Billi Jean (21 page)

He gave the kitchen a glance and turned to examine the living room. Other than the mess they’d made of the couch cushions, the place was spotless.

Her bedroom was the same. Her bed had been perfectly made up when they’d torn into the thing. He grew stiffer just remembering how. Yeah, they’d got some use out of it. But it was the first use out of it. The sheets were new. Still smelt new. And the room didn’t have a Susan feel to it. There were some unanswered questions between them, ones he needed to clear up.

“Your house is pretty clean,” he began, and waited.

She paused and gave him a wrinkled nose look.

He ignored how cute that was. Instead, he said, “Your home. It’s pretty clean, Sunshine.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow, a smirk tipping her lips up, and said, “Why, thank you, I think.”

She was hedging. She knew exactly what he was talking about. That U-Haul shit was not going to continue. Sleeping outside? What the hell for?

With a grin she turned back to the stove, and he watched her stirring something in a bowl. The kitchen smelt delicious. Like the best breakfast smells all rolled into one with a dash of Little Miss Sunshine mixed in.

He was used to people telling him what he wanted to know. He’d even trained in it. Interrogation. Not his favourite, but nothing really had been his favourite being a SEAL, except the occasional reconnaissance. Sniper, he’d been a dead-on for, but asking questions over and over wasn’t his thing. He asked; he got answers. Pretty simple.

Not so with Little Miss Sunshine.

“Russell, do you like coffee? Juice? Milk? What do you drink?”

Her. “Coffee would be great. The place smells incredible.”

She beamed at him again and washed her hands off in the sink.

He felt like he was back in training. Only he had no idea if he was going to like what this little woman wanted to train him for. And he didn’t seem to be able to train her to his ways at all. He’d mentioned sleeping in, he was certain, before he’d finally let her sleep. But here she was, making breakfast. Up before him? After the workout he’d given them?

Worse, he was a man used to doing pretty much as he pleased. And having others do pretty much as he pleased, too. Obviously, he knew that didn’t work with women, but he was hoping for some things to go his way. And her doing what he said when it was important. For example, not buying a chainsaw or axe bigger than she was. And, hell, if she hadn’t bought both the chainsaw and the axe. He’d checked. He’d mangled the saw so she couldn’t use it, which was making him feel guilty. But this was different. She was pretty close to lying to him.

He shifted on the seat. “So, you were saying this place was a mess. I’d hate for you to see mine, if you think this is bad.”

His dig earned him another of her little frowns before she shrugged. “Well, we all think our places are a mess, right?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. She was sleeping in a U-Haul, and had been for a while. And it wasn’t because her house needed to be cleaned. She was full of fear. Radiated it under that soft smile and teasing words, but it was there. Not fear of him, though. For some reason she didn’t fear him. Odd, considering he was a scary guy to most. Who was he to grumble at that?

He was close to grumbling about other things. He wanted answers and wasn’t any closer to getting them. He knew some of it. She’d lost her father to cancer, moved here to start over. End of story. Like hell it was. Women didn’t do this, especially young women. Twenty-six years old, in a new state, new town, and new home?
House
, he amended. The movers had set it up. Irene had told Rob; Rob had told him. End of story. Right? Wrong—something was up. His instincts were fully engaged and zeroed in on her. He’d thought an abusive boyfriend might have explained her reluctance to talk and her fear, but she’d been a virgin on the pill.

Her house was decorated with a new bathroom, kitchen and garage.

The question wasn’t
was
she hiding anything; the question was how much, and why? Watching her now, he shifted on the seat, trying unsuccessfully to tame the hard-on punching out in protest at having her close and not touching her. She was beautiful. How could he push her on this? He wanted her to like him—who was he kiddin’? He wanted her to
more
than like him. He knew she liked him or she’d never have let him in the house. And he guessed she more than liked him or he’d never have got that first kiss in the hardware store, let alone near her bed, or her beautiful, luscious, sweet, intoxicating body.

Hell.

If he interrogated her, she was going to baulk at letting him do the things he wanted. Easy and gentle was not his way. Not at all. But one look at her soft, heart-shaped face and big blue eyes and he would try. Yeah, he’d try, because he needed to fuck her so bad he was wetting his sweatpants like some teenager.

He’d hoped for some morning fun, but then, considering she was new to sex and he was pretty sure he’d been too demanding last night, he was holding back. Or was trying to hold back. He was not a teenager. He was Ace Man—the ace was in the hole with him. He got the job done. Always. It was a done deal if they sent him in, and everyone knew it. It was one reason Maddock hadn’t liked his shrugging off his request to join them. It hadn’t been a chance at a few thousand bucks. His buddy needed him. But what could he do? He was still on this mission. She was right here in the kitchen with him.

He’d made it into her arms. Now, why did it feel like he was a long way from getting into her heart? It didn’t figure. She had been a virgin. Women were sentimental about that shit. He was, too, but he wasn’t going to show his hand if she wasn’t. And she wasn’t. It was frustrating. So, he’d blown Maddock off for this woman. Because she
was
his mission.

Her. All of her, not the mind-blowing sex. Not that the mind-blowing sex wasn’t going to continue—it was. And, if he had his way, it would get better each time. But he wanted her, Susan, her smile, her warmth all to himself. Selfish, yeah, but it was the truth.

And he could do it, too, if he put his mind to winning her. He had a plan.
Sort of
had a plan, he amended, watching her bounce around the kitchen. If he could get a clear head here and do his part. He always did his part, no matter how difficult. Ace Man. Yeah, that wasn’t working too well now, not with Little Miss Sunshine. He was on fire, desperate for the feel of her warm, soft heat around his dick, and she was so beautiful it was tough looking at her.

That was another stumbling block in this plan. He wasn’t used to beautiful women. If he was honest with himself, they scared the hell out of him.

“Coffee, let’s see…” She punched a button on the coffee maker and a grinding sound filled the quiet kitchen. She shot him a happy look and said, “I still haven’t figured out how to make it ahead. You know? Set the timer thingy. I’m sure you need some, huh?”

“Yeah, sure, baby. I can help with that,” he offered and stood.

She shook her head and waved him back down. “Nah, later maybe, sit, sit.” 

She was more than beautiful, she was gorgeous, but didn’t seem to give a shit about it. She didn’t play coy. She hardly wore makeup. She dressed sexily in his opinion, but he knew it wasn’t a red flag kind of sexy, to draw men like slobbering dogs after her. She wore what she liked. Jeans that hugged her ass and showed her hip bones and flat little stomach were frosting for him. For her, it was what felt comfortable. And that black lace thong he’d seen when she was eying the chainsaws? Sexier than any striptease he’d ever seen. And he had nearly killed Bud when the recruit had stared at her ass.

“So, yeah, baby, your house is pretty clean.”

She finally blinked, as if realising they had been staring at each other for a few moments, neither speaking.

“That sounds a bit like an accusation, but thanks.”

Thanks? Had he said aloud that she was sexy as hell? No, no, he hadn’t. He’d said this place was clean, though. He grunted a half laugh. She knew what he wanted. Well, not everything he wanted, he hoped. But he knew she was avoiding his dig for more information.

What to do? If he pushed, she might tell him to go home. The witch knew he was here to stake a claim and wanted to know more about her.

Not getting exactly what he wanted out of her sucked. And he didn’t mean sex. He wanted information. Oh, he wanted more sex, more of her tight body under him, over him, and every which way they could imagine, but he wanted the intel, too. He’d come so many times he wasn’t quite clear on how that was possible. Sitting across from her, he was so heavy and erect again he was aching, but he needed answers. And, hell, if he hadn’t found the one woman on the planet who didn’t talk.

But he could be patient. He’d hidden for a fucking week in the hills of Afghanistan waiting for his target, freezing his balls off each night only to have them swimming in sweat the next day when the sun blazed down on his ass. He’d gone days without more to eat than dry rations and tepid water. This was cake, right? Sweet house, sweet woman, if stubborn and not letting him know what was up, but still…

He shifted his aching cock when she wasn’t looking and ordered it down. It didn’t listen to him, either. So he did what he could. He watched. He couldn’t get his eyes off her, anyway.

“So, I was hoping to start on that pile of trees today…” Waving her delicate hand around, she turned back to the stove. He could smell something—cinnamon and berry, maybe—coming from the oven. Blueberry muffins? She already had some eggs stirred up in a pan. She sprinkled something that looked like chopped up bell peppers with shredded cheese into the pan and stirred it up with a spatula.

Suddenly, what she’d said sank in past the view of her in that barely-there tank top and low-slung flannels and the smell of warm, homemade food.

His brain did an abrupt departure from his dick.

“Aw, hell, Sunshine, cut me some slack. You can’t be serious. I’ll cut the damn wood.”

Turning from the stove, she grinned and folded her arms under her breasts. That no bra thing was going to kill him. “Well,
Major
, I was planning to paint the living room today, but thought you’d be bored watching, so I thought you wouldn’t mind helping with me with wood duty.”

Enough was enough. “Wood duty? I got some wood duty for you.” He got up and she gave him a big smile he needed to kiss off those lips.

“Major, you are so bad.”

“Back to Major, am I?” he asked, pinning her to the counter. He leaned in until those soft plump beauties were pressing against his chest and he was firmly cushioning his demanding cock against her stomach.

She didn’t even blink. Or look at all intimidated by him crowding her.

“Well, if the boot fits,” she murmured, running her hands up his chest to thread through his hair.

Electric currents ran through his body, zapping along his spine. “Baby, let me remind you what fits, huh?” He nudged her with his erection and lifted her butt up on the counter. She didn’t protest—she smiled into his mouth then nipped his bottom lip and sucked on it playfully afterwards. Not one ounce of a ‘no’ was coming off her. First, though…

“Ah, I don’t expect help with the wood pile.”

Her delicate brows shot up. “Well, since this is my house, my wood, and my trees, I guess you’ll have to handle my help.” Tugging his hair with each point, she frowned up at him.

“ Sunshine, you could get hurt with the fu—that chainsaw.”

She wiggled closer to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and wedged his cock right against her pussy. Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Kiss me, Russell. But first turn off the stove.”

Stove? He glanced down and the eggs were done, little peppers and onions mixed in, all of it smothered in cheese. It looked delicious, but something else was on the menu first.

He turned the stove off, then filled his hands with Susan’s warm body.

Her blue eyes were so bright this morning he had to concentrate on his questions. “Why are you sleeping in the U-Haul?”

She made an adorable face, pouting, even, and he had to fight not to kiss her.

“Russell, the house has critters. You saw that.”

“Did you leave a door open? A window?”

She glanced around, looking a bit worried, and her hands stilled in his hair. “No, absolutely not.”

“You must have, in the basement. Maybe they came in that way. Been here a while, and all your stomping around forced them out.”

She tipped her head to the side to examine him, and her hands gripped his hair a tad firmer.

He had to absolutely fight not to grin at her unhappy frown.

“Stomping?”

He wanted to laugh at her offended look. She nestled closer and he lost the ability to think clearly when their bodies mashed together like a key in a lock. She was lying. That should have pissed him off, but all he could think about was that she was probably not wearing any panties. He battled for control and won.

“So, why the U-Haul? You might as well tell me. I won’t let this go.”

“Russell…”

“Come on, spill it, baby.”

She made that adorable face again, half grimace, half stubborn woman. His urge to kiss her was so strong it hurt. But if he started there’d be no talking for hours. He cock was so full he wanted to slip inside her now. Maybe he could tie her to the bed later and question her. Was she ready for that? The woman had spanked his ass last night after he’d swatted hers, but tying her down and torturing her with sex might be taking it a bit too far. Besides, he had a feeling it might torture him more than the stubborn woman in his arms.

She met his eyes with another of those long, searching looks before she glanced down at his chest. “I’m… I like to take my time to get to know a house before I sleep in it. You know? Make it homier.”

His heart clenched again at her soft, sad voice. He tipped her head up with a gentle hand. She gave him a fragile smile. His heart felt too heavy in his chest. Bending his head the fraction of an inch needed to take her lips, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her softly.

How could she sound so sad, but still attempt a smile? He wasn’t a smiling kind of guy when he felt pain. And she felt pain. He had no idea what made most people smile through pain. He’d seen enough death and destruction, crime, killing, rape, sadistic torture and plain horror in the world to still struggle daily with separating his life now from what it had been six months ago. He knew he was in shock from the transfer from SEAL to civilian. Most guys were. They had no clue what to do with their lives once they were only on part-time duty. He’d simply come home to a place he’d once loved and found it only full of memories. His mom was lost to cancer. His stepdad had followed only months later—complications from minor surgery. And now the horror of his half-brother and his wife’s deaths filled the emptiness of the ranch, making it seem lifeless. Mitchell was there, and his nephew, Taylor, but both were strangers to him. Family, but still people he barely knew.