Chapter 34

34

Aubree

Staring up at the bedroom ceiling, I lay in Nick’s arms, unable to move, scarcely able to breathe. We’d had sex so many times, in so many positions, it was as if I’d opened the cage to a lust-hungry beast that lived trapped inside me. In spite of my scars, my bruises, I felt beautiful with him. Alive. Strong.

In return, I wanted to heal the broken, beautiful man within him. His pain surged through me with every passionate kiss that spoke of loneliness and desolation. The anger and fury beat through me in the same tempo as his thrusts. I wanted all of it. I’d take all those hours, minutes, seconds of his suffering and let them swirl and simmer inside of my body until I could give him the exquisite fusillade of release that he craved.

Somewhere in between our tangling, we’d eaten, showered again. Exhausted from climaxing so many times in a matter of hours, I should have had nothing left, but as he pushed inside me from behind, I found I needed him again. Despite my dry throat, aching muscles, and spasms trembling my thighs, he simply felt too damn good to deny. I’d never felt so sated, deliciously weak, yet craving more.

He remained unmoving inside me, as though reminding me of the potential in his rock hard cock while he kissed behind my ear. “You’re tired and hungry. I’ll get you some food and let you rest.”

“No,” I moaned, but my stomach answered with a growl.

Laughing, he pulled out of me, and suddenly my body screamed for him again. “Sleep now. I’m not done with you, yet.” As he pulled the covers over me and stood, the dampness of the sheets caught the cool draft that blanketed my battered muscles.

My mouth watered at the sight of his cock beside my face, and again when he turned to reveal a tight, muscled ass disappearing behind his briefs. With lids so heavy I could hardly keep them open, I closed my eyes.

I could’ve sworn only minutes had passed when he returned, but I awoke, lying on my stomach, to his fingertips gliding down my spine. When the sheet lowered, I instinctively flipped to my side.

“I’ve seen your scar.” His kiss landed on my exposed hip. “Many times now.”

“I know.” His touch right then had felt too intimate, though, and I didn’t want to feel like he was examining it.

His fingertips drifted upward, and when he circled the right side of my back, I knew he’d found the yellowing bruise from Michael’s abuse. “Men who do this are weak. Cowards. A woman should never carry scars of pain and suffering.” His soft lips caressed the bruise before he left another kiss there. “You were with him a long time, yeah?”

I nodded, hating the confession, dreading the next question, one I’d ignorantly issued to so many women who’d come to me, desperate for healing after suffering similar pain.

So why did you stay?

All those women had had their own crippling reasons for staying with abusive men—children, money fears, lack of confidence in their own survival.

In my case, it was lack of options. My husband happened to own the police, the judicial system, and the government. On top of that, he had connections that would assure I’d never get far—connections that could find me in the farthest corners and darkest shadows. Still, I hated myself for being so weak.

I also hated that Nick, a man who’d shown me how fierceness could co-exist with gentleness, might’ve seen me the same way I once saw those women.

“You’re a strong woman, Aubree.”

His words stole my defense parked at the back of my throat, and the look on my face must’ve been more of an accusation than what was really spinning through my mind. I hadn’t been expecting him to say that. I’d expected him to tell me I was an idiot—that I should’ve fought harder.

He shook his head. “Years of bruises and scars. You must be exhausted.”

I’d fought every day of my life—even the days it seemed futile—and I’d been tempted to piss Michael off enough for him to kill me. “Thank you.” Lifting the sheets higher, I smiled, though I wanted to bury my face in the pillows and cry. Not for myself. Not for the scars. Not even for what Nick’d said so much as from relief that someone finally understood, finally saw the real me behind the mask I’d been forced to wear. Such a cathartic realization, it made me want to crawl inside of him and stay there forever. “Surely, strong women aren’t wrecked with bruises and scars.”

“You’re a fighter. Your scars aren’t about the rounds you’ve lost. They’re about the ones you walked away from. The ones you survived.”

At his pat to my ass, I twisted into myself to get a look at him as he stood, earning myself a view of the sexy happy trail and the top of the delicious ‘V’ that disappeared into his jeans. “C’mon. Get up.”

“What’s going on?”

Bending forward, he planted a kiss to my temple and whispered, “No questions.”

“And if I don’t want to get out of bed?” My confusion turned to a wily smile.

The raising of his brow coupled with the intensity of his eyes said, I didn’t ask you, I’m telling you. He reached out a hand to me, beckoning me with a flick of his fingers, and I took the bait. After all, how could I deny those beautiful instruments that’d pushed me over the edge more times in one night than I’d ever experienced in my whole life? I rose to meet him, and he dragged me into his body. “Wear something warm.” He kissed me and left the room.

A pair of ripped jeans, a thick, black cable sweater, and the black combat boots made for what I hoped would constitute warm. When I ventured downstairs, Nick jerked his head for me to follow him out back.

Blood still coated the pavement where Blue must’ve been shot. Nick didn’t so much as spare a glance, like he’d told himself not to look at it, as he made his way down the stairs to the back yard. Though abandoned houses could be seen off in the distance, the house sat on a pretty good chunk of property, with a small copse of trees, the sight of which brought a rush of bile to my throat.

He slid a pistol out of a holster at his hip that I hadn’t noticed on the way out. Eyes squinted, he peered down the barrel of the Sig Sauer and pointed it toward a mound of dirt a couple of hundred yards off. “Ever shoot someone?”

“No. Last I checked, hunting people is considered murder.”

His lip kicked up into a smile. “I think you need to learn.”

“Why would I do that?”

Lowering the gun, he glanced over his shoulder at me. “All women should know how to protect themselves.” He motioned for me to stand in front of him and held out a gun to me.

I caught a quick glimpse of his stoic face, then glanced back down to the gun before lifting it from his opened palm. This could be fun.

“How’s it feel?”

I shrugged. “Like a gun in my hand.”

He moved behind me and pointed toward a mound of dirt. “Aim there.”

With my finger half-heartedly curled at the trigger, I lifted the gun and, tilting it sideways like I’d seen gang members do, I aimed it at the mound.

“No, no. Hold it level and keep it upright. Not cocked to the side.” His hands covered mine, and he turned the gun upright. “Gangstas do that shit because it’s a fast way to deliver a bullet, but you want to steady your hand and aim at your target. Grip with both hands. Click the safety off, here.” He pushed my thumb against the hammer and pulled it back. “Ready?”

Oh, yes. The whole experience had me swimming in excitement.

At my nod, his fingers curled around mine. The gun kicked back at the same time a thunderous crack hit my ears. The lingering ring had me working my jaw, as a plume of dust kicked up from the mound of dirt.

“That’s good. Let’s do it again. This time, aim a little higher. You might’ve hit a set of nuts with that one, but nothing that would kill a bastard.”

“What makes you think I didn’t aim there?” I laughed at the roll of his eyes and raised the gun once more. It wasn’t the exhilaration of the weapon itself in my hands that had me excited right then. As he gently guided my aim, I realized it was the excitement of the man putting that power in my hands, adding another layer of appreciation for Nick.

My father was the only man in my life who’d ever made any attempt to empower me like that.

Nick’s chest pressed into my back and his arms wrapped around mine. I wanted to focus on the lesson, but being enveloped in his stiff muscles and his delicious scent left me distracted, burning with a desire that shot through my veins like lust bullets.

Just as before, he squeezed my fingers and the bullet bounced off the dirt. “That’s a little better. Might’ve hit a kidney that time.” He chuckled at my ear.

Smiling, I turned around and held the pistol out to him. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn the gun on you?”

He hooked my chin with his finger and glided his thumb across my lips, staring at them intently. “I’m more afraid that you wouldn’t,” he said, kissing me. “We’ll try again then set up some targets.”

“And if I hit them?”

His brow kicked up. “Perhaps I’ll keep you tied to my bed and administer your reward over the next few days.”

A shiver hit my spine at the thought.