“Thanks.”
I said good-bye to some people and caught a ride with one of the guys a few minutes after Thor cleared out. I got home, the whole drive spent thinking about what Thor had said, about Dani and the possibility that she might feel a fraction of what I felt for her.
I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text.
DANI
I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Easy’s face when I’d said what I did, imagined him back at his place right now, getting naked with some girl. And then I wondered what it would be like if he got naked with me, and the same panicky sensation I’d had earlier swept over me—waves of heat and the aching, restless feeling that had been humming through my veins all evening.
I hadn’t had sex in over a year, hadn’t had an orgasm in the same amount of time. When Michael had died, I’d closed up shop, boarded up the windows, and called it a day. But now . . . for the first time since he’d died, I wanted those things again, could imagine how good it would feel to slide my hand down between my legs, to ease the needy want building inside me—an orgasm to take the edge off. Maybe two.
My phone pinged with an incoming text message, jerking me from my fantasy. I grabbed it off my nightstand, staring at the screen—
I’m home alone. Nothing happened.
I had to read the words twice for them to sink in, but there was no denying the overwhelming sense of relief.
I had no claim to him, no right to make one, no idea what I even wanted, but for now I had to make things right.
I’m sorry for what I said. I wish I could undo the whole stupid fight. I didn’t mean it. I don’t see you that way. I’m so sorry.
I sent the text, my heart pounding as I waited for his response, praying he would forgive me.
He texted back immediately.
I know. Me, too.
Maybe it was best to leave things the way they were, to nip everything in the bud before I confused myself even more. Horny and emotional wasn’t the ideal combination for sound decision-making. I could take the time he was gone to figure out how I really felt, if this crush or whatever the hell it was was a symptom of me being lonely, of us spending too much time together.
My fingers didn’t get the message.
Can I come over to say bye tomorrow? I hate the way we left things.
He didn’t make me wait long at all.
Yes.
TEN
EASY
I opened the door to Dani standing on my front step, wearing jeans and a black top, carrying a bag from my favorite cookie place and another bag I didn’t recognize.
She smiled, a trace of hesitation in her eyes, last night’s fight still lingering between us.
“I come bearing gifts. I know how much you love their sugar cookies even though you only get them like once a year, and you should have some of your favorite things before you leave.” She held up the other bag. “I bought your favorite beer as well.”
God, she was sweet.
“Thank you.”
I opened the door wider, stepping back so she could come inside. As she stepped over the threshold her shoulder grazed me, the scent of her perfume teasing me.
I followed her into the kitchen, my gaze drifting to her ass more times than it probably should have. And fuck me, I was hard—again.
I leaned against the countertop, watching as Dani set the bags down and put the beer in the fridge. She turned back, holding a bottle out to me.
“You want one?”
I nodded, my throat closing up at the sight of her making herself at home in my kitchen. I had a fantasy of seeing her in the morning, wearing only one of my shirts, her long hair flowing down her back, a smile on her face, her legs bare . . .
Dani handed me a beer, our fingers brushing each other, her skin’s caress enough to have my dick jerking against my zipper. I shifted; if the whole thing wasn’t so pathetic and sad, I would have laughed. I didn’t think I’d ever been so hard up, not even when I was in high school.
I grabbed a bottle opener, opening the beer, and passed it to her. “Here.”
She hesitated for a second and then took the bottle from my hand. “Thanks.”
I reached forward, my arm brushing against Dani’s side, grabbing another beer and repeating the action, taking a long gulp.
We stood across from each other, drinking our beers in silence. God, this was awkward.
I took a deep breath. “About last night—”
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out at the same time. A strand of hair fell forward and she pushed it back, revealing the slightest hint of pink across the curve of her cheek.
I gripped the bottle tighter, telling my hands to behave, not to reach out and stroke her skin. I shifted again, adjusting myself when she looked away.
Fucking torture.
She began talking, her lips calling to me, and I devoured her with my eyes, losing myself in the simple pleasure of seeing her in my kitchen, of pretending it was our kitchen, that she was mine.
I’d done that so many times over the years, gone somewhere in my head where it was safe to feel this way about her, where I wasn’t damned for wanting, loving one of my best friends’ wives. As though that excused what I’d always known was so wrong. Even when it was hard to really and truly believe it was wrong since everything about her felt so fucking right.
I heard snippets of what she said—she’d realized I was upset last night—but I couldn’t concentrate beyond committing the sight of her to memory, holding the pieces of her close so I’d have them to keep me company in the months apart.
And then I realized she’d finished talking.
“Easy?”
I forced myself to concentrate on her words and not her beautiful green eyes, soft pink mouth . . .
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and I got a little light-headed.
Right.
“It’s fine.”
The expression on her face suggested she wasn’t buying it for a second. Hell, neither was I. But I couldn’t exactly explain to her why I’d been so upset, why her words had struck such a chord with me. Not without giving her the rest—she held my heart and always had.
But because I was hopelessly, stupidly in love with her, I found myself telling her the truth—or as close to it as I could get without sending her running for the hills.
“I wasn’t trying to get laid last night.”
Her cheeks colored. She’d definitely heard worse hanging out with fighter pilots for years, and at the same time, I’d always attempted to keep that side of my life away from her, had hated when the other guys gave me shit for my sex life in front of Dani.
“Totally not my business.” If possible, she turned even redder. “I shouldn’t have even joked about it last night. I’m really sorry.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault; I’m not upset with you. You were fine.”
My gaze dropped down to her lips—
Christ, I wanted to kiss her.
“I would have rather spent the night talking with you than getting laid.”
Disbelief filled her gaze. “Easy—”
“I mean it; I wanted to spend the night hanging out. I’m sorry things got complicated.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Why didn’t I what?”
“Why didn’t you hang out last night?”
“Because I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”
Silence settled between us.
Dani fumbled with the handle of her bag, not meeting my gaze. She hesitated, as though she wasn’t ready to go, but she didn’t make an effort to speak.
I set my beer down, taking a step toward her, trying to read the emotions swirling around her.
I stopped a foot away from her, reaching out and lifting her chin so she sta
red into my eyes.
My heart clenched at the sadness there.
Thor’s words ran through my mind again. Was he right? Was she jealous? I tried to search her gaze, to figure out why she looked at me now as if she was in pain, and what I could do to make it stop.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She took a deep breath, her lips trembling, and nodded.
“Not convincing.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
I dropped my hand, taking a step back, fighting the urge to take her into my arms and draw the sadness out of her.
She held my gaze. “I’m worried about you.”
I froze.
“I’m sorry. It’s stupid. You’ve been flying for years, and you’re really good, and the deployment probably isn’t even a big deal to you anymore, but . . .”
But her husband had been safe and experienced, and really fucking good in the jet, and she’d still lost him.
“I’ll be safe.”
“I know.”
I could hear the doubt there, mixed with fear.
“I’ll be safe. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
It wasn’t a promise I was really qualified to make; on any given day, anything could go wrong when we flew. That was part of the high, the roll of the die you took each time you went up in the air. I wasn’t risky with my life, but I’d always approached the whole thing with a level of nonchalance I couldn’t summon right now. I’d never had a reason to worry about coming back before.
Now I did.
DANI
I couldn’t get my bearings, fear and lust muddling my head. Could he sense how things had changed between us? The nervous, edgy energy that seemed to pulse around us?
I wondered what it would be like to press my lips to his neck, inhaling his scent, to lay my body against his and lose myself for a bit.
Down, girl.
“I should probably let you go so you can get some rest.”
Easy nodded, his gaze inscrutable. As well as I thought I knew Easy, there always seemed to be pieces of himself he didn’t share with me, parts that were locked away tight. At face value it seemed like what-you-see-is-what-you-get with him, but the more you looked, the more you realized how much lay beneath the surface.
Like right now.
And suddenly, I wanted inside. He’d seen me at my worst, watched me fall apart and struggle to put myself back together again, had a front-row seat to the most vulnerable parts of me. And all I got were glimpses of him, glimpses that hinted at something deeper, more, before he slammed the door in my face. I wanted to peel back that layer, wanted to know what was going on in his head right now. It didn’t seem fair that he’d seen all of me—well, all except this—and yet he still had secrets, still had things that were off-limits, even to me.
I took a step closer, and then another, a knot growing in my stomach. I didn’t know exactly where I was headed, but I hoped I’d find out when I got there.
I stood up on my toes, wrapping my arms around him. He was so big, so solid against me, and I held on tight, not sure I was ready to let him go.
“Be safe,” I whispered. “Promise me.”
He didn’t answer me, not with words at least, but his body jerked against mine as he nodded, as he lifted his arms and his hands settled on the small of my back.
A tear trickled down my cheek, then another. It was crazy—I’d been through so many deployments over the years, but this one was terrifying. I’d peered under the bed, and saw the monster, and now my worst fears weren’t some abstract possibility that made me sick with worry. They were real, and they’d happened, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Easy, too.
My body shook as I cried in his arms, as I inhaled the scent of his cologne, as I pressed myself against him, trying to memorize the shape and weight of him, trying to mentally prepare myself for the possibility that I’d never see him again.
He likely thought I was insane, was probably now wondering how the hell to handle the crazy, crying woman in his arms. He didn’t hug me back, had gone still as a statute, his arms fallen down to his sides. His heart pounded against my chest, the ragged sound of his breathing filling the room.
I dropped my hands from his neck, wiping at my face, trying to calm the emotions pushing their way to the surface. I took a step back, but before my heel hit the floor, his hands rested on my waist, the small of my back, catching me, anchoring me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all . . .” My voice trailed off as our gazes locked.
He staggered me.
There was no wall now. Only emotion. So much emotion—raw and naked, staring back at me—more than I knew what to do with. I wanted to touch him, to calm the storm in his gaze.
I swallowed, my heart tattooing a wild beat in my chest, my fingers drifting to his face as if of their own volition, until I held him in my hands, my fingertips skimming his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering closed.
“Easy.”
It was more plea than anything else, a search for understanding, an attempt to figure out what I wanted, to master the emotions churning inside me. I moved closer to him, wanting the steady presence of him to surround me, needing comfort and to comfort, and knowing I’d find both in his arms. I rested my forehead against him, the height difference between us enough that I nearly fit under his chin.
“Will you keep in touch while you’re gone?”
He nodded against my forehead. “Yeah.”
His voice had gone husky and hoarse, and I couldn’t help but think whatever I was experiencing, he felt a bit of it, too. Good-byes became a hell of a lot harder when you feared they’d be final.
“I’m going to miss you,” I whispered, tears clogging my throat.
For a moment he didn’t answer me, and then he did, his words muffled by his lips brushing against my hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
I wrapped my arms more tightly around him, silence descending around us as we held each other. His mouth grazed my forehead, pressing softly there, soothing.
Except it didn’t soothe.
Instead, the strangest thing happened. It started in my stomach—a twitch, a flutter, so light I initially dismissed it. But there it was again—a whisper, so gossamer thin I almost ignored it a second time. Until it spread.
Slowly, the flutter grew, a butterfly using its wings for the first time, hesitant at first, and then stronger, surer, taking flight in my body, moving through my limbs until suddenly I was crackling with it, and I didn’t even know what it was. It was the beginning of what I’d felt last night, and yet it wasn’t. It was more. So much more.
It was resurrection.
I opened my mouth to speak at the exact moment Easy tightened his grip on me, gathering me against his tall, muscular frame, and then the feeling simply exploded, the flutters inside me turning to a weakening of my knees and a tremor that racked my body all the way down to my toes as he adjusted me so any question I might have had about whether he felt the same way, too, was answered for me.
He was hard. Rock hard. Easy was hard, throbbing, big, pressing into me.
I began to fear the flutter would send me into cardiac arrest.
I took a step back—in my mind, at least. But my body? My body stayed right where it was. For a beat. And then another, until I wasn’t content to stand there, and I found myself leaning into him, my breasts rubbing against his pecs, my nipples pebbling between us. The throb between my legs intensified and I could feel myself growing wetter, feel that pull, that ache—
His grip on my hips tightened, and for one agonizingly long moment, I wasn’t sure if he was going to hold me close or push me away.
His mouth left my forehead, the skin there heated from his breath, from the fire burning inside me. His lips rubbed against the curve of my
cheek, his nose grazing my skin, his touch featherlight in a motion that teased another tremor from my limbs, and a line of goose bumps over my skin.
My heart hammered as his mouth slid down my jaw, his lips inches from mine. He paused there, so close our breath mingled, our bodies fused together, and suddenly, I had the answer to the questions that had been plaguing me, knew exactly what I wanted from him.
I wanted him to kiss me.
He shuddered against me. “Dani.”
My name was a whisper falling from his lips as my body screamed for more.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I tilted my head an inch, a fraction of an inch, putting my mouth on a direct path with his, as I pulled down on his neck, rocking my hips forward in an unmistakable invitation. In a plea.
And then his mouth came down on mine, hard, and the flutters took flight.
ELEVEN
DANI
He kissed me. Easy was kissing me. Right now. The truth of it—the novelty of it—hit me like an electric shock. Or maybe it was the way he kissed me—breathless kisses that pulled me into him deeper and deeper, my fist reaching out and grabbing his shirt, hauling him toward me, his heart pounding beneath my fingers.
An alarm screamed in my ears, a siren of what-the-fuck-are-you-doing that might as well have been accompanied by a flashing red light.
I summarily dismissed it.
His tongue invaded my mouth, tasting me as though he coveted every part of me, as if he wanted to mark me as his. My back hit the wall, his hands in my hair, hard body pressing into me, the feeling both alien and surprisingly right. My body had already accepted what my brain struggled to process, and then my mind went blank.
His hands were so clever, nimble long fingers I could easily imagine working their magic behind the stick of a jet or making a lucky woman come. He stroked me softly, reverently, the pads of his fingers gliding over my body as though he were trying to learn the shape of me. My hands found their way under his shirt, touching the planes of his back, his skin warm and smooth beneath my palms. His lips left mine, trailing down to the curve of my jaw, his face buried in the crook of my neck as his cock throbbed between my legs, as his teeth grazed my flesh. A shiver slid down my spine, my nipples pebbling.
On Broken Wings Page 12