Aching for You: Aching, #2

By A.C. Nixon

     Master Sergeant Joe Sanders prided himself on his reputation as a man with a plan, and that plan did not include a repeat of the crushing sense of loss when Veronica Simms disappeared from his home and walked out of his life. Now that he has her back, his determination to keep her at his side terrifies him more than an enemy sniper.
     Veronica finds it easy to forgive, but struggles to forget how easy it was for Joe to keep much of his past hidden. Nevertheless, she’s willing to take a chance with the man that fills her days with laughter and her nights with passion.
     Can this couple manage a minefield littered with family secrets, distrust, lies, and come out intact? Or will their insecurities push them further apart?

     This 33,500-word novella continues where Aching for You ended, but can be enjoyed on its own.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.C. Nixon
• Release date: Dec 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781501432507

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nothing in the universe was sexier than a thoroughly fucked woman, especially when she was yours. Gunnery Sargent Joseph Sanders leaned against the elevator wall, admiring the object of his mission. Joe had made more than a few promises to both himself and God on the flight from Jackson, Wyoming, to Houston. The vow he held closest to his heart was if this woman gave him a second chance, he would do everything in his power to ensure he would be the last man to share her bed.

Now he just had to convince her. Veronica Mills, watch out. Because there is nothing more dangerous than a Marine with purpose.

He thanked God and anyone else listening that she’d forgiven him for screwing up the best thing that had stumbled into his life in years. Only when he thought he’d lost her did he realize how thoroughly she owned him, and it scared him shitless.

What? she asked, scrutinizing him with those shining brown eyes.

Damn, she looked sexy, with her kiss-swollen lips and wild curly hair begging for his caress. Just admiring the view. Joe pushed off the wall and tracked the tongue darting across her bottom lip. He had to leave tomorrow night, so today he planned to super-glue her to his side…and a few other places. Veronica’s eyes widened, and her lips parted in that sexy little O shape that made him feel like a horny teenager, popping wood with a thought. He was an experienced operator, cool under pressure, steady and unflappable, and she completely discombobulated him.

Whatever she saw on his face, it made her grin and step behind her little black roller-board suitcase, like that would offer her protection. Darlin’, don’t tell me you’re afraid.

Not really, but I’m feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood, and you’re looking awfully wolfish. Ronnie did a full-body shiver, and then relaxed into his palm as he cupped her cheek. The elevator dinged, and she exhaled. Whew, she swiped at the fake sweat on her forehead, saved by the bell.

Oh, I prefer to think of it as a precursor to the next round. He picked up his leather overnight bag, pulled the damp handle of her suitcase out of her tiny hands, and motioned with his head. I got it. You’re going to need your energy.

No, I’m not, because you, sir, are going to feed me before you start handling the goods.

Veronica sauntered out of the elevator with an exaggerated swing to her hips, and he loved the hell out of the view. He’d love it even more when his hands cupped that perfect little ass as she rode him.

Everything in his life was unpredictable and dangerous, but his gut told him she could roll with it, and his heart prayed it was true. Joe prided himself on being a man with a plan, and it did not include a repeat of the crushing sense of loss when he thought she’d disappeared from his life.

He needed to make love to her as much as he needed to fill his lungs with his next breath, but they needed to have a sit-down. Damn, he sounded like a chick, but the whole not relaying pertinent details thing was the reason he’d flown to Texas with his hat in his hand and iron fingers crushing his windpipe.

This time he wouldn’t be a prick. He’d be the man she needed — no, screw that — the man hidden beneath his scarred heart who wanted out.

Joe had to give himself points for actually making it out of the elevator and into her apartment without tasting her again. However, it would happen, repeatedly.

Ronnie inserted the key, hand trembling, and pushed the door open with the flourish of a magician. Welcome to my humble abode.

Holy hell. Joe walked in behind her, then closed and locked the door behind them.

When they’d pulled up to the white abstract-looking building, the first thing he’d thought was that this looked nothing like what he’d imagined. He’d pictured a cozy little house painted in confectionary colors with a rocking chair and mismatched antique containers overflowing with a riot of flowers decorating the porch. He’d called the color thing, but the art, the textures, the vibrancy, and the warmth in the modern setting floored him.

Somehow, it fit. Like the woman, her place seemed filled with contradictions, and, like the woman, he’d enjoy learning every bit.

The walls were covered with mementoes of her travels, not in a please take some of this crap down kind of way, but one could tell each piece was lovingly and consciously placed. The inside was as eclectic and Bohemian as the outside was concrete and glass. What really drew his eyes were the paintings. I’m embarrassed now.

Why? She kicked off her shoes and put them on a little rack with the other four pairs, then walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

This was what he adored about this woman. Here she stood in a huge condo that took up at least one third of the top floor, and she looked as comfortable here as she did asleep in his barn. I’m trying to figure out how I can steal one of these and take it home without you noticing.

Hey. She swatted him on his ass and backed up, putting her fists on her hips. The least you could do is hold me hostage along with my stuff.

Oh, don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind. You don’t mind handcuffs, do you? And the wicked smile on those full lips…damn. Woman, you need to stop looking at me like that.

Like what? She reached behind her like a contortionist and unzipped her dress, and with a little shimmy, it slipped to the floor. If I didn’t know the artist so intimately, I think I’d be jealous.

Joe had to work to keep his face blank. Exactly how intimately? He’d never physically harm Ronnie, but he was well versed in eliminating opponents, and that was what any man thinking he’d have her would be. She reached behind her again, and his mouth dried instantly as her arching back pushed her breath out. Where’d this vixen come from? If she didn’t stop, that pending conversation would have to be put on hold while he put his mouth on her. You’re playing with fire, woman.

Her cell phone trilled, and she bent over with the grace of a ballerina and the seductiveness of an exotic dancer and silenced it. I’m sure you’ll put it out, won’t you, Marine? And to answer your question regarding the artist, we’re close, very close. She reached behind her back with one hand and trailed the other down her stomach, and the damned phone rang again. She looked at the screen and rolled her eyes. "Crap. It’s my mother. If I don’t answer, she’ll show up. Trust me, that’s not how I want to spend my night. The plans I have don’t require parental guidance.

Her antipathy toward her mother surprised him, considering how kind Ronnie seemed to be to everyone else. Joe crossed the room to give her as much privacy as he could, and took the time to examine her art.

I know this may seem foreign to you, but I do have a life, and on top of that, I made plans with someone who actually wants to spend my birthday with me.

Ouch. The ice in her voice reminded him to never piss her off again. Despite the fact that he’d met her once before they corresponded for months, he knew how big her heart was. Unfortunately, he’d learned of her capacity for forgiveness the hard way. Something here was truly off, and he had to believe it wasn’t Ronnie.

No, getting rid of him doesn’t work. Either we both come, or I’ll see you another time. I’m available next Tuesday.

Joe turned around to tell her he could just hang out and wait for her, but her death glare made him think a beer sounded like a great idea, especially if he had to run out and get one.

Fine, but I just got home, and I don’t have my car. No, I can catch a taxi. She paused and listened as she walked in a tight circle. Great. I’ll see you in an hour.

She looked at Joe with a rueful smile. Sorry you had to hear that, but Mommy Dearest is suddenly feeling maternal, and she must see me tonight. Ronnie walked to the kitchen, extracted the ice-cold bottle of Stella from his hand, and took a long drink. I’ll make it up to you later. Ronnie sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a loud whoosh. I love my mother, I do. But to say she makes me crazy would be the understatement of the millennium.

Despite what she shared, he felt the anger and frustration, and mostly the hurt swimming beneath her words. You don’t have to make anything up to me, I’m the one intruding in your life.

Trust me, it’s a very welcome intrusion. She handed him the bottle and stood on her tiptoes to swipe her tongue across his lower lip. Make yourself at home while I get ready.

I’d be more than willing to offer my assistance, Joe said, tracing his fingers down her spine. The feel of her pebbled nipples through his shirt made him put distance between their bodies. Then again, that might not be such a good idea, because we would be late. He looked down at the swell of her breasts and bit his lip. Quite late.

And Joe… Ronnie began as she backed toward what he assumed was her bedroom. I’m glad you’re here, but I should probably warn you about my mother, she said, her voice shy and a little sad

Me too, baby, me too. Don’t worry about me — handling mothers is my specialty. He looked at his watch. Tick tock.

Everybody’s a freaking comedian, she muttered as she spun