by Tessa Bailey
“All due respect, Kenna, twenty-six isn’t young when you’ve been where I have.” He barely managed to keep his gaze from dropping to her parted thighs on the seat. “Speaking of, how old are you?”
Her grin was pure mischief. “Twenty-two.” Oh no. This girl was too young to be lusting after, wasn’t she? As if she could sense the direction of his thoughts, she hauled him back to the present. “Tell me about Mary.”
He swallowed, unable to believe he was sharing the story out loud. “Mary was the pastor’s daughter in our town. We were…she was…waiting. For me.” He waved a hand. “And then she didn’t.”
Kenna pursed her lips. “Like, waiting until you came home to get married?”
Had he turned green? He felt green. “Yes, for marriage and…waiting in general. For other things. We both were.”
He saw the moment everything clicked into place. Her eyes widened. Yup. She was transporting a virgin. A cuckolded one at that. “Oh. Oh, wow.” She was silent a full minute. “So Mary—oh God, the Virgin Mary—was waiting for you to come home, so she could give you her…flower…but someone else plucked it. Do I follow?”
“That’s about right.” He could see the barracks in the distance, telling him the ride was almost over. Half of him was relieved, the other half oddly nervous about her leaving.
“When did you find out Mary had done that to you?”
“She sent the letter about a year ago, although it might have been going on longer. I don’t know.”
Kenna pursed her lips. “Most men wouldn’t have wasted any time finding out what they’d been missing.” She slid him a glance. “Why not you?”
“I’d already waited nearly a decade, I figured one more year wouldn’t kill me. Especially when there were men and women fighting for their lives and losing every single day.” Men like his childhood friend, Xander, who Beck had sent on his final mission. “What did I have to complain about, you know? There might have been opportunities if I’d looked for them, but I didn’t want to. It felt wrong.”
Beck was surprised to see they’d pulled up in front of the barracks. Kenna looked a little shocked herself as she shifted the car into park. “I’m sorry. Finding out in a letter…that really shouldn’t have happened to someone like you.”
“Hey.” He sent her a half grin, hoping to dispel the heaviness he’d created in the car. It was suddenly important he not leave her with a negative impression of their short time together. “I’m here on solid ground, ain’t I? Living and breathing. That’s more than a lot of soldiers can say.” Beck took one last look at her pretty face, memorizing her upturned top lip, wishing he could get one last peek at the glowing green eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. Her stubborn chin. It felt wrong to leave her, but what choice did he have? She wouldn’t very well want to date the pathetic, betrayed virgin he’d revealed himself to be. Even if she did, he only had four days at Black Rock before flying back to Georgia. “Goodbye, Kenna.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I must have done something right along the way to earn a ride from such a pretty girl, huh? You take care now.”
A lump stuck in his throat as he heaved his bag through the door and climbed out of the car.
CHAPTER TWO
What the ever-loving fuck just happened?
Kenna stared out the windshield of her car, watching Beck climb the concrete stairs leading to his home for—how long? A day? A month? They hadn’t gotten around to the particulars of his stay. There’d been no real small talk, had there? No, he’d bared it all in the span of ten minutes. Just do not pass go…do not gawk at the magnificent virgin in the passenger’s seat. Because as she watched him move with a mixture of unassuming grace and innate confidence, she could freely admit that yes, he was indeed magnificent. The set of his shoulders, the sturdiness of him said this was a man who moved mountains if he put his mind to it.
No, there was no if about it. He had. Or at least he’d managed to shift something mountain-like inside her in a mere ten minutes. What was she supposed to do with these sucky, yucky feelings? Just watch him disappear into the barracks, effectively letting him get away with it? People—men, especially—usually took one look at her storm-trooper-meets-Cyndi Lauper look and wasted no time lobbing innuendoes at her head like mud-covered softballs. She never cared because those dudes all blurred together in a rippling sea of douchebags. This guy wouldn’t blend. He’d confided in her, and she was heavy with that responsibility. She…liked being heavy with that responsibility, which made no damn sense.
At the top step, Beck turned his head, catching her gaze through the windshield. She would go to her grave thankful that no one was in the car to hear the noise that left her mouth. It went something like ohhhnooowhuu. If he’d managed to keep the entreaty from those intense blue eyes, she might have driven off and endeavored to forget about Major Beck Collier, virgin extraordinaire. But it was there, even if he didn’t realize it. He needed someone. Someone kind and compassionate. That someone definitely wasn’t her, but he sure as shit needed someone, and there was no one else around.
She watched him tug a single key from his canvas bag and open the door. He ducked beneath the doorframe and vanished a second later. Kenna didn’t realize her fingers were digging into the steering wheel until they started to hurt. A sense of urgency danced in her ribcage, fluttering rapidly, slowly climbing into her throat.
“Goddammit.” She swiped a hand through her dark, messy hair before pushing open the driver’s side door and stepping out.
The morning chill had begun to dissipate, the ground soaking up the minimal heat and reflecting it onto her denim-clad legs. This parking lot was usually buzzing by now, but the Sunday silence amplified the sound of her boots clomping along the asphalt, echoing the nervous knocking inside her ribcage. On the second floor, she could see Beck had left the door slightly ajar, almost as if he’d hoped she’d follow. Please let that be the case. Otherwise this move was a smidge on the creepy side. She’d only signed on to be his transport, not his kick-it buddy.
Decision is already made, Kenna. Too bad she didn’t have a clue what she would do once they were in the apartment together. She had no game plan. Or exit strategy. But she knew driving away would feel awful if she didn’t do something, so she followed in his footsteps up the stairs, like one of those cartoon characters floating along on the aroma of fresh-baked apple pie. Or peach pie, as it were.
“Hardy har,” Kenna muttered, stopping outside the door. Since when did she hesitate to do anything? To celebrate her eighteenth birthday, she’d gone streaking at the annual Army/Navy football game. Scaled the local water tower, spray-painting Kenna was here…with beer on the side. As a welder, she worked with fire, for fuck sake. Being nervous around a virgin was flat-out unacceptable. Even if he was Bigfoot-sized. After a full-body shake to loosen her nerves, she pushed the door open. When she saw Beck, her chest squeezed so tight, she swore it was wringing itself dry.
He stood still in the center of the dim, dull, undecorated apartment, bag at his feet. His hands were propped on his hips, head tipped forward. Lonely. He looked so lonely. The wrongness of that rose like an angry tide over her and immediately, she had a game plan.
Although, it felt nothing like a game.
Kenna squared her shoulders and breezed into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen. If someone hadn’t stocked the place with basic food staples for this man, she was going to raise hell next time she saw her father. “I decided to hang out for a while, Major. You’re welcome.” She tugged open the refrigerator door, pleased to see a loaf of bread, butter, cheese. A six-pack. “You hungry?”
She didn’t wait for his answer, but started piling ingredients onto the counter. Thank God she had something to do with her hands because after a full minute, Beck still hadn’t answered. Bad move. This had been a bad move. For all she knew, he had plans. Or—
“Kenna.”
His gruff voice came from right behind her and the fluttering in her ribcage moved lower, so she didn�
��t turn around in case it showed in her expression. “Yeah?”
“You don’t have to do this. I can make myself a sandwich.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” She threw a pack of Kraft singles hard onto the counter and crossed her arms. “Someone should be here to welcome you back. It’s not right.”
The stretch of silence was driving her crazy, so she turned to face him…and forgot how to inhale. Starved. He looked starved for something other than food. His pupils had swallowed the blue of his eyes, throat working up and down, even as he kept his gaze determinedly above her neck. Who was this man?
“It was my choice,” he said. “My choice not to burden anyone. Not just yet.”
Kenna took a step closer, and he sucked in a breath. God, the effect she was having on him…it thrilled her, made her legs go weak, but at the same time she felt his acute pain. Frustration. “You don’t seem like the type to be a burden,” she muttered. “The exact opposite, actually.”
“I appreciate you saying so.” There it was. He slipped. His attention falling to her breasts for the barest of seconds before racing back up. When he spoke again, his jaw was so tight, she could hardly understand him. “But it ain’t true. What I came back with, what I failed to do…it’ll be a burden on everyone soon enough.”
Curiosity demanded she question him, but his words stopped her. She was the queen of avoidance and understood his need to delay the inevitable. Whatever it was. She also knew exactly how to distract him from thoughts of being a burden. It was why she’d followed him upstairs, wasn’t it? Yes, she could admit that now. Admit to this irrefutable need to smooth his frayed edges, to make up for the betrayal he’d experienced. It was this man inspiring the need to provide solace. No one else could have done it.
Kenna reached down and took his hand, leading him from the kitchen. As they passed through the brown-on-gray living room, she scowled, hating the dust motes in the air. The lack of character. She knew the moment Beck realized she was leading him to the bedroom because his breath began rattling in and out behind her. His hand tightened around hers as if he wanted to pull her to a stop, but couldn’t find the will. When they cleared the threshold, Kenna let go of his hand and kicked the door shut.
He shook his head as she toed off her boots and slowly approached. “W-what are you doing?”
She pushed him into a sitting position on the bed, raked her fingers up his massive thighs. “I’m welcoming you home, Major.”
Beck reached deep inside himself, searching for the extra slack in his rope. Can’t find it. Can’t. He’d reached the end. Resisting her might have been possible before she’d touched his legs, but no one had ever touched him there on purpose. Not so close to his dick. Christ above, was she going to touch him there? He held his breath, head falling back on his shoulders as her touch inched higher, higher. Please touch me. Grab me hard.
Just before she reached his lap, her hands detoured up the front of his uniform jacket. Beck released a shaky exhale and she laughed softly. Knowingly? When she reached the top, he tipped his head forward again to watch her undo the buttons. One by one, she popped them open, green eyes steady on him as she worked. His severe disappointment that she hadn’t touched his throbbing erection gave way to awe. What was this gorgeous, electric girl doing here with him? Her face was mere inches from his, her mouth so ripe. So delicious looking, while at the same time a little…bad. The kind of mouth he dreamed about at night, alone in his bunk as he stroked himself off. He shouldn’t be thinking of her—parts of her—as an object. What was wrong with him?
Hot. I’m so hot. Need more than my own hand. Nothing is working anymore.
Kenna pushed the jacket off his shoulders and down, leaving his hands tangled in the sleeves at his back. He started to free his hands, but she stayed him with a head shake. “Major?”
“Yeah?” He swallowed hard. “Yes?”
She moved closer between his outstretched thighs, stroking her nails over his shaved head. It felt so damn good, he moaned. A moan cut off by what she said next. “You can look at my body.”
As if magnetized, his hungry gaze landed on her breasts and devoured. They weren’t good-girl breasts, the kind that girls of his recollection hid beneath white cardigans in church. Kenna would have been called a sinner if she’d walked into his old church, no matter what she was wearing. She didn’t have breasts, she had…tits. Naughty, up-to-no-good, made-to-bounce tits. The kind he’d seen in skin magazines or in high-quality porn, when he broke down every so often and watched. They were pushed up in leather, exactly as they were meant to be. Heck, if he tugged her top down a mere inch, her nipple would pop free. The thought of licking her little peaks while she sat on his thighs sent another bolt of uncomfortable lust straight to his dick, forcing him to shift on the bed.
“Kenna, I’ve never seen anything like you,” he ground out. “But I can’t look anymore or I’ll embarrass myself.”
She surprised him by leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Nothing you do or say here will be embarrassing.”
Then she dropped to her knees. Beck’s cock surged against his fly with such intensity, his hands untangled themselves from his jacket with frantic movements so he could grip his aching length. He had no choice…would have done anything to ease the agonizing throb. His gaze shot to hers, dreading the judgment he’d find there as he squeezed and released. Stroked through his restricting pants. These uncontrollable urges of his had become too much. No matter how often he denied them, they never stopped, only gaining intensity. He witnessed no judgment on her face. Instead, he saw pleasure. Seduction. She liked watching him touch himself? Jesus…she did.
Beck found himself widening his thighs and leaning back on one elbow so she could watch. Just having her attention centered there was going to be enough to finish him. More. More. Just a little more. But before he could start that final ascent, she removed his hand, replacing it with her own. His elbow gave out and he fell back on the bed, thighs shaking, stomach clenching.
“Have you ever had a woman’s mouth here, Major?”
“No,” he croaked. “Please. I know I shouldn’t ask, but please. I’ll do anything.”
He forced himself to lift his head so he could watch her unfasten his belt, work his button, unzip his fly. The lessening of pressure wrenched a groan from his throat, but nothing on his earth would ever compare to seeing his stiff dick in her grip. The softness of a woman’s—no, not just a woman…Kenna’s—hands put his own to shame. Precum leaked from the tip the first time she stroked her fist from base to head as his chest shuddered in and out on harsh breaths.
“She missed out, didn’t she, sweetheart?” She looked up at him under heavy eyelids. “You’re going to make some woman very happy with this.”
Her pink tongue skated over the tip, and his hips jerked wildly on the bed. “Darlin’. Darlin’, please…I’m hurting. I’m hurting all over.” Jesus, he’d never called anyone darlin’ in his life and who the hell cared? He reached down and wound a fist in her hair because he couldn’t not use her as an anchor. “Is this okay?”
“Hold on tight,” she whispered, before sucking half of his erection into her mouth. Beck shouted the vilest of curses at the ceiling. Swore his life was coming to an end. Every ounce of feeling in his body raced to his already sensitive cock, swelling it inside the sweet heat of her mouth. That mouth, that mouth that was designed for sinning, hummed around him as it worked, the vibrations hitting his balls like lightning strikes. Savoring noises that polarized and woke a beast inside of him at the same time. His survival was in Kenna’s control, and he gave it over without a moment’s hesitation, trusting her to end the torment. In that moment, she was everything. His sin, his salvation, his caretaker. All of it.
“Your mouth. God, your mouth. You. Just you, Kenna. I’ve needed you so bad.”
Every last thought bled from his mind when she took him to the back of her throat. She beat him off with several quick strokes as she sucked back to the t
ip and his very consciousness wavered. Nothing had ever felt this unbelievable. Nothing. It didn’t seem real, yet it was the most tangible thing he’d ever experienced. Never stop. Never.
“Keep doing that. Suck, just suck it hard for me. The way I’ve been dreaming.” His fists tightened in her hair. “Please, Kenna, please. Again, again. I’m going to—”
Beck broke off with a roar as blinding pleasure ripped through his middle. He lost control of his body, hips pumping upward trying to wring every last glimmer of perfection from Kenna’s mouth. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and she moaned around him, taking everything he had and more. The more he hadn’t known existed until now. The pain in his stomach faded into a dull memory, muscles practically liquefying him onto the mattress. It was impossible to wrap his mind around the stunning relief, so he scooped Kenna off the floor and onto his lap and held her, inhaling her incense scent in greedy gulps, knowing he would equate it with pleasure for the rest of his life and he was glad for it.
But the sweeping relief vanished when he became aware of her movements. She shifted in his lap, hands clenching and unclenching in the material of his shirt. “Now you, Kenna,” he growled, tipping her flushed face up. “Show me how to do that for you.”
Her nod was jerky, gaze refusing to find his. “When we wake up, okay?”
Sleep? He couldn’t sleep knowing she was experiencing the same discomfort he’d been afflicted with. Not a chance. “No. I need you better.” Hoping he wasn’t going too far, Beck pushed her thighs open, wincing at her moan. “Oh God, please…let me take care of it. My hands, my mouth—”
“No,” she blurted, softening her refusal by rubbing circles onto his chest. “I’m not ready just yet, okay?”
She seemed ready to him—beyond ready—but he’d rather saw off his arm than push a woman toward anything she didn’t want. Even if the idea of leaving her wanting sort of felt like both arms had already been sawed clean off. Dammit, he should know what to do here. How to fix her. It hurt to swallow. “When we wake up?”