The small smile the memory forces is still on my face when Lainey throws open her door. “Fashionably late as always,” she says, taking the small wrapped gift out of my hand. White elephant ornament exchange is always fun at her house. I spent more time than was prudent selecting my ornament.
“Fashionable as always, you mean,” Steven interrupts, stalking up to me from the side. He helps me remove my coat while Lainey watches his every move through narrowed eyes.
“Thank you, Steven,” I reply, gaze still on our host.
Lainey looks between Steven and me for a few more seconds. “Of course, that’s exactly what I meant. Appetizers are up. Let’s not give them time to get cold,” she says, whisking her aproned waist back into the kitchen with a touch more flair than my company necessitated. Steven’s not watching her. I don’t even need to look at him to know it, either.
When I focus my attention on him, I’m taken right back to my childhood bedroom. His bright smile blazing, the same longish brown hair flapping over one eye. Time added a chiseled jawline, more muscles than he knows what to do with, and the mind of psychotic, debonair killer. Time also added my own desire. His dress shirt is starched to perfection, and his slacks and dress shoes force an image of a professional, except I know what he really is.
He notices my perusal. “See anything you like?” He glances back toward the kitchen and dining room where the party is obviously in full swing. “Because I see everything I like and I want to put my lips on it.”
“I’m an it, now? You know better than that. How far will that get you with me?” I tsk him, folding my arms across my chest. He chuckles, grabs my hand, and ever so lightly brushes a kiss across my knuckles. My gaze is glued to his mouth. Now I want his lips on everything. One gentlemanly gesture has me shivering. “Lainey wants you,” I say. It’s attempt to thwart my imagination.
“Funny. I want you. We’re just a bunch of greedy people around here, aren’t we?”
Seconds pass as we have a silent stare off. He shrugs his huge shoulders. “Don’t worry. I want to talk to your daddy before we do anything that may be construed as indecent. I don’t think you’ll ever be too old to warrant a shotgun in my face.”
I laugh, a true, gritty laugh, because he’s not making jokes, he’s being serious. I’ve always found it ironic how that works with a humorous person. “You’re one person he won’t point a gun at. Don’t worry. We should get on the road early tomorrow. I’m all packed and ready for the ranch. Did you remember to pack your chaps?” Pressing my lips together, I try to stifle a laugh. He was born in the south, but struggles with most southern things.
“Assless. I’ll stay over tonight so we can leave early. I’ll model them for you when we leave here.” I shake my head and he follows me into the dining room. All of our friends are milling around the table, picking at appetizers, drinking cocktails. I limit myself to one glass of wine because the last thing I need is drunk Morganna coming out to play. Lainey flirts shamelessly with Cody throughout dinner. Oddly, he seems receptive to her advances, even talking about something other than computers or the weird cryptic nuances of technology. It makes me happy, because she hasn’t glanced Steven’s way once. She knew the second I walked through the door that his radar was locked on me. I like that. The meal she cooked was extravagant in the way that someone always tries to impress guests, but I could have given her a few tips had she asked.
All I really care about in this moment is that Steven is sitting next to me and his leg is pressed up against mine—his heat seeping into me. Then the subject comes up. I should be comfortable with it after all this time.
“When do you deploy?” Lainey asks the table. There are a few SEALs and their wives at the other end opposite mine. There’s also civilians who hang on to every word about any detail they can gather about this odd, secret world.
Cody answers first. “Shortly after the holidays. It will be a fun one.” I cough, laying a hand on my chest. Steven’s hand finds my leg. My own hand automatically goes on top of his. I clutch onto the small lifeline.
“Ah, come on. It won’t be that eventful,” Steven supplies.
Not only is he trying to downplay his leaving, he’s monitoring what information is being dispersed to the table. SEALs aren’t called silent professionals for nothing. The sell-outs who write tell-all books and give interviews about sordid, secret mission details after they retire from the Navy don’t count. Those types of men are shunned and frowned upon in our community. I wish them ill will and a lifetime supply of crabs. I look down to my lap, composing myself as I remember “the knock at the door.” My life changed forever in the span of seconds.
One. Rush from kitchen to open the door, hanging up a phone call on my way.
Two. See dark Navy uniforms through the panel of glass beside my door.
Three. Open door.
Four. Take in somber faces.
Four seconds was all it took to rob me of everything. The chaplain didn’t need to say a word. In fact, I’m not sure if he ever did because I fell to my knees in shock as the rest of the world melted away. I remember looking up and seeing his mouth moving, and his arms reaching down to help me up. My legs refused to move, my mouth couldn’t speak, my arms fell limp, and I was paralyzed by loss. When I regained some semblance of sanity, my only words were, “The guys. The rest of the guys. Steven. Maverick?” With the assurance that Steven was okay and that Mav would recover, I buried myself in grief for my husband. Years later, I’m just now crawling out of that hole, but the memories continue to affect me as if it was yesterday. The thoughts swirl wildly in my mind and I forget where I’m at.
A large hand folds around my shoulder. “Help Lainey get the ornaments ready for the exchange, yeah?” Steven asks, breaking the awkward silence. All eyes are on me—ostensibly to see if I’ll uphold my usual all business demeanor or have a complete breakdown. I let Steven help me up and out of my chair, making sure my head is held high. Possibly on the verge of hyperventilating, I figure it’s my only option to keep my dignity.
“That was stupid of me to bring up,” Lainey whispers when we’re alone. I’m offended, wholly and truly.
“Of course it’s not. They are deploying. It’s a perfectly acceptable topic to discuss. Don’t you dare do that. ” Narrowing my eyes, I make sure she knows I’m serious. Lainey nods, throws a tiny, half smile, and starts placing the wrapped ornaments on the large coffee table in her formal living space. I plaster a fake smile and play along for the rest of the evening. Everyone has a great time and they pretend to forget my mini panic attack at dinner. Drinks splash freely and Christmas music blares through expensive speakers. Taking my glittering cowgirl boot ornament, I say my goodbyes, ignoring the pity in my friends’ eyes and start for home.
Steven’s truck growls up the drive behind me, his headlights casting my shadow on the expansive flower garden. Parking in his usual spot, he hops out and catches up. Normally I’d care about my reputation—his truck at my house all night—but tonight I can’t find a reason to care.
I hear his footsteps fall behind me. “Despite what everyone thinks, I’ll never be the person I was before. It’s unfair for me to even try to pretend that you’re getting a fair shot,” I admit. “He’s there for good, Steven. Stone is there for good.” He stays silent yet close, as we walk into my foyer and into my office. Ignoring him to the best of my ability, mostly out of shame, I turn on my computer and kick off my red-bottomed heels.
“I’m not asking for him not to be,” he rasps. I let my gaze flick up to meet his as he looms over my desk, his large hands splayed on the dark, polished wood. “I’m demanding what’s left.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. His demand is so similar to something Stone would say that it takes me a second to compose myself. “There’s not much left,” I reply, but it comes out more like a squeak.
“I’ll decide what’s enough,” Steven says, leaning over to place his warm lips on top of mine. The current that passes between him and me
is immediate, causing my entire body and mind to react to his mere touch. My hands find his face as I lean toward him to deepen the kiss. I forget about the horrible dinner conversation; my mind clears of everything except for Steven. He groans, my eyes flutter closed, and I want so badly to have all of him. Maybe I can give him all of me and I’ll eventually be whole again. It’s a thought I’ve never even entertained before now.
“Okay,” I whisper, as he pulls his wet mouth away from my own.
“I’m going to get my stuff out of the truck because if this desk wasn’t in the way, I’d have your hot body naked and filled before you speak another word.” He licks his mouth, his eyes settling on my hips, my chest, and then my neck. Steven stalks out of my office without another word. I let out a huge breath in a rush.
My cheeks feel hot and the fire is already lit, and there’s only one way to extinguish it.
Steve
If you love something, don’t set it free. Hold on to it tightly. Never let it go. If you lose your grasp, it will come back eventually. But it will be different. Ruined.
Morganna is the strongest woman I’ve ever known. To see her so fucked up over a mere conversation does things to my heart that I don’t want to claim. The wall she puts up for everyone else is gone when it’s just me and her. I have her trust. It doesn’t make it any easier to see her deal with it all this time later. Losing Stone was hard for both of us. Hell, I’m starting to think the rest of the world winced when that man died. The tiny, fucked up slice of my brain that whispers “It’s your turn now” after he passed away gets stronger with each passing second. I’m going to make her mine no matter how ragged the holes in her heart are. I can heal her. I know I can. She just needs to trust me enough to give me that chance.
As I approach her house from my truck, I notice a side window ajar. Not all the way open, not even halfway…just a sliver. Squinting my eyes in the dark, I scan the area surrounding the window and her house. A garden light that’s been forked in the yard is smashed—possibly stepped on. I pick it up and creep to the window stealthily. I know from installing her new security cameras that this is a window that’s completely hidden. Someone could sneak in and out through this window and the cameras wouldn’t detect movement. Mother fucker. I should have known better. Morganna didn’t disarm her security system when we came back from the party, meaning she never set it before she left. Anger mixes with adrenaline and I could kill someone right now. Literally. The pit inside that gives me what others fail to have, rears. My breathing evens, my heart rate steadies, and I’m ready to work.
“What the hell happened here,” I growl, now on full alert, adrenaline hitting my system like a dose of some illegal drug. I drop the light on the ground and proceed to make a full lap around her house, clearing the perimeter—checking each corner. When I affirm that nothing else is amiss, I slide back into her house hoping she’s busy with work so I can investigate without her knowledge.
I case her house thoroughly. No one is in here now, maybe no one ever was, but I’m cautious where these things are concerned. Add M to the mix and you might as well have fucked with me, because that’s how I’m going to treat it. Nothing that I can see is misplaced or disturbed. I close and lock the suspect window. I have one more thing to check—her bedroom. Currently, she’s occupying this room with the door closed. Part of me wants to warn her. The other, smarter section of my brain wants to protect her. That means she can’t know anything. It would only scare her and potentially for no reason.
I blow out a breath in the hallway outside of her bedroom. She will kill me if she finds out that I kept something from her. If it even ends up being something… but I can protect her. I always have, so I brush it off and start a mental checklist of everything that needs to happen. Just because she’s independent and takes care of herself does not mean a little help wouldn’t hurt if she’s unaware of it.
Add another camera.
Motion detectors outdoors.
Automatic system arming from remote location.
Luckily, for the interim she will be right next to me—an entire week in our hometown without any disturbances or distractions. This is my chance to make her see everything I’ve always felt for her. I’ll be open. Maybe I’ll joke a little less. Show her a more serious side. Boyfriend material. Morganna deserves the best of everything. The figurative shoes I have to fill are large and strong. I can’t even remember the last time she went home, so when she asked if I was going for Christmas I jumped at the chance just for close proximity alone. The rest of my plan to woo her came after I agreed to ride with her. After all this time I have one chance to knock this out of the park…to do things the proper way.
Leaning my head against the cold wall, I glance at a huge framed photo of Morganna. It’s the only art she has hanging in this expansive, red hallway. She’s removed photos—I can still see the holes in the wall waiting to be patched. In the lonely portrait it’s only her face turned away, her black wavy hair and bridal veil blowing in the wind. The sunlight masks her face, and it could be any bride, in any city, on any given day. The non-descript simplicity takes my breath away. Her beauty is unfailing even when hidden by a shock of white. I also come to the conclusion that this could be Morganna on any wedding day. Not just the day that she married Stone. I clear my throat.
It is her wedding day to Stone, I remind myself.
Deflated, I decide to check on her—privacy be damned. She’s had enough time do whatever girly shit she needs to do, and I need to see her, to know that she’s perfectly fine—because right now, I’m feeling the opposite of fine. The massive French doors remind me of a church, or a temple of some form. The ornate carved wood complements the slender gold handles. I try the right side and find it’s unlocked. I enter slowly, not wanting to disturb her, especially if she’s still upset by the dinner conversation. Peering in, I don’t see her.
When I do, I wish I hadn’t. This image will be singed into memory for the rest of time. She’s lying in the middle of her massive bed, partially hidden by white sheer fabric. It drapes around the posts of her bed that seem to tower to the sky. I’m reminded of a princess…no, a Queen. Her tanned, naked body writhes with pleasure as one hand strokes her pussy and the other hand, a whisper light touch on one breast. Her chin is pointed toward the ceiling, her eyes closed, her black hair creating the perfect contrast against the white.
I take in a silent breath and hold it. There’s no going back now. I’ve gotten a glimpse of my darkest, most sinful desire and I only want more. A moan escapes her parted, full lips, and I wish I were tasting it. I take another step into the room and then another, my cock hardening with each passing second. Remember that adrenaline, that controlled, professional feeling? I have it now, except I am not in control at all. My breaths come quicker and my heart beats wildly against my chest. My gaze lands on her hand between her legs. Her perfectly manicured fingers circle her clit at a tempo that is perfect for her. I take note while rubbing my palm down my unruly dick. It wants in, all the blood in my body pulsating to my groin. I have to believe she’s thinking of me. Of the fucking hot kiss in her office that left me wanting every inch of my body inside of hers.
I know I only have seconds before she senses she isn’t alone. “Don’t fucking move,” I say, my voice falling to a guttural timbre. Her eyes fly open, but she doesn’t look my way. The hand on her breast moves to cover both of her tits and her poor clit is probably bereft as she’s stopped stroking it. I told her I wanted her father’s permission. I meant it. I won’t touch her. Her breaths are still shallow and panting and it’s so God damned hot that I might come in my pants watching her pillow lips in a state of ecstasy.
“I just want to watch. Keep going.” I walk to the edge of her bed and pull some of the gauzy fabric out of my line of vision. I want to take all of her in. “Show me,” I push. “It’s just me. Show me.”
Her beautiful face turns to the side and her gaze meets mine. Need. Desire. Fire. Flame. Fuck me now. I see all o
f those things in her fierce, gray eyes. I unbutton the top button of my shirt and then the one below it. She nods. I smirk. Another button, and another until my shirt drops to the ground. I rub my hand over my cock as her eyes ravage me. Taking the button of my dress pants into my hands, I unbutton the top button. She pants. Her eyes narrow further. I know for a fact I could have her right now and that makes me so fucking excited.
“Show me,” I urge again. I fold my hands behind my head in the least threatening pose I can currently think of. I’m surprised my brain even works on this frequency, honestly. “I’m not going to touch you tonight. I’m just going to watch. Look at me.”
Slowly, she uncovers her breasts revealing pink, taut nipples. The perfect tits to lick, suck, and then push together to fuck like an animal. I stand in front of her, towering. She looks so small and fragile, but I know she’s anything but. My dick throbs. Her lips press together in a smirk. Now, it’s a game. She lets her knees fall open to reveal a small patch of hair in the shape of a triangle and soft pink lips, more tempting than the ones on her face. The woman deserves a medal of honor. I let my eyes glass over the small, blue tattoo on the inside of her hipbone. It’s the letter S in script.
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