by Susan Stoker
He tucked into his own food, not bothering to try to talk to her as they were eating. Harley hadn’t lied. She could eat. She polished off her bowl of food faster than he would’ve believed. He was only moments behind her when he put the late bite of his own food in his mouth.
Harley wiped her mouth with a paper towel she’d grabbed from the kitchen before sitting back and wrinkling her nose at him. “No comments about how fast I eat?”
“Nope. We’re well matched.” Coach held up his own empty bowl.
She held out her hand for his dish. “I’m done, but you want more?”
Coach shook his head. “No, I’m good. But I got it, give me yours.”
Harley didn’t argue, merely handed over her own now-empty bowl. As he walked the short distance to the kitchen to put the dishes into the sink, she commented, “People are always giving me crap about eating too fast.”
Coach looked over at her. Harley had turned so one elbow was resting on the back of the black leather couch and was looking his way.
He ran water over the dirty dishes and admitted, “Yeah, me too. My mom gives me shit every time I go home.”
“My sister says I eat like I’m a starving kid from Africa.”
They smiled at each other.
“But, I’m hungry. I don’t see any reason to pause between bites, or put my fork down while I chew. It’s just more economical to get it done and move on to something more interesting,” Harley tried to explain.
If it was any other woman, Coach might’ve made a sexual innuendo, but it was obvious Harley wasn’t trying to come on to him in any way. “You’ll feel right at home around my friends then. Emily and Rayne always complain we’re like a pack of jackals.” He shrugged unselfconsciously as he folded up the Chinese food boxes with the leftovers and put them into the fridge. “When we’re in the field, sometimes there’s just no time to sit and enjoy a meal. We stuff in what we can, when we can.”
“Can you tell me more about what you do?”
Coach came back around the couch and sat next to Harley again. All of her attention was on him. She wasn’t fiddling with her cell phone. Wasn’t reaching for the remote to the television. She was focused on him. She was proving with each minute that went by that she was different from every other woman he’d dated in the past. In a good way. A very good way.
He wanted to answer her question, but also knew he had to be careful. “You know I’m in the Army,” he began carefully.
She nodded and encouraged him to continue.
“I’m a thirty-five foxtrot.”
Harley eyed him, then admitted, “Okay, I have no idea what that means. I know some of the basic ones. Like eleven bravo is infantry, twelve bravo is a combat engineer, the one fifty-threes are pilots, and twenty-seven bravo is a judge, but I don’t know any others.”
“I’m impressed you know that much.”
Harley shrugged. “My sister is a lawyer, and I’ve learned some stuff over the years from playing video games.” She grinned sheepishly.
“A thirty-five foxtrot is a part of the military intelligence branch.” When Harley opened her mouth to say something, Coach cut her off with a laugh. “And no, that’s not an oxymoron.” They both laughed.
“How’d you know that’s what I was going to say?” She finally got out between giggles. When she’d gotten herself under control, she asked, “What do you do?”
“Officially my job is intelligence analyst.” Coach didn’t tell her that, on paper—paper that was top secret—he was actually coded as an eighteen foxtrot…a part of the Special Forces branch. “Basically I use information to try to determine what the enemy is capable of, what their vulnerabilities might be, and what should be done about both.”
Harley nodded. “That makes sense. Bet your eidetic memory comes in handy.”
“Yeah, it certainly does.”
“So you work with a team?”
“What do you mean?”
“The guys at the hospital yesterday. You called them teammates. Are they all thirty-five foxtrots too?”
Coach bit back a snort. Ghost and the others would get a kick out of that. Harley might call herself a nerd, but the guys called him the nerd of their group. He liked numbers and figuring stuff out. Logic puzzles were like his crack.
“No, they each have their own specialty. We work together a lot. So much that we’re more like brothers than coworkers.”
Coach didn’t even flinch as Harley eyed him. He’d have to keep reminding himself that she was a lot smarter than most women he’d dated. His explanation had sufficed with everyone else. He continued on, “We do get sent on missions together a lot, so we are like teammates.”
“Missions. Not deployed together?”
Shit, shit, and triple shit. Coach didn’t say anything, but kept eye contact with Harley until she broke it.
“Okay. I get it. I can see you’re uncomfortable and I won’t ask about it anymore. But can I say one thing?”
“Of course.”
“I think it’s cool. I mean, they were at the hospital like fifteen minutes after we got there. I don’t know any of the people I know, besides my family, who would do that for me. They were extremely worried about you, even the two women. I like that for you.”
“I like it for me too, Harl. But you know what?”
“What?”
“If I knew you were in the hospital, I’d be there in less than fifteen minutes.”
“You don’t even know me,” Harley whispered in confusion while shaking her head. “Why would you say that?”
“I might not know the small stuff, but I know enough of the important stuff to know that I would care if you got hurt. That I would worry about you. That I’d want to be there when you woke up.”
Coach could see the confusion still swirling in her brown eyes, and decided to change the subject. “Tell me more about your job. You design video games. Apparently ones involving war stuff.”
It was the right thing to ask. Coach nodded and um-hmmmed through fifteen minutes of Harley talking excitedly about her job and what she did on the computer. She worked for a large, famous graphics company and she was one of many people who worked behind the scenes to make games kids played today more realistic and intense.
“Do you get any credit for it?”
“Credit?”
“Yeah, like is your name listed in the credits or anything of the games? Or are you totally behind the scenes?”
Her eyes lit up, and Coach loved the sight.
“You wanna see?”
“Your name on the game? Hell yeah.”
Harley scrambled off the couch and over to her TV and the game console. She didn’t say anything, but looked through the shelf of games and pulled one out. She popped it in the player and grabbed a remote, turning on the television as she sat back down.
“Okay, don’t get too excited, it’s just my name among about twenty others, but we’re listed in the opening credits when the game is first turned on. I know most people just go right by it, but it’s still pretty cool.”
Coach watched Harley instead of the screen. When she was excited, her entire face lit up. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen yet. And he liked it. A lot.
“Okay, ready?” Harley asked, turning to him, obviously expecting to see him looking at the screen instead of at her. “Coach?”
“Sorry, yeah, I’m ready.”
“Okay, I’ll try to pause the screen, but you gotta look fast.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and leaned forward, as if that was helping her concentrate. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “I got it!”
Coach looked at the fifty-four-inch screen and saw a list of names, and in the middle was Harley Kelso, designer. He beamed over at her. “That’s neat.”
“Wanna play?”
“Yes.” Coach’s answer was immediate. “Although I must admit that Bejeweled is my specialty. I saw you have it.”
“Forget it,” Harley told him without pause. “
I only have it because my sister can’t play any of my first-person games to save her life. That game’s for sissies.”
“So you suck at it,” Coach teased.
She turned and glared at him. “You wanna play or not?”
Holding up his hands in a surrender gesture, Coach placated, “Yeah, sorry. Whatever you want is fine.”
Luckily she forgave him for his apparently subpar choice of game. “We can either play against each other, or on the same team.”
“Same team.”
“That’s probably smart. I’d wipe the floor with you,” Harley told him, grinning.
“I have no doubt.” And he didn’t. Coach might be a big bad Delta Force soldier, but if Harley helped design the game, she would be much better at it than he was…and he considered himself a pretty good gamer.
“Here.” Harley handed him a controller. “Have you played this version of This is War before?”
“Not this one, but the one with the soldiers that were aliens, yes.”
“Okay, this one is so much better than that one. And before you ask, yes, I helped design the other one, but this one is newer and we did some cool stuff with it. I’ll put it on medium level and let you take point.”
“Try not to shoot me in the ass, would ya, Kelso?”
She giggled, and Coach’s insides tightened at the sound. She sounded happy and unconcerned with anything. It almost erased his memory of her sobbing into his chest from the day before. Almost.
“Okay, Ralston, let’s do this.”
10
“Look out! Behind you! Shit, he’s got a grenade! Run, Coach! Get out of there!”
“Fuck, where’d he come from? Get him, Harl! Shoot his ass!”
“I don’t have a good angle! Dammit!”
“No, no, no, no! Damn!” Coach sagged back against the couch cushions in defeat as he watched his character die for what seemed like the twentieth time that night. He looked over at Harley with a rueful grimace. “The designers of this game are sadistic.”
She full-out laughed. Literally threw back her head and laughed until she was clutching her stomach. When Harley finally had herself somewhat under control, she gasped, “We’re only playing on the medium difficulty, you big baby. You should see it on expert.”
Coach threw up his hands in defeat. “Lord. I’m done. Damn good job, Harley. Seriously.” He looked down at his watch and his brows rose in surprise. “Is it really nine o’clock?”
Harley looked surprised and whipped her head around to look at the clock on the wall by the kitchen. “Holy shit. I guess so.” She turned back to Coach and shrugged. “It’s not a good game unless eight hours of your life are sucked away while playing.”
“It’s a good game. But honestly? The company is what made it worth losing an entire day.”
Harley blushed, but smiled back at him. “I haven’t had this much fun in a really long time. Thanks, Coach.”
“The pleasure was mine, believe me.”
Harley stood up and stretched, putting her hands in the small of her back and leaning into them, much as she’d done before they’d jumped.
Coach nearly swallowed his tongue. She obviously had no clue about her appeal. He could tell she wasn’t being coy, or trying to come on to him. But when she leaned back, her breasts were thrust forward, and while her nipples weren’t as tight as when they’d been standing together at the airport getting fitted to jump, he had a better view of how she was shaped.
She was slender, yes, but her tits were perfect for her frame. If he had to guess, Coach would say she was probably a B cup, a nice handful. But it was the thought of getting his lips around her nipples that made his mouth water. He remembered how they’d peaked with her growing interest in him.
Coach felt himself stir in his jeans. Jesus, he hadn’t seen an inch of Harley’s bare skin, but he’d already undressed her and sucked her tits until she orgasmed under him in his head.
She looked over at him and froze, obviously seeing the look of lust on his face. Coach tried to wipe his face clear of any emotion, and knew he’d failed when she brought her arms down and crossed them over her waist self-consciously.
“How’s your head? Do you need any more ibuprofen?”
Coach shook his head. “No, I’m good. The last couple I took when we stopped for a break and to eat the rest of the Chinese is still doing its thing. Thanks though.”
“Okay. Good.”
Coach stood. “I should go. I took way too much of your time today.”
“No, it’s fine. I needed the break. Honestly, playing one of the older games with you was not only fun, but it gave me some good ideas for the new game.”
Taking a step closer to Harley, wanting to make his point, Coach said in a low voice, “I’m glad. I had fun. Thank you for sharing this part of your life with me. I find it, and you, fascinating. Even though we got to eat together, I’d still like to take you out sometime.”
“Really?” Harley winced, then quickly tried to cover her skeptical answer. “I mean, sure. I’d like that.”
Coach smiled. “Walk me to the door?”
They walked side by side to the front of the townhouse. Harley unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, standing to the side.
Coach stood there next to her for a moment, drinking her in. He hadn’t lied. He’d had a wonderful time. Playing the video game, seeing how riled and excited Harley got while she was playing, was refreshing. It would’ve been like competing with the guys on the team, except that there was no way Coach could forget for even a second that Harley was all woman. She might’ve been wearing huge cotton pants and a T-shirt that swallowed her frame, but he’d never been as aware of a woman as he was her.
Leaning into Harley, but not touching her, Coach kept his eyes on hers as he said, “I’d like to kiss you.”
His heart skipped a beat when she didn’t immediately answer, but finally started up again when she nodded.
“I’d like that.”
Taking his time, knowing he’d never get another first kiss with her, Coach put one hand on her shoulder, and putting the knuckle of his other hand under her chin, tilted her so she was at the perfect angle. Her height was ideal. He still needed to lean over, but he didn’t have to worry about throwing his back out.
Harley licked her lips nervously and he felt her hesitantly put her hands on his waist as he stepped closer. Coach licked his own lips in preparation and watched as Harley closed her eyes.
Not wanting to miss a second of the moment, Coach kept his eyes open as he closed the distance between them. His lips touched hers once in a fleeting caress, then twice. The third time, he lingered, and she reacted as she did to everything else, she threw herself wholeheartedly into the experience.
Coach felt her hands clench at his side and she opened under him. Wanting to taste her more than he wanted his next breath, Coach slid his tongue into her mouth, meeting and dancing with her own as she reciprocated.
She tasted slightly of the spicy chicken she’d eaten for dinner, but more than that, she tasted like…Harley. Coach inhaled as he slanted his head and moved his hand to the back of her head to hold her to him. He could smell…her. Not soap, not shampoo, but the slightly musky, dewy smell of woman.
He groaned into her mouth and took control of the kiss. Holding her still, he devoured her as if it was the last time he’d ever get to kiss her. He sucked on her tongue, then nipped at her lips. Coach wanted to drink from her lips all night, but when she shivered under him, he pulled back. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her, or push her to a place she didn’t want to go.
Coach felt like a Neanderthal. He wanted to drag her back into her apartment and into her bedroom, throw her on the bed, and rip off her clothes, see what she’d been hiding under them. But he had time. He didn’t want to rush into sex. Playing the video game with her tonight was fun. And something he’d never done with any other woman. Something he’d never wanted to do with any other woman.
He pulled
back, but rested his forehead on hers, loving the way her breaths came in short pants. “Thank you, Harley. That was a gift.”
She leaned back and looked up at him in confusion.
He couldn’t help it. He’d been curious since he’d first laid his lips on hers. His eyes wandered down to her chest, and he smiled.
Harley’s nipples were peaked and pressing against the gray T-shirt toward him. He could clearly see how excited his kiss had made her. Shifting a hand from her head to her side, Coach brushed his thumb over the bottom curve of her breast. Not being a perv, but definitely touching her more intimately than a friend would, and probably way out of bounds for how long they’d known each other, but he couldn’t’ve stopped himself if he’d had a gun to his head. He needed to touch her.
“Thank you for the best first kiss I’ve ever had. It exceeded all of my expectations.” He met her eyes, but his thumb never stopped its gentle caress. “I want you, Harley Kelso. But more than I want your body at the moment, I want you to trust me. I broke that trust when we jumped, through no fault of my own, but still. I want to spend more days lounging on your couch by your side. I want to know more about your job, what you do and how it works. I want to meet your siblings. I want you to get to know my teammates and Emily and Rayne. The bottom line is that I want you in my life. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and I’m not blowing smoke up your ass to get you into bed. As much as I want to see, and touch, your beautiful body, I want to get acquainted with who Harley is. Your fears, your dreams, and your fantasies.”
“You feel grateful toward me.”
Coach shook his head in denial at her shaky words. “No. It’s not that. I’m as proud as I can be of you for what you did yesterday, don’t get me wrong. But honestly, the AAD would’ve gone off no matter who was strapped to my chest. Yeah, if someone else was with me and didn’t do half what you did, I might’ve been hurt worse when we landed. But I’m grateful it was you. I’m thankful for all you did. But this isn’t that, Harley. I don’t know what it is about you, but I’m attracted to you. Obsessed.”
“It must be my nerdy glasses and runway-perfect outfit,” Harley commented sarcastically.