“I can be having a perfectly normal day, and then I’ll hear a car backfire or kids setting off firecrackers, and suddenly I’m right back there, my friends being shot around me, bullets tearing through my flesh.”

I held my breath, tears welling up in my eyes as he described the fear he lived with, the uncertainty of it all. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to carry that around with him. I’d always looked up to him; with the age difference between us he’d always been a heroic figure in my life, someone I viewed as capable of anything. But now? His strength astounded me. Not because he seemed capable of anything, but because he’d survived everything. He’d lived through a hell that was unimaginable, sacrificed his life for his country, and still he fought with honor and dignity. He was a hero whether he recognized it or not.

Matt’s fingers swept across my skin again, the medicinal smell of the antibiotic cream filling my nostrils.

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He said the words like a warning.

“I don’t,” I sort-of lied, not exactly sure how to describe the feelings inside of me. I didn’t feel sorry for him exactly, just an ache in my breast that seemed tied to the hurt inside him. I wanted to treat his wounds as he did mine, knowing his were the kind that couldn’t be eased with a simple balm.

“You know you can talk to me,” I added. “Always. I wish you had more of a support network, wish you could reach out to guys who’d been through some of the things you have. I’m sorry that was taken from you, sorry everything is so fucked up. I know I’m not ideal, but I do want you to know that I’m here for you. Anything you need. Always.”

He stroked my back above the scrapes he’d treated, his voice raw. “I know.”

I shifted on the bed so we stared at each other, my dress gaping open in the back. I lifted both of my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks, the scratchy hair on his face now familiar. My thumbs darted out and traced his cheekbones, running over the lines that had popped up on his skin in the years apart, the ridges that spoke to the life he’d lived in my absence. He closed his eyes, his dark lashes fanning down as I stroked his face, my thumb sweeping over his full lips.

“I love you,” I whispered. “I never stopped loving you. I will always love you.”

Matt shuddered in my embrace, and then his eyes fluttered open and the look there knocked me back.

He’d always had the most expressive eyes and I’d always been able to look at him and know what he was thinking, what he wanted, how he felt. Since he’d come back into my life, his gaze had changed; it was more guarded now, those dark depths filled with secrets that at times felt like he shut me out.

Not anymore.

All of the love I had once seen in his eyes reflected back at me like a mirror into my own soul.

“I love you, too,” he groaned. His hands threaded through my hair, holding me in place. “Always.” His mouth came down on mine, his lips devouring me, his tongue sliding inside.

We moved together, a crazy tangle of limbs, until Matt was on his back on the bed and I straddled him. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, laving the bite with his tongue. My nipples pebbled, a pulse starting between my legs—a low, throbbing beat that demanded to be filled.

Matt reached for the shoulder of my dress, the unzipped back causing it to slip down my arm, then he slid the other side off my skin, a trail of goose bumps rising in his wake.

I curled into his touch, wanting his hands and mouth on me, needing to let go for a moment.

His eyes darkened as his gaze locked on my lacy bra, his hands coming behind me to unhook the clasp, and then he dragged the lace from my body until I rode him, my breasts bare, my dress bunched around my hips. There was something about the contrast of it that spiked my arousal—the dress I’d worn to try to be the proper girl I’d never been, and the fact that I was naked, my clit aching with need as I rubbed myself over his denim-clad cock, the hard ridge there doing so many things for the wet heat pooling between my legs.

“You look like a good girl gone bad,” he whispered, his voice husky, his big hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs tweaking my nipples, his mouth nipping at the curve between my neck and shoulder.

I bit back a moan.

“My dirty fucking girl.”

Yes.

I arched forward, pressing my breasts into his hands, wanting it rougher, harder, wanting to indulge the explosion building inside of me.

His mouth came down on my nipple, sucking hard, the scrape of his teeth sending another wave of desire through me.

“More,” I demanded.

“More what?” he asked, goading me on, an edge to his voice as he pushed me harder.

I threw my head back, rubbing myself over him, enjoying the hell out of the ride. “Everything. I just want to forget everything. Just for a little bit.”

His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back, offering my body up, and then his hand slid down, cupping my ass, pulling me closer to him, his hips rocking forward. He squeezed my hipbone, his fingers digging into my ass, a shiver sliding down my spine.

So good.

I reached between us, fumbling for the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down. I stroked him through his boxers, freeing his cock through the slit in the fabric, pumping up and down while he jerked in my hand.

“Take off your thong.”

God. I loved when he got all growly like this, loved when he took control. I wasn’t exactly the kind of girl who let him get the upper hand very often, but considering how amazing Matt was in bed, in this instance I was happy to oblige.

I released him, the lace sliding down my hips until I was naked and exposed. I kicked my thong off and positioned my body over his again, biting down on my lip as my clit rubbed against his rock-hard cock. A tremor slid down my spine, my nipples tightening at the friction between my legs, a spark igniting inside me.

His fingers found me, stroking me, siding through all of my wetness until he’d slipped inside me, his fingers filling me, pumping in and out, dragging against my inner walls, each touch sending another shudder through my body, his thumb on my clit as I rode his hand.

My eyes slammed closed, my head falling back as I gave myself over completely to the pleasure, as he pulled my orgasm out of me, thread by thread, until I was wholly unraveled.

He groaned. “You look so hot like that. So fucking hot.”

I rubbed myself over him, again and again, the friction electric, and then I couldn’t take it anymore, the need to come overpowering all else. I gripped the base of his cock, settling myself over him, sliding down, the tip of him teasing my slit. I sank down, the movement slow, little by little, teasing him until he growled in frustration and his big hands settled on either side of my hips and yanked me down, filling me completely, stretching my body to accommodate his.

It was good. It was fast. It was hard.

He held on to my hips as I rode him, my dress bunched at the waist, feeling like I defiled the last stupid thing that tied me to the Reynolds name as I fucked the man I fought to keep alive, to keep safe from my father’s greed.

Suddenly, Matt’s hands left my hips, tangling in my hair, pulling my head down to his, our mouths connecting with a kiss, so that when I came, the words “I love you,” were lost somewhere between our lips.

Chapter Nineteen

Initial reports indicate that the explosion in Kate Reynolds’s apartment was the result of faulty wiring and not foul play. Luckily, no one was injured. While we’re relieved to hear that Kate is okay, rumor has it that the police would still like to speak with her. But where is she?

—Capital Confessions blog