High Risk (Point of No Return Book 1)

by Brenna Aubrey

  She thought she could help me. She thought she could fix me. She was wrong, but it wasn’t unpleasant watching her try.

  Besides, it got lonely in here sometimes.

  “But what is it that you want for you?”

  “What do you mean?” I leaned back, bracing my hands on the deck behind me to support myself.

  “Well.” She crossed her long legs and mimicked me, pushing back on her hands. “You became a SEAL to honor your dad, right?” I nodded. “And you became an astronaut pretty much as the result of a dare. You’ve joined XPAC so you can fly again for Xander.”

  I blinked.

  She sat up, resting her forearms across her crossed legs. “But what do you want for you? What is your dream?”

  I dropped my gaze, nudging the pizza box aside with my foot to make more room to stretch out. Coughed. I avoided her gaze while I mulled over her words. What the hell did I really want?

  For some reason, AJ flashed into my mind, memories of holding him as a baby, putting him on my shoulders as I walked around the county fair to see the animals. The wide-eyed look of wonder on his face as he took in the world around him.

  But thinking about AJ hurt. A lot. A physical stab right in my chest.

  Maybe someday I’d be a father, but more than likely not. It wasn’t fair that Xander couldn’t be here to be a father to his own kid. And I already knew I was too broken to be anything more than a shitty husband. My jaw clenched. Yeah, maybe having my own family was a dream, but dreams were things you thought about and then forgot about as you got on with life. Dreams were mist and fairy tales.

  Gray waved a hand in front of my face to get my attention. “Wow,” she said when I looked up. “You just went a million miles away when I asked that.”

  Her stare was penetrating, observant. Sometimes she barely blinked, and it was a little freaky.

  “Can I ask you another question?” She shifted how she was sitting.

  I couldn’t help but think about what I got in exchange for each of her questions last night. My eyes flicked to her chest, remembering the heat we’d generated the night before. The taste, the feel of her beaded nipple in my mouth. The way she’d moved and sighed when I’d touched her. Renewed desire sizzled through me. I wanted her in my arms again, her body pressed against mine.

  Yet, under the circumstances, it would be a mistake to propose such a thing again. Though, I wanted to. I really wanted to.

  My mouth quirked. “This one is on the house.”

  We shared a long, knowing look. Those green eyes held a flash of thirst like she’d crawled through the Mojave and I was an ice-cold glass of lemonade. My entire body tensed in response. Had it not been for that conversation in the kitchen earlier, I’d be all over her right now.

  But she’d been seriously bothered by the thing with Suzanne, and I was now pissed at my past self that Gray had been kept waiting during my roll in the hay with Suz. Because now Gray had me pegged as a type of man that I wasn’t, necessarily. At least, not until recently.

  My jaw clenched and I held that stare, but I didn’t move. Baby girl, I doubt I’d tire of you as easily as the others.

  I swallowed. Goddamn, I wanted it. And so did she. But I wasn’t going to make that move now. It would fuck everything up.

  There was an absolute pull between us—like an inescapable orbit. Gravity. At one point, a body approaching another body in space risked being caught in orbit—trapped within the gravitational field of the larger body. If it wasn’t traveling fast enough to get away, it would be captured forever, barring some eventual cataclysm.

  I wondered if I was going fast enough to avoid this pull toward her. Because everything about her fascinated me enough to want to slow down, to notice and record everything, perceiving every single second. These collections of moments between us were tiny proofs of that magnetism, of that potential force.

  It felt dangerous.

  And thrilling.

  She licked her lips before talking, and fuck, it was like a jolt straight down to my crotch, remembering how those lips tasted, how they’d felt underneath mine. I looked away, out over the pool, and tried to think of something else, waiting for her to voice her question. If it was something bad, I’d figure out a way to deflect it.

  “I wanted to know about…about your sleeping habits.”

  A laugh exploded from my chest before I could even register another reaction. The question was so clinical. And probing. And personal.

  And if there was a chance to bend this turn of her curiosity in my favor, you’d bet I was going to take it. “I’m all ears, Ms. Barrett.”

  “Last night, you seemed… Well, you were out of sorts before we fell asleep. I want to know if that happens every night.”

  Hmm. While the question irritated me, it also showed some promise. If I played this right, it might work to my advantage.

  “What else did you want to know?”

  Her brows pinched together before her forehead smoothed again. “Your coping mechanisms for it. I assume the drinking and going to bed with women are somehow tied to the sleep patterns. And…and keeping the lights on?”

  Christ on a fucking cracker. How the hell did she do that? Psychologist or mind reader? Or maybe a goddamn secret Vulcan?

  Disconcerted, I bought time by turning one of her techniques back on her. “Mmm.”

  She blinked at me. And blinked again. “That’s not an answer.”

  I shrugged, recovering my astonishment enough to follow through with the idea that had popped into my head. “I never said I’d answer. Only that you could ask.”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away in disgust, and I laughed. I’d never seen her roll her eyes before. I’d even wondered if that often very appropriate—and sometimes required—gesture was in her repertoire. But she showed emotions so rarely. Maybe she was a Vulcan, after all.

  “If you’re curious to know about my nighttime habits, there’s one surefire way for you to find out everything you want to know.”

  One brow rose above those dark frames. She looked adorable, like an inquisitive little owl. Like one of the post owls that brought letters in Harry Potter. “Dare I ask what that is? And dare you answer me?”

  Here it was. Time for my new proposal. I sat up from my relaxed position and leaned forward slightly. “Direct observation. You want to know it all? Sleep with me.”

  Her jaw dropped, and she turned about eleven different shades of red and pink. Oh, you want it bad, baby girl, don’t you?

  A similar rush of blood in my veins surged at her reaction. Damn. I wanted it bad too.

  But this wasn’t about fucking. Though, hopefully that would happen eventually.

  “Literally sleep, not figuratively,” I clarified.

  Her lips thinned and were almost white, though the color in her cheeks and neck had not faded. “You mean like last night? After-after the—I mean. You just want to sleep.”

  “Yup.”

  “All night?”

  I nodded.

  She sat up and picked at imaginary pizza crumbs on the deck around the pizza box. “Um, where?”

  “In my bed.”

  She visibly swallowed. “And why are you proposing this? How does it help you?” Her eyes came up and pierced right through me again.

  Hmm. I hadn’t expected that question, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to hand over the answer. “You get info by observing, while I don’t have to answer questions. I’ve been forced, by trade, to work as a scientist—at least in the performance of tasks, if not in the formulation of hypotheses or conclusions. But I know how it works. I can give you unobstructed observation time.”

  “And you gain…?”

  Damn. This girl was too smart. And persistent.

  I shrugged. “Well, I get a good night’s sleep without having to exhaust myself with hot sex first.” There. Let her chew on that.

  “And how long would this period of observation last?”

  As long as possible. The thought popped i
nto my mind automatically. But I shrugged to feign nonchalance. “I dunno. As long as you need to gather your data. We’re already sleeping under the same roof anyway.”

  Just the thought of possibly having her next to me in bed tonight infused me with relief. I could already feel myself relaxing. To sleep like I’d slept last night, for more than one night…

  Please say yes.

  She didn’t move. Not even to bat an eyelash. She just did that weird stare thing she always did. Sometimes it made me squirm inwardly. But tonight, I tried my best to push that back on her, to make her squirm. I would have loved to make her squirm in more ways than one. But tonight wouldn’t be about that.

  I’d woken up this morning, my arms empty, the smell of her hair on my pillow, without that ever-present gnawing exhaustion that accompanied all my mornings, afternoons, and evenings of late. At that moment, I’d made the goal to get her into my bed, via any means available to me—seduction or persuasion, if necessary.

  And with her question about sleep habits, she’d handed it over to me in the easiest way possible.

  “Okay,” she said with a decisive nod. “I propose a week.”

  I think not. I think you’ll need longer than that.

  I know I’ll need you longer than that.

  I only nodded, keeping my face blank. “Fine. Observation begins tonight, then?”

  She hesitated as if searching for a way to put it off. No way was I letting that happen. I was getting my way, come hell or high trauma—whichever killed me first.

  I needed this in order to succeed during the test flight training. My ass was already dragging every day, and I feared making stupid mistakes. And damn it, those mistakes would lead to possibly being removed from the flight list. Which would not—could not—happen.

  That same question again flitted through my mind. You’re flying for Xander, but what do you want to do for you?

  No time to ponder that. It didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping a promise to the best friend I couldn’t save. What mattered more than anything else was this flight.

  I pushed up from the ground, then bent to snatch up the pizza box. She watched me wide-eyed for a moment, still thinking. What are you going to come up with next, smart girl? I’m ready for you.

  Without a word, I held out a hand and she took it. I pulled her up to her feet, noting that she weighed hardly anything. Then we went inside where I stuffed the pizza box into the fridge.

  “Movie?”

  She nodded, still lost in thought.

  A few hours later, we finished watching some inane rom-com—better that than an astronaut movie—starring Sandra Bullock. I was finally feeling like I could doze off under the right circumstances.

  And it didn’t appear as if an explosive orgasm or three was in my near future. Thus, the right circumstance was, hopefully, having Ms. Angharad Grace Barrett in my bed, just to sleep.

  As had happened the night before, she changed and prepped for bed while I showered. When I came out in my shorts and T-shirt, she was sitting on the far side of my bed with an e-reader in her hands. She had on a thin T-shirt and those same tasty yoga pants. And the fuzzy socks.

  I almost laughed at her, that she slept in so much clothing. It was summer in Southern California. The evenings were no cooler than a temperate seventy degrees. In addition, my house was air-conditioned to a steady low seventies temperature.

  But apparently, she liked bundling up regardless. Maybe she wasn’t usually a cuddler.

  My bed, like the one last night, was a king-size. I hesitated before lying down, feeling that same familiar rush of anxiety whenever it got close to closing my eyes to sleep.

  As usual, I’d left every light in the room blazing—from the bathroom to the overhead light, to the lamp beside my side of the bed. I didn’t bother to ask her if the lights annoyed her. There was no way I was going to turn them off.

  She put down the e-reader and looked at me for a moment. I raised my eyebrows. “All set? Anything you need?”

  She shook her head solemnly and watched me. “I’m good to go.”

  My lips quirked involuntarily with a smile. “Okay then.” I took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, noting the same speeding of my heartbeat as always, the same cold fear forming at the back of my throat. I was all too aware of her observation, and though it should have made me nervous to reveal myself like this, it didn’t. I was relieved she was here. And it wasn’t just because it was any woman in my bed. It was because it was her.

  Because I knew she cared, and for some reason, that mattered. I still didn’t fully understand it. And at this point, I wanted to be able to close my eyes for a while and be at peace instead of endlessly reliving a nightmare.

  I swallowed a dry lump in my throat and lay down jerkily, pulling the covers over me. She was still sitting, though she slowly turned to lay her glasses on the night table beside her.

  I hesitated, as always, not wanting to close my eyes. For some reason, lying here in the quiet of night—especially when alone—I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d stare at the ceiling for hours under the blazing lights. And sometimes I never closed them.

  And sometimes I’d have to get up and drink vodka until I passed out to quiet those horrific thoughts, the memories. Or have a woman with me to distract me from them until I was too exhausted to think.

  I tried to follow Gray’s advice from the previous night—to focus on my breathing and not allow my mind to wander. But it got to be too much, and I found myself frozen, holding my breath. All at the mere thought of closing my eyes.

  “Ryan, let the breath go.” Her soft voice sounded at my ear. I turned toward her, her face mere inches from mine. She’d stuffed her pillow under her head. “It’ll do you no good to hold your breath. It’ll only make you more anxious.”

  I blinked at her and did as she instructed. We spent long minutes like that, listening to nothing but the sound of my breathing and the clicking beat of her heart. Then, to split the silence, I spoke again. “You must think it’s weird for me to sleep beside a woman without sex involved.”

  Her brows wavered. “I’m sure some women manage to resist you. And I hope that wasn’t a proposition.”

  I refrained from the temptation to look down the length of her body. And if it was?

  I turned back to watch the ceiling again. “No, just making conversation,” I replied in a breathless voice.

  She was silent for a few minutes before clearing her throat to speak. “It’s weird for me because I’ve never had anyone else in bed with me before—except for last night, of course.”

  I studied the ceiling as I absorbed that. “You’ve never…” My voice died out. How the hell did I even ask something like that without it sounding awkward?

  “I’ve never slept with anyone in a bed until last night. And I’ve never had sex.”

  That blew me away. Gray tended to hide herself. She played it safe, but how had that not happened? Surely, she’d had men interested in her before. Surely, she’d dated.

  And I’d had a chance to gather that she was attracted to men—or at least, to me.

  I frowned, turning to her, the disbelief obvious in my voice. “And you’re twenty-five? How?”

  She shrugged, but her expression didn’t change. “Just not something I focused on. I was very sick during most of my adolescence. In and out of hospitals a lot. Never much time for dating or romance under those circumstances.”

  I blinked, watching her as she stared off into the distance, into the past. She smiled. “I did have this one special boyfriend, though, who was also a cardiac patient—he’d had a heart and lung transplant. We kissed once when I was fifteen, but that’s about as far as it ever went. When I had my last valve replacement—”

  I sucked in a breath, startled. “How many have you had?”

  “Two surgeries for heart wall and valve repair when I was little. One tissue valve replacement when I was thirteen that didn’t end up working. And then the final prosthetic
one at sixteen. Like I said, lots of surgeries, tons of time in the hospital.”

  Jesus, she was a warrior.

  “And never time to live as a typical, healthy kid,” I said. No wonder she played it safe. I’d called her on it before as if it was a negative, and sometimes, it could be. Playing it safe could hold you back in so many ways. But playing it safe also protected you from danger, from the darkness.

  “I was healthy almost instantly after the last replacement. And it was so weird to go from being this chronically ill child who was so limited in what she could do to, all of a sudden, a healthy young woman. To be inserted into normal life so abruptly. Be expected to go to school, college, all of that. Normal young adulthood took a lot of getting used to, and I had no time or desire to date. I was too busy catching up. I always figured there’d be time for that later.”

  How different our teenage years had been, but no less traumatic one from the other. My life had changed the day my dad’s teammates showed up at my doorstep to tell me, tearfully, that he wouldn’t be coming home. She’d had to fight for her life in a hospital bed.

  Sounded like we’d both been forced to grow up well before our time. “Where’s your mom?” I blurted.

  She glanced up at me then began to fiddle with the edge of the sheet. “She lives in the UK. My parents are divorced too, but they didn’t do it until I got better. They probably should have split up a long time before that, though.”

  I laughed. “I know that feeling.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She lives in Boston with her second husband. He and I don’t get along at all. I don’t think he treats her well, and she doesn’t invite me over very often, to keep the peace. But I do see my grandparents on the holidays. They live in Florida.”

  I reached out and covered her restive hand with my own. She met my gaze but did not react in any other way, nor did she pull her hand away.