by Jessica Ames
It’s like all my fantasies are coming together, and when I imagined this scenario in my dreams, I thought I would yell “yes” while flinging my arms around his neck and getting kissed senseless.
What I actually do is ask, “But… why?”
“Why not?”
“Because… you don’t exactly like me.”
His brow knits together. “Come again?”
“Chris, for the past two years you’ve barely said two words to me when you’ve encountered me. On the occasions you have spoken more, you’ve never been what I’d call polite. Truthfully, I was starting to consider the fact you think I’m some kind of idiot, because—”
He holds a hand up, and I clamp my mouth shut.
“I don’t hate you, April. I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you that impression, but it’s the last thing I think.” He takes my hand in his, swiping his thumb over the back of my hand, and I want to lean into him. “Have dinner with me, please?”
I shouldn’t even be considering dinner with him, considering how crazy my life is right now, but this is the accumulation of years of wanting. I have to say yes.
“I’d love to.” And that is the honest truth. I really would love to have dinner with him.
His mouth curves up into a smile.
“All right then.”
14
Chris
I have no idea what possessed me to ask April to dinner, but the moment I did, something felt like it unlocked in my chest. The heavy feeling that always sits there is less. I don’t understand it. Usually, the guilt is there, occupying that space, but it’s being pushed out.
“What happened to you this morning?” Nova asks, coming through the door from the main reception area into the garage. She hands me a mug of coffee.
“I stopped to help a—” I break off. I have no idea what April is to me yet, so I say, “A friend.” It’s an inadequate word, but I cling fiercely to it. I don’t want to think too deeply or too hard about the alternative. If we’re going as friends, I can let go of my guilt for a time. “She broke down at the side of the road.”
Her brow cocks. “She?”
I take a sip of my coffee and keep my morning’s escapades to myself. The last thing I need is Nova sticking her nose into my private life. She’s far too interested in me as it is. My nosy little administrator likes to keep her “finger on the pulse,” whatever that means, but I don’t need her playing matchmaker.
“Your silence says more than your words ever could,” she says.
“Don’t you have work to do? If you don’t, I’m sure I can find you some.”
Her eyes roll. “You’re no fun, Christopher Bannerman.”
I’m plenty of fun—or I was before Afghanistan.
“Oh, I’ve had an application for the detailer’s job. I’ll leave it on your desk.”
“Thanks, Nova.”
She heads back into the reception, and I’m left with the silence of the workshop. Asking April out was probably a bad idea, but sitting at the side of the road, waiting for a tow, I realized how much I enjoyed being in her company. In fact, it felt easy and for the first time in a long time the demons that dog my steps retreated. I don’t know why, but April makes things feel easier, and the desire to recapture that is overwhelming. My demons never rested—until I sat and talked to her. I don’t know why, or how, but she gave me hope.
The guilt I feel returns in full force by the time the evening comes around. I consider canceling, but then I remember the way I felt talking to her without the distractions of the care center and other people around—and I want that back. I want to chase that high.
I head over to her house on my bike and when I pull up outside, nerves swirl in my stomach. I shake my hands out as I walk toward the door.
Taking a deep breath, I push the bell for her place and wait.
The sound of the door opening has my head coming up.
And my world stops for a moment.
She looks beautiful. Her hair is pulled into a loose side plait, and she’s wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans that hug her curves in all the right places. Her top is the type that falls off one shoulder, and she’s wearing knee-length boots with a mid-sized heel. In her hands, she’s holding a leather jacket, and her purse is slung across her body. I’m glad to see she clearly listened when I told her what she’d need to wear to be on the bike, but the subtle makeup and her hair has my cock straining against my zipper. She usually does look stunning, but this is something else entirely.
I swallow hard and watch as she shifts a little on her feet. “Am I okay?” She gestures at her clothes.
“More than okay, sweetheart. You look amazing.”
She takes in my jeans and button up casual, but smart, shirt and I watch her throat work. “You look pretty spectacular yourself.”
I grin. I can’t help it. “Come on.”
I place my hand on the small of her back as we walk toward the bike. It feels natural there—a little too natural, in fact.
Giving her a quick lesson in riding etiquette and how to mount it, I hand her the spare helmet I brought with me from the shop and climb on. I sense her hesitancy as she puts a foot on the pillion and cocks her leg over the back of the bike. I love her touch on me, and I crave more of it.
She sits behind me, the bike shifting a little at the change in weight. It puts her close to my back, but she keeps a little distance between us. This makes me smile a little.
“What do I hold onto?” she asks.
There’s a hand hold on the back, but I say, “Me.” I want her touching me, so I grab her hands and pull them around my waist.
She feels warm and soft, and like she belongs there.
It also brings her closer to my back and my cock swells. I love her being behind me like this. I just love having her close to me period.
I start the engine up, and she lets out a little squeak at the intense vibration that rolls through the bike. I can’t stop the upward curve of my mouth as I turn slightly to glance over my shoulder.
“Hold on tight,” I tell her. Then I hit the throttle and we surge forward.
This time she squeals and presses her arms tighter around my middle. I never want her to move from there. Having her on the back of my bike rivals any dream I’ve ever had about April. She is my sanctuary, and on the back of the one thing that has the ability to clear my head, I feel, for the first time since Afghanistan, at peace.
15
April
Chris seems nervous, which is kind of cute, but also unnecessary. I don’t bite. We head into town to a small place that serves a mix of food types. Chris tells me it’s one of his favorite restaurants, so I feel a swell of pleasure that he brought me here.
We’re seated next to the window by the waitress and we order drinks. Then we’re alone. I shift in my chair, feeling a little anxious myself. I don’t know what to expect from him, and I feel a little giddy about the fact I’m sitting here, having dinner with the source of many of my fantasies.
How did this happen?
This is definitely the silver lining in an otherwise crappy week. I try not to stare at him across the table, but it’s not easy. He’s so handsome, sitting there with that perfectly trimmed beard that makes him look super sexy and his gorgeous crystal blue eyes that seem to hold me enthralled when he captures my attention. I could drown in them.
His shirt is smart but not too dressy. It fits perfectly across his pectorals, showing the muscles beneath every time he moves. Yeah, he’s sexy as sin, and I can’t believe I’m sitting with him.
“What’s good to eat here?” I ask him to start the conversation, but also because he’s been here before.
“All of it. I like the steak and any of the fish dishes.”
I go straight to that section in the menu and begin perusing my options.
“Did you get your car sorted?” he queries.
I nod. “Yeah, I didn’t really understand the mechanic-speak about what was wrong with it, but all I
know is I’ll get it back tomorrow evening, once the part has been ordered in.”
“How’re you getting to work?”
“Walking, I guess.”
He shakes his head. “Not until this shit with the police is sorted. I’ll swing by in the morning and take you.”
I stare at him. “What? Chris, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“Seriously, I can manage.”
“I know,” he repeats, “but you’re not going to manage. I don’t want you walking and being anxious, and it’s not a big deal for me to take you. You’re on the way for me to drop off anyway.”
This is true, but not the point.
“Chris—”
“It’s not up for discussion. It’s happening.”
I snort at him. “You’re a bossy pants.”
His brow cocks. “I’m a bossy pants? Sweetheart, you’ve not seen me bossy yet.”
Wetness floods between my legs at the promise in his voice, and I really want him to show me how bossy he can be.
“That sounds like a challenge.” Do I sound breathy? Because I sure as hell feel breathless.
“Don’t test me, April. You might bite off more than you can chew.”
I want to reach across the table and climb him like a tree. I restrain myself and refrain, sitting on my hands so I don’t touch him. If I do, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from taking him.
I clear my throat as the waitress appears with our food, but I can feel his eyes on me. I rub my thighs together, attempting to create some friction, but it doesn’t help. I’m still super turned on and without any relief.
“Have you got any siblings?” It’s such a routine question, it takes me by surprise. He’s just set fire to my lady parts and he wants to know about my family?
“Uh… no, I’m an only child. You have a brother, right?” I’m pretty sure I panted that out, and if the molten look in his eyes is anything to go by, he’s just as turned on as I am right now.
He shifts in his seat, as if he’s trying to readjust himself without touching, and says, “Yeah, Curt. He’s up in Iowa now, though, so I don’t see him as much as I’d like.”
“Oh. That sucks.” It really does. I can’t imagine being close to a sibling and them moving miles away. “You get along?”
“Yeah, we do. There was always a sort of rivalry between us. We both have a pretty big competitive streak and it didn’t help my confidence much that he’s older than me and pretty much amazing at everything he touches.” It’s said with fondness rather than bitterness, which tells me he’s proud of his brother. “Curt went through the Navy while I was still trying to navigate high school. He was good too—made the SEALs.”
My eyes widen at that. “Wow! How come you didn’t follow him into the Navy?” I ask, grabbing a forkful of food. He was right about this place, too. My meal is as delicious as the man sitting opposite me.
He shifts his broad shoulders as he tucks into his own food.
“If I’d joined the Navy, I would have spent my whole career as Curt Bannerman’s little bro.”
I nod, understanding settling over me. “You wanted to go your own way?”
“Yeah. I wanted to get ahead on my own and know that I did. I never wanted to walk in my brother’s footsteps.”
“I can respect that,” I say, meaning it. It shows a real strength of character in him, and it makes me hot for him just that little bit more—not that I can get any hotter.
At least, I didn’t think so, until his eyes roam over my face, his dark gaze sending tingles between the apex of the thighs.
“What about you, April? What’s your story?”
He leans forward, as if he’s enthralled by me. Having this much of his attention on me makes me squirm.
“There’s not much to tell. I trained to be a nurse the moment I was able to. I knew it was what I always wanted to do. Initially, I was working in trauma care, but I moved to the care facility after I left Milo. I needed something slower paced. My head was already a hive of activity with the vitriol he was firing at me.”
“He wasn’t happy about the separation, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Not at all. He really didn’t want to be a divorced man in his late-forties. I wasn’t keen on staying married to a man who could cheat without remorse.”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “He’s an idiot for cheating on you.”
I snort. “He didn’t think it was cheating.”
“So, he’s a double moron.”
My smile is small as I say, “Yeah, for a smart man he never did have much common sense.”
“Clearly. If he did, he’d never have walked away from you.”
I flush and heat floods me. “Chris…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“You didn’t.” I reach across the table and grab his hand, wanting to reassure him, but the touch is electric. I can’t stop the small pant that escapes my mouth. I’ve never had a connection like this to a man before, but right now my panties feel like they might combust.
He stares at my hand clutched in his before he raises his eyes. I don’t like what I see there. There’s no lust, no playful flirting, there’s something else—something darker. Something that makes my stomach twist.
“Do you think people who do bad things deserve a second chance, April?”
I frown at him, not sure what he’s trying to tell me. “Are you saying you think I should give Milo a chance?”
This seems like an odd thing to put forward, considering we’re sitting here on a date. He laughs. “Fuck no. That guy blew the only good thing he ever had in his life.”
Okay, that’s all kinds of hot. “Then what do you mean?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. “Did you enjoy the food?” he asks, and man, do I see the direction change there. I have no idea what it means or why he side-stepped, but I really want to find out.
16
Chris
Why in the hell did I bring up my past while sitting here with the most beautiful woman on the planet? I have no idea what possessed me to mention it, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
She stares at me, as if trying to fathom what I’m talking about, and clearly drawing a blank, because she says my name in question.
“Chris?”
“The food is amazing,” I continue, as if I haven’t just opened this can of worms. What the hell was I thinking? Nothing good will come of talking about my past sins.
Her grip on my hand intensifies and she squeezes harder until I raise my eyes to her.
“Why do you think you need a second chance? What bad thing could you have possibly done?”
I snort. If only she knew the truth…
I pull my hand back from her and take a forkful of food. It tastes like ash in my mouth. Did I just ruin this? Judging from the hurt in her face, I suspect I did.
I duck my head and focus on eating for a moment, while trying to consider how to fix things.
“My past isn’t rosy,” I tell her, even as I will my mouth to stop moving. I don’t know why I’m still talking.
“Whose is?”
“Yours, I’ll bet.”
Her brow cocks. “I’m not perfect, Chris. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, I’ve been a person I didn’t like much as well. Life sometimes hands us lemons and we react accordingly.”
I can guarantee whatever slight she thinks she committed in her past is nowhere near the sins I’ve gathered around me. For me, there can be no salvation, not even with April. She’s the light to my dark, the angel to my devil, and she keeps the demons at bay, but I don’t deserve her. I shouldn’t taint her, but I can’t walk away, not now.
It’s selfish.
I’m selfish.
And I don’t even care. It’s been so long since I was looked at with the adoration April directs at me, and that feeling is heady. I’m chasing the unattainable with her, but I can’t stop. She’
s under my skin and has been for a while now. I’m not prepared to give her up, even if I should.
And I really should.
“I have a hard time believing you’re anything but perfect.”
She flushes a pretty pink, the color staining her cheeks and neck. I want to take her now, be inside her, loving on her, but that’s not possible, so I settle for reclaiming her hand. I can’t leave her alone. I don’t want to. Feeling her small hand in my larger one feels good, right. I want to make her mine, and my body doesn’t care about the sins in my past. It just cares about the funny, intelligent, beautiful woman sitting opposite me.
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m just telling you how it is.”
“You really never gave me the impression you liked me.”
My stomach clenches at this. I kept my distance for a long time, feeling like I didn’t deserve her attention, feeling like I didn’t deserve anything good in my life. I’m still not sure I do, but the need to have her overwhelms everything else. I swipe my thumb over the back of her hand, hoping to reassure her.
“I’m sorry, April, if I ever made you feel that. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Then why did you act as if I didn’t exist? Or like you were unhappy to be around me?”
I don’t want to explain, but I also don’t want her to feel substandard. She’s worth so much more than I am.
“Because I’m not a good man, and you deserve better.”
Her face scrunches up. “You don’t get to make that decision. I get to decide if I think I deserve better. Besides, what could you have done that is so bad? You’re a decorated Army veteran, a successful businessman, and you’re a good man.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can tell. Milo wasn’t a good man and I could tell that too. I was just in denial about the fact.”
My head snaps up at her words. “Did he hurt you?”
Her eyes roll. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She doesn’t have the first idea what I’m thinking. Although I’m sure I’m wearing my anger on my face. If he hurt her, I’ll lose my shit.