First Light

by Isabel Jolie

  “I can think of a few reasons a prepubescent boy would want his own room.”

  “Why do you say it like that? Do you think Erik requested his own room?” Some part of me had always wondered. Sure, there had been days when I wanted my room. Our parents painted our room blue and gray. But I loved hanging out with him so much, I never cared. I would’ve never asked for my own room, at least not at twelve.

  “You’d probably know if he did.” He scratched at his beard and smiled. “So, do you look alike?”

  “I mean, we’re fraternal… obviously. But we have the same hair and eyes. We’re about the same height. He has a couple of inches on me.”

  “Is he a runner, too? Like you?”

  “Oh, please. No. He’s not into any sort of athletics. He’s a computer nerd.” I stopped myself from going on and on about how he lived in front of his computers, how he surrounded himself with computers and monitors when he was in one place long enough. “Are you finished?” He nodded, and I lifted our plates and carried them into the kitchen.

  Nym followed me inside, hopeful for leftovers. The trainer had instructed me to not share human food with Nym, but it was just the two of us, and sometimes he gave me a look that brokered little discussion. And I was a sucker for those pointed fuzzy ears. “We don’t have any leftovers, boy,” I explained as the door swung open and Logan entered.

  “Actually, if you let him have salmon, we do. There’s another filet on the grill.”

  “Really?”

  “I told you I had a lot of food. If it’s cooled down enough, I can put it on a plate for him.”

  “No, that’s okay. You can save it and eat it tomorrow.”

  “I’m not one for eating leftovers. Unless you want to take it home with you.”

  “No, it was delicious. But thank you.”

  “You have frozen food lunches?”

  I reluctantly confirmed his suspicions.

  He stepped up close to me, pressing me up against the counter and the sink. The pad of his thumb traced along my chin, and he lifted my head. His dark eyes looked down on me, and his fresh soapy scent lingered.

  “I’d like to break you of your frozen meal addiction. It sounds lonely to me.”

  “It does?” I couldn’t disagree.

  He dropped his lips to mine. All my senses heightened, and my breathing intensified. I lifted my arms to his shoulders as the energy between us surged.

  “Well, dinner was delicious. I’d say you are persuasive.”

  He kissed me again, soft and tempting.

  “I like to think I can be. I’d like to think I have other powers of persuasion too.”

  “Huh?” I asked, breathless as his lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

  “You smell so good. What is that scent?”

  “Shampoo. Rosemary.” He trailed kisses down my throat as I repaid his compliment. “You smell good, too.” He did. He had a fresh clean scent with a hint of a delicious woodsy aroma.

  He lifted the hem of my dress and rubbed along my thigh. My core cinched.

  “Do you have any idea how crazy this dress has been driving me? The hem bounces when you walk and shows off these long, lean thighs.”

  I shifted my leg, opening to give him greater access. The rough pads of his fingers were warm against my bare skin, and goosebumps spread like wildfire across my arms.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No,” I breathed. I toyed with his soft hair on the back of his neck then tugged, guiding him back to my lips.

  “Would you… Can we… Take this to the bedroom?”

  “But what about—” A hungry, deep kiss silenced me. “The kitchen?” I asked, breathless, when he pulled back.

  “Screw the kitchen.”

  “Are you sure?” My brain fogged. His thigh pressed hard between my legs, lighting a desire. But out of the corner of my eye, the dirty stack of plates nagged.

  “Cali?”

  “Yeah?” I brushed my fingers through the coarse strands of his trimmed beard, and he leaned into my touch.

  “You’re looking at those dishes, aren’t you?”

  My hips flexed against his legs, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations firing off in my core.

  “Now I’m not.”

  His rough beard scratched the delicate skin along my throat as he flicked over my sensitized nipple. Through the cloth, his touch teased, and my body yearned for more.

  His forehead pressed to mine. “Two minutes.”

  “Huh?” I groaned out as his nose toggled against mine.

  He lifted me and placed me against the wall. Cold air encapsulated around my front in place of his warmth, and I stood, watching him, stunned as he moved at lightning speed. The chilly wall pressed against my back, and I alternated between crossing my arms and dropping my hands to my side.

  Moments ago, I’d been ready to jump him, to beg him, to drop all inhibitions. But the desperate desire to ease a long-buried need cooled, and my brain kicked in. Shouldn’t we take this slower? If we do this, will I be using him? I’m not about to get into a serious relationship. And he’s so straightforward. He’s a good guy. He seemed to want more. If he wanted more, he deserved more.

  Dishes clanged together. One singular swipe on the counters with a kitchen towel left the white gleaming. He closed the dishwasher with a dull snap.

  “Clean,” he announced as he stalked toward me. I halfway expected, or maybe hoped, he’d finish what we started and take me up against the wall. Hard, fast, and possessive. But he’d calmed down, too. He lifted my hand and pressed my knuckles to his lips. “Care to sit down? We can talk.”

  “Talk?” An uncontrollable smile spread.

  “It’s… we’re both each other’s rebounds, right?”

  “Yes.” I rationalized if you considered the shift from my life as it was, to the current state, as a divorcee, then I wasn’t lying…he would be a twisted sort of rebound.

  “This whole dating thing. To tell you the truth, I had no desire. Until you. I think I’ve been numb. Desensitized.”

  “You had a tough divorce?” The bow of his shoulders relayed an underlying pain as answer to my question.

  “Is there any other kind?” Gentle, sensitive brown eyes searched mine.

  “No, I suppose not.” Apprehension he would see through me, see my lies, took hold. I dropped my gaze.

  “I know they say a rebound relationship shouldn’t…evolve. But to me, you don’t feel like a rebound fling.”

  My fingers slid through his. A crushing weight rested on my chest. I followed him over to his sofa. He sat down first, and he tugged my hand, pulling me down beside him.

  “You’re not a fling to me either. But…”

  “Sshhh. That’s okay.” Laughter from outside filtered through the walls, along with the high-pitched jingle of a bike bell. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he tilted my chin up. “I don’t want to rush this. We can take it as slow as you want. But I like kissing you. A lot. Do you mind if I kiss you?”

  My fingers skimmed his dark, thick hair at the nape of his neck, and he closed his eyes reverently. I pulled him down in answer. I tasted the faint hint of the cedar plank salmon, the chardonnay, and mint. His hands roamed over my dress, and I tugged on his shirt, pulling it out to grant access to the bare skin beneath. He groaned, and we shifted. Side by side on the sofa, his thigh pressed between my legs, and I ground against it. The tension and desire from earlier flamed back, but with a more controlled heat. He lifted my dress higher and higher, exposing me to just below my breasts. The soft touch of the rough pads of his fingers elicited an uncontrolled moan.

  “Is this okay?” he asked in a low, barely audible, husky tone.

  In answer, I brushed my fingers across his crotch and stroked the curve of his erection through his slacks. He groaned.

  “How slow do you want to take this?”

  Warmth from his roaming hand glided up my thigh and nestled between my legs. I leaned back and spread my
legs wider. He slipped my silk panties to the side. One finger dipped inside, and I whimpered. My strokes over his erection became more frantic.

  “Cali… I’m following your lead. Talk to me.”

  “Can we go to your bedroom?”

  His body replaced his finger as he found his place between my legs, fully clothed, and pressed against me, a promise of what was to come. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he ground his hips. Holy shit. He broke away, panting for air, his gaze hungry and raw. He stood and offered his hand.

  I took all of three steps before he scooped me up and carried me past the kitchen, down a short hall, and into his bedroom. He set me down on his bed, against a stack of pillows, and my dress pooled around my waist. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, his focus all on me. I lifted my dress over my head. I hadn’t worn a bra, as the sundress didn’t easily allow for one. I inched back on the comforter, leaning against my arms, in only my damp silk panties. He threw his shirt on the ground and unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving mine.

  His pants dropped to the ground. He stepped out of them and stood before me in his boxers. Years of physical training and exertion shone in the lines of his chest, his firm pecs, and his taut, firm stomach. He climbed onto the bed, one knee at a time. My fingers explored his muscular chest and the smattering of dark, curly hair across those firm, hard pecs, those delectable abs and trailed down.

  He stopped my hand when I reached the waistband of his boxers. “Not yet. Lean back.”

  He adjusted my body so I rested against the stacked pillows at his headboard. He trailed kisses from my lips, along my chin, and down my neck. His scruffy beard augmented the tantalizing sensations as he journeyed down to my breasts. He took turns working each nipple to a stiff peak with his tongue, and I pushed off the bed, crying out as his teeth grazed the tip.

  “Sshhh,” he coaxed. His lips caressed their way down my body, across my belly. He tugged at my panties, then distanced himself long enough to slide them off and toss them on the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes. He cast a mischievous expression then lowered between my legs. I spread my thighs, welcoming him.

  His tongue, his fingers, and his beard brushed the sides of my thighs. The sensations cadenced, verging on overload, and I squirmed and mewled and gripped his hair, pushing him harder until my release pulsed through, leaving my limbs trembling and me gasping.

  He kissed along my inner thigh as I recovered, then up my body.

  “Oh my god. You are good at that.”

  “And you are responsive.”

  He laid his head down beside mine, a cocky smile on those talented lips. Once my breath evened out, I reached beneath the band of his boxers and wrapped my fingers around his stiff, hard cock and stroked.

  He uttered unintelligible sounds and thrust his hips up into my hands. The boxers cut into my wrist, so I climbed up on my knees and removed them, sliding them down to his ankles and over his feet. He lay on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, his erection stiff.

  “Your turn.”

  On my hands and knees, I crawled back up to him, then straddled him, placed my dripping wet core over him, teasing him, rocking my hips backward and forward. He reached up and caressed my breast.

  With a pained grimace, he cursed and pushed me back. “I don’t have a condom.”

  And neither did I. “Maybe it’s the universe forcing us to slow it down. But I can still do this, right?”

  I hovered over his cock, and his gaze heated as I lowered my mouth and licked the salty bead of cum on his tip. His Adam’s apple shifted in and out as he nodded his consent.

  I licked him up and down then took him in my mouth. He lifted my hair away from my face, groaning, his attention glued to my every move. He guided me as I licked and sucked, working him, giving him back a little of what he’d given to me. He expanded in my mouth and tugged roughly at my hair, pulling me back. His milky white release pulsed out across his stomach, his eyelids half closed.

  I found my way up to him and kissed him. He fell against me into the kiss, and we ended up making quite a mess, which led to us cleaning off in the shower, each of us taking turns beneath the warm water, washing each other with his lavender poof.

  He wrapped a towel around me and pulled me against his bare, damp chest.

  “Stay tonight.”

  “But Nym…”

  “Does he sleep with you?”

  As my guard dog, the German instructor informed me, he shouldn’t be allowed on my bed. But that heartless drill sergeant lived in Germany, and Nym slept on the end of my bed. So many rules came with Nym, I was destined to break some of them. Logan read the answer in my expression. He kissed the tip of my nose.

  “He can sleep on the end of the bed. I’m not sure if you noticed or not, but it’s a California king. He’ll fit.”

  “As tempting as that is, I have to take him for a walk. I always take him on one late at night.”

  “By yourself?” He made a face that reflected disapproval. Nym entered the doorway, as if sensing he were the topic of conversation.

  “I’m pretty sure no one’s going to try to mug me with Nym by my side.” I found my dress and pulled it over my head, then searched for my panties.

  “I guess that’s true.” He slipped on shorts and an old West Point t-shirt. “If you want, you can crawl into bed, and I’ll take him.”

  “Do you have any idea how tempting that would be on a cold winter night? How much I hate our late-night walks when it’s freezing outside?”

  “Well, by winter, I’ll have the back yard fenced, and we can open the door for him to wander outside.”

  His natural assumption we’d be together in the winter infused a preposterous warmth through me. I liked the idea. Maybe too much. Because it really couldn’t happen. Winter was months away, and if I let this go on, how could I possibly keep him at a safe distance? If Erik pulled through and remained true to his word and removed himself from his situation…would it all be okay then? Would Logan understand? Would I even choose to stay here?

  Chapter 12

  Logan

  * * *

  “Are you whistling?”

  Robert, part of the weekday shift, filled my office doorway with an amused smirk.

  “It’s a good day.”

  “Muggy as hell, and it’s not even nine yet.”

  “Any day at the beach is a good day.”

  “Right.” He clicked his tongue, and I opened my laptop, disregarding him, ready to get the day started. “Well, you may not want to whistle after I update you.”

  I leaned back in my office chair and waited for whatever crisis brought him to my doorway.

  “We’re receiving weird error messages. I’ve been on the phone with the IT department for our servers, and someone’s trying to hack in.”

  “Notices?”

  I followed him over to the officer’s office, a room which held three desks. We were a lean and mean staff, so folks shared desk space with alternating shifts. Robert was on an ancient desktop PC with a bulky monitor. Since I’d joined the department, I’d prioritized our budget for better servers to increase security, but upgrading these relics remained high on my wish list.

  I scanned the error messages. Then I returned to my desk and accessed the code.

  “Doesn’t look like they got in.”

  “No. What do you think it is? Some bored teenagers? Or an attack?”

  Every town in America had been upgrading servers for security over the last decade. I scratched my beard, considering what someone could want access to. Or what they could ransom. We had wealthy owners, sure, lots of CEOs of big business. But if someone wanted property records, we wouldn’t be the first stop. However, our budget information could only be accessed here, and we were under fire right now from that budget responsibility group.

  “What are you thinking?” Robert leaned over the desk.

  “It could be a bored hacker up for a challenge.” And it would be a challenge. Not only
did I have a military intelligence background, but one of my best buds was NSA. When I upgraded our systems, I went with topline options. Every employee here utilized double authorization for accessing the Intranet.

  “I read about how hackers could do real damage by attacking our water or electrical.” Robert made a statement, but the question hung in the air.

  “Our water and electrical aren’t on our grid. That’s the power company. Ferry is private. I can’t think of anything they could really do to us. Sewer, but that’s private too.”

  “The activity halted about four a.m. There’s nothing more for IT to do other than monitor. Weird, right?”

  “Not much to do on it. I’ll put a call in to my buddy and get his POV.”

  “A military guy?”

  “Yeah, but he’s NSA now.”

  “Nice. You know, my son’s considering applying to West Point. You’ve followed an interesting career path, and so have several of your friends. I thought, if you wouldn’t mind, it might be good for him to talk to you.”

  “Any time. I’d be happy to.”

  “If you had to do it over, you’d still go West Point, right?”

  “It’s an honor and a privilege.” Robert nodded, and I focused on my laptop, effectively dismissing the conversation. Would I do it over? There was plenty I wouldn’t do over, but I supposed West Point wasn’t to blame.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Matt.

  “Morning.”

  “Hey, hey. If it isn’t my favorite beach bum.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” If he could see me, I’d flip him the bird. “Are you slacking these days?”

  “Huh?”

  “I got the live Matt. No voicemail.”

  “Oh, you caught me between meetings. I had a breakfast meeting near the Pentagon. Headed back to the office now. What’s up?”

  “Not much. We got some error messages that indicate someone’s trying to hack in. Any suggestions on what they could be after? I know you see reports about this kind of activity.”