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“Jaime and I are…complicated. I told you about our history—and we are history. Right now…I’m just helping her with something…sensitive. And once I’m done with that, neither you nor I will have to deal with her shit again.”
Cilla huffed, narrowing her eyes at him, her cheeks darkening from pink to red, from “well fucked” to “well, shit.”
“Complicated.” She said the word flatly, making alarm blitz through him. Fuck, he wished he could read her expression, because then he’d know what the hell he was going to do. Right now, staring at a face cloaked in an impassive blankness, he was on the verge of panic. A man, a former army sergeant who’d lived through fire fights, explosions, and near death by dehydration in the motherfucking desert was scared of what this tiny woman was going to say next.
Damn, if he didn’t give a little, he’d find himself on her porch, staring at the door she slammed in his face. And she’d probably never let him into her house or her bed again—and fuck if she’d deny him now that he’d had a taste of heaven.
Groaning, he blew out a breath and scratched the hairs on his chin. From the bed Cilla peered at him skeptically, her usually open expression was guarded.
He fucking hated that, hated her hiding from him.
But you deserve it for bringing this drama to her door.
Needing to touch her, he sat on the side of the bed closest to her and leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. He pulled back, his gaze caught on hers. She was still flushed from their love making, but after their kiss, her eyes glimmered with renewed heat. His woman was insatiable—but now wasn’t the time to fuck her until neither of them could walk. Hating that he had to talk about Jaime, he grit his teeth, wishing things would uncomplicate themselves so he could spend the day in bed with his woman. He lifted a hand and traced her lips, then down her chin to her neck. He smirked at the shudder that overcame her.
After pressing another quick kiss to the tip of her nose, he shared, “It’s complicated in that…I’m helping her out with a boyfriend problem. She came to me, scared, asked me to help her deal with the guy. I couldn’t tell her no, that’s not the kind of man I am. So, I’m helping her, which means I have to stick close to her, play nice, act like I give a real shit about her. Once I’m done, she and I are done—I’m cutting her off.”
As he spoke, she watched him, her eyes peering into his soul, searching for truth and whatever else she needed to see. She was tense, her once flushed flesh now pale.
“Did someone do something to her? Is she…is she alright?” she asked, concern seeming to leach the warmth from her cheeks.
Fuck. This woman. She wasn’t Jaime’s biggest fan, but that didn’t stop her from actually being worried about the other woman. And that, right there, was one of the reasons he’d fallen so fucking hard for Cilla. Her heart was a big as Texas, and just as warm.
He smiled softly at her, cupping her cheek in his hand and using this thumb to caress the apple of her face. “Yeah, baby, she’s alright, just scared. And I’d tell you more about it, but it isn’t my story. What I can tell you is that we’re almost done, and the guy won’t be bothering her again.”
Cilla bit her bottom lip, uncertainty pinching her features.
“Yeah?” he asked.
Her magnificent magic eyes on him, she huffed, then nodded.
“I’m glad she’s okay, but that doesn’t mean that I like you spending time with her. She’s a barracuda, Patriot. She’ll try to get her claws into you, and then cling to you for life.”
He snorted, not denying nor agreeing to her comment. He knew Jaime, he wouldn’t put anything past her.
“Seriously, Patriot, even her friends are all saying she plans to get your property patch.”
Recoiling from that thought, Patriot cursed.
“That won’t ever fucking happen. Even if I did like the woman, there’s no way she’d be my one and done, my forever, my ol’ lady.” He wrapped his arm around Cilla’s waist, his hand gripping her hip and squeezing. She tensed but then melted against him. He brushed his lips along the flesh of her neck, beneath her ear.
She sighed, the heat of her breath skimming along his neck—and right to his dick.
Growling, he nipped her neck with his teeth, making her gasp.
“Patriot!” she cried, then giggled with the hand on her hip brushed along her rib cage.
He nipped her neck once more, then kissed the red area before pulling away.
Clearing his throat, Patriot forced himself to meet Cilla’s heated gaze, her eyelids heavy with desire. Fuck. He wanted nothing more than to do what her eyes were begging for, slide into his woman and make them both come, but he needed to get this last thing over with.
Lifting his hand, he cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. God…she was beautiful, and she looked so…happy.
She won’t be so happy in a minute…. Fuck, he hated the idea of hurting her, even though it wasn’t his intention. He knew this would kick her insecurities into overdrive. He just had to make sure that he left his woman happy, satisfied, and feeling like a queen every chance he got.
“What’s that look, Patriot?” Cilla asked. “You went all tense, and your face looks…mean.” She tried to lean away, to drop his hands from her face, but he held on, needing to touch her.
“There’s just one last thing…and I need you to be that understanding, sweet, forgiving person I know you are.”
