Chapter Ten

C arver's angled jaw firmed as he gave his cock a slow stroke, applying the condom. She gazed up at him, heart throbbing, her body still pounding from her release and even more desire to have this man filling her.

"Spread those pretty thighs for me, darlin'." His roughened tone rasped with the same feel of his stubbled jaw under her fingertips.

Slowly, she let her thighs part. He lowered himself between them, thick shaft poised at her pussy.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she drew him closer. He held back from entering her, letting desire build between them.

Livia's throat tightened. Life had made her tough. She knew the best way to roll to take a kick, knew how to lock up her heart.

Did she want to do that with Carver? Maybe she should. He wouldn't be sticking around. After he finally determined that she wasn't really in peril, he'd be gone. And where would that leave her? Neck-deep in love with a man she couldn't have.

He braced himself on his elbows and hovered over her. As he slipped one big hand under her head, cradling it, a sound broke in his chest.

Being with him made her feel feminine—soft and small. He rubbed her nape with a forefinger, and the rough texture of his skin against hers gave her goose bumps.

"Are you ready for me?" His words should be recorded as a sin. A single drawl falling from those sexy lips had her pussy throbbing all over again.

He started to enter her and stopped. A ripple of strong emotion passed over his face. He dropped his forehead against hers. "Livvie."

Her own emotion mingled with panic as she ran her fingers through his hair and let the moment sink in.

Carver just felt right. With her. In her bar. In her bed. In her life.

He rained warm kisses on the swells of her breasts and then lifted his head and claimed her mouth. In one smooth, slow glide, he entered her.

Hips bucking of their own accord, she fought an all-consuming need. He was so good at controlling her body this way. Even after she thought she was sated, he demanded more with lips, tongue, hands.

"Carver…" Worry resonated in her voice.

"Shh, love. Just feel." He pulled his cock through her clenching inner walls. They shared a groan. Her body was electric under his hands and mouth. She wanted more and more.

"Christ, you fit me like a glove . So tight." He thrust deep inside her.

She rocked with him. Their bodies were so good at this. They moved in tandem.

Her mind filled with other moments when they worked together well, including several nights at the bar. Even at the Gracey Ranch, they had shared the chore of carrying platters of food to the table for all to enjoy.

She cradled his jaw and kissed him with all the passion banked inside her. Waves of pleasure rushed the shores of her consciousness. Pressure built on every single hard thrust of his cock, and a scream built in her throat.

"Come for me. I feel you shaking. You're close, aren't you, love? Come for me. " As if her body automatically obeyed his command, she let go.

Her whole body shook as her orgasm whipped her up in a tempest of raw emotion and lust. Bucking against him, she drew out her pleasure as he stiffened. A primal roar burst from his lips, and she swallowed it with a kiss.

For long minutes, her sanity fled.

When Carver brushed his mouth tenderly over the corner of hers, she issued a soft moan and cupped his face in one hand. She felt his lips hitch upward and opened her eyes to see a satisfied grin she couldn't help but return.

He rolled off her, bringing her up against his side.

Now was about the time when she would get up, maybe use the restroom. Anything but cuddle with the man she took to her bed.

Today, Livia didn't want to go anywhere—and that scared her.

She worried her lip with her teeth, lost deep in too many questions about how to go about ending what was a really amazing evening.

"I spoke with the guys tonight about the drunk I kicked out of Badlands the other night."

She started at Carver's statement. "What about him?"

"He has a record."

"That doesn't surprise me. A lot of people have records, even some of the upstanding citizens of Eden. If he did smash up my bar, he's probably worked it out of his system now."

"And what about the rattlesnake?"

She gave an involuntary shudder at the memory of that thing. In her line of work, she glossed over a lot of crap she put up with. But she couldn't ignore the fact that when she'd opened that box, that snake could have sunk its fangs into her, and then she'd be racing against the clock to get medical help.

Having a brush with mortality reminded her all too much of just how alone she was.

Meadow and Ivy had suffered huge losses, but they still had each other. What did she have? A sister who was just as flighty as their mom who had run off.

Carver swept his callused hand up and down her spine. The long strokes started to work into her tense muscles. Soon, her eyes grew heavy.

She rested her cheek on his hard pec, soothed even more by the velvet-covered steel.

She was relieved that he didn't press her more for answers about the rattlesnake or break-in. Time would reveal that it was really all just coincidence, one of those curve balls life liked to throw at some people.

Her long day caught up with her, and soon she was drifting off to sleep with her head pillowed on Carver's hard chest. When she awoke to the warm glimmer of daylight streaming through her bedroom window, Carver was gone.

She was alone again. But this time she wasn't as happy about it.

* * * * *

Livia dropped the rag she used to polish the shot glasses and leaned over the bar. "Emory!"

Her waitress looked up from the last group of customers she was saying goodbye to and held up a finger to Livia to indicate she'd be a minute longer.

She resumed polishing glasses while keeping an ear on the conversation between the trio of friends chatting with Emory. In the front of the room, Carver stood in his usual spot, back to the wall, arms folded across his broad chest and his legs locked for battle.

Livia let her lashes lower over her eyes and stole a long peek at the man. When she woke up alone, a strange mix of relief and sadness washed through her. Thank god he hadn't made any horrid apologies or excuses, and they'd gone about their normal working lives without mention of the mind-spinning sex they shared the night before.

The last stragglers ended their conversation with Emory and moved to the door. As they passed Carver, they avoided looking directly at him, but she saw him give them a nod.

Emory walked up to lean on the bar. "My feet are killing me."

Livia could guess why. The young woman's shoes were so old and worn, she'd probably do better waitressing in bare feet.

She nodded. "The place was slammed tonight. I went through about ten bags of chicken wings."

"And I must have served over a hundred and fifty pitchers of beer."

"I bet you did. Which is my reason for calling you over here. I'm giving you a raise. Two bucks an hour."

"Two bucks!" Emory sputtered as if to argue with Livia's decision, but she cut across her.

"You deserve it, and it's already a done deal. I entered it into the accounting program this morning. Your next paycheck will reflect the change."

The young woman's eyes rounded and then glistened with tears. She circled the bar and threw her arms around Livia, who accepted the embrace like she would from any of her friends.

"You've got a safe place to stay?"

She pulled back and nodded, swiping a fingertip under one eye to catch the tear that had escaped. "I'm staying with my aunt now."

"Oh, what a relief. I'm happy for you. If you need anything, Emory—anything at all—don't hesitate to talk to me. I may not have a solution, but we're both smart and together, we can figure it out. Other people care about you too. Carver mentioned he'd like to help."

"Really? I can't believe how kind everyone is. You're the best boss that I could ever ask for!" They hugged again, and then Livia sent her off for the night.

Carver sent Livia a pointed look before walking Emory out to her car.

Feeling lighter than she'd felt in weeks, maybe even months, Livia walked over to the jukebox and plugged in the numbers to a few of her favorite songs. When she bopped back to the bar to polish the rest of the row of glasses she'd just taken from the dishwasher, she began to sing along.

Aware that Carver had returned from the parking lot and locked the door for the night, she looked up to see him slowly crossing the room to her.

God, the way the man walked. His muscles rolled with each step. His thick shoulders shifting with the movement and those powerful thighs with tight denim across them could bring a woman to her knees.

But not her.

He walked right behind the bar and plucked the glass out of her hand. She whirled, and he took the rag from her too.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Without a word, he enveloped her hands in his big ones and started to sway with her.

"Is this your way of dancing?"

He did a shimmy.

Tossing her head on a laugh, she watched him for a heartbeat before she performed a wiggle of her own.

"Now we're talkin'." He whirled her in an awkward circle that ended too short, sending her tilting off-balance.

Laughing along with Carver, she straightened up and continued to let him lead, even though he was terrible at it. The song ended, and he twirled her again. This time, she didn't spin out of control.

His eyes sparkled, and she found herself sinking into their depths. Just as she thought she could get lost forever in those eyes, he stomped on her toe.

"Ow!"

He quickly stepped back. "Sorry! I'm a SEAL, not a dancer."

"Is that the opposite of you're a lover not a fighter?"

"You know it." With a palm on her spine, he reeled her in close until she bumped against his chest.

She did know. Especially her body. His fingers moving down her spine to press her even tighter against him made her pussy clench.

He ground his hips against hers like a dancer in a male revue. Even though her body pulsed with need, the too-serious expression he wore left her giggling.

He cradled the back of her head and kissed her—long and deep—just as a slow song kicked on the jukebox.

Oh god. Now she was in the arms of her lover…and the things she was feeling were far too deep for a bar owner and her sort-of bodyguard.

She dropped her arms and stepped back, away from him.

Confusion pinched his brows. "What's wrong? Did I step on your toes again?"

Her heart jogged. "This is sweet. And nice. But it's not how our relationship should work."

"How should it work then?"

She shook her head, her words spinning on her tongue with no way to speak them in a coherent way. "This isn't a relationship—but if it were, it doesn't work like this."

"It can be anything you make of it."

She dropped her gaze to her squashed toes. "I need to focus on shutting down the bar for the night."

A heartbeat passed before his boots moved out of the line of her vision. She listened to his footsteps moving away from the bar. Away from her.

She hadn't done anything wrong, so why did she feel like she did? Carver was temporary in her life. No reason to get attached to him.

She was practical. She rolled with the punches life jabbed her way. Even if the things that had happened really were threats, they wouldn't last forever.

Then Carver would be gone.

* * * * *

On the ride home, Livia was super quiet again. The streets of the small, quaint town were equally silent and still since everyone else was in bed at this hour.

Carver sent a sidelong look at her profile. Her lips were set in a firm line that told him she was still in a mood. Thing was, he didn't understand her. One minute she was dancing and laughing, having fun. The next she put up walls and backed away because of some stupid idea in her head about what was and wasn't acceptable in a relationship. Not that they were involved in one, she rushed to remind him.

He knew that too. When he gave in to the impulse to dance with her, he hadn't asked for her hand in marriage. They were just having a good time, getting to know each other.

"Livia. Talk to me."

She didn't look away from the road. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How about what you're thinking? What you're feeling."

Five full heartbeats ticked by.

"Well, I'm thinking about going home and making some toast because I'm feeling hungry."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

She whipped her head around and pierced him in her stare. "Why are you interrogating me?"

"Tell me what's bothering you."

"I wasn't raised to be touchy-feely. Or talk about feelings. I didn't realize military guys do both."

She was deflecting onto him as a defense mechanism.

"I'm confident in my masculinity."

"All you men are the same."

"You don't always have to be mean, Livia."

She sent him a dark glower. "Look, you have no idea what it was like growing up with parents like mine. My mom was absent even when she was there, then she ran off. My father drank too much and partied with pretty girls trying to mooch free booze off him. I never wanted a relationship. I'm fine with not getting serious."

"I bet you say ‘that was great, see you later.'"

"Yup."

"'Don't call me. I'll call you.'"

"It's the perfect end to any night."

"You never let any guy spend the night."

"Why should they? Any guys I took to bed knew what they were getting with me."

I think I'm the only one who knows what I'm getting.

He bit down the words before they could leak out and infuriate her further.

He ran a finger down the bridge of his nose. "I was raised differently. I had two parents who loved each other. I'm not one of those guys who joined the military to escape family troubles—I joined to get the GI Bill. Then I discovered that I really liked what I was doing."

Without a word in response, she turned onto the street leading to her house.

"My point is that plans change, Livia. I thought I'd go to the military to get the benefits and complete college so I could get a job I really wanted. Then I made the military my life. Now…"

She pulled into the short driveway and parked. "Say whatever you want to say, Wolfe."

So he was back to being Wolfe. The lines were drawn in the dirt between them.

Hell if he was going to stay behind that line.

He stepped right over it.

"I was supposed to be here to protect you. Now I want to be here because I care about you."

She sucked in a breath. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

What did he have to lose? Not a thing. He was going to bleed on this battlefield or die for his efforts.

He brought his hand down on her thigh. Her muscle leaped under his touch. "Livia, I haven't been around you very long, but I've learned enough to know that I want to know more. I want to know how you look when you wake up in the morning. I want to know what your favorite song is and sing a duet with you, even though I can't carry a tune."

"Wolfe."

He barreled on. "You're beautiful and sweet. You're fucking strong."

She made a soft noise but didn't look at him.

"See those stars, darlin'? I want to kiss you under them and take your body and make you scream my name in pleasure."

"Stop."

"No, I won't stop until I'm finished telling you just how amazing you are and how I never, ever thought I'd find someone who fit me. But you fit me, Livia."

She turned her head, eyes glistening in the faint glow coming from a light on the corner of her house. "I'm going inside now."

He studied her for a long moment. Who knew an angel could look so sad.

Seeing that she wasn't ready to budge an inch on the topic, he opened the car door and climbed out. When Livia got out and waited for him to walk her to the house, surprise rippled through him.

At least the woman was listening to something he said.

After a quick sweep of the house, she gave him a cursory nod. "Goodnight."

He swung toward her. "I thought you were having a late-night snack."

"I'm not very hungry anymore."

He watched her walk into the bathroom. For a moment, he hesitated, listening to her move things around, run water and open drawers.

He followed and stood at the open doorway. Livia stood at the sink with a thick buttercup yellow headband in her hair holding her locks off her face. As he looked on, she started to remove her makeup using a circular pad.

She spotted him in the mirror. "Can I help you?"

"Just getting to know you."

She dropped the pad in the wastebasket and moved on to smearing some thick pink cream all over her face. She must have eight different bottles of face products lined up on the vanity. The medicine cupboard door hung open to reveal a row of various perfumes in girly bottles.

Livia was tough but had a hidden feminine side that included short nighties and face cream.

After she finished smearing the mask over every inch of her face, she snatched up a floral pink tool and began buffing her nails.

"You can go away now. I'm not in danger."

"I'll stay."

She rolled her eyes and finished with her nails. Then she took a thick washcloth and rinsed off the face mask. When she lifted a pair of tweezers and plucked what he considered to be an invisible hair between her brows, he couldn't stop the noise he made in his chest.

In the mirror, she met his stare. "What?"

God, she was cute. But he wouldn't say it.

He pulled away from the doorway and returned to the living room to make up his bed on the couch. As soon as he stretched out, Angel jumped onto his chest and began making biscuits, trying to make his muscle more comfortable.

"Good luck, cat," he muttered.

The house was silent, and Livia had gone to bed.

Carver lay there for long minutes, hoping she came out for that late-night snack and they could meet in the kitchen like they had other nights.

An ache blossomed in the space in his chest that he knew she had begun to fill. After so many of his fellow SEALs perished in that attack, he hadn't been whole—not at all. But protecting Livia gave him purpose again. Now if anyone threatened even a single cute red hair on her cute head, he would shoot first and ask questions later.

He sat up abruptly, sending the cat onto the floor. She gave him a dirty look before swishing away.

When he found himself standing at Livia's bedroom door, he had no recollection of making that conscious decision. He opened the door and saw her sleeping on her side, facing away from him.

Running on gut instinct and a primal need to be close to the woman he was falling for fast, he crawled into bed behind her.

God, her body fit his perfectly. Anchoring an arm around her waist, he buried his nose in her hair and gave the woman what she needed.

Even if she didn't know what was good for her, he did.