Hold My Heart (23 page)

That feeling that has long been buried bubbles to the surface, raw and unforgiving. Tears and grief overtake me. I can’t stop crying, my chest heaving, my body trembling with anguish. I cover my mouth with a pillow to stifle the sobs, tears blurring my vision. I bury my tear stained face in the pillow as agonizing sobs leave my throat. My heart is breaking into a thousand pieces and I’m stuck here, unable to do a damn thing. My whole world is falling apart. This entire situation has proven beyond my control, slowly getting the best of me, bringing up memories I thought I’d laid to rest years ago. Whatever the battle is, I’m on the losing side.

My trembling subsides and, regulating my breath, I rein in my emotions. Forcing rational thinking, I use it to regain control.

He never wanted you in the first place, Ileana, just be grateful you never gave him your heart.
And I am, glad. Glad I didn’t give him my heart and soul. I offered him my body, and he rejected it. He rejected
me
. Had I given him my heart, he would have stomped on it, and I would have never recovered.
Be glad, it would have destroyed you.

Talk about cursed. If I ever had doubts, this whole fucked up situation cinched it.
April Fool’s, Ileana
.

Growing up with my mother taught me one thing: they can only hurt you if you let them. I was about six or seven when I realized Sophia had never said the words to me. Other moms did, to their kids, but not mine. So one night before bedtime, I said them to her. “I love you,
Mom
.” I’ll never forget her response: “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

That was the first substantial taste of rejection I can remember. She killed something in me that night with her venom, spreading through my veins like a poison. I’ve never uttered those three words again. My mother killed a part of me that night I’ve never been able to get back.

Not until Tommy.

I’m still tossing and turning, when my thoughts return to him. Every time I think of not seeing him again, a piece of me dies. Soon, there won’t be anything left. I can see him sitting across from my desk, leaning back, and tossing his stress ball up in the air while we hammer out the case over takeout. His smile, his bright emerald eyes, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it one too many times.

All right, Tommy, help me out
.
So, if the suspect and I are here in the past, why am I the only stranger in town?

Think, Harper. Could two weeks be enough time to get out of town? He would need wheels or...

Oh God. The realization hits me like a hammer to the head. I can’t believe I’m so stupid. He’s here. He’s not sticking out because he’s a local. He’s home, and I’m not. Dammit to hell. I traveled on a one-way ticket while his was round trip. Jesus, for all I know Will or Doc know him. I’m officially freaked. If my suspect is someone from 1944 and he’s home, he knows about
me
. He knows I’m here. That’s it.
Thanks, Tommy, you saved me again
.

Now I need to come up with a plan.

Chapter 24

Tommy

We get to the TLQs and I offer to walk her in. I shouldn't. My brain is trying to interfere in my sex life, but as usual, my dick is too powerful. As they battle it out, I walk her to her door.
If she invites you in, say no. Say no. Say no.

“Would you like to come in?” She smiles up at me, so innocently. I wonder if this is how little red riding hood looked at the big bad wolf.

“Sure.” I grin her way, knowing very well what's going to happen once she closes that door. I'm going to pounce on her like the hungry animal that I am.

Sure enough, the door clicks, one look, and we're devouring each other. I've been dying to taste every single part of this woman since I first saw her. I can’t control myself, and I didn’t even think about the possibility that she might reject me. I'm instantly hard at the realization she's completely on board.

My imagination had nothing on the real thing. The second our lips meet, I bury my tongue in her warm mouth, just like I want to bury myself in her. God, her skin is so soft. I can't get close enough. My hands are grabbing her hair one moment, her ass the next. Her hands are trying to grab my hair, but there's no hair to grab. My hair is closely cropped and I curse myself for getting it cut this morning.

Our tongues are dancing while we explore each other's mouths. I don't want to let go of her. Ever. I grab the back of her neck with both my hands and I kiss her senseless. Her hands are working between us as she tries to unbutton my jeans. I let go of her just long enough to make quick work of my T-shirt. While I work on mine, she's working on hers. In no time, my hands land on soft flesh.

God, if I was hard before, I'm about to lose my load at the feel of her chest pressed against mine. Christ. We need to move. Now.

I grab her ass as our mouths are tangled up kissing, sucking, biting each other. As if on cue, she jumps up, wraps her legs around my waist, and perfectly lands her core right on top of my erection. Christ. I'm going to come before I even get my pants off.

“Bed,” I pant against her mouth long enough for her to point in the general direction. We are still tangled up. All hands and mouths, ready to explode, and we're still erect. This first one is going to be hard and fast. First one. Because if I have my way, we're going to spend the next six days here in this room.

Naked. Fucking each other every way to Sunday.

I carry her to the bed. My knees hit the edge and I lay her on her back, my mouth finally leaving hers. I can't get enough. I want to taste every inch of her. I want no other mouth on hers but mine. Only me from now on. She's mine. She's been mine since the second I became aware of her existence. And now that I have her, I'm never letting go. I nip softly at her jaw, running my lips down her neck, continuing to explore her beautiful curves. I keep kissing her, tasting her. She smells divine. Like lavender, something sweet, and just her. It's an aphrodisiac.

Stop
.

My brain is trying to interfere, which it never does once my dick is at work. But Ileana is different. She's special. If I fuck this up, I'll lose her.

Reaching her collarbone, I peel her bra straps down and gently suck wet kisses all the way to the hollow of her throat. God, she's exquisite. She arches her back to allow me access and I groan. I'm so ready to come it's not even funny. I'm like some teenager losing his virginity. I run the tip of my nose down her chest, breathing her in, taking it all in. I never wanted a woman more than I want Ileana right now. I push her bra down as I raise my head away from her.

Jesus Christ, she's so fucking beautiful.

She's lying there surrounded by her chestnut brown hair, curls framing her head like a halo. She's looking at me from under hooded lids, her beautiful face flushed, her lips red and a bit swollen from all the kissing. Her whiskey eyes are dark, pupils dilated. She’s intoxicating. The sight of her is my undoing. I should have kept my fucking head down.

I could love this woman.

Shut the fuck up!

Now my heart is joining my brain, and they're ganging up against my cock.

You can't love her asshole. You're not allowed to fuck up her life with your bullshit. Her plate is full enough.
If
she were shit-free, she wouldn't be in this on-post motel with your sorry ass.

“You okay?” she asks, panting, raising her head off the bed, and glancing down at me expectantly.

“I will be.” As soon as I bury myself inside you, all will be right with my world.

I bring my face to her right breast and take her nipple into my mouth. I let go softly, and circle the pebbled nipple with my tongue. I blow lightly against it, watching how the skin on her round, plump breast erupts in goose bumps. She arches against my mouth and groans.

Fuck. Me.

On instinct, I begin thrusting my hard-on against her core. Moving on to her left breast, I repeat the same actions, paying close attention to her response. If she hasn't come yet, she's close. And we haven't even taken our pants off. I need to pace myself and stop being a selfish bastard.

So what's new?

There's my brain again. My heart interferes but not as strongly as before. That is until she softly moans. Holy fuck. She's panting harder, her nails digging into my shoulders. I want to know how wet she is. Wet for me. I can't wait to taste her. I want to bury my face between her legs.

I undo her pants, trailing kisses from her breasts down to her mound. As my hands struggle to bring her pants down, she raises her hips away from the bed. Just then, I bite down softly against her core, and she lets out a strangled moan, pushing up harder into my bite. The only thing between my mouth and her intoxicating female scent is her panties.

“Oh God, Colton, don't stop.”

Colton. Colton! My fucking brain springs into action. The fucker called for reinforcements—rational thinking—and he's got them all lined up, each holding a bucket of cold water, waiting their turn.

Colton? Does she even know your first name?
Splash.

What should you call her as you come, Lieutenant?
Splash
.

What’s going to happen once you walk out that door and get back to Afghanistan?
Splash
.

Never mind she's worked her ass off and made something of herself, fuck it up for her.
Splash
.

So what if she gets kicked out of the Army if anyone finds out what you're doing?
Splash
.

So what if you could love this woman? Once you fuck her, you'll never know
. Splash.

That's it. The last one is the final nail in my hard-on coffin. My cock has left the building and my brain is in charge. Fuck! I stop dead. I can't move.

My hands are still holding her hips against the bed, my face right there, buried in her panties right between her legs. Fucking hell, I can feel her clit, hard against my nose, her wetness seeping through the lacy fabric. I can almost taste her. I want her so bad. I've wanted her for so long. I need her.

I need her. Not my cock. Me.

I'm going to have to stop. Not for me, but for her. For us.

If I ever want an ‘us,’ this, right now, cannot happen.

Shit! No one is ever going to believe this. I'm so close my underwear is wet against my inseam. That’s how ready I am. My hands clench her hips as I pull away from between her legs. I rest my forehead against her belly. My chest is pressing against her thighs, my body collapsing. She's under me, sprawled on her back, her legs hanging from the edge of the bed. I'm kneeling up against her, trapping her and I can't move. Just when I think she's going to jump up and shake me off, her arms come around my head and shoulders and she embraces me. She gently rubs my back and caresses my hair.

God, she's going to hate me for this. She won't understand, and she'll feel rejected. It's not her. This is a first for me. What do I even say? Sorry, you're fucking beautiful and I've been watching you like a fucking stalker, jerking off to you since we met, and I think you're the one and I wanna fuck you so bad I might die, but I can't, because I think I could love you and I don't want to fuck it up?

Never mind she's my superior officer and can get me fired for this. But I know she won't. She'll hate me, but she won't hurt me. It's not in her nature. My brain is smugly parked on top of my heart and my cock, both wriggling to break free. I’ve got to do this now.

Come on, Colton, quick and painless, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Christ, here goes nothing.

I rise up quickly, letting go of her hips and bracing my arms against her sides. Trying to muster up some courage, I take a deep breath. It doesn't help, because all I smell is her. I can still feel the goose bumps on her soft skin. Dammit.

“I can't do this. I'm sorry—” I break off because I don't even know what to call her. Ma'am? Lieutenant?

Get out. Get out, now.

In one quick motion, I turn and walk away from her. I grab my T-shirt, but I'm too much of a chicken-shit coward to glance in her direction.
Get the fuck out!
My brain screams and my body does nothing but respond. I run away from a woman for the first time in my life.

“Lil!” I bolt upright in bed, my dick hard as a rock. I blink rapidly, trying to wake up until I realize my reality.

Why did I wake up? I was in Heaven, just to wake up and find myself in Hell.

Lil is gone. My heart has ceased beating for six days, six hours, and…twenty minutes, according to my watch. I exist. My breath goes in and out. I don’t eat. Or sleep. Shit like brushing my teeth and taking a shower seem so pointless. How the hell can I think of anything when she’s out there somewhere? All I care about is finding her. I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore the day my life changed forever. How I wish this were my dream and my dream, reality.

Once Teague arrived, all agents were called in, all hands on deck for the search. The day she disappeared and I went back into that field, I swore I could hear her; I could feel her in my bones. It was like some puppeteer was fucking with me, playing hot and cold as I ran desperately for miles through the tall grass. I went from fear, to panic, to completely losing my fucking mind in less than twenty-four hours.

I had to turn in her wool cap for the canine unit; they needed her
scent
.

Like some out-of-body experience, I told them to give it back to me. It’s the last thing she touched, her scent still fresh on it from that morning. I screamed her name for hours; by the end of the night, my voice was gone. I don’t remember much, except it took four agents to hold me down and drag me away kicking and screaming when I refused to leave the field. Paramedics were called. I was sedated.

Two days later after multiple sweeps and the canine unit running in circles, the field search was called off. Teague called it a day, moving operations to our FBI office, but I stayed behind. I went from sleeping in my car at the edge of that road, to checking into this crappy motel on the outskirts of Bloomingfield.

I don’t know what to do without her. I just can’t go on. I don’t want to go on.

Isn’t life a fucking joke? Had we met under different circumstances, I would have worked my way into her pants then moved on.

Instead, I got to know her and see her for who she is, and now I’m missing the best thing that’s happened to me in my entire sorry-ass life.

I’ve been put on leave and taken off her search because of my emotional attachment to the case. Nelson calls with updates. If you can call them that, they’re always the same: no news. Chris has taken it really hard as well, something that might surprise Lil. She keeps calling and checking up on me. Maybe she’s worried I might do something stupid like put my gun in my mouth.

She should be worried, because I don’t know how long I can go on without her.