The Unseen Enemy Series

Chapter 19

Emma felt hands on her back, gently stroking her awake. She made a small sound in her throat, snuggled deeper into the warmth surrounding her. She raised her hand to adjust her pillow and touched a hard surface. It was breathing. Her eyes popped open and she gasped when she realized that she was lying on a broad chest with blond hair softly tickling her cheek. She lifted her head and looked into bright green eyes.

“Hey, there,” Dean said in a sexy morning voice, all rough and deep. “How you doing today?”

“Good.”

“Oh, yeah?” His hands were moving lower now, across her hips, over her ass, down the backs of her thighs. “You sleep OK?”

She nodded. “You?”

“Yeah, pretty good.” His hands slid inside her thighs, pressed them apart. “I was damn tired out.”

Their eyes met and they remembered the night before: they had gotten into the shower together and taken turns going down on each other under the hot spray. They had both collapsed back against the wall, their hands fisted in the other’s hair, their cries echoing in the steamy shower cabin. After they had recovered, they had fallen into bed and started things up again. Dean had flipped her over and taken her from behind, his hands holding her firmly in place. Emma had been pinned between the bed and his body and she had loved every second of it.

Dean rolled her onto her back now, his hands between her legs. She moaned as his fingers parted her lower lips, stroked inside her. His eyes sparked when he felt her arousal against his hand.

My God, she’s just so f*****g hot. So wet.

He lifted himself up on her, his erect c**k brushing against her lower body. She arched under him. His eyes travelled down the length of her curves, faltered, then widened in shock.

“Dean?” she said. “What?”

He rolled off her so quickly, she barely had time to blink.

“f**k,” he said, a wave of revulsion and anger rising in him. “Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you? Why didn’t you stop me?”

She gazed up at him, totally confused. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured. “Your side, Emma.”

She glanced down, and saw the mass of dark bruising along her left hip. “Oh. Oh, God.”

“I did that to you last night, didn’t I? When I was on top of you in bed and holding you from behind?” He reached out to touch her face, his hand gentle. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t – was I that rough?”

“No. It wasn’t you.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t me? There was nobody else here, and I know that those bruises weren’t there when you took off your clothes last night. So if not me, then who?”

“I have anemia, Dean. I bruise easily.”

He stared at her, disbelieving. “Emma. Don’t lie to me. If I hurt you…”

“How can I be lying?” She sat up. “We weren’t drunk last night, so you must remember everything, right? Do you remember throwing me up against a wall or punching me in my side? ‘Cause I have no memory of either of those things happening.”

He paused. She was right, actually. Nothing he had done to her would have caused this. OK, he’d been passionate, but certainly not aggressive or abusive. And yeah, he was a big guy, a strong guy, but in all his years of being with women, he’d never left a mark on a single one of them. Throwing women on the bed, f*****g them against a wall, pinning them down and holding their wrists in one hand… he knew exactly how rough he could be without crossing a line.

Still, though. Something’s not right here. She’s holding out on me.

“No,” he said reluctantly. “I didn’t do anything like that. Still…”

She kissed him, her lips lingering on his, distracting him. “No, Dean. It wasn’t you at all, OK? I really do bruise easily. Remember that i***t at the bar who grabbed me and I bruised just from that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s true. But have you been to see a doctor about it?”

“Yes.” She ran her hands over the muscles in his upper arms, trying to switch his focus to more pleasant things. “I have. My doctor is totally aware of my bruising.”

“And you’re getting treatment for it?”

“Dean,” she said. “Are you in direct violation of rule number one again?”

“Am I – what?”

“Not too much personal stuff, remember? Now, you asked if you did this to me, I told you that you didn’t. I’m OK, I promise you. It doesn’t even hurt.”

He looked down at it again and winced. “It doesn’t?”

“Nope. It just looks awful.”

“I just – I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. You won’t.” She took his hands and placed them on her breasts and climbed up on his lap, straddling him. “Now. Can we talk about something else? Or, better yet, stop talking altogether?”

He grinned and lowered his face to hers. Their lips had just met when his cell phone went.