Stay the Night: A Navy Seal Erotic Romance (Take a Chance Book 4)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  The noisy rumble of his stomach presented the perfect opportunity for putting those plans into place. Rising up on one arm, she swept her hand across his uniform jacket. It had been a little itchy against her naked breasts. As she did so, she caught sight of the Purple Heart ribbon tucked amongst the other campaign ribbons. Her heart clenched at the reminder that he’d been hurt and she hadn’t been there to do a thing about it.

  He tucked his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and gently urged her face upward. “Why so sad?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. We should get dinner,” she said and was instantly in motion, shifting off him and opening the car door to hop out. As she raced around the front of the car, battling tears, he sat up and eased out of the car. He stood by the door for a moment, getting himself in order, before opening the back door to grab his heavy duffle.

  On her side, she popped open her door, snagged her shoes and after, took hold of his smaller bag, her purse, and her briefcase. She hurried to the house door and was unlocking it when she noticed him standing by his Falcon. The car was draped with a protective cloth cover.

  “Is this – ”

  “Betsy. Yes. I didn’t want dust and stuff to ruin it.” Especially not after she’d had someone redo the paint job and some minor restoration work as a surprise for him.

  He looked at the cloth-covered mound and ran his hand across the hood, but didn’t remove the protective fabric, puzzling her. The car had been passed down to him by his grandfather. It had meant a lot to him at one time and if it had been her, she would have been yanking off the cover to see it. That he didn’t made her wonder and not in a good way.

  “Rafe?”

  He pulled back his hand and his head shot up to meet her gaze. “Time for dinner, right?”

  “If you’re hungry,” she said and finished unlocking the door. “I thought we’d get pizza. It was always one of your favorites.”

  The ghost of a smile drifted across his lips. “Yeah, it was. Still is. I haven’t had a good slice in months.”

  “Great, I’ll order it and we can get changed. Get comfortable. I’ll make a salad,” she said and kept up a running babble of things to do as she entered her home.

  No, our home, she reminded herself, worry once again creeping in on how he would feel about the house. About her now that physical need had been satisfied.

  She dropped her purse and briefcase on the bench in the mudroom off the garage.

  “You don’t have an alarm system?” he asked as they pushed through that room and into the kitchen. She didn’t have a chance to answer as he said, “A woman like you, all alone, should have an alarm system.”

  She’d meant to have one put in, but there were so many other things around the house that needed work and limited funds. That had pushed the alarm system way down on her list.

  “The bedrooms are upstairs,” she said and motioned toward a hall off the kitchen.

  He followed her as they walked to the front of the house and the stairs immediately by the front door. The first and second steps creaked as they always did. She chuckled and said, “Not quite an alarm. Call it my early warning system.”

  Rafe wasn’t laughing. His features were hard as he did a quick look around, but he said nothing and followed her up the stairs. On the second floor there was a bathroom and two bedrooms. All of the rooms, plus the hallway, were still in the state they’d been in when she’d bought the house a few months earlier, stuck in a 1940s kind of feel.

  “Our bedroom is on the third floor,” she said and plodded up the stairs. As she looked back at him, she realized his broad width nearly filled the stairway, making it look even smaller and darker. She had yet to replace the lighting fixtures in the halls and on the stairs. The light they cast was dim and unwelcoming, much like the grim look on his face.

  Flipping on the light for the master bedroom, she hoped he would like the renovations she had been able to do in this area. The room took up more than half of the floor and along one wall she’d had a balcony put in to take advantage of the sliver of ocean visible.

  The renovations were so recent that the sheetrock only had a coat of primer. She motioned to them and said, “I thought you could help me pick a color for the walls here and tiles for the bathroom.”

  The knife sharp slash of his hand silenced her. “It’s a lot to think about right now. I just need a little time to adjust.”

  Thankful he hadn’t said “a little distance” although she worried that was coming soon, she nodded. “Okay. Let’s get changed and I’ll order the pizza.”

  Silently he marched over to his highboy, which she’d moved from their old apartment. He leaned his hands on the surface for a moment, obviously conflicted, but then he tossed his heavy duffle to one side and started rummaging through the drawers.

  Wanting to give him some time to absorb it all, she hurried to her dresser and quickly yanked out a pair of well-worn jeans and a snug-fitting t-shirt that showed off her every asset. She got the sense she was going to have to pull out all stops to get past Rafe’s obvious upset.

  He was still searching through drawers when she finished. Deciding to give him that time he’d requested, she skipped down the stairs and to the kitchen. A quick call to the pizza place and Rafe’s favorite eggplant parmigiana pie was on its way. She speedily set the table and opened a bottle of wine. Because it was a night for celebration, she laid out the china that had been a wedding gift from his parents, lit some candles, and dimmed the lights to create an intimate and welcoming atmosphere.

  She turned to go to the fridge for some salad fixings and he was suddenly there, right next to her. She jumped, surprised by his presence at first, until sexual awareness of him filtered in. He was dressed all in black and both the jeans and t-shirt hugged his hard muscled body. The black complimented his hazel-green eyes, making them seem brighter, while the shadow of evening beard and nearly black buzz cut hair just upped his very masculine vibe.

  “Early warning system didn’t work very well, did it?” he said, but the crooked grin on his lips took some of the sting out of his words.

  “Thank God your average burglar isn’t a stealthy Navy Seal,” she teased back. “Why don’t you sit and pour yourself a glass while I make a salad.?”

  He grunted his answer and walked over to the table while she grabbed the essentials from the fridge and some ripe tomatoes from a wicker basket on the counter. She had just started washing and cutting the lettuce when he popped over and leaned on the counter beside her, two glasses of wine in his hands. He held one out to her.

  “Thanks,” she said and grabbed a tomato.

  “Let me help,” he said and snagged a cucumber, cutting board, and a knife.

  They worked side-by-side companionably, chopping and slicing and then tossing it into a big wooden bowl that rested on the counter between them.

  One small chunk of tomato clung to her board and Rafe snatched it off and popped it into his mouth. “Hmm. Nothing like a Jersey tomato.”

  “I grew those in the backyard. It’s not a big yard, but . . . ”

  Her voice trailed off as she noticed how his smile faded and his hazel eyes got a bit brittle.

  She raised her hands in apology and her vision blurred as tears came to her eyes. “Sorry. Time, I get it.”

  Rafe muttered a curse and looked away to avoid seeing the telltale shimmer in her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re excited about the house, but it’s a lot for me to handle. I don’t know where I fit in all . . . this,” he said and spread his arms wide.

  “‘This’ is our home, Rafe. I thought you’d be happy that we finally have a place of our own.”

  He wanted to shoot back that it was her home. That he’d had very little say in buying it or paying for it or renovating it or anything else they could do with it, but he bit back the words. They’d be hurtful and he’d be a selfish ungrateful prick to say them.

  But that’s how he felt. As he had wondered before on the flight to th
e States, he considered what place he had in her life now and whether a future together was what she wanted. It was almost as if he was intruding on the life she’d made and it only made him feel more alone than he ever had before.

  He had never felt that way, even in the midst of a battle, he’d known he’d had her. That she would be there and those thoughts had chased away the worst of his fears. Given him something to fight away both the real and imaginary demons that war had inflicted on him.

  Now he wasn’t so sure he still had her, but luckily he was spared from continuing the discussion and revealing his fears by the ring of the doorbell.

  She stepped away to the front door and he finished dressing the salad and brought it over to the kitchen table. He noticed the pains she’d taken to lay out the china and the candles and felt like even more of a shit that he was causing such grief on what should have been a happy day for them.

  She walked in with the pizza and the smells escaping the box were heavenly. Yeasty dough and earthy tomato sauce. She laid the box on the counter and he picked up the dinner plates and brought them over. When he reached her side, he laid them on the counter, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his face against hers. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a prick.”

  “You are,” she said immediately and a sniffle chased her words.

  He hugged her hard and whispered, “I’m sorry.” He wished he could say more, but there was still too much indecision and possibly hurt inside him to continue.

  She mumbled an “Okay” and popped open the pizza box. Those delicious smells from before engulfed his senses and his stomach grumbled loudly.

  “You remembered my favorite,” he said, touched by the fact.

  “You’re my husband, Rafe. I remember everything about you,” she replied, obviously still stinging from their earlier exchange.

  He bracketed her waist with his hands and urged her around to face him. Cradling her cheeks, he said, “And I remember everything about you, Elena.”

  He skimmed a thumb across her brow and the thin scar just above that you really had to look to see. “I remember how you fell in the sixth grade and needed stitches.”

  He dipped his finger down and swiped away the single tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I remember how you cried after you lost the baby. I went crazy thinking I might lose you, too.”

  “But I’m here,” she said, her brown-eyed gaze wide and questioning.

  “You are, but you’re so different. So beautiful that . . . I worry about losing you again,” he finally confessed.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Rafe. I thought you’d see that with this home. Our home,” she stressed again.

  He fought back that sense of having been left behind somehow, truly wanting to try and see her side of it. To see that everything that she’d done, she’d done for them. “Let’s eat.”

  “And talk. We need to talk about this, Rafe. Get this settled between us.”

  “Yes, we do,” he agreed, although the thought of that severely dimmed the hunger he’d had just moments earlier. “Sit. I’ll get this,” he said.

  She slipped away from him and he immediately sensed her absence even though she was just a few feet away. Grabbing the plates he had brought over earlier, he put two slices of pizza on each and walked back to the table.

  The place settings were caddy corner to each other and their knees brushed as he sat and placed the plates before them. She served up a plate of salad for him and then dumped some of it on one of her slices.

  He grinned, thankful that some things hadn’t changed. “Still like that disgusting salad pizza, huh?”

  She took a big bite and smiled around a mouthful of it. “Yep, I still do. Some things don’t change,” she said after she swallowed.

  “But some do. Tell me about yourself. About school and the job. This house,” he said, because he still couldn’t think of it as his home.

  She paused for only a heartbeat, but much like her salad pizzas hadn’t changed, her gift for storytelling hadn’t either. He sat there silently, eating and listening. Amazed by how she had grown and developed in the five years since they’d gotten married. He was proud of her, but saddened as well.

  “And that’s it,” Elena said and drew a deep breath, feeling emptied, but also energized. As she met Rafe’s gaze, it was impossible to miss his pain.

  “That’s a lot, babe. You’ve accomplished so much and I’m so very proud of you.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ there, Rafe.”

  He shrugged his immense shoulders and muscles rippled beneath the snug fabric. “But I don’t know if I belong here with you now.”

  His hand was lying on top of the table and she slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Of course you belong here. None of this wouldn’t have been possible without the sacrifices you made for us.”

  He just shrugged again. “It’s what I had to do.”

  She shook her head and squeezed his hand once more. “Some men would have just run away.”

  His head shot up and he nailed her with his gaze. “I’m not just some man.”

  She smiled and laced her fingers with his. “You’re right. You’re a very special man.”

  “But maybe not the man you need in your life.” Sadness dripped from his every word.

  She could continue to argue with him, but she knew him well enough to understand that it wouldn’t do any good. Frustrated, she eased her hand from his and raked her hair back with it. “So what do we do now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I just need a little distance.”

  Chapter 5

  There it was. The word she had been dreading all night long. “Don’t go, Rafe. Please stay. If only for tonight.”

  He shot up out of the chair so fast it fell back onto the floor with a loud thud. He rubbed his hands across the sides of his head and stepped away from the table before whirling back to face her. “You think one night can make a difference? One night?” he said, holding up his index finger for emphasis.

  She wanted to remind him that it had been one night of passion that had led them to where they were, but held that back.

  “Do you really want to toss away five years of marriage?”

  “Months, Elena. Just months together,” he challenged.

  She pressed her hand against the center of her chest. “Five years, Rafe. Five years you’ve been in my heart and in my mind every day, even if you weren’t here with me physically.”

  Her words seem to take him aback, so powerfully his body recoiled. “I need to go,” he said and before she could say another word, he bolted to the front door and rushed out.

  She sat there for long moments, staring at the remains of their meal and possibly of their marriage.

  Pushing away from the table, she started cleaning up, her movements sharp angry bursts of energy as thought after thought pummeled her brain.

  Rafe is proud, but so am I. I won’t beg him again.

  I have done a lot, but so has he. He’s a successful man. A hero.

  Shit, shit, shit. Why is this happening now, when everything in my life was finally coming together?

  When we were so close to reaching the end of his tour so we could really start our life?

  She lost her grip on a wine glass. It dropped into the sink and shattered into dozens of angry shards.

  She leaned her hands on the edge of the counter and stared at it, knowing it was irreparable. Knowing to be careful lest the razor edges caused pain.

  Worrying that maybe her marriage with Rafe was just as irreparable as well and that the pain of that would cut deeper than anything in her life.

  * * *

  He had snatched his keys from the candy dish by the front door, one thing that was the same as it had been. Only he didn’t feel like driving. He was too hurt and angry, a dangerous combination to put behind the wheel of a car.

  Instead, he pocketed the keys and walked in the direction of the breeze, the scent of the ocean pulling him toward the shore.

>   They were only a couple of blocks away from the beach and the inlet that separated Brigantine from the mainland and Atlantic City. As he reached the sand, the bright and colorful lights of the casinos and hotels were visible in the distance.

  Mark Smith, the man he’d met on the plane, had mentioned A.C. as one of those places where he had job openings. Hopefully something more than the basic security guard kind of gig. He wasn’t sure he could last long in a job like that considering the kind of activity he was used to after his time in the service. Or even that the other man would be interested in hiring him, especially since Atlantic City was having a number of casino closures.

  Of course, there was the possibility of another deployment. The re-enlistment bonus was huge and would provide a nice nest egg for them.

  If there even was a ‘them.’

  She had changed so much, but then she hadn’t. As he’d sat there, listening to her stories and watching her, he realized she was still so much the young girl he’d married. Smart. Funny. Caring. Loving.

  She’d shown him nothing but love in the few hours that he’d been home, but he’d let his pride get the better of him. Understandable, he thought. No man liked to feel as if his wife had made a better life for herself on her own. That she had left him behind and he was now an intruder in her life.

  You’re an idiot, the little voice inside his head shouted. She said you helped her. You and your sacrifice.

  She threw me a bone, he shot back.

  She waited for you. She’s been faithful, the voice challenged as Rafe walked along the beachfront, a little chilled by the strong ocean breeze despite the heat of the late summer night.

  How do I know that? he thought, but he didn’t need the voice in his head to tell him.

  He knew it in his gut and in his heart. Elena would never have cheated on him much like he had been faithful to her. It wasn’t in either of their natures to hurt the other person by breaking the vows they both took very seriously.

  With that realization, the bubble of anger and hurt inside him burst, restoring a measure of calm and bringing with it new resolve to try and work at their marriage.