Kneel Down Read online

  Kneel Down

  Chelle Bliss

  Eden Butler

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Dale

  2. Gin

  3. Gin

  4. Dale

  5. Dale

  6. Gin

  7. Dale

  8. Gin

  9. Dale

  10. Gin

  11. Gin

  12. Gin

  13. Dale

  14. Gin

  15. Gin

  16. Gin

  17. Dale

  18. Gin

  19. Gin

  20. Gin

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  About Eden Butler

  About Chelle Bliss

  KNEEL DOWN COPYRIGHT 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Publisher © Chelle Bliss & Eden Butler

  April 23rd 2019

  Editor: Silently Judging Your Grammar

  Proofreader: Julie Deaton

  Cover Design: Lori Jackson

  Prologue

  Gin

  One year ago

  Love doesn’t come easy when you aren’t real sure what it’s supposed to look like.

  It didn’t look familiar at any time in my life. That happens when you’ve been set aside and tossed away by the people who made you.

  But sometimes, the family you’re landed with isn’t the family of your heart. They aren’t who holds you up. They aren’t who has your back and makes sure nothing or no one keeps you down.

  My family came to me in a dirty redneck bar on the outskirts of Seattle.

  It was the first time I laid eyes on Dale Hunter.

  Just happened to be in the middle of a bar fight.

  He wasn’t helping. Wasn’t his fight. But he stood there, watching me. A grin moving the right corner of his mouth like he couldn’t believe a long-legged thing like me knew how to handle loud rednecks who had no upbringing and lousy manners.

  That grin almost distracted me when I jumped on the asshole’s back, waving a hand in Dale’s direction as he watched.

  “Hand that over,” I told him, pointing to a bottle just behind him on a speaker.

  Bastard kept right on grinning like somehow he knew I didn’t need his help. Like he knew just by getting a good look at me that I’d manage fine on my own.

  “Well?”

  “Half full. Seems a shame to waste,” he said.

  Had to give him that one. So, I did what any East Tennessee woman worth her salt would do—I downed it, then knocked that redneck out with it when it was empty.

  Dale bought me a drink and decided right then I’d be his friend no matter if I wanted to or not.

  I did.

  I kept on being his friend. Even when his obnoxious wife, Trudy, announced to our work crew that her man was off-limits, though everyone knew that already. Even when he refused to see what everyone else did—that Trudy was loose and easy.

  Through all that, I stuck by him because he was my friend. But on that first night, in the middle of a bar fight, that smooth bastard half grinned at me, looking impressed and amused all at the same time, and something that shouldn’t have clicked inside my head: Dale Hunter was for me.

  God help me.

  It was the “for me” part that was messing up my thought process. Especially when that wife of his finally showed Dale her true colors and ran off, breaking his heart in the process.

  Years had passed between that bar fight and now. Somehow, I was still picking up the pieces.

  We were supposed to be on watch. There was a stalker approaching, and it was our job to make sure that asshole steered cleared of the cabin and our friend Kiel’s wife, Cara, inside. Seems the man her father wanted her to marry didn’t take kindly to her announcement that she’d been married years back to a man her daddy had never approved of.

  Now, we were on alert.

  Or, I was.

  With my best friend Dale, drinking coffee laced with whiskey. He smelled delicious, looked beautiful, and sat just inches from me.

  Damn it.

  “You want some more coffee?” he asked, nudging the thermos at me. I nodded, pulling the thick coat tighter around my waist as I leaned forward. The flame on the fire pit was getting low, and I stoked a half-burned log. Dale took my mug and refilled it. “Whiskey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If they come from the south, we’re screwed…” he started, yet another SEAL monologue about perimeter security and impending threats and the best way to go about eliminating them.

  Dale wasn’t boring. We’d spent hours at a time with no lulls in our conversations, talking about everything and anything. But when he got specific about defense strategy or strategic measures of security, he lost me.

  Like now.

  I hid a yawn behind my mug, but he caught it.

  Pausing mid-explanation of something to do with minimizing damage to civilians, he looked down at me. “You unable to hang?”

  “Check yourself.” I ruffled the thick jacket on his shoulder, twisting the hoodie to the side to make a pillow for myself. “Civilian here.” He didn’t complain when I leaned against him, holding my mug under my chin. The coffee was still warm, and the heat helped to cut the biting temperatures that seemed to be turning my lips blue. “You keep talking about defense measures against some mafia stalker, and I’ll be snoring in under a minute.”

  “Fair enough,” Dale said, leaning back against his chair. He took me with him, resting a hand over my temple to adjust my position on his shoulder. “If I talk about other things, will you stay awake?”

  “Why?” I glanced up at him, grinning when I caught his gaze. There was nothing I liked more in the world than messing with Dale Hunter, except maybe the way his eyes looked when I did it. They went glassy and bright, like just me teasing him made something light up inside him. “You feeling all lonesome and scared out here? Want me to stay up and keep you company?”

  “Yeah,” he deadpanned. “I managed four tours in Fallujah—two in places I’m not at liberty to discuss—but I need a knock-kneed redhead to protect me from some asshole with a bruised ego.”

  “Shut up,” I said, punching his arm. “You love my knock-knees.” I snuggled closer, the day’s activity catching up with me, not thinking too much about the idea that Dale didn’t disagree with me. “And my red hair.”

  He took a minute and went so quiet I’d almost dozed off before he moved. I felt the slow swipe of his callused thumbs moving over my forehead. “Can’t say I don’t, Gingerbread.”

  He’d used that nickname for me a thousand times. Not too clever, if I was being honest. My name, my red hair, Dale’s favorite cookie, and I got saddled with the nickname. But there was something different in the way he said it then, voice all soft, a little sweeter than I’d ever heard it before.

  Could be I was hearing thing
s I wanted.

  Could be the whiskey getting to me.

  But I still held my breath, not quite sure what he meant or why Dale had said that, how he’d said that.

  We’d been skirting around whatever had been between us for a long time. We were friends. Nothing more for a very long time. Trudy was his wife, and I’d never disrespected that, no matter what that insane woman accused me of.

  Then she wasn’t anyone’s wife anymore.

  Then I was just his friend who’d pick him up when he was too drunk to drive after drowning his misery over his cheating wife with bourbon and blondes.

  Then…one day, one normal, ordinary day of us fetching each other coffee, of us asking what we’d do for lunch, of us planning what we’d get up to that weekend, of him taking me to the doctor when my Chevy was in the shop, of me hauling his butt in for his yearly checkups at the VA when he refused to go on his own, of that night at Lucky’s when Otis Redding started singing about loving his woman too long and Dale grabbed me, held me close for a slow, buzzed but sensual dance, I’d realized we weren’t just friends anymore. He’d held me too tight that night.

  Like he wanted me.

  Like he knew how much I wanted him.

  Like he didn’t care who saw all that wanting spanning the half-inch space between us as we danced. Whatever moved between us felt like a pulse, a heartbeat that kept me living, but I’d never been too sure if he felt it too.

  Just then, with my head on Dale’s shoulder, with his voice soft and low and that pet name coming out of his mouth like a wish, I thought maybe he had.

  My breath stilled in my lungs. I felt Dale shift, a movement that didn’t adjust me from his shoulder or disturb any sleep he thought I was getting.

  “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered, like he was sure I couldn’t hear him. “I’d never let anyone touch you. Not some mafia asshole. Not anyone.” Then, his voice lower, his words fierce, Dale said something that made the breath catch in my throat. “I’d die to protect you.”

  I couldn’t move, too scared I’d spook him. Petrified he’d take it all back.

  Dale came closer. The heat from his body killing the chill that had set upon my skin as the fire grew lower and lower. I caught the faint whiff of his hair, something that reminded me of his normal scent, sweat and the rosewood soap his little sister made for him back in New Orleans. Then the warm, sweet sensation of his breath fanning across my face as he lowered. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t move my chin up to set me in position. Dale didn’t thread his fingers through my hair or do anything at all that told me he had to have me or wanted to devour my lips. He simply bent closer, moved slowly, and brought his full, wide mouth to mine.

  One long, slow brush of his salty-sweet kiss against my criminally unused mouth, my mind counting the seconds until breath became necessary, then Dale leaned back.

  He moved his gaze over my face, but his focus was on my mouth. He stared at my lips for a long time like he wanted another taste. Just as suddenly as the kiss had come, he moved his eyebrows up, surprise transforming his hungry features as though he hadn’t expected I’d been awake for that sweet, simple kiss.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  He’d taken.

  He’d tasted.

  I wanted my turn.

  The look he gave me came from somewhere Dale had never shown me before. There was heat, want, and a lot of passion tied up in that look. I’d seen something similar to it in the mirror anytime I found myself zoning out to thoughts of him while I washed my face or fixed myself up before we went out.

  He began to move away completely, but I caught him. I touched his face to keep him close, stealing the kiss I’d always craved. It lasted longer this time. He let me control it. Let me slip my fingertips into his hair. He didn’t whine or complain when I put a little pressure on his mouth, but when I let the smallest slip of my tongue touch his bottom lip, Dale released a low, guttural moan deep in his throat and broke away from me. His breath came out slow from his mouth, control slipping as he looked down at me.

  A million questions shifted in his eyes.

  A million more scattered around my head, but we went on staring at each other. Not speaking. Not moving, both seeming a little out of control. A little lost until Dale wet his lips and watched me a half a second longer before a shudder took hold of me, quaking up my spine, making that hungry look on his face vanish.

  “You cold?”

  “Something like that,” I told him, not brave enough to let him know the temperature outside had no effect on my body and the chill that had taken over it.

  “Come on. Let’s get inside.” He stood, grabbing hold of my hand to lead me off the balcony. “We can watch good enough through the glass doors.”

  I followed him into the blistering warmth of the Kaino cabin, the awkward tension thickening the air between us. The house was silent except for the low moans coming from upstairs belonging to Kiel and his wife, Cara. They were living their lives, taking advantage of the calm before any danger came. Because it was coming. It was likely on its way right now. Kiel and Cara loved each other. Why wouldn’t they spend whatever moments there were left in the thick of that love?

  Dale moved two chairs in front of the glass doors, but neither of us sat. The moaning grew louder. I closed my eyes, aware of him behind me, of the stinging of my lips where he’d just been, of Kiel and Cara and the sounds they made. I moved closer to the door, watching, anxious, forgetting that the man behind me was the person I loved most in the world.

  The kiss shouldn’t have changed us so quickly. But it had, and the shift between us now teetered between good and bad, between want and need. We didn’t speak or comment on anything at all. Dale stood just behind me, watching the woods surrounding the cabin and the stillness of the early morning around us.

  We kissed, I told myself. Those two words getting no less shocking no matter how often I repeated them to myself.

  We kissed. Just now.

  How many times had I dreamed about him kissing me? How many hours had I spent like a damn teenager watching him talk, memorizing the exact shape of his mouth and every line in his perfectly arched lips? God, I was ridiculous. It couldn’t be helped. Dale Hunter had always been a force of nature, and with one kiss, he’d consumed me.

  I’d been taken over by Typhoon Hunter.

  There was only the crackle of the flame in the fireplace and the slow click of the grandfather clock in the den to break the silence. Above us, Kiel and Cara quieted, though I could still make out the low, constant thump of something hitting the wall. I couldn’t stand it for a second longer.

  “Maybe we should walk the perimeter.” I cleared my throat, wondering if I sounded as stupid to him as I did to myself. “Like you mentioned earlier.” I inclined my head, looking out the glass door when two doe moved through a grouping of trees at the back of the property. “You…want to do that?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I glanced up, frowning when I couldn’t make out his reflection in the glass above my head. Somehow, I knew what would happen if I turned to face him. The room was too still. He was too silent, and the moment had not passed. If I turned to face him, everything would change.

  We would change.

  I had to trust it would be for the best.

  Inhaling, I pressed my lips together, glancing over my shoulder to catch his expression before I turned my body to face him, chin lifted, expression expectant. “Dale?”

  He didn’t want to scan the perimeter. That much I could tell from how tightly he worked his jaw. Dale moved his head once, his gaze lowering over my face, down my body, then up again before he took his step. The look he gave me was a small warning I wasn’t sure was for me or himself. “I…got other…things…”

  I tilted my head, not expecting the explanation. Not understanding what sense it was supposed to make. “What…other things?”

  “Things…” he said, taking two more steps. He didn’t smile. Dale didn’t do anything bu
t look down at me. His expression serious. Determined. “Things I want from you.”

  “Things…” I swallowed. My back hit the glass door when he moved closer. “What…things?”

  “These fucking things.”

  It took two seconds for Dale to make up his mind. At least, that’s how long it seemed to me. He moved closer still, hand outstretched, palm flat against the glass above my head. With his free hand, Dale shifted his touch to my chin, cupping it to move my mouth closer to his. He didn’t rush. He didn’t come to me in a panicked, desperate frenzy. There was a heat in his eyes that warned of the storm brewing behind his practiced control.

  “Dale…”

  “You kissed me back,” he said simply, as though it explained what had changed his attitude. Touch moving down my neck, he nudged so close that I had to stand flat against the door. It still wasn’t close enough for me. When he spoke, some of Dale’s control frayed loose. “Never thought you’d kiss me back, Gingerbread.”

  “Always wanted to.”

  He moved back, eyebrows shifting up as though he couldn’t believe me.

  He relaxed when I grabbed his face, loving how his skin felt against my palm. “Always,” I promised.

  He took exactly one-point-three seconds to look at me, eyelashes still, black eyes glistening, full, sweet lips parted as he stared—a frozen picture of every fantasy I’d ever had standing right in front of me.

  And then Dale Hunter, my best friend, lost control.

  As he lowered his mouth to mine, Dale gripped my leg, giving me his tongue while he drew my thigh against him.

  “You taste like…”

  “Who cares?” I said, needing him quiet. If he talked, I couldn’t feel his tongue against mine. I’d miss that salty-sweet taste of him invading my senses. “Just…don’t stop kissing me…”