Corps Security: The Series (136 page)

By trying to protect her, all I did was screw with her mind and hurt her anyway.

I look over at her sleeping form, and for the first time since we lost Coop and she ran, I allow myself to breathe without the fear holding me hostage. I let go of the bone-crushing thought that she’s going to disappear and allow myself to
feel.
It would be easy to take what she was so willing to give me. To feel the blessing of her love shining on me.

With the floodgates open wide, I let the love I feel for this woman out. It will bring me to my knees if I let it. I don’t
want
to keep pushing her away, but how do you take something that has been integrated into your mind for so long go and move on? How do you change your whole outlook on life with just a hope that everything you’ve ever experienced from those who should love you was wrong?

“Em?”

She doesn’t even flinch. I remember that, when I saw her earlier, she looked exhausted. I know she’s been dealing with a lot from losing Coop. Hell, we all have, but the Emmy I know is always so full of life.

After twisting from my seat and climbing from the car, I make my way over to her door. My leg has been driving me crazy this week, my stump getting sore from overuse, and I know I did too much with my stunt back at the club. I’m usually good about not overdoing it. I can go about my life almost the same as before, but sometimes, I have down moments. This is quickly becoming one of those times. All I want to do is get this thing off me.

She all but falls into my arms when I swing her door open. I adjust her and take the brunt of her weight, as slight as it may be, on my good side before making my way into the hotel. It’s the nicest place I could find within a thirty-minute drive of Syn, and it’s only five minutes away from the place she’s been staying. I would have gotten something nicer, but I didn’t want to be too far from her. It was bad enough that I hadn’t physically seen her to make sure she was okay in weeks, so this was the best-case scenario for me.

I make the long walk to my room, struggle for a second to get the door open and not drop Em, and then settle her down on the bed. Not one second does she stir, showing me just how exhausted she really is.

Reaching out, I brush one of her honey-blond strands behind her ear. Her lips twitch and she sighs in her sleep. My heart picks up speed when she murmurs my name. Even in her sleep, she’s completely devoted to me.

Why can’t I let go of every fear I’ve ever known and trust that this might be the one person I don’t completely screw up?

I make quick work of stripping off my clothes and removing my prosthetic. My leg is already feeling slightly better now that I know I’ll be able to get off my feet for the night. I carefully move my body towards where she is curled into herself in the middle of the king-sized bed. She continues to sleep contentedly as I pull her into my body and yank the covers over our bodies. With as tired as she is, I just hope that I can catch a few hours of sleep before I need to put my leg back on. I don’t want her to know before I have a chance to ease her into it. It’s been my experience that, when they aren’t prepared for it, the shock is greater, and as much as it hurts to think that she could have this reaction, they’re sometimes disgusted by it. But, like it or not, it’s part of who I am now, and if I’m going to let her in, then she needs to see me for me—flaws and all.

In all the years I’ve known her and dreamt about having her in my arms, there is nothing that could ever have prepared me for the sense of peace that settles my soul by having her here.

* * *

I should have known better than to let my guard down. I wake up screaming, the events that have haunted me nightly since I lost my leg playing out in an endless loop. Only this time, it isn’t Morris’s lifeless body I pull away—it’s Emmy’s. I never thought that nightmare would get worse until I envisioned her lying there, dead.

Gasping for air, I try to bring myself back from the tangled web of pain that always follows my nightmares. I try to remember that I’m not back
there,
I’ve overcome the aftermath of that dark day, and I’m in control now. I’m alive. Emmy is alive.

FUCK! Emmy . . .

As trepidation fills my veins with ice-cold fear, I look over to her and prepare myself for her revolution. I try to close off myself to what it will do if she hates me now—or worse, if she fears me. My world is rocked to its very core when I take in her pale, tear-streaked face. Her sobs are so violent that they’re shaking the bed, and for the first time since she walked into my life, I have no idea what she’s thinking.

We stare at each other for the longest time. She seems unsure of what to do and say. I’m terrified that, if I move, she’s going to crack. Seeing the pain I’ve caused yet another person because of my demons is slowly killing me. I knew this would happen. I feared this. But despite my best efforts, here we are and she’s seen me at my worst.

I surrender to the pain and drop my head, running my hand over my scalp and wishing that I hadn’t shaved it off so that I would at least have something to pull. To make my body feel pain over my fucking heart.

When I feel her cold hand against my back, I jump, causing her to pull her arm back and cry harder.

“Please . . . please don’t push me away, Maddox,” she begs between her tears. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

After whipping my head around, I hold her eyes and try to make sense of her words. Push her away? Jesus . . . I’ve never wanted more than to pull her into my arms and forget everything that weighs me down.

“Let. Me. In,” she pleads. “Please let me in.”

“God, Em. You’ve always been in.”

She lets out a shuddered breath and takes a hesitant inch towards me. Her kneeling body moves slowly with the fear I’ve helped plant in her mind that I’ll reject her. I’ve done this to her and I vow to do my best to never make her doubt my need for her.

Her hand comes up from the bed and extends out for me again, her palm caressing my cheek as she takes the last few scoots on her knees to reach me. My eyes never leave hers as I reach out and finally meet her in the middle. I can see the relief in her eyes when, for the first time in years, I take what she’s been offering me. My arm goes behind her back, my hand lightly digging in when I curl it around her ribs and pull her into my chest.

She cries softly, and at this point, I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve given her this moment or because she’s still scared from my nightmare. Her small hands dig into the skin on my chest and it feels like she is trying to fuse our bodies together. I lean back against the pillows and let her have this time to calm down. After a few minutes of silence, she lifts up, her hands still firmly pressed against my chest, her eyes imploring.

“Em,” I whisper, not sure where to even begin.

She doesn’t even hesitate before reaching up and framing my head between her hands. Her thumbs take a sweep against my cheek before her lips press against mine. Hesitantly at first, unsure if I’m going to push her away, before allowing herself to take what she wants.

I reach out and pull her by her slim hips to straddle my waist, not even caring that there is nothing but my thin boxer briefs separating us. She moans when my erection presses against her core. The heat of her pussy settled against my lap is almost enough for me to come on the spot.

With a growl, I deepen the kiss, taking it to a level of predatory ownership. Our tongues swirl together, her breath mixing with my own and our mouths doing all the talking for us.

In this moment, she owns me. Everything I’ve been denying us both comes to a screeching halt.

I allow myself this moment. I allow her this moment and pray that, when the sun comes up in the morning, she doesn’t hate me for pushing her away again.

CHAPTER 8

Emmy

When I wake up to Maddox’s screaming and shaking in the bed, my first thought is that I have to be dreaming. Then the events that led up to us being in the same bed come rushing back. It’s been weeks since I’ve allowed myself just a second of rest, so it’s not a shock that, the second I got around the one person who I know deep down would never let harm come to me, I crashed.

The noises that are coming from his throat are tearing me to pieces. I forget the hell that will be waiting for me when I return to Syn and focus on the broken man who needs me now. I just pray that he will let himself take what I so desperately offer him.

The second he lets his walls down and our lips meet, I know that every feeling I thought I would feel when he finally let me in isn’t even a fraction of the reality. I feel alive for the first time in months. Hell, maybe for the first time in my life. When I decided to let him go, I never thought that this moment would come to fruition. I never let myself believe that it would happen.

His fingers curl into my hips, and I jump when he hits my sore spots—crying out when the pain rips through my middle.

And just like that, the moment is gone.

He pulls his mouth from mine and searches my eyes for the cause of my whimper. One clearly pain-derived and not because I can feel him hot against my core.

“Did I hurt you?”

I should lie. I know even before the words leave my lips that the moment is gone.

“It’s nothing,” I say in the hopes that he will drop it.

“You don’t have a reaction like that over nothing, Emmy.”

He snaps the light beside the bed on and gently pushes me back some from his chest. He lifts my shirt up at the hem, and I close my eyes when I feel his fingers trace the bruising around my sides. He is silent for the longest time, but I don’t open my eyes.

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice breaks through the silence, and just the sound of his rage makes me flinch.

“Maddox, please . . . It’s nothing.”

He leans in, his nose just inches from mine, and looks me in the eyes. “It isn’t
nothing,
Emmy. There are goddamn handprints all over your hips. This is as far from nothing as it gets. I won’t ask you again, Emmy. Who did this to you?”

I squirm in his lap, trying to get some distance from him, but his arms wrap around my middle and hold me hostage.

“It was an accident?”

His nostrils flare, and I watch as his eyes darken even more.

“I fell?”

His jaw ticks.

“I—”

“Swear to Christ, if you feed me another line of bullshit, I’ll put you over my knee and spank your ass, Emersyn.”

Holy shit.

“It was . . . Shawn.” I sigh and cringe when I remember the night I came back to the club and the welcome home from him I got. I don’t know why I thought that he would have left me alone. I might be older now, but with The Ram ready to retire, Shawn is even more powerful at the club. Ivy is still strutting her old ass around the floor like she’s twenty. The Ram sticks to the bar or his office, not giving a damn about what goes on around him. Now that his Princess of Syn has come home licking her wounds, he could care less what happens as long as the money is flowing.

But Shawn. He is like a piece of gum you can’t get off your shoe. The evil that was only simmering in him years before has now grown to insurmountable levels. He no longer cares who catches him fucking unwilling dancers in the back. Clearly, since he raped me the first night I had come back and didn’t even stop when Ivy walked into the room. She looked right at my tear-streaked face and cocked her head like she couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Shawn just laughed and took me harder.

“Who the fuck is Shawn?” he snarls.

How do I explain Shawn? “He-he’s . . . I’m not sure how to answer that, Maddox,” I tell him honestly.

“Explain,” he demands.

I hold his eyes for a few beats before scooting off his lap and folding my legs next to where he is lying. “Shawn is the manager of Syn. The Ram—my father’s right hand . . . and my worst nightmare.”

The veins along his neck pulse with his anger as I wait him out, praying that he doesn’t ask the questions I know will follow. I have wanted nothing more than him to open up to me, so it’s only fair that I play by the same rules. Even if the truth is as ugly as it gets.

“You know my parents own Syn, right?” At his nod, I continue. “I was put into dance when I turned two. The cute little beginner classes every little girl dreams of taking,” I laugh without mirth. “Those turned into advanced classes as the years went on. I’ve been trained in just about every form of dance there is. And all of that was for one thing—so that I would take over the club as headline dancer and my parents could sit back and keep making money. But according the The Ram, no princess can rule without her
prince,
and to him, my prince is Shawn.”

“That doesn’t explain how that motherfucker’s handprints ended up all over your body.”

I don’t argue with him; it doesn’t explain that. But I also don’t know what he’s going to do when I tell him the rest.

“Keep going,” he stresses.

“I managed to put them off until I turned twenty-one. Don’t ask me how because I’m still not sure, but the first night I took the stage seemed to be the green light for him to claim his princess. And every night until I was saved from there, until the night I came back. He continues to claim his princess.”

“The hell you say?”

I just nod my head and move to leave the bed. Distance seems like a good idea right now.

“Don’t you dare leave this bed.”

I turn and almost fall to my ass when he pulls me back to him.

“He put his hands on you. That bastard hurt you. I’ll fucking kill him,” he vows, and I don’t doubt that he means it.

“No, you won’t.”

“The hell you say!”

I roll my eyes at him, causing his to narrow. “I’m where I deserve to be, Maddox. We can chalk this night up to a lapse in judgment on your end, and come morning, you can drop me back off and go home.”

“Are you serious? You think for one second that I’m willingly going to hand-deliver you to your piece-of-shit parents and a fucking rapist!” he bellows.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” I wiggle out of his hold and walk to the bathroom. I need to get my shit together and I can’t do it when he’s near me.