A SEAL's Strength

by JM Stewart

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday night. Gabe blew out a nervous breath as he stood in the hallway outside Steph’s apartment. He hadn’t been this nervous about a date since junior high. More nervous even than his first day of BUD/S training. His stomach churned, and his hands shook so bad he feared he’d drop everything he’d carried from the car.

  He was a SEAL for crying out loud. He’d moved into combat zones with less anxiety.

  Music drifted through the closed door. A sultry pop song about love and sex if he heard the lyrics right. As he lifted his hand to knock, Steph’s voice rose above the strains of music. She sang at the top of her lungs and completely off-key.

  Steph, bless her heart, as his mother used to say, couldn’t sing to save her life. He’d discovered the hard way one morning, back in college, that she loved to do it, too. Apparently, that hadn’t changed either. She belted out the lyrics, her voice cracking as she hit a high note, but she kept right on going.

  He winced, then chuckled and punched the doorbell.

  The soft thump of her feet on the floor suggested she was on her way to answer. Seconds later, the door opened.

  “Hi.” She lifted a hand in greeting, but the smile she offered wobbled.

  Some part of his brain told him to say something, but holy Christ, he couldn’t move. Or blink for that matter. Steph had dressed to kill. Her burgundy top was skintight and cut low enough to tease him with mounds of creamy flesh above the neckline. The hem gave him a peek at her flat stomach. Her white skirt flounced around her thighs.

  As he let his gaze drift over the length of her legs, the only thought in his head was bending her over the dining room table and flipping up that skirt. Was she wearing panties this time? God, he was dying to find out.

  Gabe swallowed his tongue and finally managed to drag his gaze off her legs. “We are never making it to dinner.”

  “I take it that means you approve.” She laughed, a sexy breathy sound that made her eyes dance and her nervousness seem to disappear.

  He cocked a brow. “If I said no, would you take it all off?”

  She rolled her eyes, and he could only laugh, feeling lighter than when he’d left the house. He hadn’t planned a date with a woman in years, and his stomach roiled, but that sexy, flirty little smile she tried to hide made his nerves worth it. Whether or not this relationship went anywhere, he’d never be sorry he’d spent the time with her. Christ she made him glad to be alive.

  She nodded at the stuff in his arms. “What’s all that?”

  “Ah.” Right. He’d had plans when he’d come over here. He held out the box from the bakery first. “Dessert.”

  After accepting the box, she lifted the lid and peered inside. She smiled.

  “Key lime pie.” She looked up, her eyes gleaming with tenderness that made the effort suddenly worth it. “You remembered.”

  “I never forgot. You were lying in my arms late one night, and we were talking. You were telling me about your mom.”

  She nodded. “We were in your apartment, lying on that futon you had.”

  “Mm-hmm. You told me you had an affinity for key lime because your mother made the best pie.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “Nobody made it the way Mom did.”

  He held out the bottle of wine next. “I didn’t know what you were serving, so I opted for white.” Then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the movie he’d picked up on his way over. “And this is for after dinner.”

  She quirked a brow. “A sci-fi movie?”

  “Yup.” He hoped she’d remember. B-rate sci-fi movies had always been their favorite. But that was okay. He’d have fun reminding her. He winked, then turned around and cocked his right hip at her. “Last but not least, these are for you.”

  Several unbearable seconds passed in silence as she stared at the tulips. He’d pulled out all the stops because he wanted to remind her how good they were together and to show her that, despite everything, he’d never forgotten her. Everything he’d brought with him had been inspired by memories of their time together. He prayed it worked. Her silence, though, made his nerves scatter.

  Finally, she let out a heartfelt sigh and plucked the tulips from in his pocket.

  “God, Gabe. They’re beautiful.”

  The thoughtful edge to her voice made him turn back around. She stared at the bouquet, nose in the flowers. The tears hovering at the edges of her lashes told him where her thoughts had gone.

  He stepped over the threshold. The soft scent of her perfume curled around his senses, begging him to bend his head to her neck, but he kept his hands to himself. He had every intention of providing enough temptation to melt even the coldest of hearts, but tonight he wanted the decision to be hers and hers alone.

  “I know they’re simple, but I chose tulips on purpose.” He lifted a hand, fingering one of the long, thick leaves. “They planted rows of red ones outside your apartment back in college. It’s funny. I never paid them much attention back then. But over the years, every time I’d see some, I’d think of you, of sneaking in through your back door at night, after class.”

  He could still see the building. Multicolored stucco in fall shades, the landscaping dotted with trees of various sizes and colors, and gardens full of brightly colored tulips. Steph had a first-floor apartment, and the flowers had lined either side of the little slab of cement that served as her back patio.

  “Nobody’s given me flowers in a long time.” She looked up then, head tipped back, blue eyes studying his face. Then she laughed and dropped her forehead to his chest. “You are something else. She never stood a chance against you, did she?”

  He didn’t have to ask to understand she meant Julia and how long it had taken him to convince her to marry him.

  “Nope, and neither do you.” He settled his arm around her back and bent his head, kissing the top of hers. Several moments passed in comfortable silence. She didn’t push him away, and he allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the feel of her against him. He turned his head and inhaled, but the smell of smoke hit his nostrils instead. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. “Babe, I think something’s burning.”

  Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “Crap. The garlic bread!”

  She pushed out of his arms, pivoted, and ran down the small hallway, disappearing around a corner. The clank of a metal pan hitting the top of the stove sounded seconds before an ear-piercing beep shrieked through the house.

  He followed after her, leaving the door open behind him to air out the apartment. Coming to a halt in the kitchen entrance, he found Steph, towel in hand, waving it at the smoke alarm in the ceiling. The blackened remains of the garlic bread sat on a cookie sheet, still smoking. The tulips and dessert box lay, discarded, on the counter behind her.

  She shot him a glare, her voice raised over the shrill of the alarm. “See what you do to me?”

  He couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him. Never in a million years would he tell her this, but he wasn’t sorry he’d made her forget herself so completely she’d burned dinner.

  He would, however, help her out. Reaching over her head, he unscrewed the alarm from its spot in the ceiling, then yanked out the battery. The deafening screech finally ceased.

  Steph blew out a defeated breath, her shoulders rolling forward, and sagged back against the counter. “I am so not cut out for this domestic stuff.”

  He set the alarm on the counter, then moved to the sink and opened the window to let the smoke out. When he turned again, she’d ducked her head into her hands and stood rubbing her temples.

  Hoping to lighten the moment, he leaned beside her and bumped her shoulder. “Thought you said you could cook?”

  She turned to glare at him again, but one corner of her mouth quirked upward. “No comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much.”

  He hooked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side.

  “Relax. I’m teasing. It happens to the best
of us. I’ve burned garlic bread before. And cupcakes I attempted for Char’s birthday a couple years ago. And muffins she absolutely had to make one Saturday morning.” He darted a sidelong glance at her, unable to hide his smile. “Which is how we know where that bakery around the corner is. Hell. I’m convinced the toaster has it out for me.”

  She let out a soft laugh. “Okay, you win.”

  He gave her shoulders a gentle rub, then moved to the stove, lifting the lid on the casserole dish seated there. Steam floated out, along with the luscious scent of fried eggplant and parmesan cheese. His stomach growled.

  He darted a glance back at her. “Eggplant parmesan. I’m impressed.”

  “It was my mother’s recipe. I haven’t made it in years.” She heaved a sigh and bumped the cookie sheet with her knuckles. “Would’ve gone better with garlic bread.”

  He leaned his mouth close to her ear. “Well, I’m starved. You either give me a plate, or I’m going to resort to eating you for dinner.”

  A soft flush rose into her cheeks. Steph released a serrated breath and turned to the flowers on the counter, gathering them with shaking hands.

  “I need to put these in water first. You could get out plates if you like.” She didn’t wait for a response but turned and left the room, disappearing around the corner.

  Gabe gritted his teeth and watched her go. He wanted her on edge, wanted her so hot she’d attack him before the night was over. But it had to be her choice, and if she was more comfortable taking it slow, he’d go at her pace. Which meant biding his time and playing the gentleman. Their first date with the agency, she’d had patience with him. The least he could do was give her the same courtesy.

  He turned and searched the cabinets. By the time he found plates, she’d reentered the kitchen, vase in hand. They spent the next few minutes moving in silence, each tending to their tasks. The moment was painfully awkward yet oddly domestic. It reminded him too much of fights with Julia, when they’d gotten over being mad but still didn’t know what to say to each other. With Steph the silence was…all wrong. As close as they’d gotten, they were light-years from where they’d been in college.

  He moved to the cabinet he recalled having seen wineglasses in and pulled down two, set them on the counter beside her, then moved to the stove and began to portion out the dinner. He was reaching for a plate when she finally went still beside him.

  “I can hear you thinking over there.” Distracting himself, he scooped out a serving of the cheese-and tomato-sauce-covered eggplant.

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced over at him, face impassive, blue eyes searching, full of anxiety, and blew out a heavy breath. “This feels like a real date, and I’ll admit I’m out of practice. I haven’t done this in more than two years. You scare the hell out of me, Gabe.”

  “Good. You’re not exactly a walk in the park for me either.” He lightened his tone, aiming for a tease. If he didn’t at least attempt humor, he’d be pinning her against this damn counter, hiking up that beautiful, pleated skirt, and burying himself to the hilt inside of her simply to feel her push back onto him. She might not be comfortable talking to him yet, but she responded to his touch, and damned if he didn’t need that connection to her.

  The fact of which scared the hell out of him.

  Her facade finally cracked. She tossed a flirty, playful smile over her shoulder, eyes now glinting with impishness. “Are you telling me I’m difficult?”

  “Learning to walk again was easier.” He tossed a smile back at her, picked up the plates, and headed for the dining room, relieved the air between them had eased.

  She followed moments later, setting a glass of wine at each spot. Standing beside him now, she laid a hand on his arm and peered up at him, expression somber but open. “Give me time.”

  He turned to her and cupped her cheeks in his hands, letting his thumbs stroke her supple skin. “I’ve got all the time in the world. How about we start simple? I won’t make you any promises I can’t keep if you stop shutting me out.”

  Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I’m—”

  He covered her mouth with his, cutting off the rest of whatever the hell she’d been about to say, and kissed her with all the frustration pent up inside of him. He wanted to possess her, to devour her. Just to feel her melt into him.

  When she let out a maddening little whimper and leaned into him, he forced himself to release her. Breathing hard now, he furrowed his brow. “Apologize one more damn time and I’m going to fuck you on this counter.”

  To prove his point, he guided her fingers to the front placket of his jeans. He was harder than a steel rod. In two seconds flat, she had him shaking with need.

  “Feel that? This is what you do to me. All I want right now is to bury myself inside of you, because Christ, Steph, I need that connection with you like I need to breathe. Or eat.”

  He released her hand and pivoted, paced away from her, dragging a hand through his hair as he moved. Frustration wound through his system, tying his gut in knots. His shoulders tightened to the point of aching. Self-loathing had a firm hold on his chest. They’d been so damn close once. Now she was a stranger, and he could blame only himself for it.

  “You want to know why I let contact just drift off? Because I’ve always needed you this way. I didn’t love Julia when I married her, but I respected her. I couldn’t look her in the face and tell her you were just a friend, because I knew damn well you weren’t. So I sacrificed our relationship to make my marriage work.”

  The truth sank over him, hard and heavy and cold, and his frustration flitted from his grasp as quickly as it started. He dropped his hand and blew out a defeated breath. He’d spent eleven years wishing he could have done things differently, kicking himself in the ass for the way he’d treated Steph in the end. Like she was nobody special. Wondering what might have happened if he’d had the balls to admit to himself that she’d meant more to him than just a good lay.

  “I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass when I said I missed you.” Standing now at the end of the table, staring at the outside lights seeping in through the miniblinds, he turned sideways and shot her a glare. “So you can run all you like, babe, but I’m not giving up on you. Not again.”

  The heavy emotion hanging over her finally lightened. Steph had the audacity to smile at him. Those blue eyes glinted with amusement as she sauntered over to him, lifted onto her toes, and brushed a tender kiss across his mouth. “And this is why you’re my favorite boy toy.”

  He rolled his eyes, but damned if he could stop from smiling back at her. His irritation dissipated like wisps on a breeze, and the knots in his shoulders finally began to unravel.

  Needing her close, he hooked her around the waist and tugged her against him. “I better be your only boy toy.”

  She rested her hands against his chest, palms searing his skin through his shirt. Her expression sobered. “You’re a first for me. Since Alec, I mean. Despite what I told you on that first date, I’ve never actually spent a whole weekend with any one man. None of the guys I dated ever wanted to more one night.”

  He stroked her back, contenting himself with the feel of her in his arms. He was sure they’d made leaps and bounds tonight, in directions he didn’t know if he was ready to go, but damned if he had the power to deny himself the luxury of following. “Does this mean you’re giving me that month?”

  She nodded and stroked her hands up his pecs to his shoulders, her fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. “But you have to promise you’ll be patient with me.”

  He leaned down, brushing a kiss across her mouth. “Ditto. How about we agree to meet once a week, on the weekends? I may not always be able to promise you the whole weekend, though. Single dad and all that. I’ll have to talk to Molly, but I may only be able to swing a Friday or Saturday night. You okay with that?”

  “I’m okay with that.” Her hands stilled on his neck, and she stared for a moment, then lifted onto her toes, her mouth a hairbread
th from his. “Thank you.”

  “Not necessary. You did the same for me. Now we’re even.” He brushed another kiss across her mouth, then forced himself to release her. “Now feed me. Because that skirt you’re wearing is driving me crazy, and if you don’t keep me busy, I guarantee I’ll misbehave.”

  She sauntered around the side of the table, ass swinging as she walked. “So it wouldn’t be a good idea, then, to tell you I’m going commando tonight?”

  He groaned. The vision in his mind was now complete. All he had to do was flip up that skirt and he could be inside her in less than a minute. If he tried hard enough, he could get her to come around him in less than five.

  He pulled out his chair and dropped into the seat, darting a glance at her as he picked up his fork. “Remind me to bend you over my knee later.”

  As she slid into her seat, she tossed a saucy smile at him that lit him up from the inside out. “Sticks and stones, Gabe. Sticks and stones.”

  Gabe didn’t have to ask to know what she meant. He knew the words by heart. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me. It was the first time he’d made love to her, when their friendship had become…more. The night had started with their usual dinner and a movie on a Friday night. They’d been teasing each other when Steph tossed that doozy at him. They’d ended up naked five minutes later. To this day he couldn’t remember the name of that movie, but he’d never forget her needy moan when he’d surged up into her. From that day on, she had only to whisper “stick and stones” in his ear to make him hard enough to hammer nails.

  Which he was now.

  Blood surging between his ears, he forced himself to fork a bite of food before answering. “Oh, you’ll get yours, baby. You’ll get yours.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Standing at the sink, Steph scrubbed stuck-on eggplant from a plate, a welcome distraction from her heated thoughts. Gabe had ambushed her. His gifts had been sweet. To know he’d thought about her over the years, that he hadn’t just dropped her and moved on, had carved a chink out of her armor.