She’s just different than any of the women I’ve met before. I’m sure it’s due to everything she’s endured in her life. “Are you hungry?” I force myself to look away from her and pretend to inspect the side of the plane.
“I haven’t eaten anything today, so if you have something, I’d love to eat.” Thank god I have supplies to keep us comfortable during our stranded time here. She turns to walk up the stairs, and I follow, with my focus on her ass for only a few seconds before I want to choke myself again.
Jesus,Trevor. Get a grip. I speak to myself internally, trying to get my shit together. Grace shouldn’t be subjected to my ridiculous behavior. She’s pure and innocent; there’s no doubt in my mind she’s inexperienced when it comes to men. She’s what I’d consider relationship material. Her virtue is written all over her face, and I’m not about to be the man to take that away from her. No matter what.
“The refrigerator is stocked, so help yourself.” I open the small door and pull out a water bottle for myself.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“No, I ate this morning. I’ll be fine for a while.” Call it the reservist in me, but I want to make sure we have plenty of food until someone finds us.
I sit on the couch after she does, both of us awkward in the silence between us until she starts asking questions about the damage. “So, how bad is it?”
“We’ll be leaving on a different plane, I can tell you that. The engine failed, is about all I know. I don’t have the power or the tools to get in there and scope it out, let alone know how to fix it if I did. I may be able to fly one of these babies, however, when it comes to fixing them, I have no clue. The good thing is, we’re not very far out, so they should find us soon.”
“Even with it getting dark?” I watch her perfect little lips wrap around the chicken wrap she’s devouring. They’re a pale pink, thin on top with a perfect little bow, plump and lush on the bottom. I stare at them, at her, in utter fascination. My mind warped, imagining how soft they would feel against my tongue. On my dick. I would devour her. Eat her alive and still want more.
I clear my throat, turn my head the other way before I say and do something I’ll regret. “I would say at most, we’ll be here until morning, but it could be sooner, it could be later. I really don’t know. My team and I, we’re good at what we do. I have faith they’ll find us as soon as they can.” I sit back enough not to catch her eyes that seem to be piercing right through me every time she looks at me.
“You seem very relaxed for a man who crashed a plane today. I hope I’ll never experience anything like it again,” she states.
“I hope you don’t, either. I’d be stressing if you were hurt, and seeing that you aren’t, I have no reason not to be calm. Someone will be here to get us, and then we’ll figure out what to do from there. I’ll get you home and then move on to the next mission.” My words seem to stop her from asking her next question. I watch her profile with curiosity as her mind takes all of this in and her eyes explore our surroundings.
“I guess there are far worse ways to be stranded.” She shifts her head to the side, eyes landing on me just as she says that, and I catch the slight smile that crosses her lips before she stands up and walks her wrapper to the trash.
“Yeah. I’d say so.” I won’t go into the memories of my own that prove that statement true. Leaving the conversation about today is the best way for us to get through this. Torturing her with the possibilities of what could go wrong would only torment us both and have me reliving my nightmares all over again. It’s bad enough that I have to face them nearly every night in my sleep.
“Thank you for all of this. I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain.” She has a hard time looking me in the eyes when she's sincere, which is a contradiction to her confidence I noticed immediately the first time I saw her.
“You are far from a pain, Grace. You’re safe, that’s what matters, and this will be something we can laugh about one day.” I grab the bottle of whiskey to my right and just spin the bottle on my knee. Her eyes fall to it, uncomfortably, before I put it back on the shelf. I won’t be drinking tonight, obviously, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could to chill me out some.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE
He’s been looking at me differently since I changed. He tried to mask it, but I can see he didn’t expect me to look as I do. Although he complimented me, I feel very exposed without my normal clothes on, which is why I decided to start walking around like this. When I get to the States, I’ll stand out, so I want to make sure I’m more adjusted to being without the burqa before I arrive.
It’s getting dark quickly, ruining my hope of being rescued tonight. Not that this is a terrible predicament to be in. I find myself wanting to stare into his eyes and search his soul for the stories he could tell. He’s filled with the history of a life I’m sure would shock even me. What I wouldn’t do to hear some of it. “So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Steele.”
I fight not to look at him again, afraid he’ll think I’m obsessed with his masculine features. Or should I say, realize I’m obsessed. Because I am. There’s something about the way he looks at me, speaks to me, and I’d be crazy not to admire the way his muscles bulge underneath his shirt as he fidgets with the things around him.
“Ah. So, it’s only Steele now. No more Mister?” he asks smugly, sending me that killer grin that kills me every time.
“If I recall correctly, you asked me to call you that. I believe I have already. Did you bump your head on the way down?” His dark hair catches my eye before I get pulled into those blue eyes again. He has that same type of stubble on his face I’m accustomed to seeing on the men I’ve grown up around, only this time it’s well-kept and trimmed to the perfect length. Although they never stirred up these strange emotions inside of me as he does. My stomach flutters when he looks at me. My face feels warm and flush until he pulls his gaze away from me.
He busts out laughing at my remark. “I assure you if I hit my head, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. To answer your question, I guess you could say I’m a simple guy living a complicated life.” He’s obviously not going to be an open book, but I get it. I’m a stranger to him, and something tells me he may not want to rehash some of the memories he has. The torment on his face after my father’s funeral wasn’t the first sign I caught from him. I saw it when his friend was injured, when my father passed. He has his own emotions he’s trying to work through, whether he tries to pretend he doesn’t or not. I could see right through that macho exterior during all of that.
“I’ll tell you what. There are some small bottles of wine back there. I could use something to take the edge off, and by the sounds of it, so could you. What do you say I build a fire and we talk about whatever you want to?” I decide to take charge of the way things are going. I won’t survive an entire night of the awkwardness that’s floating in the air between us.
The biggest smile I’ve seen flashes slowly across his face. His eyes light up in a way that leaves me weak in my knees, pausing for my next breath and fighting the urge not to touch him. “It doesn’t surprise me one bit that you would know how to build a fire. I have no doubt you're capable of taking care of yourself, much less all the people you come across. You’re on my watch here, Grace. Which means, I’ll build a fire. Grab what you want and meet me outside.” The depth of his voice and the way he says my name reverberate through my bones as he slides the bottle back out from the shelf. He stands and makes his way to the door, and I power through the urge of wanting to look at his backside by keeping my eyes locked on the galley.
I stay rooted in my seat as my mind is telling me I’m heading for trouble while my heart is telling me to leap. I’ve never had a man get to me like he is. To say I’m inexperienced is a joke. I’ve never even been on a date or spent time alone with a man in any capacity. So tonight is very strange for me. I like the feeling he brings out in me, though. I feel different somehow.
“What are these?” I say, stunned when I finally gather my wits, grab two of the tiniest bottles of wine I have ever seen, and make my way down the stairs. Only to stop when I see what he’s done out here in such a short period of time.
“What, you don’t approve of the cushions on our chairs?” He chuckles, voice deep, reminding me of thunder rolling across a darkening sky.
“I love them,” I say, walking to the empty, thick piece of wood next to him. I twist the cap off the wine and take a sip before I sit down. “So comfy,” I tease, wiggling my bottom on top of the bright orange life jacket he placed down.
“Better than sitting on hard wood,” I mutter then feel my face turn as red as the flames coming off the fire. I look across the open flames to see his eyes wide, his lips quirked up in a devious smile.
“Do you ever swear?” he blurts, causing me to spit out my wine.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Swear. Cuss. You know. Fuck, shit, damn, asshole?” He pronounces every word mockingly slowly.
“Are you teasing me?” I narrow my eyes at him trying to figure out his angle as he taunts me.
“Might be,” he shrugs as he takes a swig of his whiskey and places it on the ground. He leans his big body forward, raises his brows, and gives me a challenging glare.
I’m racking my brain to think about the last time I cursed out loud.
“This is not what I had in mind when I said we could talk.” My mind finds this funny.
“Me either, but I’m not the one whose face turned as red as a beet when saying the word ‘wood,’ either. So, I want to know, do you swear? Because the way I see it, your mind does. So, cuss. Say something you’ve never said before out loud. No one is going to hear you but me, and maybe the bear over there.” He points, and I whip my head around. Frantically.
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you just fucking swore.” The flicker of light from the fire dances on his face as he teases me, and we both fall into a fit of laughter.
“I guess I did. Do you feel better now?”
He lifts his drink once more before he responds. “Nah, not really. You?”
“No different.” We both get caught in a trance watching the fire, while I think about what to talk about.
“Tell me about your mom?” he asks. I swallow around the grief that jams itself up at the base of my throat. My mood sullen and my bones aching with memories before speaking a word. I loved talking about my mother. It’s just here, now in the middle of a darkened forest with a man who is quickly becoming important to me, it’s as if the trees shrink in on me and my heart bleeds dry.
“She was full of life. The best mother I could’ve asked for. Always putting me before herself, making sure I had everything I could possibly need or want in life. We talked all the time. She taught me so much. How to be independent, to be a lady and to never cuss.” I pause and laugh when I remember her telling me that a real lady saves her negative words, thoughts, and sexual cravings for the bedroom. Little did she know my thoughts turned into a hunger that I knew only the right man would be able to quench. “She and I would dream big. She was perfect for my father. They loved each other so much. Laughed daily, joked around.”
“She sounds a lot like you.” I perk up at the thought. If I’m half the woman she was, then I’ll hold on to that compliment for the rest of my life.
“I hope to be like her. Except I would love to have more than one child. My mom did everything she could for me not to feel lonely. Sometimes it’s not enough. Like now, I have no one to go home to. No one to share how much I miss them with. Does that make sense?” I’m not sure how this conversation went from laughing to somber. One thing I do know is, the little bit I said about her lifted a big burden off my shoulders and replaced it with a relaxing feeling of comfort.
“It makes complete sense. To me anyway. I had a brother. Trenton. He was two years older than me. Joined the Marines right out of high school. For years, he took care of me. Went to school, worked all kinds of jobs.” He picks up the bottle and takes a long drink before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Not once taking his eyes off the flaming fire. “We had shit parents. I’m talking, they didn’t even know where I was, let alone who half the time. Drunk and on drugs. The minute I turned eighteen, I signed to enlist. I wanted to be with the only person who gave a shit about me. I left the day after graduation. Not once have I looked back for them. Couldn’t tell you if either one of them is dead or alive. Don’t care, either. They’re actually not even worth me telling you about.” He takes another drink and swallows hard before he continues.
“Now, Trenton, he reminded me a lot of you and your mom. Probably your dad, too. He gave until he couldn’t give any more.” He pauses, and I can see hurt all over his face. “Until he took his last breath.” My heart sinks for him instantly as I watch him try to hide the tears swelling up in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He stands as if the air is too heavy to breathe a second longer. I follow quickly, because it is. We are two broken souls stranded out here. I have no one to run to, and he only has those who he’s accepted as a family into his life. I can tell by the way he interacted with those two men, Ace and Vice, that he considers them family.
“I didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party for me. I’ve seen things and lived through nightmares that would only ruin our night if I started talking about them.” Our attention shifts to the lightning that lights up the sky over the trees. “Looks like we better get inside. A storm will be coming through soon.” He leaves me standing next to the fire, and I watch the sky light up a few more times before I follow him up the stairs. I don’t see him when I enter the cabin, so I sit on the couch and wait for any sign of him to surface.
The door to the bathroom opens, and he’s hauling a bucket toward the door. “Not taking my chances that this storm could miss us. It’s dry as hell out here. I’m going to put out the fire. Be right back.” His tone is crisp and filled with guilt.
He walks out the door without looking at me. I know he’s just trying to deal with a few demons of his own. He misses his brother, and it’s obvious he’s not coping well with him being gone. I get that. It’s not easy to do. I’m still trying to figure out how to do it myself.
I walk to the front of the airplane and watch him through the glass. He stands over the fire in deep thought, not moving a muscle as he loses himself in the flicker of the flames. I fight the urge to go talk to him again but decide to give him the space he obviously wants. Even though every part of me is itching to comfort him and be there like he has been for me since the moment we met.
CHAPTER EIGHT
STEELE
Is it wrong of me to want something I’m not worthy of having? I don’t deserve this girl, not at all. If she only knew the hidden secrets of my past, she would run for the hills and scream for someone to help her.
I couldn’t tell her the truth. The only people who know are the men in my unit, Kaleb, and the shrink the military made me see for months after Trenton’s death. Kaleb only knows, because even though he was in the Army, his team was there right along with us. Defending our country and burning our way across the goddamn desert. Grace is the first person I’ve told an ounce of my story to. I have no clue why the hell I told her the little bit I did. “Christ, this is fucked up.” I kick as much dirt onto the smoldering ashes as I can without starting another fire from the dried-up leaves. I hate fires. Hate them. It’s what killed my brother. That’s why when Grace suggested she would start one, I jumped at the chance to do it myself. I haven’t started one in years, and here I found myself revealing my one and only weakness to a woman I barely know.
I remain standing there long after the first pelt of rain hits my face. It soaks through my clothes, catches in my breath, and when the loud crack restlessly scatters across the sky while the rain pours down in a giant roar, I take off running back to the plane. The trees howl, swaying close to the low, darkened clouds. “S
on of a bitch.” I jog up the small set of stairs; my clothes are drenched, and my muscles fight against the ferocious wind trying to stop me from closing the door.
“You’re soaked. Let me help.” That sweet voice skates across my chilled skin. I need her to get away from my dark soul and me. She shines too much light, and I’ll ruin her, just like I did my brother.
“That storm came out of nowhere,” she says as she struggles to help me shut the door. I latch it, turn, and rake a hand through my hair while water drips down my arms and face. “It may get a little rocky in here if that wind picks up. You might want to try to get some rest now if you can; with the landing gear being all messed up there’s no telling what will happen.” Not sure if she understands what I’m saying. I’m not about to tell her that gear could give and the plane could suddenly drop several feet to the ground.
I lift my head to make sure she’s alright. That striking beauty terrifies the hell out of me. Her eyes are roaming all over my wet clothes. Big, brown eyes that are full of unease and something else. That something else is what scares the fuck out of me.
“It’s a thunderstorm, Steele, not a hurricane. I’m fine,” she snaps, her tone indicating she’s anything but fine. She’s frustrated, I can feel it.
“You mind telling me what happened since our conversation by the fire and me walking out of here?” I ask, sliding past her to retrieve my bag. I grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and stare her down while I wait for her to answer.
“I’ve never slept under the same roof with a man before.” Shit. A feeling I have no business recognizing tightens in my chest. Comfort. She’s so used to living the way of a country that destroyed me, and for that, I'm a selfish bastard. Of course, she hasn’t. Their world is an entirely different one than ours, and her father kept her protected.
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