by Claire Adams
His angular jawline could probably cut glass if he tried and was covered in manly, peppered stubble that I could easily imagine scraping against my thigh. Or maybe not my thigh, since my thighs belonged to Scott at present. But still.
An arrow-straight nose sat between dark, almond-shaped eyes. They were framed with thick lashes and peered out from underneath his crescent-shaped eyebrows.
Spartan shoulders spoke of strength, the likes of which I hadn’t had the pleasure of encountering in a man before, and made his white T-shirt stretch in all the right places. The cherry on the cake was the black tattoo that peeked out from underneath his sleeve, though I couldn’t make out what it was.
Golden, tanned skin stretched for miles over arms that vaguely resembled tree trunks—if tree trunks were sexy and could wrap me up in them. I had another momentary lapse in judgment and imagined what it might feel like to wake up in those arms. Better yet, to be caged against a wall, or a bed, or anywhere really, with—
Amber saved me from myself by nudging me and pointing him out, hiding the finger she was using to point behind her other hand. “Get a load of that guy.”
I shrugged as if I wouldn’t have gotten a full mental picture of us naked together if Amber hadn’t spoken up. “He’s okay.”
Amber giggled, “If that’s your definition of okay, then I want to know what you’re smoking, and I definitely don’t want any. I guess you do have Scott, though.”
This guy was not my definition of okay; he was my definition of tall, dark, and handsome, but I wasn’t admitting to that. Because she was right. Scott.
“Exactly. I have Scott.” The only person I should be getting naked with, even mentally. I gave myself a firm shake and turned my focus to the girls, catching up with them instead.
When the first half was over, I expected Scott to come find me during the halftime break. He didn’t. When I looked over to where he’d been sitting before, he wasn’t there either. Eventually, my eyes drifted back to the spot where Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome had been sitting, surprised to find that Scott had taken over the seat.
I bounded over to him, intent on reminding him that he had indeed come to bar with someone, and reminding myself that I was that person. Throwing my arms around his neck, I gave Scott a big kiss, then realized that Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself was standing right there looking at Scott with disgust.
Then he was gone.
Scott sighed and shook himself free from my arms, nodding at the television. “I’m a little busy here, babe. Leave me be ‘til the end of the game, would ya?”
I huffed out an annoyed breath, pointing out the obvious. “I’ve been leaving you alone all damn night, babe.” If Scott heard the sarcasm I’d laced into the nickname that I hated because it sounded so patronizing when he used it, he didn’t let on. His eyes remained fixed on the screen. “Fine, I’ll just get out of your hair, then.”
Rennie’s walls felt like they were closing in on me, and fast. Or maybe that was the hellhounds coming for my relationship with Scott. I was really starting to get sick of his shit. He used to be so damn charming, but he wasn’t anymore. Well, mostly not, anyway.
I needed to get some air. It was like Scott had sucked the oxygen out of Rennie’s with his rejection. Pushing through the crowd, I made my way outside to a quiet back alley that some of my friends used to smoke in back in high school.
Stone Mountain was a small town. Most of those friends were gone now, having moved to some bigger city or another, or were currently at home married, and probably with children. I didn’t envy that, not either of those two things, really. Marriage and children could wait a while; I was still enjoying my life and getting to know myself.
Besides, I was only 26, I had plenty of time. As for big city living, they didn’t have stars in those cities like we had out here. I took a deep breath of the warm night air as soon as the alley door swung shut behind me, sealing off the noise from the bar so it was nothing but muted background noise.
Leaning against the wall, I raised my head to the stars and jumped when a voice that cut through my heart spoke from the wall opposite wall the doorway. The kind of voice that would’ve stopped me in my tracks if I’d been moving.
“That’s Lyra.”
I spun towards the voice to find Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome himself pointing up at some constellation or other in the night sky.
“Excuse me?”
He moved towards my wall, leaning up next to me. Not so close as to be inappropriate, but close enough that I got a hint of masculine cologne and my arm warmed slightly from his nearness. He cleared his throat.
“The constellation up there, it’s called Lyra. It was named after the lyre, a type of small harp held in the player’s lap. Vega is its brightest star, right in the handle of the harp. It’s one of three constellations whose brightest stars form the Summer Triangle.”
The way that he said it was nonchalant, not like some know-it-all jerk trying to get into my panties with a look-at-what-I-know chip on his shoulder.
“How do you know that?”
He answered with a slight shrug. “I used to spend a lot of time stargazing out in the desert. There were more stars than there was darkness. You learn a thing or two.”
“What desert?” I asked, because I was suddenly desperate to know more about this mysterious stranger. I hadn’t been in his presence for more than a minute, and he was already making me feel like I was important to him somehow. Like I mattered.
It didn’t hurt that electricity crackled between us, leaving faint goosebumps on my skin and an arc that I could practically see. I didn’t dare look at him properly, so I kept my eyes on the stars we were talking about instead.
“The Arabian desert. Iraq.”
A military man, then. It certainly made sense of the muscles and the quiet power that rippled right beneath the surface. “What branch?”
I risked a quick glance at him, enthralled by the planes of his handsome face in the dimly lit alley. He was even more gorgeous up close than he had been from across the bar. Figured.
“SEALs.” he answered, still just sounding honest and matter-of-fact about it. Nothing like the cocky bastard he could’ve been for making it as one of the best of the best. He definitely looked like the best.
“I’m impressed. You must’ve seen some hectic stuff over there. What’s the most dangerous situation you’ve ever been in?” The question was out before I could stop it. Shit. I turned toward him, ready to apologize for asking such a personal question. A dark look crossed his features, but it was gone before I was even certain it had ever really been there.
Instead, his lips quirked up into a small smile. “Found a camel spider in my bunk once. And let me tell you, those motherfuckers are uglier in person than you expect them to be. Not proud of it, but someone in that tent screamed like a toddler watching it, and I was alone in there.”
I tried to imagine the strong, tall man standing next to me screaming in terror and the thought was just too funny. My head actually rolled back from how hard I was laughing. He joined in, and I had to admit that he had a nice laugh. The kind that rumbled straight from his belly, making me laugh even harder.
The dangerous kind that was going to make me do things I would regret if we kept talking—alone out here in the dark alley with nothing but easy conversation and that damn electricity between us for company.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” I told him.
He looked at me, like really looked, holding my gaze for a few seconds before those lips curled up again. “It was. It absolutely was.”
It wasn’t hard to notice the intensity of his eyes, the way they lit up in amusement that made them seem more gold than chocolate in this light. I was going to get in trouble if I stayed, even if a part of me really, really wanted to. “I should get back inside.”
“Why? Didn’t look like you were having much fun to me.” He cracked his knuckles absently, like he was thinking of beating them into someone.
“My boyfriend will be waiting for me,” I answered lamely.
He regarded me for a moment longer, cocking his head just slightly. “What if I had a proposal for you?”
I was definitely in trouble, because I wanted to hear what he had to say, and I was going to. “Such as?”
“Let’s go for a ride on my bike. Relax, talk a bit more. I’ll bring you back here whenever you want.” It was the most exciting offer I’d gotten in ages. More than tempting, but Scott was the jealous type, and as unobservant as he’d been all night, he would notice if I just took off. Probably. Eventually.
“Sounds like fun, but I’m going to have to take a rain check.” Before I could change my mind, I pushed back off the wall and ducked inside of the bar, immediately going in search of my boyfriend.
Chapter 5
Pacey
Well, shit. That hadn’t gone like I’d planned at all.
Firstly, Blondie was gone, and not only didn’t I get her name, but she’d also blown me off to get back to that scumbag motherfucker inside.
Secondly, I’d actually enjoyed talking to her. Her innocence and open questions were fucking adorable.
Usually, as soon as women found out what I used to do for a living, they got all ‘you must’ve been so lonely out there all by yourself.’ Then proceeded to make said perceived loneliness up to me. I took them up on their offers, because I had to remember how to breathe every once in a while, and I’d built up a little bit of a reputation for it. As a result, I got plenty of pussy whenever I wanted it.
But never before had a girl been interested in asking me about what I used to do. The superficial shit, sure.
Was hell week really hell, Pacey?
Want me to make you feel good now that you’re home, Pacey?
Does all that stuff they say happens on base really happen, Pacey?
Never before had those words not sounded like bullshit, purring seduction.
Until Blondie. Hell, once the question was out there, she didn’t even look like she really even wanted it to be. And it was nothing like all that superficial shit women usually wanted to talk to me about.
It was real. The one question that really made me think and question hundreds of missions to give a real answer, even if I hadn’t been completely truthful about the most dangerous situation I’d ever found myself in.
I assumed that saying ‘the one that got my badass girlfriend killed’ wasn’t going to help the mood any.
If I was being honest with myself, the uneasy feeling that had flooded through me when she turned me down was disappointment. Not even disappointment at not getting that particular brand of revenge on her druggie boyfriend, but a burning disappointment because I really did like talking to her.
I could breathe properly, even, and my skin fit just as well as it did in those few brief moments before I blew my load into some random bag.
What was she doing with an asshole like her druggie friend anyway? She seemed too sweet, too pure for that kind of shit. She deserved so much fucking better than that. How was it possible that she didn’t see it?
I stayed outside for a few more minutes, a part of me—the below the belt between my legs part—hoping she would come to her senses and take that ride with me anyway. But she didn’t.
Going back inside to score another lay was an option, but another hookup didn’t seem palatable. Not right now. Besides, Mrs. Brooks, Claire, had given me a mean blowjob just a couple of hours ago. Blondie had put the edge back on, but that didn’t mean I had to do anything about it.
You’re not a fucking animal, for crying out loud.
I had to get out of there. Going back inside was a bad idea. It was time to go home. So I hightailed it to my bike with a light shake of my head instead of heading back into the bar. Swinging one leg over my leather seat, I decided to take the long way home. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for me there anyway.
The motor on my Ducati purred to life as soon as I turned the key, and I was whizzing down the street in no time, putting the drugged-up idiot and his blonde bombshell behind me. The bike was the one thing I’d splurged on when I’d moved here and it wasn’t a purchase that I’d ever had buyer’s remorse over. The wind whipping at my hair and the vibration underneath me soon transported me to another time.
Back to five years ago, when the wind had been caused by the open hatch of a helicopter and the vibration, by the turning of its blades. It was my last mission with May. The mission that an integral part of our team, and of my life, hadn’t made it home from.
The wind had been blasting at and battering our craft as we tried to find a landing zone in the jungle. Our comms were quiet, but there was a sense of excitement in the air. We had located the targets we’d been after for months, and when the chopper started descending, May had looked at me with that wild, adventurous look in her eye, and my heart had been claimed forever.
That was it for me. Little did I know, that small moment of bliss and realization would give way to a life that was meaningless. I was a shadow of my former self, and I knew it, but I didn’t know how to get back to the man I was. I didn’t really even want to. Grief had changed me, made me into someone that May wouldn’t recognize, and I was beyond grateful that I’d never have to explain it to her.
I drove around aimlessly until my legs were as numb as my useless heart, and my ass was aching. When I finally got home, the silence was deafening and the emptiness overwhelming. Though May was never there with me, it still felt like she should’ve been.
It was a decent house, bought off a foreclosure auction that meant I’d had some extra cash to fix the place up. My renovations weren’t going so great, though.
I lacked the drive to get it done. Why wouldn’t I? It was a single-family, two-story home with no family to live in it. There was no rush. I should’ve stuck with the bachelor pad the realtor showed me, but something about the house had spoken to me.
My granddaddy was a developer who always said that if it spoke to you, it was meant to be yours. God only knew why it had spoken to me though. It certainly wasn’t because I intended on filling it with the family it deserved.
There was a mudroom off the entrance hall, begging to be filled with coats and purses, and other knickknacks I’d never bother with. The stairs beckoned from right next to the mudroom like they were saying, ‘You’ve shed your shit in there, now come up and relax.’
To the left of the entrance hall was an open-area kitchen, living, and dining room. A door from the kitchen led to a vast backyard with a large kidney-shaped pool and all the way round to the entertainment area that sat to the right of the entrance hall that I was still planted in, stuck in all the dreams I’d had when I’d imagined buying a place like this.
May and I were kindred souls. Tugger always knew he’d get out eventually, what with his sweet wife waiting for him at home. But May and me?
We had a plan, and it’d never included leaving. The way we saw it, we had at least five more years left as SEALs, and we planned on living every damned one of them. Aside from Tug, May was the only person I’d ever met who was as passionate about the job as I was. And there was a lot of fucking passion to go around.
Once we had to leave our unit behind, we’d planned on finding a quieter corner of the military and riding it out until we retired. Somewhere along the line, we’d get married, though we didn’t talk about it much. Possibly have a couple of kids. Mostly, we planned on hunting the bad guys by day, fighting evil and taking names, while we spent our nights exploring our passion.
Well, the last part was my plan, anyway.
May’s sex drive had never matched mine. Not that I could blame her. It was like teenage hormones had never let me get away from their, or my own, grip. And while she had a sense of adventure that rivaled mine, it’d never quite gotten there.
But whatever.
Just lying beside her in bed used to make me feel good. Content.
I made it to my bedroom and collapsed on the
bed fully dressed, only having pulled off my boots to place them at the side of the bed like I still did every damn night. Memories of May haunted me.
She was tucked close to my chest, whooping as we leaped out of an airplane the first time she went skydiving for fun.
The look in her eyes before we’d rolled off our first Zodiac to go scuba diving to look at fish instead of looking for bodies or on a mission. She was so damn excited.
I remembered our first drill simulating the approach to a suspected terrorist vessel in open water, and the fierceness with which she’d approached every enemy we’d encountered. Laughing aloud when I remembered her threatening one of our superiors, saying she was going to cut off his balls and feed them to him, after she found the container full of agents that were masquerading as victims of human trafficking.
She was a firecracker, my May. And she was gone.
All of those things that I remembered, those were the reasons that I could never move on. We used to lie in bed talking about our missions, our favorite weapons, and who would win in a fight if random celebrities were pitched against superheroes.
May was the most perfect girl for me, but life had been cruel to us that way. Only affording us enough time to get to know each other past the brother-in-arms stage before she was ripped away from me—never to return again.
I tried calling May a sister-in-arms once, but she spat all over the idea and launched into a tirade of how antiquated it was to want to refer to someone as a sibling when they were a really good friend. She argued that people got to choose their friends, so no one should be relegated to the status of being family—who you had no control over choosing—when being a close friend was something so much better.
It kinda made sense, in a twisted way. Didn’t make me think of my adopted SEAL brothers as any less of my family, however. I just made sure not to mention it in front of May.
Birds were chirping before I knew it, the early morning glow of sunrise lighting up the dark wood walls and laminated flooring of my bedroom. Yet another night that I’d spent tossing and turning without more than a few winks of sleep.