Honor Bound by Joey Hill (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

“There’s nothing to fear,” she whispered. “All you’re doing is stepping into God’s arms.”

Gram had said that, too, when her brothers were killed. Stepping into God’s arms.

“I’m not all that religious,” he said, voice breaking.

She’d found the right crevice. People were all cracks and crevices. Since people got more of those as they lived and lost, it was sometimes hard to find the right opening to a young heart. But for this boy, it was one large Grand Canyon, easy for someone—she

swallowed—easy for someone with the eyes to see it.

I wanted to be a minister. . . .

“My gram said religion only matters to men, not to God. Your heart belongs to Him, and He’s always there to welcome it back, like a mama’s arms. Or a sister’s,” she added, remembering what Peter had told her in the car. Cassandra had raised her siblings.

Jeremy’s breath was a little uneven, his hands gripping her arms hard, a wordless thanks.

As she eased him back, stroked his brow, she could tell even that little exertion had depleted him. He relaxed, sleeping again. When Peter’s hand covered hers, she let him lift her to her feet, guide her away from the lounge chair. His fingers grazed her cheek.

“There you are,” he murmured. “The girl I met in that club. As far as my heart goes, you have it, sweetheart. God’s going to have to fight you for it.”

“Not the only one.” A deep timbre reached out to her along with another male hand, giving hers a squeeze. “Lucas Adler. I’m pleased to meet you, Dana.”

“I’m Cassandra.”

Before Dana expected it, she was eased into a friendly female hug, one with some heavy emotion behind it. Long hair brushed her cheek, smooth skin against the faint texture of her healing scars. “Thank you for what you just did. Because of Peter, you were already welcome here, but consider yourself welcome anytime.”

“Even without his deadbeat ass,” another voice put in, and her hand was taken in a new strong grasp. “I’m Ben.”

She didn’t need eyes to know the two men were tall, a little dangerous and a lot sexy.

With the sensory overload Peter had inflicted on her up to now, her body fairly vibrated in response to any stimulus. It hadn’t occurred to her eye candy would still have an effect on her, but apparently it was misnamed. A good-looking man had a way of appealing to more than one sense. Of course, Peter had already proven that to her. She cleared her throat, tried to rally the spirit belonging to that girl Peter remembered.

“You must be the slick lawyer.”

“I see he’s already set you against me. He’s insecure that way. Afraid I’ll take you right out from under his nose.”

O’Neill crossed her mind. His teasing, the playful sexual innuendos. He’d come to see her when they’d both been at Walter Reed. She gave him kudos for coming more than once, because she’d been a bitch most of the time. She should have been kinder, more responsive, because in hindsight, she realized he suffered guilt over her injuries. He’d healed, with only a harrowing scar to impress the girls, but psychological wounds could fester. Maybe she’d write or e-mail him. Peter would help her.

Now, though, she tuned back in to her immediate surroundings, lifting a brow in Ben’s direction. “Men tend to underestimate a short woman’s ability to kick their balls into the back of their throat. Lower center of gravity and all.”

“Ouch,” Ben responded, a grin in his voice. “Peter, I’m definitely going to take my shot.”

“I’m sure,” her escort said. Peter’s touch slid down her back, giving her buttock a caress.

The pressure of his hand against the stiff corset, giving way to the thin fabric and her accessible flesh beneath it, riveted all her nerve endings toward that point. The caress made her already aroused body even more so, such that she was glad another introduction was forthcoming, letting her catch her breath.

“I’m Matt Kensington, Dana. It’s a pleasure to have you join us. This is my wife, Savannah.”

There was a charisma to that voice, a rolling power to the grip that confirmed he was the leader of this pack, because the position of Peter’s body changed, a shift as if he was presenting her for approval. Then she felt Savannah’s cool, slim fingers, a welcoming, firm hold. Aside from that, the brace of diamonds on her wedding ring was enough to tempt a closer investigation, because Peter was right. Dana did like jewelry.

“Thank you for what you did in Iraq,” Savannah said quietly. “Your sacrifice means so much to us all. If you need anything, you need only ask.”

She wasn’t sure what to do with that, but then she met the last member of Peter’s unusual circle of close friends.

“Jon.” This voice was tranquil, a sexy almost-like-a-dream quality to it. “Dana, when you’re comfortable, I’ve been studying some impressive advances in sensory technology that may interest you.”

“Jon’s our mechanical genius.” Peter’s caress again. “In a variety of ways. The device you experienced earlier today is one of his far simpler ones.”

Dana cleared her throat, glad for once she couldn’t see because she was sure she’d blush up to her roots meeting Jon’s knowing gaze. “It was . . . effective.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Jon’s sensitive, clever fingers enclosed hers, stroking her palm, an easy intimacy that seemed to reflect the way they’d all touched her. As if somehow by being Peter’s, she was part of an inner circle, provocative and calming at once.

In the car, Peter had reminded her all four men were sexual Dominants, their attitudes and preferences like his own. She hadn’t really believed it, but now, in their presence, there was no doubt. In another situation fear might have trickled through her, wondering how much she really knew about Peter, taking her to a BDSM club with his friends. But, despite the different quality and mannerisms to each, they had that same