Wrecked

by J. B. Salsbury

  She sighs as I dance my lips up her neck to her ear.

  “Now I know, they go all the way down.” My hands grip her ass and I’m itching to drag her back to bed when she falls heavy against me.

  “You hungry, freckles?”

  “A little.” She pulls back and grins. “I should grab a quick shower, though. I have sand in places I shouldn’t.”

  I lift a brow. “Ya know, I happen to have extensive training in sand removal. Army trained.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Mm-hm.” I bury my nose in her neck and take her scent deep into my lungs, allowing it to wash over me.

  “I think I could use some help, but first . . .” She pulls back and flashes a teasing grin. “You’ll have to catch me.”

  She takes off running and I catch her just as she reaches the bathroom door. Pulling the sheet from her body I press her back to the wall and drop to my knees at her feet. “You might want to hold on to something.”

  It took everything I had to pull myself away, but I knew if I didn’t I’d end up in the shower with Celia and we’d both eventually starve to death.

  She’s slumped on the floor of the bathroom, still against the wall, but now on her ass with a towel gathered to her torso.

  “You good?”

  Her lazy smile makes my chest swell with pride. “Oh yeah.”

  “Come on.” I turn on the shower and hold out my hand. “We’ve both got things we have to get to today, but first, shower so I can feed you.”

  She grabs my hand and I pull her to her feet. “You don’t have to do that, I have food—”

  “Real food. Not fucking tofu eggs. And I thought you weren’t a vegetarian.”

  “I’m not, I just don’t like eating something that comes out of a chicken’s butt.”

  Damn she’s cute.

  She pulls back to peer up at me. “Besides, they taste just like real eggs.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.” I drop a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll go to Cal’s and get cleaned up. Can you be ready in thirty?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” I smack her ass and she melts deeper into me. It takes all my control not to bend her over the sink, and I pull away. “I’ll be back.”

  “I’m a friend of Sarah Connor,” she says in her best Schwarzenegger voice.

  I shake my head, grinning at this new nerdy side of Celia.

  “You have a great smile.”

  “Stop trying to seduce me.” I give her a quick kiss because judging by the way she’s looking at me like she’s hungry as hell and not for breakfast combined with my already hardening dick, I need to get the hell out of here. Plus, I like the idea of leaving her wanting more, so I snag my shirt from her room and slide on my shoes.

  There’s a buzzing from a small desk in the corner of the room and when I look up I see it’s Celia’s phone. I pull it from the charger and take it out to her.

  “Phone’s ringing.”

  As I hand it to her I see the caller ID lit up with the word Dad.

  “Thanks.” She checks it and sends it to voicemail.

  “You could’ve answered it.” I have a sister and understand protective parents. Growing up in a strict military family, my dad hated it when my sister was old enough to date. If they spoke on the phone and he heard a man in the background, he’d send me to wherever she was to check it out. It’s no surprise the girl got married at nineteen. “I’d have kept quiet.”

  She laughs, but it’s awkward. Uncomfortable. “Oh, no, it’s . . . not that, it’s, I don’t know—”

  I press my thumb over her lips and dip down to replace it with my mouth. “Shh . . . it’s cool. I get it.” I drop a couple long, soft kisses to her lips until I know for a fact if I don’t leave we’ll end up back in bed. “Thirty minutes.”

  I rush out before I change my mind, walking awkwardly back to Cal’s cottage with the mother of all hard-ons between my legs.

  This woman . . . shit.

  “Yo! Aden!” My jaw locks down at the sound of Brice calling after me, the slap of his flip-flops chasing me down. “Wait up!”

  Thankfully the guy’s voice does wonders to deflate my dick, so with a quick adjustment, I turn around just as he makes it to me. His wet hair hangs over his forehead and a towel is slung over his shoulder like he just came in from surfing.

  “What’s up?”

  His eyes shift between me and Celia’s front door. “You and Celia hooking up?”

  Bored, I stare at the guy. “You’re seriously asking me this shit?”

  “No, I mean . . .” He shakes his head and chuckles. “It’s just, before she left we were hanging out and I guess, I figure ya know, now that she’s back . . .” He shrugs.

  Celia and Brice? She mumbled something about him yesterday, something about not wanting to see him at Lenny’s.

  “I don’t know what to say, man. She never mentioned that you two were together.” And why the fuck not?

  He stares longingly at her door and I flex my hand to keep from slapping him to face me instead. “Huh . . .”

  “All right, well . . . good talk.” I spin around. He snags me by my biceps from behind.

  Red.

  Sirens.

  Panic.

  I grip his wrist. Whirl around. Break his hold, and twist.

  He cries out, his body turning to try to alleviate the pressure on his wrist.

  “Do not fucking touch me or I will break your shit off, do you understand?”

  “Yeah, man, fuck!”

  My heart hammers behind my ribs as I tell myself this isn’t real. I glare at him, assessing. He’s not a threat. This isn’t war. These feelings aren’t real. I release him with a shove and a wave of shame and guilt washes over me.

  “Shit, Brice. I’m sorry.”

  “Dude, you almost broke my friggin’ arm!”

  A woman walking her dog past the cottages turns to us, her eyebrows low in judgment.

  “Don’t ever come at me like that again, okay.” It’s as much as I’ll give him and he bitches as I leave him behind and head to Cal’s. I manage to keep my cool long enough to push inside and lean against the door. Sliding down to my ass, I cup my head and practice the breathing techniques the VA therapist taught me.

  In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

  One thing is for sure, I absolutely would’ve broken Brice’s wrist.

  Six months ago, if someone grabbed me from behind like that, the least of their worries would’ve been a fractured arm.

  Back then . . . I would’ve killed ’em.

  SAWYER

  “Yeah, Dad, things are moving right along.” I spin in a slow circle, counting all the boxes. All the empty boxes.

  I’ve been there three days and have completed about three hours of work, if that.

  All because of Aden.

  When I walked out this morning to see him hunched into the fridge, shirtless, all that smooth skin just beckoning to be touched, I had to white-knuckle my sheet to keep it around my body when all my instincts demanded I tackle him to the floor.

  And then he said he wants to spend time with me? I’ve never received an offer so tempting in my entire life. I almost lost my sheet altogether right then and there. What is happening to me? I’d never consider pushing off my responsibilities for . . . sex. That’s gratification at its basest form. I had a moment where my insecurities flared, but when he kissed me so sweetly as if I was delicate and he didn’t want me to crumble, my heart did just that. It shattered, but not in a bad way. It was more like shaking off a tough exterior. I felt exposed and protected all in the same moment, which would’ve confused Sawyer, but Celia would just roll with it and never look back.

  So I did.

  I showered as quickly as I could, threw on a breezy pair of pants and a tight tank top that shows a tiny strip of my stomach. It’s risky but Aden said he loved my skin. The freckles were always something that made me self-conscious in the past, but with him they feel li
ke a superpower. And by showing them off I’m hoping it’ll serve as a gentle reminder to him of what we did.

  I never understood what they meant in movies when they would say the sex was “earth-shattering,” but oh boy do I get it now. Just thinking about it warms my skin and my body yearns to relive it again and again.

  “Sawyer . . . did you hear me?”

  I jerk at the sound of my dad’s voice and rip my eyes from the view of the ocean. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. What did you say?”

  “Distracted? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. I was watching the waves and . . .” This is not something Sawyer would’ve done. I’d never get distracted by something as ridiculous as the view. So I lie. Something I’m apparently getting pretty good at. “I haven’t been sleeping well so maybe that’s it.”

  “I’m sure it is. Take your time, okay? Don’t run yourself into the ground to get back here. And please, Sawyer, call if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I will.”

  We say goodbye and I drop onto Celia’s couch hating the guilt trickling in. It’s one thing to honor my sister’s wishes but I’ve completely sidelined my responsibilities. I have about five minutes until Aden will be here so I’ll check my e-mail and see if things at work are running smoothly in my absence, hoping it’ll alleviate the self-directed disappointment.

  I have two e-mails from Dana. She needs my signature on a document, but I don’t have a printer or scanner. I add searching for FedEx Office to my list of responsibilities expanding the day’s productivity and making me feel better in the process, when a knock on the door is followed by a click of the handle and Aden strolls in.

  His tall body takes up the door frame and I try not to stare at how sexy he looks in a pair of board shorts and a simple brown tee.

  I smile, but quickly frown with the intense way he’s glaring at me. “Aden, is everything okay?”

  He crosses to me, pulls my phone from my hand and drags me to my feet to press a kiss so slow and sensual on my lips I lose the ability to stand on my own. Thankfully, he holds me up. “Better now.”

  “Whoa.” I blink. “What was that for?”

  He smiles, but it’s tight. “Tell me about you and Brice.”

  Dammit.

  As hard as I try I cannot force myself to look him in the eye. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “He seems to think you two are a thing, that true?”

  No clue, Aden. Maybe you should ask my sister! “A thing?” I shake my head. “No.”

  “You done with him?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “And the ex from Arizona?”

  God, I sound like ho! “Uh-huh.”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and I resist the urge to flop my arms to cool off my sweaty armpits. I don’t know what Aden did for the military but it must’ve been something dealing with interrogation because he’s fantastic at it.

  I’m still recovering from his questioning when he hands me my phone back. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Huh?” I follow his line of sight and coherent thought comes back online. “Yes, er . . . no, I mean, I was answering some e-mails while I waited.”

  “Everything okay?” He releases me and I miss him instantly.

  “Yeah, although you wouldn’t happen to know if there’s a FedEx Office nearby would you? I need to find a printer and a scanner—”

  “There are both at Cal’s place. I’ll let you in after breakfast and you can work there as long as you need to.”

  “Really?” I’m smiling so hard it hurts.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that, freckles.”

  My grin expands. “Why not?”

  “Because. You’re going to ruin my reputation of being a hardass dickhead.” If I’m not mistaken, I’d swear his cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as he ducks his head and turns to the door.

  “We wouldn’t want that.”

  “Come on, I’m starving.”

  “Yes, sir.” I salute his back and happily follow him out the door.

  Hardass dickhead?

  Sergeant Psycho?

  It’s possible he’s showing me sides he rarely shows anyone else.

  “This is so cool!” I’m sitting up as tall as possible to see up over the railing of the pier from the rusted chair on the café patio. I broke into a cold sweat as I walked down the wooden planked structure with waves crashing under my feet, but with Aden’s arm around me I melted into his safety. “I’ve never eaten on a pier before. I’ve never even been on a pier before.”

  Right when the words come out of my mouth I look over to see Aden’s dark brows pinched together. “With all the traveling you’ve done how have you never been on a pier?”

  Excellent question.

  Dammit!

  “I don’t know.” I sip from my orange juice and hope like hell he’ll drop the subject.

  He’s leaning back in his seat, one ankle resting on his powerful thigh, and his arms propped on the armrests. He’s the epitome of masculinity and with the sun baking his skin the scent of spice and cedar penetrate the ocean air. “Out of all the places you’ve been, where was your favorite?”

  Where was Celia’s favorite place to visit? No fucking clue.

  “Probably home.”

  “Phoenix?”

  “Yeah. I, uh . . . I miss my family.”

  “Do you talk to your sister much?”

  I rip at the edges of my paper napkin. “Uh-huh.” I know he’s asking about Sawyer, me being Celia, but I answer honestly.

  As soon as she turned eighteen she left home and our paths only crossed on the occasional Christmas if she just happened to be passing through town. We never really knew where she was at any time, and that made remaining close difficult.

  Until she got sick.

  Funny how it takes something like illness and death to bring people back together, and by then . . . it’s too late.

  “You said you don’t really talk to your family anymore, does that include your sister?” I internally pat myself on the back for redirecting the conversation off of me like he did the other night.

  His fingers drum against the chair. “Yeah, pretty much all of them.”

  “I bet they miss you.”

  He cringes. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Why? I know this probably won’t come as a surprise to you, but I personally think you’re a pretty decent guy.”

  He studies me for a few seconds, then leans as if to avoid anyone overhearing what he’s about to say. “They don’t think I’m . . . safe . . . anymore.”

  “Why would they think that?”

  “Because I told them I’m not.”

  I shake my head hoping the action will make whatever he’s trying to tell me fall into place and make sense.

  “I can be around them for limited periods of time, but my sister worries about me being around her kids . . .” He purses his lips. “Fuck, I really don’t feel like talking about this.”

  Instinctively I reach out and grasp his hand. “You sure? I’m a pretty good listener.”

  He flips his hand around to hold mine, interweaving our fingers. “I know you are, but would it be all right if we stopped talking about this deep shit and moved on to something a little lighter, like say . . .” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “You spending tonight with me on the boat?”

  My stomach flips over on itself. “Sleeping on a boat?”

  He scrunches up his face in the most adorable way. “I can’t promise the sleeping, but I will absolutely promise it’ll be a night you’ll never forget.”

  I’m nodding before my lips can even form the word. “Yes.”

  Because soon enough I’ll be out of his life and I’ll go back to being Sawyer, the kind of girl who would never turn the head of a guy like Aden, and I’ll be able to go on living my sheltered safe life knowing what it’s like to truly live.

  That is, if I survive
it.

  THIRTEEN

  ADEN

  “Sorry about the mess.” I shove away a stack of papers to clear a spot for Celia’s laptop on Cal’s old desk. The rusty chair creaks as I pull it out and I motion for her to sit.

  She has her computer clutched to her chest and she nods and drops slowly to the seat. “When was the last time you actually stayed here?”

  I run a hand over my scalp. “It’s been awhile. I know it looks out of control, but I swear there’s a logical method to all this madness.”

  Her eyes scan what must be close to a month’s worth of unopened mail. “Does that logical method include actually opening the mail?” She plucks up an envelope, setting down her laptop before grasping another, and another. “Aden, these look important.”

  I rub the back of my neck feeling a little guilty and a lot stupid. Thing is, Cal comes down every couple months to take care of all . . . those, whatever they are. “Yeah, the bank has been on Cal about this property. My job is to keep them away, not get involved, and let Cal take care of it. It’s not my business. I’m just here to fix shit that breaks and collect rent.”

  “Uh-huh.” She doesn’t seem to be listening to what I’m saying as she creates four small piles in front of her, sorting through the mail and placing each envelope in a different pile.

  I slide a stack of Sport Fishing magazines off the dusty black machine. “Here’s the printer.” I lift the top to expose the scanning glass. “Here’s where you . . .” She’s not even looking my way. “Celia.” Her shoulders pull back and her spine stiffens before she peers up at me. “Are you listening?”

  She eyes the printer and nods. “I’ll figure it out.” She goes back to organizing.

  “You have work to do and this ain’t it.”

  “I don’t mind.” She’s practically glowing as she organizes each piece of mail with a practiced ease. The expression on her face reminds me of my own when I bust open a new lure to play with.

  “I can see that, but still.” From the way my uncle spoke of Celia I know he trusts her so I don’t think twice about her going through his mail and sorting it for him.