Book: Bang Switch

Previous: ***
Next: Epilogue

***

Walking into his house, less than thirty minutes later, I smiled when Mocha walked up to me, licking me from top to bottom.

“Hey there, sweet girl. Did you miss me?” I asked her.

She waggled her tail, and then went off with Peter to play in the backyard.

After watching them play for a few minutes, I followed the sound of the shower, finding the object of my desire there.

He was leaning against the tiled wall, both forearms planted near the top of the shower with his head hung.

Water ran in rivulets over his head, dripping down his face and hair as he looked at his feet.

A beer was in one hand, nearly all the way gone, held out of the water by a finger curled around the lip of the bottle. His other hand was grasping the showerhead, directing the flow of pounding water onto his head and neck.

The clear glass was new, as was the showerhead.

Stripping off my clothes in the other room, I came back in naked, stepping into the shower and finally drawing his attention.

He didn’t much care at first, only looking over his shoulder like something cursory had caught his attention.

Then he saw me, and everything in his expression went blank.

“What are you doing here?” He rasped.

Well his words came out a little garbled since he didn’t even bother to move out from under the spray.

Water ran down his face and into his eyes as he looked me up and down. “To torture me some more?”

My nipples beaded at his perusal. “No. I came to tell you I’m sorry for acting like an ass.”

His eyebrows rose, but he still didn’t move out from under the water. “Huh.”

I suppressed a smile at the sound. “That’s all you have to say?”

He looked at me. “Well, I’ve had dreams for the last three weeks about you coming over here and telling me you forgive me. Then I wake up from my dream and it was all just a game. A sick, twisted nightmare that I have to live over every goddamned night. I’m just waiting to wake up, I guess.”

His words sounded so damn defeated that it hurt my heart.

“I have bad dreams. I relive every-fucking-thing. Literally, anything bad that’s ever happened to me, I relive it. The time I broke my arm and my mom was at work, I walked to her job, five freakin’ miles, with my arm at a weird angle. Every agonizing step I relieve in my dreams.” He shook his head. “Then there’s the time I watched a good friend get his head blown off by a fuckin’ sniper in Afghanistan. Now I get to add your fucking abduction, waking up to you duct taped and tied down to a fucking filthy ass chair. Seeing your eyes stray to the window to witness your dog about to die.” He took a deep breath, and I shivered at the look of desolation covering his face.

“The worst dream, though, is reality. I wake up every morning with the taste of you on my lips, but you’re fucking gone. The smell of you on my sheets has faded. I can’t remember what it’s like to hear you laugh. Or the way you make me feel.” He shook his head and ran his hair underneath the water again. “I hate the way I can’t fucking breathe without you here.”

I lost the battle to stay away from him.

I went to him, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly.

“I’m here now, Downy,” I said softly.

I felt his chest expand with a huge breath, and then he let it out slowly.

“This has been a pretty shitty three weeks,” he admitted.

There was one more thing to ask him before I said what I had to say next. I needed to know.

“Did you know what the implant in my arm was?” I asked, holding my arm up until he could see the incision in my arm where I’d had the GPS chip removed.

He turned around, eyeing my arm like it was a serpent ready to strike.

He looked at me curiously. “Your birth control? I thought you said that was good for two more years.”

I visibly wilted with his words. Something inside of me was set free, and I finally allowed myself to feel happy about my circumstance for the first time in three whole weeks.

I shook my head. “Not birth control.”

His eyebrows thinned when they rose nearly all the way to his hairline. “What?”

“When I was nineteen, I’d asked my mom to make me an appointment with my girl doctor for some birth control. I was interested in having sex for the first…” I saw his face contort into something that closely resembled rage, so I skipped forward to what I had to tell him. “My mom made me an appointment, and then took me to the appointment where the doctor I’d had her call implanted what I thought was birth control… it wasn’t.”

He looked at me, and I mean really looked at me, when he asked, “Well then, what the fuck was it?”

I could tell he was getting mad. Really mad.

That made me happy that he would be offended on my behalf.

“A GPS,” I said softly.

“What the fuck? Who would do that?” He asked irately.

I sighed. “He had a good enough reason, I guess.”

He shook his head at what my mother had told me just that morning when I’d called her to ask her the very same question he’d just asked.

“Supposedly, when he was in his twenties, he got into some very bad stuff with the club, but he turned it around. In the process, he offended some of the members, and they left with a promise that they would retaliate in kind one day.” I shook my head, shivering now from getting splashed with the now cold water.

He flipped the knobs off and stepped out, grabbing a towel and offering it to me before he got his own.

He still hadn’t touched me, and that stung, but I’d give him the time he needed.

“So he decided to put his nineteen year old daughter at risk for getting pregnant, just so he could have peace of mind? Seems fucked up to me,” he admitted.

I shook my head. “Apparently, he found some evidence that the men that left had started terrorizing the dog that attacked me, Bobo, while nobody was looking in hopes that he’d attack one of the members. When the dog attacked me, they hightailed it out of town, but daddy found them after asking some questions around the area. He got a lot of conflicting evidence, but most of it was about a couple of men terrorizing the dog. They’d thought the men had been part of the club, so they didn’t think to say anything.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Jesus.”

He raised his hands to his head and ran his fingers through his wet hair. “Is it…are you…are you, you know?”

I smiled. “You know?”

I feigned confusion, and it was quite funny to see him so flustered.

“P…pregnant,” he choked out.

I raised my brows. “Would it matter if I was?”

He glared at me. “Of course it would fuckin’ matter!”

I crossed my arms over my sensitive breasts. “Why?”

He sat down heavily on the bed. ”It would mean we’d be getting married right the fuck now. It’d also mean that I owed your dad a goddamned beer.”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

He continued glaring at me. “Right now, would you be here this soon if you didn’t have a reason to be?”

“My ‘reason’ for being here, is because I keep hearing from everybody and their brother how much of a jerk you’re being,” I snapped.

“And who are you hearing that from?” He asked calmly.

Too calmly, if I were to be honest.

“Everyone. Literally. I’ve had nearly every member of the SWAT team stop by and tell me the progress on the case. How you’re doing. How I need to stop being a shit head and go back to you,” I replied haughtily.

He snorted. “Fuckers.”

I nodded in agreement. “But they were right. I was being a shit head…and I’m sorry.”

He looked up, giving me his green eyes, and smiled. “I’d do anything for you. Even wait three weeks until you came to your senses.”

I smiled, unoffended about his remark about coming to my senses. “Oh yeah?”

His eyes zeroed in on my breasts, taking in the new improvements.

Then I dropped the towel. “Tell me what you think about my new boobs.”

He swallowed, holding out his hand for me to come to him.

I did, walking straight into his arms.

“It’s true?” He rasped. “You’re pregnant?”

I nodded.

“About six weeks exactly,” I confirmed.

He let out a shaky breath, and then buried his nose into my neck. “I’m kind of fucked up. I don’t know how to handle kids, either.”

I smiled, leaning down until my nose was buried in the curve of his neck. “We can fuck them up together.”

He chuckled and reversed our positions, leaning into me so I could feel his hard erection.

I widened my legs, encouraging him.

He didn’t waste any time sliding his full length inside of me, filling me to almost bursting.

The sex was sweet. Much sweeter than we’d ever had before.

Usually we were all about quickness and mutual orgasms.

This time, though, he was all about me.

Licking, sucking, twisting and thrusting.

I came three times before he ever considered coming, and when he did, he did sharing each other’s air.

As he came down, he said, “I love you.”

I smiled, tangling my hands in his hair. “I love you, too, my bearded dragon.”

He bared his teeth at me. “Take it back.”

I shook my head laughingly. “Not a chance.”

“You’ll take it back,” he promised.

Needless to say, after another hour of love making, I took it back.

It was either that, or die from too much pleasure. Something I wouldn’t have thought could be possible.

As I lay in a boneless heap on his chest, I said, “I like the tattoo.”

He kissed my head. “Good. ‘Cause it’s permanent.”

I snorted at the familiar words.

“My name’s going to look bad on your hairy thigh in fifty years,” I teased.

He shrugged. “Don’t give a fuck.”

No, I didn’t doubt it.

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Next: Epilogue