstand. Something is very wrong.

Raelynn is dressed all in black, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. Oh, God. Her left ear is…half gone.

"Get your gear, Doc. Inara and Wyatt got hit at your place an hour ago. They killed one of the assholes, but Wyatt took a bullet to his bad leg. Through and through. Inara stopped the bleedin', but he's havin' trouble walkin'."

It wasn't supposed to be this soon. We should have had more time. How did they find his house so quickly?

"I need five minutes." Doc beelines for the bathroom, while I sink down onto the mattress.

"Natasha," Raelynn says, sitting next to me and resting a hand on my shoulder, "Graham's gonna stay here with you while Doc takes care of Wyatt. You okay with that?"

I don't want to let Doc out of my sight. But I'm not sure I can face this man—Wyatt—who almost died for me. Then something Raelynn said clicks into place.

"You said…they killed one of the men. How many were there?"

"Two." She reaches up and brushes her fingers over the remains of her left ear. "West has the other one. He'll get what he can out of the pig fucker."

I choke back a sob. "He's going to kill him?"

Raelynn's eyes harden, and she purses her lips for a beat. "Darlin', the idjits after you ain't gonna stop until they're no longer breathin'. We've been at this for a long time." She shakes her head with a little huff. "Well, Ry has. I've only been with Hidden Agenda for a couple of years. But my first job? Graham's guy was kidnapped. The asshole didn't ask for ransom. His plan was to drug Q until the man was so messed up, he'd sign over his whole company. Then Alec was gonna kill him. That psychopath had destroyed half a dozen lives—and murdered at least two people—and he wasn't even forty."

My eyes start to burn with the threat of tears. I've cried more in the past week than I have since my brother was murdered. I can't seem to stop.

"He's…dead now?" I ask.

"In about a million tiny pieces spread out over the Utah desert. Ry put a bullet in his head and West set off a whole mess of explosives. Couldn't leave any evidence behind." She pats my knee once more as Doc emerges from the bathroom. "What I'm tryin' to tell you, darlin', is that we don't kill for the sake of killin'. But sometimes, it's the only way. This is one of those times."

Doc, now dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray t-shirt, reaches for one of the duffel bags, but Raelynn beats him to it. "Now I know you ain't in fightin' shape, sugar. I got this."

I snap my gaze to Doc's. Jealousy rears up, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Doc pulls me to my feet, slides one hand into my hair, and kisses me until all I can think about is how quickly I'm falling in love with him. "Don't worry, baby. She speaks Texan, remember? Sugar doesn't mean what you think it does."

Raelynn laughs. "Damn straight. Anyone from Texas ever calls you ‘sugar,' what they're really sayin' is, ‘you're an idjit.' Like Doc here, who thinks a broken rib and a hole in his chest are minor injuries."

Her phone beeps, and she checks the screen. "Graham's on his way up. Wyatt's hoppin' mad. Ry and Rip are at the warehouse tryin' to stop him from joinin' West and Inara for the interrogation. Time to go."

Doc frames my face with his warm hands. "I'll be back soon. Try to get some rest."

He leaves me with one last kiss, and as I watch him go, I wonder how long it'll be until I'm the one who's leaving.