by Lyz Kelley
His hand slowly crept up her back until his fingers could tangle into her hair, feeling the silk cascade through. His full-force arousal was uncomfortable, and he needed to shift positions to relieve the ache. He pushed her back and stretched out beside her, feeling her thigh against him. He moved closer.
She guided his hand from her waist to her full breast to greet her erect nipple. His inner voice told him to stop, but he wanted to feel her skin next to his, to close out the world around them and simply be in the moment with her. When a sweet moan escaped her, his hunger drove him deeper. He tantalized her mouth with his tongue and nibbled with his teeth. He explored her delicate curves while the kiss lingered on and on.
She tugged his shirt from his pants and ran her feather-light fingers up his spine.
“Talk to me.” He ran a hand up her back. “Tell me what you like.”
“Shhh.”
He reached for her face and drew her lips to his once more. He groaned, responding to her thirst. He had a mind to pin her to the bed and make her beg for mercy, but instead rolled to his back, taking her with him. Since he was on the bottom, he could allow his fingers to caress the vast amount of sensitive skin he hadn’t yet had the pleasure of exploring. He let his hands drift lower, and when his fingers found the edge of the cotton fabric, he pulled her shirt up and over her head in one swift motion.
His arms encircled her waist. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“So are you. Now stop talking.”
Her tongue ever so slightly ran over her bottom lip while she riveted her attention on the top button of his shirt. Something about her fingers working each button, one at a time, gave him an immensely erotic rush. When she finished, she spread the shirt wide and proceeded to kiss his scars. Each one. One at a time.
What a woman. “Do you know how much I want you, Ashley?”
She groaned and sank her teeth into his chest, then used her tongue to find his nipple, wrapping her mouth around the sensitive skin. When she finished, she rubbed her chest against his and landed in the crook of his neck. His nervous fingers fumbled with her bra clasp. When the closure popped open, he traced the edges of the strap, pulling the elastic to him. His abdominal muscles contracted in anticipation. She pushed herself up off his chest so she could remove the impediment, and his breath caught. He let out a ragged breath and cupped her breasts in his palms. She fit him perfectly. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Her lips found his while his arms stretched around her, and he slipped his hands down inside the back of her tight-fitting jeans. His arms around her, he prepared to roll when ‘The Halls of Montezuma’ Marine Corps hymn rang out from her coat on the floor.
Using his chest as leverage, she broke free of his arms. She stared at her coat, a perplexed expression crossing her face.
“Don’t answer that.”
“But it’s my dad. He never, ever calls. What if something’s happened?” Indecision crossed her face for a tick of several seconds before she attacked her jacket, then pushed the phone to her ear. “Dad?”
Awareness came pummeling Chase all at once. Her dad. Essentially his boss’s boss’s boss.
The beautiful woman covering her chest the best she could, looking incredibly guilty, was talking to the general. Her father, who sat in meetings with the President of the United States.
What the hell was he doing?
He rotated and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His body vibrated with frustration, and his erection pressed painfully against his zipper. He needed to get out of the room. He stood. The need to clear his head became primary.
When he’d nearly reached the bedroom door, she stepped in front of him.
“Dad, I have to call you back.” She disconnected the call and glared at Chase. “Where are you going?”
“That was your dad. I wanted to give you some privacy and get my head around this.”
“This? You mean you, me, sex? The fact that you think you know my dad doesn’t change who I am.” The anger in her expression sparked hot.
“Sex. Is that what you think this is? Merely sex? Is that all you want from me?”
Ashley shrugged. “Other than friendship, that’s all there is.”
“No, Ashley. That’s not all there is. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the military.”
“And if you do, it can’t be for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t give you what you want. Right now, I need to work my plan. Find a place to live. Get a job. Make my life work. My mother always made choices for me. Now she’s gone, and I have to figure out my life. I can’t give you more, and you deserve more.”
“You’re right. I do want more. Namely you, in my life. I don’t want perfect, but I do want permanent.”
“What are you going to do when you get out? What? What skills do you have that will translate into the civilian job? If you get out, you’ll blame me, get angry, and eventually leave anyway. Same as everyone else in my life. You won’t want permanent, because permanent is tough.”
Gut punch.
She scrambled to pick up her shirt and thrust it over her head. “Just go. Go now.”
The room contained only so many square feet, but she’d put a lot more distance between them. She stood with her back to him, looking out the large-paned window into the moonless night.
He took a step closer. “Ashley, I’m not leaving you. But I must return to North Carolina. I don’t have a choice. I’m not leaving because I want to.”
She glared at him, her face screaming, no, but you will. “We’ve already had this conversation. We don’t need to keep having it.”
The knuckles on her fisted hands had gone white with rage. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to explain how deep his feelings were, but he seriously doubted she’d hear a word. She must have taken his silence as confirmation because she took a breath and continued.
“When you get back, the military will take over your life again. I will be pushed to the back of the line and become a distant memory. I don’t want to be second anymore. I’m tired of people in my life demanding things from me without giving anything in return. Go ahead and go. It will be easier in the long run.”
The raw honesty in her voice made him wince. “That’s not how it is,” he countered.
“Oh, really? You’re going to promise letters, phone calls, tell me you won’t die? Or will you lie and promise me you’ll be by my side the rest of my life? That’s not you, Chase. You don’t lie. You tell the truth.”
“You’re not giving us a chance. And about dying—when my number’s up, it’s up. No one can play with fate or offer a bullet-proof guarantee.”
She turned and looked out the window again, physically and mentally shutting him out of her life. He wrestled with the temptation to let her push him away, but in the end, he couldn’t do it. He was a fighter. He took quick strides to reach her.
He saw her reflection in the window, but couldn’t read her mirrored face. “You’ve lived a tough life, and your mom’s death and the aftermath she saddled you with sucks. I understand. But it’s not reasonable to always look for and expect the worst of people. Sometimes you’ve got to believe. Take a leap of faith.”
He stood for a long time, watching her reflection, waiting for a signal.
When he’d about lost hope, she shifted slightly. “You think I’m strong. But I’m not. I can’t do what my mom did. I can’t wait around, hoping for the front door to open,” she whispered.
He let his breath settle and his shoulders ease. “That’s crap. You can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen you do it. I get you’re hurt—pissed off at your mom for dying and denying you the life you deserved after all your years of care, and your dad for leaving. You deserve every kindness the world has to offer. And you are strong. But you haven’t figured out how to tap into it yet. You’re still young.”
“You’re bringing up our age differences now?”
“You’re right. T
hat wasn’t fair. And I didn’t mean the statement to come out the way it did. It’s just that I’m pissed.”
“Stand in line. I’m pissed. I’m mad at myself for getting sucked into this situation and distracted from my plan. I’m trying to get my life together. And meeting you now, when my life’s all screwed up, sucks. I like you. I like you a lot. But I can’t make plans based on promises you can’t keep.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to face the facts. I have to put my life in order, and you have to go back to North Carolina. I get that. My life is a jumbled mess. I’m a mess. Maybe it’s time for you to go. You’re a distraction, Chase. A nice distraction, but a distraction.”
“A distraction? You mean a nice sex toy to amuse yourself with.” His jaw muscles bunched and released as he wrestled with her request.
“You’re being unfair again. You know you’re more than that. But no matter how strongly I feel about you, I can’t see how it will work.”
“I want to stay. Talk. I don’t have to be at Bobby’s parents’ until after Christmas.”
“What would change? Besides, staying would only prolong the good-bye.” Her step back and away emphasized her decision.
“Don’t do this, Ashley.”
“Chase, you need to go.”
He stood, waiting for her to change her mind, but fear and insecurities and survival told him she wouldn’t. Finally, he saw no other option. “As you wish. I’ll pack my things and clear out in the morning.” Give you more time to reconsider.
His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air.
He knew when to back off, save his ammo, and minimize the casualties.
With nothing left to say, he managed to walk away.
Chapter Seventeen
Chase studied the bottle of tequila in his hand, wanting to break the seal to feel the burn and numbing sensation. Memories of Bobby’s mangled body, dirt soaked blood, the sounds of the medics replayed in his mind.
He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and willed the images to fade. He took a deep breath. His gaze spanned across the sea of white stone, unclenched his hand, and wiggled his fingers to bring back the circulation.
It should have been him in the ground. Not Bobby.
If he could slice away the guilt clamping around his heart like a steel animal trap, he would—no that wasn’t true. He’d live with the pain. Honor the best man he’d ever known. Take the necessary steps toward being the person Bobby believed he was, not the angry and confused foster kid from the streets.
He considered opening the bottle again. Instead, he dug a hole in the snow where Bobby’s grave marker would be in a few weeks and settled the bottle and two shot glasses on the ground.
Chase sculpted and compacted the snow with his bare hands. The cold landscape left him feeling empty.
“I miss you, buddy,” he choked, blinking several times to keep his emotions in check. He gazed out over the fields of stones in even rows. “I’m going to visit your parents later today. I want to check in, see how they’re doing.” He stood and paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, his thoughts random, flicking between the past and present.
He glanced at the liquor bottle. “I met a girl. She’s not like the others.”
I told you, buddy, not to let women get behind the man curtain. Fucks you up.
“Yeah. I should have listened to you. She did a good job of messing with my head and took a big chunk out of my heart.”
But you love her. Come on, admit it.
“Yeah, I love her. But she doesn’t need me.”
What? A stud like you? Where’s that Marine attitude? Did you tell her you loved her?
“Hell, no.”
Thought so.
The sun overhead created a field of sparkling diamonds on the undisturbed snow. He listened to the wind blow through the pines, and studied the oak tree skeletons standing sentinel over the graves, waiting for the spring to breathe life back into the place.
Go to her.
“Not going to happen. There are plenty of women back on base who’ll be happy to see me.”
I bet none are like her.
“No. She’s different. Kind. Smart. Giving. Stubborn. Did I mention stubborn?”
So don’t be a wimp.
“I can’t.” He lifted his hand to rub his aching chest. “I can’t.” He brushed the snow off Bobby’s temporary name placard. “It’s time to go, buddy. Say hi to the guys. Tell Brian he still owes me ten bucks, and that I’ll collect someday.” He managed a puff of laughter. “Hopefully not anytime soon.”
Chase sniffed back his grief and heartbreak and trudged through the field of graves to the truck. The pressure on his chest made it hard to swallow. His hand tightened around the key ring while he turned to view Ft. Logan Cemetery one last time. In his gut he knew he wouldn’t be back, but leaving Bobby would be okay because the man wasn’t really there. He was in his memories and heart. Never to be forgotten.
He started the truck, put it in gear, and drove through the large metal gates toward the highway. He felt like he was being ripped apart, right down to his muscles and bones, by the pain of leaving Bobby and Ashley, and his commitment to visit the Hershams.
Ashley had pushed him away because she was scared. He got that. He felt the uneasiness deep in his gut. If she couldn’t admit the doubt and fear, how could she heal and get past the pain?
She couldn’t.
He understood loss. Bobby had left a great big fucking hole in his chest.
His friend had been right about not getting involved with a woman, but not totally. Ashley gave him a sense of home. A conviction that he didn’t want to be anywhere else but with her.
Colorado called to him, but he had to move on. Only pain awaited him here.
He drove, turning and exiting where required, then turned right and left on residential streets, until he saw the majestic oak tree in front of a house with white shutters, light gray paneling, a dark gray door, and a two-car garage. The three recently shoveled steps led to the front porch. He shoved Bobby’s truck into park and turned off the ignition.
Shit. I don’t want to do this.
He’d been on funeral duty before, and witnessed the grief of mothers and fathers and siblings. When he visited a couple of weeks ago, the sorrowful faces had been more familiar, since he’d seen them in photographs and heard detailed accounts of their lives on long overnight watches.
Bobby had discovered at boot camp that Chase didn’t have a family, and generously put his family on indefinite loan, telling him stories and making them real.
The front door opened, and the realness hit him in the gut. He took a calming breath and picked up one of Jenna’s pies he’d purchased to ease the start of a conversation.
“How was the drive?” Wilma Hersham’s voice traveled over the snow-covered ground.
“A bit icy, but not too bad.”
John Hersham and Lillia, Bobby’s sister, appeared in the doorway. Chase snagged his duffel from the passenger seat and made his way up the slippery driveway.
“John, I told you we should have put ice melt down on the pavement.”
“Stop your nagging, Wilma, you’re embarrassing the boy.”
Boy? He supposed children remained kids to their parents. Besides, embarrassment wasn’t close to what he was feeling. He handed the pie off to Mrs. Hersham before beginning the three-step climb into the split-level house.
“Lillia, would you please put Chase’s things in the spare room?”
Bobby’s younger sister didn’t appear withdrawn and small this time. At the cemetery, she’d been bundled in an oversized wool coat that hung off her shoulders. The grief in her expression had torn at his soul. Today she wore jeans so tight he wondered if she could breathe, and a shirt that pushed everything up and almost out.
She was moving on, healing. Her hint of recovery gave him hope. She bent over to show off her full mounds and ga
ve him an inquisitive, I’m-interested stare. Not going there. Been there and got burned. Thankfully, Mr. Hersham rescued him by shoving a beer in front of his face.
“Like football?” John Hersham sat in a leather chair that could have had his name engraved on the back. The overstuffed recliner said Man of the House like no other chair in the room. Bobby’s dad was looking at the remote in his hand, obviously itching to turn on the sound.
“Depends who’s playing. Would I get tossed out if I admitted to liking the Giants?”
“Only if they were playing the Broncos, which they aren’t.”
Mrs. Hersham appeared with bowls of peanuts, corn chips and salsa, the carbs he should start avoiding, according to Ashley. The idea of her and the Hershams’ attempts at normalcy made the sorrow inside him explode.
He turned to the woman who’d recently lost her only son. “How are you doing today?” he asked, wondering if she felt as lost and adrift as he did.
She rapidly blinked and took a deep breath, fighting for acceptance of something he could never understand fully, a mother’s loss of a child. “I’m doing okay today.” She pointed at the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. “Putting up the tree was hard. I found Bobby’s first ornament, and the one he made in kindergarten. Ugly little thing, but very precious.”
“This time last year, Bobby and I were eating dehydrated turkey in a blizzard. Bobby started complaining, which in turn started a snowball fight.” Chase chuckled at the memory. “Bobby liked to stir things up a bit.”
“That’s my boy.” Pride with a hint of sorrow made John choke back anything else he wanted to say.
“Before I forget,” Chase said to change the subject, “thank you for allowing me to use his truck. I enjoyed visiting the places Bobby talked about.”
“What did you like best?” He met Lillia’s curious gaze when she entered the room. Aiming for the couch, she missed sitting on him by a slim margin, squeezing in between him and her mother.
“I had a list of places to see, but I only got to Elkridge and a few towns close by.”