Out of the Ashes Read online

  And I swear I can feel that kiss all the way to the core of my heart.

  Just when I think this petite woman has rocked my world more than anyone ever before, she goes and takes it one step further. She slips around to stand behind me, her soft palms sliding down from the top of each of my shoulders in a caress, all the way down to my hands, linking her fingers with mine. And that’s when I feel it.

  Her lips against my skin.

  My breath hitches at the touch of her lips against the harsh indentations of my marred flesh. She works her way over my back, ensuring she’s kissed every single scar, every spot of puckered flesh from where I was whipped like an animal or where they carved into my skin like a butcher.

  Her hands reach around my front to unfasten my khaki shorts, shoving them down and leaving me bare. I hold myself still as she takes in the sight of the scars continuing down my back to the marred areas extending from the base of my spine and spreading along my hips. With a barely noticeable pause, Presley dusts her lips across my flesh in a whisper of a caress, and my body jerks in response as if each nerve ending is hypersensitive. Each time she presses a kiss to an area—ones I can barely tolerate acknowledging—emotion wells up within me.

  And each time her lips find another scar, I feel something I haven’t felt since I lost my friends in that damn desert that fateful night.

  My throat grows tight, and I instantly close my eyes, feeling them burn. As if that weren’t enough, Presley takes it a step further with her tender, softly spoken words.

  “You’re more than your scars.” There’s a pause as her lips find yet another. “So much more.”

  And that’s the moment I lose control.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Presley

  It’s as if something within him snapped. Turning abruptly, I’m almost thrown off-balance by his movement. Hendy’s hands fly to my face as his lips crash down on mine in a passionate, almost punishing kiss, so full of intense emotion.

  My lips are feverish against his; our tongues spar while my hands glide along his heated skin in my need to feel all of him against me.

  And I still can’t deny my earlier surprise at finding him bare beneath those khakis.

  Breaking the kiss, my eyes dart down, taking in the sight of his large arousal, proudly jutting out as if begging for my touch.

  Amused, I raise my eyebrows. “Didn’t take you for a commando kind of guy.”

  “I’m just full of”—he breaks off with a groan when my fingers grasp his hard cock—“surprises.”

  Working him with my hand, I feel him harden further; my thumb brushes over the tip, and I’m instantly lifted and gently placed on the bed. He tugs my jeans down over my hips and off my legs, leaving me clad in only a plain black pair of boy-cut panties.

  He looks down at me while I admire his broad chest, those firm pectoral muscles and hard abs tapering into that strong V-line, and I find myself mesmerized by the view.

  “If I take those panties off you now…” Joining me on the bed, he rests his knees on either side of my legs and trails a finger down the center of my chest. Swallowing hard, his eyes flit back and forth between my eyes and panties. “My mouth will be all over you.”

  Furrowing my eyebrows, I give him an odd look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Those lips curve up at the corners wickedly. “I’d like to think it’ll be a good thing. But you should know that’s not all I’ll do.” His hands glide along my sides in a caress.

  “Oh?” My tone is a bit breathless. “What else would you do?”

  He unleashes one of those smiles on me again, and my entire body melts.

  Leaning down so his bare chest brushes against mine, he whispers huskily against my lips. “Why don’t you let me show you?”

  “And that right there is how babies are made, folks,” I whisper-sigh before I reach up to tug his head down, pressing my lips against his, and swallowing his chuckle before I deepen the kiss.

  Allowing my other hand to pull him closer, to have him exactly where I want him between my legs, I feel his hard cock pressing against my core, and his mouth swallows my moan when he rocks against me.

  Gasping as a surge of arousal floods me, I feel my panties growing more damp, and I’m certain he can feel it. I wrap my legs around him and work myself against him, loving the way his hard cock presses against my clit.

  Hendy makes a rough sound in the back of his throat before tearing his lips from mine. Our ragged, labored breathing is the only sound in the silence of his bedroom. Rearing back, he makes quick work of ridding me of my panties. Tossing them aside without a backward glance, he grasps my ankles with his large hands to spread my legs open farther. He lowers his face, thrusting his tongue deep inside me.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus!”

  His brief laughter rumbles through me, making my toes curl while I grip the covers on his bed and arch my body. To say he’s tasting me would be a vast understatement.

  Hendy is devouring me. And like that decadent dream I had of him, he’s drawing moans from my lips and making me writhe against his mouth.

  When he shifts, his lips latch onto my clit, and his tongue intermittently flicks it while he thrusts not one but two thick, long fingers deep inside me, and it pushes me over the edge. My body tenses, arching, before a powerful orgasm hits me, my muscles contracting and releasing around his fingers. He continues to gently work his fingers in and out of me as I come down from the high, tiny shudders wracking my body.

  Opening my eyes, I find him watching me, and his gaze holds a unique intensity. Withdrawing his fingers from me, he parts his lips as he sucks them clean, holding my gaze the entire time. When he shifts off the bed, reaching toward the small nightstand, I clear my throat.

  “Well. That was super fun, thanks.”

  His head whips around to look at me. And I bite my lip, trying to stifle a smile as I meet eyes which are narrowing dangerously.

  “Think you’re leaving, do you?”

  He gives my legs a swift tug, bringing me closer to where he now stands at the end of the bed. Grasping my wrist, he guides my hand to his cock, wrapping my fingers around his impressive girth.

  “Maybe I’ll stay,” I whisper quickly, making him grin smugly.

  While he backs away briefly to grab a condom, I move farther back on the bed, watching him slide on protection. Hendy climbs onto the bed, lowering himself between my legs. He braces himself above me on his forearms, and I notice he’s subconsciously turning his face again—turning that left side away from me.

  “Hey.” I wait for his eyes to meet mine before raising my hands and cupping his face tenderly. “Let me see you.” I pause. “All of you.” There’s a long beat before he gives a nearly imperceptible nod.

  As the tip of his cock presses against my entrance, his expression has a touch of chagrin. “I’m praying I won’t embarrass myself,” he says, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and sheepishness. “But this is the first time I’ve been with a woman in”—he breaks off, his gaze averted briefly before returning to mine—“a long while.”

  Inching inside me, stretching me, allowing my body to acclimate to him, he holds my gaze, and I feel like he might finally be allowing me to see him—to see all of him.

  Now, I realize I’ve underestimated myself. Sold myself short. It’s become even more obvious that what I had with Dylan was nothing close to love. To what I should have felt.

  I’ve also greatly underestimated Hendy. The man who thinks no one can love him with the way he looks now. The man who thinks that because of his appearance, he’s unworthy of love. But he’s so incredibly wrong.

  More than that, Hendy’s underestimated me because he doesn’t realize how mistaken he is. It’s at this moment that I see the truth—the truth that sees beneath all appearances, that sees beneath the outer shell of a person, delving down to the core.

  Because regardless of what he may think, how he or any others might view him, one fact remains.r />
  I’ve started to fall in love with Cristiano “Hendy” Hendrixson.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Hendy

  Don’t fucking come yet. Don’t. Fucking. Come. Yet. Regardless of how phenomenal she feels.

  I keep repeating this in my head, but hell, she feels so damn good. The way she clenches around me when I flick her nipple with my tongue or graze it with my teeth. But the real deal breaker is when she bends her knees, sliding her feet to plant them flat on the bed, working herself over me.

  My hips thrust as deeply as I can, and I press my lips to the side of her neck, nipping at her before my tongue soothes the area. In response, she turns her head to press feverish kisses to the side of my face. And it hits me at that moment.

  She’s not just kissing my face. She’s lovingly kissing it. The left side. Without any hesitation, whatsoever. And that’s what sends me over the edge—those soft lips and the affection against my marred flesh.

  “Pres,” I groan against her neck, wildly thrusting in and out of her hot, wet pussy before reaching down to press my thumb against her clit and rub in circles. She lets out a loud gasp, and her inner muscles tighten around me as I continue to work her clit harder, my thrusts frenzied, and I pray she comes with me.

  Just as my balls tighten near painfully, she lets out a soft cry before clenching around me rapid-fire. Pressing my lips to hers, I take her mouth in a passionate, wet kiss, thrusting three more times before my climax hits and I come hard.

  Our harsh, ragged breathing fills the silent room before I realize my weight is likely crushing her. Shifting aside, I dispose of the condom in the nearby wastebasket before rolling back on the bed. Turning my head to look over at her, I bask in the sated look on her face.

  Watching me, she pants slightly from exertion as a smug smile plays at her lips.

  “That was pretty impressive, wasn’t it?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

  “Pretty impressive?”

  “Yep.” Her wide grin is full of mischief. “Considering I was the first person in a few years to”—she breaks off to sing-talk—“rock your world!”

  Schooling my expression, I give her a stern look. “Who said you rocked my world?”

  With a sigh full of exasperation, she rolls her eyes, reaching over to give a condescending pat to my chest. “Uh, your moans said it all, buddy boy.”

  Buddy boy. No way in hell can I restrain the laugh that bursts free, a smile tugging at my lips as I look over at her. Because I know the last time a woman made me smile and laugh in bed.

  Never.

  That’s right. Never. I’ve never experienced anything like this. But Presley Cole…she’s something else. She’s so different from anyone I’ve ever been with. And not only physically. Sure, I used to prefer my women with more curves than she has, but I don’t for one split second feel like I’m missing out. Presley brings so much more to the table than looks alone.

  She’s so damn smart, uniquely beautiful with those different colored eyes of hers, her sometimes goofy charm, and her slim physique. Not only that, but she also hasn’t run off after really and truly seeing me.

  I don’t know how long this will last, but I know I’d be an idiot not to bask in this while she still finds me intriguing. I’m a rebound of sorts for her, something shiny and new.

  I sure as hell don’t look forward to the moment when my shine wears off.

  * * *

  “Don’t touch me there!”

  “Shhh!” Presley shushes me, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment from my joking exclamation at her hand cupping my ass. Especially since we’d both heard Kane come home from hanging out with Doc late last night.

  We’re in the shower, hands copping feels here and there, our hushed laughter often stifled by wet kisses.

  I press her against the shower wall, kissing the side of her neck and whispering, “If I didn’t think you were too sore, I’d take you up against this wall.”

  “I’m not—”

  Leaning back, I cut off her protest with a look. “You are.”

  “Well”—she gives me a saucy smile as the warm water cascades over us—“that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun.” Her fingers wrap around my cock, and I groan.

  “Woman,” I growl softly, pressing my lips to her ear. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “I’m just saying…” One of her shoulders lifts in indifference. “I could go downtown.” Presley wiggles her eyebrows at the suggestion.

  “Pres.”

  She continues as if she didn’t hear me, tapping an index finger to her lips in thought. “I mean, granted, I don’t have experience like a lot of other women, but I think I could have this blowjob thing down pat. With the right amount of practice.”

  Pressing me against the shower wall, the thick steam from the water temperature surrounding us, she drops to her knees, looking up at me, those green and blue eyes mesmerizing.

  “I’ll do my best to heed the number one rule. Promise.” Her smile is wicked, teasing.

  “Rule number one?”

  Her lips press against the tip, and her eyes shine with mischief. “Rule number one: no teeth.”

  A laugh bursts free before turning into a moan the moment her mouth slides over my cock, taking me as deep as she can.

  And I can’t deny that she makes good on her promise.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Presley

  “This insect has four thousand muscles and transforms into something beautiful.”

  “What is the caterpillar?” Hendy and I both murmur in response.

  Sitting in our usual spot at the bar in the microbrewery, we’re watching Jeopardy while finishing up dinner and sipping beers.

  Exchanging a quick smile, we turn back to the television, knowing Final Jeopardy is fast approaching.

  “These so-called beans, pictured here, are not really beans but seeds of the plant.”

  “What is the coffee bean?” we answer in unison before Alex Trebek announces the commercial break before Final Jeopardy will begin.

  As I turn to playfully nudge Hendy with my shoulder, an all-too-familiar voice calls my name.

  Dylan.

  Shifting around in my seat, I find him standing a few feet away, eyes accusing.

  “Dylan.” My tone is flat, unwelcoming.

  “Presley, we need to talk.” His eyes flick to where Hendy sits beside me, and I feel Hendy shift as if to move and protect me.

  Laying a hand on his forearm, I lean in and whisper, “I’ve got this.” He meets my eyes, and I silently plead with him to let me handle it. With a nearly imperceptible nod, he leans back, but he’s still imposing with the way he’s sprawled on the barstool, shoulders wide. And I know the eyes mostly shadowed beneath that ball cap are astute, watching every single move Dylan makes.

  Turning back to Dylan, I let out a sigh. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Dylan. It’s over.”

  “Presley, just listen.” He must sense that his curt tone sets me on edge because he adds a more pleading, “Please,” to the end. “The partners at work are upset about our broken engagement, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I realize what an idiot I’ve been.” He pulls out a small, light blue jewelry box—one most anyone would recognize as from Tiffany’s. Which means ostentatiousness and really freaking expensive.

  When he lifts open the lid of the box, my suspicions are confirmed.

  “Because,” Dylan continues, “I should have gotten you what you deserve. What the future wife of a soon-to-be partner deserves.”

  Stunned, my eyes flit between the over-the-top ring to the expectant expression on my former fiancé’s face. All the while, I sense the increasing tension radiating from the man by my side.

  “Dylan, they’re making you partner?” I ask slowly.

  He appears to choose his words carefully. “No, but they will.” His eyes study me intently. “Especially once they learn our engagement is back on.”

  Ah, so
that’s what this is all about.

  Trying to rein in my exasperation, I take a deep fortifying breath. “Dylan, look. It’s over.” My tone is far more patient than I feel; that’s for sure. “I’m not getting back together with you.”

  As if someone flipped a switch, his entire demeanor changes, eyes turning like ice, face stony. “Is it him?” His chin juts out, gesturing toward Hendy. “Are you still obsessed with scar face here?”

  My entire body stiffens, anger pulsing through my veins. “Listen here, you—”

  “I’ve got this.” Hendy’s whisper in my ear catches me off guard. Rising from his seat, he steps toward Dylan, towering over him.

  “Do you not recall the little chat we had not that long ago?” Hendy takes another imposing step forward, dipping his head to murmur something I can’t make out. Finally, sputtering, Dylan backs down and storms out of the bar.

  Hendy’s spine is stiff, shoulders broadened, and his stance ready. His eyes track Dylan’s retreat as if needing the visual confirmation.

  “Well.” I let out a relieved sigh. “That was impressive.”

  Hendy turns slowly. “Think so?”

  “Yeah, especially with whatever you said that made him scamper off like that.”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “Ready to head out?”

  “Definitely,” I answer with another sigh.

  After paying our bill, we exit with Hendy’s hand holding mine, and I still can’t get over the fact that this big, tough, former SEAL actually likes to hold hands. He’s full of surprises.

  “So”—I cock an eyebrow at him—“that was a remarkable display back there.”

  He eyes me curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you were nearly in full-fledged helicopter mom mode in the bar.” Grinning, I can’t resist teasing him more. “You remember those Scooby Doo cartoons? When they included Scrappy Doo? And he was all like, ‘Let me at ‘em! Let me at ‘em!’?”