Page 42 of High Velocity

She smiles, which I take as a good sign. Then she asks, “What tag?”

I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. I opened myself up to that question, but I have a hard time forcing the familiar nickname from my throat.

“High Velocity.”

Stephanie

His voice is rough and I wasn’t expecting the deep pain in his eyes.

I lift a hand to his face and stroke the rough stubble on his square jaw.

“What just happened?”

He lightly shakes his head and turns away, moving to the sliding doors where he stops to stare at the mountains. Unsure of what to do, I stay where I am in the kitchen, giving him a minute.

“They’re all gone,” he starts, his voice barely a whisper, but I’m so attuned to him, I hear every syllable. “One minute we’re joking around—on our way back to base after a mission—the next I’m the only one left breathing.”

The strength of my emotions at his confession overwhelms me, putting pressure on my chest as the deep ache I can feel from across the room settles there. There are no adequate words for me to share, so I stay quiet, letting him take the lead.

“The tag…it brings back memories I’ve tried to bury since that day. Too scared to even recall the good times, and there were plenty. It was a true brotherhood, you know? The guys and me, we liked to goof around. We could be cocky assholes. But when it came time to go on a mission, we were all business and worked together like a well-oiled machine. There’s no hiding; you work, eat, and sleep together, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. These guys knew me better than I knew myself, and vice versa. I miss that. A lot.”

My eyes are burning with tears for him when he turns to face me. Not only did this man lose his leg, he lost his brothers in one fell swoop. On top of the grief, I can’t imagine the survivor guilt he must be feeling.

“I can see why,” I offer softly.

He nods before continuing, “When Ma and Jonas first dragged my ass back to High Meadow, after sitting guard by my hospital bed, I was pissed. But I think in some way it gave me back that sense of belonging, which is probably why I haven’t made any effort to move to a place of my own.”

“Makes sense.” I take a few steps closer.

“I told you I was a work in progress.”

It’s my time to nod. “As am I. In fact, last night after you left, I was trying to convince myself I come with too much baggage to start something serious with you. Too many open questions, too little direction. I’m standing on quicksand and desperately need to feel solid ground beneath my feet. Regain my confidence. But now…”

I let the words drift to where he’s standing still as a statue, his intensity palpable.

“But now?” he repeats.

I bridge the distance and lay my hands on his chest, looking up at him.

“Now I think perhaps I was wrong. I can’t bring back your brothers, but I can listen and help you hold on to their memories. Just as you can’t absolve me of all my problems, but already you make me feel heard and seen and cared for more than anyone else ever has. Maybe we can help each other recover some of what we’ve lost.”

His arms clamp around me, almost lifting me off my feet as his mouth slams down on mine in a fierce, almost brutal kiss. I welcome any bruises the pressure of his mouth or the imprints of his fingers may leave behind. I feel oddly safe as I let myself get swept away in a passionate storm I have no way of escaping.

Half stumbling over the low coffee table, we somehow end up in front of the couch, where Jackson’s hands urgently strip down my jeans and panties. Then he releases my mouth, sits down, and pulls a condom from his pocket, before shoving his jeans halfway down over his ass. Then he carefully rolls the condom down his beautiful cock while his eyes devour me the entire time.

“I need you to ride me.”

I don’t need any more of an invitation and climb astride on his lap. Immediately, his mouth finds mine as his hand guides his cock to my opening. I groan deep in my throat as I feel him brush the blunt head along my slit, gathering up the wet collecting there.

The stretch burns as I take him inside, but the overwhelming fullness of him feels so good. I feel his hands clamp down on my ass cheeks, guiding my movements.

Our mouths are fused as we pant and grunt down each other’s throats on this wild ride to completion. I feel Jackson buck under me as he reaches his release shortly after I orgasm.

I’m not sure how long we sit on the couch, clinging on to each other as we try to catch our breath.

“I’m sorry.”

I sit up and look down in Jackson’s face. “Sorry? For what?”

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