by LA Witt
Shane,
Are you going to come out here and get them? They’re too young to fly alone.
K.
I wrote back:
If you can fly with them to Seattle or California, I can take a military flight and pick them up. Will that work?
And in moments, she fired back:
I can’t afford to fly across the country, and I really can’t take that much time off work. Especially since military flights aren’t that reliable, so I’d have to stay with them until you made it. Probably not a good idea until they’re older, unless you want to come here and get them.
K.
I released a breath. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. She would never in a million years prevent me from seeing my children, but she dug her heels in whenever it took any effort on her part to help me do so. God forbid we have to be in the same room for five damned minutes, never mind make her travel a few hours each direction to meet me halfway.
Whatever. I didn’t have it in me to fight today.
And I needed coffee. Before I could handle another message from her or anyone else, I fucking needed coffee.
The coffeepot down the hall was our office’s answer to a water cooler, so it was no surprise to see a few coworkers milling around with Styrofoam cups in hand and gossip in the air.
As I poured myself a cup, Morris turned to me.
“You hear about Sorenson?” he asked.
Oh, great. Now what? I shook my head.
“Had the cops out at his place last night,” Gonzales said. “Guess he and the old lady were duking it out in the parking lot, got a little too loud.”
“Lovely,” I muttered. “How bad was it?”
Morris glanced down the hall, then shrugged. “He’s at work, so they must have settled it or something.”
I braced for a snide comment about Sorenson’s wife, who Morris probably figured deserved whatever might have happened, but it mercifully didn’t come. He must have caught on that I wasn’t someone to fuck with today. Even Morris didn’t hassle me much when I was in a mood like this.
And really, he was much easier to deal with at work than he was at the bar. Sober, he was abrasive but even-keeled. The dick he was when he drank sort of killed any positive feelings I might have had toward his sober persona. Especially since he could not drink without going off about, among other things, his rampant homophobia. A polite face by day didn’t negate being an asshole at night, so even when I wasn’t in a mood and he wasn’t drunk, I kept him at arm’s length.
On a day like this, I kept everyone at arm’s length, so I bowed out of the conversation and retreated to my office. As the morning wore on, paperwork piled up. The phone rang. The skipper needed this. Commander Morris needed that. Lieutenant Commander Gonzales had papers for me to review and sign. My kids were still a million miles away.
I went through the motions of the day on numb autopilot. I still concentrated on my job—Intel wasn’t a good place for daydreaming—but any parts of my mind that weren’t needed to safely and effectively work were in another world. Aside from my job and the ever-tightening knot in my gut, I was completely detached.
Maybe I needed to take orders back to the States. At least then I’d be able to see the kids in person more than once a year. Of course, I wasn’t up for orders for another two years, and even if I transferred back stateside, I’d be lucky to land within a ten-hour drive of the kids. Katie had moved back to Pittsburgh after the divorce, and the city wasn’t exactly spitting distance from any place I might be stationed.
I supposed I couldn’t blame her for that. She wanted to be near her family. And to be fair, if I was back in the States, living in the same state as my ex-wife wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. Those once-or-twice-a-year encounters to hand off the kids were tense enough.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Maybe this was for the better. The kids didn’t need to see what their mother and I had become. I doubted they remembered what we were like before—they were barely five when we split up—but they didn’t need to see us like this.
The day ground on, and eventually, five o’clock came around.
I was sorely tempted to go out with everyone to the O’Club again tonight but bowed out. There was no point in drinking when I was in a mood like this. All I’d do is get depressed, miss my kids, and curse my ex-wife.
Plus Mays was still on leave. I didn’t dare go near a drunk Morris when I was already in a mood and Mays wasn’t around to verbally smack that idiot around when his mouth ran off with him. Gonzales and the others would have to babysit Morris tonight and keep him out of trouble, because I was better off anywhere but there, so I made my excuses and left.
~*~
As soon as I was home, I stripped out of my uniform and went in to grab a shower. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. The world had been suffocating me all damned day, and I just needed to get away from everyone and everything.
Hot water rushed over me, and I shrugged the weight of the day off my shoulders. Tilting my head from side to side to relieve the tension, I wondered if I should go get a massage. There were a few places on the island that were just well-dressed brothels, but I knew of some reputable ones where massage just meant massage.
Or I could go out to Palace Habu again. See if I could find an attractive, willing companion for the night.
Maybe Eric.
Goose bumps prickled my skin under the warm water.
Eric. Fuck. Wasn’t that a name and a face I’d tried—and failed—to forget? I’d tried my damnedest not to think about him the last few days, but now, I gave up and gave in. I surrendered and let my mind take me to the one place that could relax me and wind me up at the same time.
My cock hardened as my memory took me through everything from the first moment I saw Eric to the last time I’d made him come. My chest wanted to tighten, and my gut wanted to sink with the awareness that I was wallowing in the one and only time I’d ever see him, but I didn’t care. I just closed my eyes, closed my fingers around my cock and got lost in that night.
I let my head fall forward. With one arm braced against the wall, I stroked my cock faster, faster, faster. I imagined Eric was right here with me, kneeling on the floor of my shower and stroking and sucking my cock. The way he’d kissed, I had no doubt his mouth was capable of giving the most spectacular blowjobs. I pictured him on top of me, pinning my arms to the pillow as he rode me like I was going to take what he gave me and I was going to like it. And, God in heaven, the way he fucked me. Shaking, thrusting, groaning, as if he wanted me to know how in control he was, even when he was as close to falling apart as I was.
My breath caught. My eyes rolled back. Just as my knees buckled, I heard myself groan, and I swore to God I could hear Eric whimpering in my ear, and I could barely keep my hand moving with any semblance of rhythm as my orgasm took over.
Panting and shaking, I touched my forehead to the cool tile. Sparks of electricity still crackled under my skin and through my muscles, and although the earlier tension had melted away, a new tension lingered. A knot coiled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me Eric hadn’t actually been here tonight and wouldn’t be here anytime soon.
Exhaling sharply, I pushed myself back from the wall and let the hot water rush over me again. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t shake him any more than I stood a chance of having him again. I wanted him so damned bad, not having him just made me want him that much more.
To hell with it. I’d tried and failed to reconnect with him the only way I could, but what was one more try? Besides, if he wasn’t at Palace Habu tonight, other men would be, and I needed to get laid.
I turned off the shower, pushed the curtain back, and reached for a towel. There was no point staying home and feeling like hell. At the very least, I could almost always find someone who was attractive and willing at Palace Habu, so maybe I could put a new name and face to all this distraction. If Eric showed up, great. If not, there’d be plenty of other men.
&nbs
p; I just hoped he was there.
Chapter Seven
Eric
By the time I left work on Friday night, I was no closer to forgetting about Shane than I was the morning I left his apartment. I’d thought about going to Palace Habu to find him again so I could get him out of my system and out of my mind, but I knew better. Another hit didn’t make someone less addicted. If I went back and he was there, and we slept together again, I’d only want more. And more. And more. The only way I was getting him out of my system was to just stop thinking about him, focus on my job and stay the hell away from Palace Habu.
I knew this. I didn’t question it. I didn’t argue with it.
But it sure as fuck didn’t stop me from pushing open that heavy, black-painted door and stepping into the flickering, flashing, fog-saturated club.
The spotlight made me squint, but I quickly stepped out of its beam and found my way to the bar. I flagged down the bartender just like I had the first night, and while he made my drink, I scanned the room and its occupants.
The bartenders were all Japanese except for one, but most of the crowd was American. Everything here was just as I’d left it last time. Blinding strobes and pulsing music. Gorgeous men dancing in the light and making out in the shadows. Jars of Habu sake above the bar.
But Shane wasn’t here.
The bartender set my drink in front of me. I pulled a thousand-yen bill out of my wallet and slid it across the bar. In the back of my mind, I actually expected the bartender to refuse it, then gesture across the room at the man who’d already paid for my drink. Ah well. A guy could dream.
After pocketing my change, I picked up my drink. The first sip made me shiver. It was the first rum and Coke I’d had in two weeks, and good God, it took me back to the last one.
Rolling my drink around in my mouth, I scanned the room in search of either Shane or the next distraction. There was no shortage of good-looking guys tonight, that was for damn sure. Some danced together. A few danced by themselves, but judging by the looks they exchanged with other lone wolves, that wouldn’t last long. Even through the flickering light and thin fog, the chemistry between some couples was nearly visible to the naked eye. Just watching one couple bantering and touching beside a chest-high table, I swore their crackling connection made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as if I were part of that electric equation.
Every time the air pressure in the room changed, I glanced at the door. And every time, I was met with an unfamiliar face, someone coming into the club who wasn’t Shane.
Eventually, about the time I was near the bottom of my drink, I stopped looking. It occurred to me that guys would think I was waiting for someone if I kept glancing at the door. And I wasn’t waiting for anyone. Though if he showed up, I—
It was a one-night stand, idiot. Let it go.
I flagged down the bartender and slid my empty glass across the bar. While he made my drink, I dug a handful of yen out of my pocket, and when the drink was finished, I handed him a few coins. I still wasn’t quite used to the idea of paying six hundred yen for a drink; I had to remind myself each time it was closer to six or seven dollars, not six or seven hundred dollars.
Reasonably priced drink in hand, I turned around and leaned against the bar. Shane may not be here, but I was, and he couldn’t possibly be the only good-looking man on the island. Might as well have a look around and see if anyone else caught my eye.
My skin prickled. I had the distinct impression someone was looking at me, and slowly turned my head.
From a few barstools over, a toned and tanned guy made eye contact with me.
My God, he was hot.
I guessed he was a Marine. Some of those guys just had a look about them that was unmistakable. They stood a little straighter, pushed their shoulders back a little more and gave off an air that screamed Devil Dog. I’d probably have suspected most of them of steroid use if I didn’t know just how demanding Marine PT was. A lot of Marines were powerfully sculpted from their shoulders and biceps to their six-packs, and this one had on a shirt tight enough to prove he was no exception.
He stepped away from the bar and started toward me. Something tightened in the pit of my stomach. He was hot, all right, but didn’t stir as much interest as a man like him rightly should have.
Oh. Right. Because he isn’t Shane.
I took a drink, silently trying to convince myself that was exactly why I was here--to find someone who wasn’t Shane. Or let someone else find me, as it turned out.
He sidled up next to me and rested his elbow on the bar. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
I shrugged. “Just found out about the place.” He didn’t need to know how long I’d been on-island. Or that I’d been here once before and sampled what this club had to offer.
He extended his hand. “I’m Glenn.”
“Eric,” I said as I shook his hand. “You come here often?” It was cheesy, cliché pickup-line conversation, but it got words moving between strangers.
“Sometimes,” he said with a shrug. “So what base are you out of?”
Great. The only thing better than small talk and pickup lines was shop talk.
“White Beach. You?”
“Futenma.”
His eyes darted away for a split second. Weird. I supposed lying about which base he was attached to was a good cover story, but I couldn’t imagine what I’d do with the real information.
Whatever, dude. I sipped my drink. “So you’re a Marine, then?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I work in avionics.” He shared stories about his job, going into mind-numbing detail about what he did, but I didn’t talk about mine. I was here to get away from work, for fuck’s sake. But while he went on about avionics and aircraft, I took advantage of being this close to him. So much easier to really look at him when we didn’t have ten feet and flashing lights between us.
Glenn was taller than me by a few inches and definitely broader in the shoulders. He was easily stronger than me, and I caught myself thinking I wouldn’t mind testing that theory in the bedroom. There were few things hotter than a man who was willing to get rough, and Glenn was certainly built for it. The only question was, was he wired that way? Regardless of size, not everyone was into being rough. Especially not rough by Eric Randall’s definition.
I curled my fingers around my glass, both to keep myself cool and to resist the temptation to run my fingers over the grooves between his abs. If he played his cards right, and he was game to go someplace else with me, there’d be time for that later.
I was impatient as hell when I met someone who interested me, but I held back a little. When it came to guys who could easily overpower me, I preferred to feel them out before we went someplace private. Very nearly learned that lesson the hard way a few years ago.
But so far, he’d played his cards right, so I was optimistic, even if I wasn’t as enthusiastic as I should have been. Ho hum, play games, get laid, move on, repeat next weekend. Didn’t even seem worth the effort tonight.
I went to take a drink and realized I was down to ice. I gestured with my empty glass. “Refill?” Nodding at the glass in his hand, I added, “What are you drinking?”
“Orion,” he said. “But I can—”
“I’ve got it.” I nodded toward the other side of the room. “You want to see if any booths are available?”
Our eyes met, and he returned the grin with a little more feeling than I could have mustered. As he went to find a booth, I faced the bar and flagged down the bartender.
Mere seconds after I placed the order, Glenn reappeared beside me so suddenly he made me jump. I turned toward him and—
Jumped again.
I could barely breathe but managed to cough out a single word: “Shane?”
He grinned, which made my pulse go berserk. “You remembered my name. Does that mean I made an impression?”
I swallowed, wondering when my mouth had gone dry. “Did you think I’d forget your name after two week
s?”
He laughed. “Well, you never know. Anyway, I kind of hoped you’d be here tonight.” He nodded toward the bar. “Can I buy—”
Glenn stepped out of the crowd and looked at Shane, an unspoken challenge narrowing his eyes.
Shane looked at Glenn and abruptly backed off, stepping away from the bar. “Oh, I’m sorry.” His eyes darted toward me, and he smiled in spite of—holy shit, was that disappointment in his eyes? “I didn’t realize you already had company.”
Apparently satisfied Shane wasn’t going to get territorial, the challenge in Glenn’s expression eased. “It’s all right,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” His biting tone, however, announced it was anything but all right, and Shane would be wise to worry about it.
I ground my teeth. Oh, what a turn-on. The son of a bitch had known me five minutes, he was already possessive, and he wasn’t Shane.
“Well.” Shane took another step back, then smiled halfheartedly at me. “It was good seeing you again.”
“Yeah, good seeing you too.”
Another step and the crowd swallowed him up.
No, no, no, come back. Where are you going? Damn it…
The bartender set our drinks on the bar, and I numbly counted out the yen. As I collected and pocketed my change, Glenn nodded in the direction Shane had gone.
“You guys know each other?” he asked with an accusing edge.
I shrugged in spite of my annoyance and handed him his drink. “We’ve run into each other before.”
He nodded once and acknowledged my comment with a quiet grunt. Eyes narrow, he looked past me, probably at Shane. Then he looked at me again, and his expression softened. A little. Gesturing toward the opposite side of the room, he said, “There are a few booths open. Want to grab one?”
“Sure.” I gave him a watery smile. “Why not?”
We left the bar in search of a booth.
As we made our way through the thick crowd, I surreptitiously glanced around, hoping for a glimpse of Shane. I found him, and I regretted it.