Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T. #1) Page 9

  “Promise me you will stop getting in his way.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m gonna get in his way if he keeps messing with Mitch.” I hold his stare, daring him to fight me on this.

  “What is it about this kid that has you so messed up?”

  “He’s a good kid, Hetch. He’s had a tough run, and he deserves to have someone rooting for him. I’m all he has.”

  “Funny, that’s what he said about you.”

  “It’s the truth.” He draws a sharp breath like he’s resigning himself to the task at hand, before shifting the gear back into first and pulling back out on the road.

  We don’t talk again, my heart full of something I can’t quite identify at hearing Mitch think of me as all he has. I knew I was reaching him, but this, this is more unexpected. It’s not until we pull into our apartment complex I finally break the silence.

  “I promise I’ll be more careful.” I offer what I think it is he wants to hear.

  “Yeah, bullshit.” He calls me on it. There's no anger evident, but his tone says we both know it’s not happening.

  “I will…” I start to assure him just as he parks two spots down from my car. “Wait, you brought my car home?” I turn carefully to find his face watching me, unsure how he managed to get it here.

  “Sterling helped me get it back. I have your keys here.” He reaches down and pulls out my keys from the console of his car.

  “Thank you, Hetch.” I hold my palm up and watch as he drops them into my hand.

  “It was no big deal.” He shrugs it off, but we both know he went above and beyond tonight. Taking Mitch home, coming back to see me and bringing me home safely. He didn’t have to do all of this.

  “I guess I should head up?” The question hangs between us as we continue to stare at each other. Our gazes lock as if one of us is waiting for something to happen.

  “Yeah, I need to get you into bed.” He opens his door to exit but quickly turns back to correct himself. “Not bed like that, bed as in rest.” He falters over his words. “I mean I’d like to get you to bed, like that, but not now. Oh, fuck, never mind.” He continues to ramble, and it’s rather charming to see him lose the cool composure he has perfected.

  “It’s fine. I knew what you meant.” I try to control my racing heart but fail miserably when his gaze turns hungry.

  “Stay there. Let me help you down,” he orders, before exiting the truck and stalking around to my door.

  This is a bad idea.

  This is a bad idea.

  This is a bad idea, blares in my head over and over as I follow his movements. Each one is strong and with ease, while I sit here and second-guess every word, every reaction when I’m around him. The kick to the head seems to have made me lose some sense. I should call my mom. Hell, I should call Payton, but knowing my family, the last thing I need is them on my case about this.

  “Come on.” He opens my door and reaches across me, releasing me from my seatbelt. The warmth of his hand at my side spreads fervor all through me. I try not to react, but fail when a shiver runs right over me.

  “You okay?” Anyone could have mistaken the reaction as pain or discomfort, but not Hetch. His grin tells me he knows exactly how affected I am by him. By his touch.

  Smug asshole.

  “A little sore, but I’ll survive.” I start to move out of his reach, but he holds me still, his hands at my waist, his eyes to mine.

  “I’m staying with you tonight,” he says, and my suspicions about the kick to the head earlier prove to be true, when instead of arguing, telling him I’m fine, my head nods in agreement.

  Jesus, this is dangerous.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Hetch.” I seem to have come back to myself twenty minutes later as I watch him turn my sofa into a makeshift bed.

  “It’s either your parents or me. Your call, sweetheart.” I’m not sure on the sweetheart either, but I keep it to myself. When I told him not to call me it in the car, he laughed.

  “You’re too big to fit on my sofa. Won’t you be more comfortable next door in your bed?” I press, hoping he sees the error of his ways. I know he wants to help, but this is too much.

  “Nope, told you I’m staying, so quit hovering, take your meds, then head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” he orders and, instead of arguing anymore, I decide to let it go. If he wants to hang out on an uncomfortable sofa, who am I to stop him?

  “Okay, well, thanks again. For everything.” We share a brief moment, almost like the one earlier in the car, before I wave him off and head down the hall to my bathroom. Needing a shower, but craving sleep more, I quickly work through my nighttime routine. Fifteen minutes later, dressed in an old shirt and pair of short shorts, I tie my hair back in a low bun, take my pain meds and leave the bathroom. The low, dim light of the living area tells me Hetch is still up. Not wanting to face him again this evening, I slip into my room and close the door with a silent click.

  I'm about to climb into bed when out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. A huge-ass spider scurries across the wall. An almighty scream leaves my mouth at the sight of it.

  “FUCK!” I can’t deal with spiders. Not even a little. All rational thought leaves my mind as I race out of my room and down the hall, smacking right into the hard, naked chest of Hetch.

  “What's wrong?” he asks, stepping past me.

  “There's a—” I can’t get the words out. Between the spider, the pain of the collision and seeing Hetch half-naked, I become tongue-tied. “M-my b-bedroom.”

  Gun drawn, Hetch follows my pointed finger and races down the hall.

  After a few short beats, he comes back, his gun relaxed at his side. “There’s nothing there.”

  “What?” I screech, moving faster than I should back down the hall. Another scream leaves my throat when I see the creature scurry out of hiding. “There.” I point at the freakishly large spider.

  “That's all that’s wrong?” He sounds relieved and dare I say annoyed.

  “What do you mean all? Are you mad? The thing's fucking huge.” A shiver runs over every inch of my skin at the thought of going to bed without killing it.

  “Jesus, woman. I thought someone was in here.”

  “There is someone in here. A FUCKING SPIDER!” I want to slap him and his blasé ass.

  “Fuck me.” He shakes his head in a soft chuckle, stepping into my room. “You have a shoe or something?”

  “Yeah, let me get one.” I step around him and slowly move to my closet, grabbing the first flip-flop I see. “You have to get it, Hetch. I'm not kidding. I cannot sleep here until it's dead.” I inform him on the seriousness of the situation while passing him the shoe.

  “Just calm down. I have this.” He sounds so sure of his spider-killing abilities, but until the fucker is dead, I’m taking all precautions.

  After watching him assess the situation for a minute, he climbs up on my king bed and slowly moves in closer. It’s the first chance I have to really take notice of his body. He’s shirtless, wearing low-slung boxers on his narrow hips. The bunching muscles of his shoulders ripple under his tense stance.

  Holy shit! He’s perfection.

  Perfection in my bed.

  Tight.

  Hard.

  Corded with bronze muscle upon muscle.

  In my bed.

  “It’s at a fucked-up angle.” He pulls me out of my ogling, stressing me out further.

  “Oh, God. Don’t say that. You cannot miss it. Promise me you won’t,” I repeat, needing him to truly understand my fear.

  “You keep talking, you’re gonna distract me,” he whispers as he slowly inches his way closer to the offending creature.

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t deal.” I’m on edge, waiting for him to make his move.

  “Relax, I’m gonna get the fucker,” he promises, just as he pulls his arm back, and in one fast movement, brings my flip-flop down.

  “Ahhh!” I scream at the sound of my flip-flop bein
g slammed down on the wall. “Did you get it? Please tell me you killed it. You killed it, right?” I move when he moves.

  “Fuck, did you see where it went?” he answers, letting me know he didn’t get it.

  I scream again. This time at him. “YOU MISSED IT. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, HETCH?”

  “Calm down, he wasn't even big.” He tries to blow it off like no big deal, but the man doesn't know me. Doesn't know how badly frightened I am of them.

  “Are you fucking blind? The thing could have eaten me. You need to find it. NOW!” I demand, not caring how I sound. He looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, and he’s enjoying this way too much.

  “Please, Hetch,” I whisper. “I'm really scared of them.”

  “What are you going to give me?” the smug jerk has the audacity to ask.

  “Anything, please, just kill it.” I don’t care. At this point, I need this spider dead, or he'll be sharing my sofa with me.

  “Anything?” he repeats, his gaze raking up and down my body. I know I’m only wearing mismatched clothing that does nothing for my figure, yet the way he’s looking at me, I swear I feel like I’m wearing one of my Victoria’s Secret negligées.

  “I’m not having sex with you.” I may be desperate, but I'm not that desperate. Besides, I’m staying strong on my sex sabbatical.

  “I’m not asking for sex.” He puts it to bed as quickly as I did and I refuse to let myself be disappointed by it.

  “Well, what is it you want?” I could have sworn he was looking at me like he wanted me.

  “A kiss,” he simply requests, sending my heart rate through the roof.

  “A kiss?” I repeat, wondering what a hardship it would be. I’ve been thinking about our kiss back at the bar all week. What harm could come from revisiting it?

  “Yes, I want you to kiss me for getting the spider out of here.” I weigh up my options. Kiss the man who has been in my dreams all week, or sleep in the same room as the creepy spider?

  It’s not rocket science.

  “Fine. But only after you kill it.” I yield, wondering how I actually get myself into these situations. It never ends with me, and now Hetch has come into my life, it’s starting to become tenfold. Hetch nods, then moves back to my bed, leans over one of my many pillows and picks up the dead spider with his bare hands.

  “Done, you owe me a kiss,” he taunts, holding it out to me.

  “Oh, my God. You’re an ass. You played me.” I jump back at the sight of it and duck my head from seeing it.

  “A deal’s a deal, Liberty.” He walks past me to my bathroom, and two seconds later, the toilet flushes.

  “No, Hetch. You didn't play fair. Deal’s off,” I call back as I begin pulling off my sheets.

  No way am I sleeping in these nasty sheets.

  My movements are slow as the pain in my ribs throb as soon as the threat and the adrenaline of the last ten minutes have gone.

  “Deal is not off, Liberty.” Hetch steps back into my room. He sweeps his gaze over the floor at the pile of sheets I've just ripped off the bed.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, perplexed at my sudden need to change my linens.

  “I’m not sleeping in these sheets. Dead spider juice went everywhere.” I move past him to go grab a clean set. He doesn't follow me out. Doesn't tell me I’m crazy, even though he looks like he wants to. Instead, he steps back when I return and watches me as I begin to make the bed.

  “You can go now, Hetch. Thanks for your help,” I tell him as I awkwardly try to make my bed with a burning ache radiating through my ribs. He doesn’t leave like I expect him to; instead, he takes a free corner of the fitted sheet and orders me back.

  “I’ll do it.”

  I start to argue, but the look he gives me is enough to shut me up quick smart. Instead, I stand there quietly and watch him make my bed. We don't speak, Hetch too lost in the task of fitting the second sheet.

  It's domesticated and oddly arousing.

  When the bed's been made, he steps back to admire his work, while I stand there and admire him.

  “Thank you.” I finally break the silence when his eyes move off the bed and onto me.

  “You're welcome.” He starts to move toward me. Unable to stand strong, I retreat, taking a step back.

  “You should go now, Hetch,” I warn when his gaze darkens.

  “You owe me, sweetheart.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that. And the deal's off. You played me.” I hold my ground this time. No way is he getting anything out of our deal when all along he manipulated me.

  “You’re so predictable.” His cockiness is a turn-on more than a turn-off, yet I still retreat with a step back.

  “You don’t play fair.” My words don’t deter him. He moves in closer as I step back further.

  “Babe, I play fair. The spider is dead, no? I'm just not afraid to play dirty.” Another step toward me has my resolve slipping.

  “Yeah, well, this proposed kiss goes against everything I believe in.” I know I’m in dangerous territory here, but I’m not sure I care anymore.

  “Doesn't matter. You’re still going to enjoy it.”

  “Keep dreaming.” I snort, giving myself one more step back, this time connecting to the wall. The same wall we’ve listened to each other through.

  “Dreaming? Don’t think so babe.” He stops a whisper's breath from me. “Time to pay up.” He smirks when I realize I have nowhere else to back up.

  “You're an ass,” is my reply.

  “That's not a nice way to speak to the man who just saved your life.” He has me there, considering I did make out I was going to die if the spider wasn’t caught.

  Uggh, asshole.

  “Fine, have at it,” I admit defeat. I mean, it's not much of a hardship. The man can kiss. In the quiet moments over the last few days, it still seems like I can feel his lips on me. Branding me and ruining me all over again.

  “I don't think so, Liberty. You're gonna kiss me,” he informs me, and I want to smack the smug look off his face. He’s enjoying this way too much.

  “That wasn't what we agreed to.”

  “It is. I asked for a kiss. Not to kiss you.”

  “Ugghh, seriously. Men like you are the reason I put myself on a sabbatical.” I step forward. Place my hands on either side of his face and plant my lips to his. It's the most awkward kiss I've ever experienced.

  Our lips stay locked. My eyes are shut until, after a few beats, I slowly open them. Hetch is looking at me. His gaze intense, too intense for a basic peck.

  He never said there had to be tongue.

  I begin to pull back when the kiss becomes more uncomfortable, but I don't get far when his large hand presses into my back, holding me in place.

  He doesn’t speak, but it's a warning. The feel of his mouth on mine takes me back to the night at The Elephant. His lips move first, drawing me out of my stupor. The softness of his tongue shoves me back to life. Before I even reunite my tongue with his, I know this isn't going to end well. My mind doesn’t care. My body takes over.

  Then I know I’m done for.

  Nine

  Hetch

  I know the moment she gives in. Her body molds against me, her tongue dives into my mouth and the small sigh of pleasure leaves her lips. A jolt of awareness enters me, forcing me to take over. My hands travel to her ass. Lifting her up carefully so as not to jolt her, I turn toward the bed. I don’t bother asking if this is okay before laying her down on the sheets and crawling up over her.

  All rhyme and reason fly out the window as my mouth finds hers again and this time, I'm not gentle. My teeth scrape her lower lip. The primal need to own them forces me to bite down.

  “Ahh, Hetch,” she cries out, a jumble of pain and pleasure mixed in with her own need. Her hands rake through my hair; she doesn't restrain herself, tugging in sharp and desperate need. I don't react, not with words anyway; instead, I bite down in response, before releasing her with a slow, deep s
uction.

  “Shhh,” I soothe, brushing my lips over her bruised cheekbone, over her jaw, and down her neck.

  “This is more than a kiss.” Liberty comes back to herself as my hand finds the swell of her breast over her shirt. They fit perfect in my grasp. Firm, full, and for tonight at least, mine.

  “You want me to stop?” I ask, rolling my thumb over her nipple. Unable to wait for her reply, I rip her shirt up to her neck, exposing her rose-pink nipples. My mind conjured up an image of how pretty they would be and how much I would love them in my mouth the moment I had them pressed up against me last week. But nothing prepares me for the sight of her under me. The perfect, creamy smoothness, against my tanned, callused hands. Without a second thought, I dip down and wrap my lips around her left nipple.

  “AHHH!” She arches off the bed. Pushing herself further into my mouth. My tongue and teeth fight one another in a battle of dominance. My teeth want to bite the tight pink nubs and claim them while my tongue wants to roll the perfection of the small bud around my tongue.

  “Hetch, please.” Liberty's hand moves to her lonely nipple. Not needing to be told twice, I release her with a pop and get to work on the second one. Latching on and rolling it between my teeth, I give this nipple the same attention, working her up with only my mouth. When my cock can’t stand watching anymore, I pull back and slide her shorts and panties down her thighs.

  “Ahh, shit.” Her hand moves to her side, and I stop my quick movements. “No, don’t stop.” She douses my fire with a pained look over her brow.

  “Fuck, Liberty.” I growl, looking down at my hands still fisted with her delicate white lace panties. “You have no idea how much I want to sink my dick in this sweet pussy.” I slow my breath, and trace the smooth skin next to her panties with the tip of my finger. “But, you’re in pain.” The words taste bitter coming from my mouth, especially since I’m looking at the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. I can smell her desperate need, and I can see her slick wetness.