His lips twitch. “Say fuck one more time and see what happens. I don’t want to use self-control anymore. Not with you.” Biting his bottom lip, I watch with wonder as he works me over with a gaze.
When I can’t stand it another second, I tilt my chin up to press my mouth on his. My core clenches with a need fiercer than before. Luke lets out a growl that sends a wave of shivers all over my body. I’m about to tell him to stand so he can take off his pants when a wild beeping breaks out, interrupting the music on the speakers. I jolt, but Luke merely stands with me in his arms and walks over to the tablet looking thing embedded in the wall and hits a button.
He sighs. “What is it?”
“Chase is here, sir,” a gruff voice replies hastily. “He’s on the always list for Sunday.” The need to explain when he hears Luke’s irritation through the speaker.
“Fuck,” Luke says, setting me down. “Thank you,” he says, pressing the button once again. He looks at me and the fear in his eyes is palpable. “You want to finish working out and we can pick up where we left off?” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go thwart Chase at the door and join you after.”
His friend, Chase, gave me weird vibes from the second I met him. Sure, I guess he’s known Luke a while, but that doesn’t mean you can be sleazy unchecked. “Yeah, okay,” I say, practicality winning out. I do need to work out. Even if my shorts are soaking wet and my core is throbbing for attention. “Chase doesn’t have to leave. I know you hang out with him on the weekends. Don’t change your plans on my account.”
He grabs my face in his hands. “I’ll change everything on your account. Because I want to.”
He kisses me, a sultry fierce lips and teeth endeavor, before jogging out of the gym leaving me with a mountain of baggage to unpack. Standing there, I contemplate what workout I should do. It’s haphazard at best. Some biceps. A weak set on bench press, then weighted squats until my legs shake. I’m arguing with myself about hitting the treadmill when I hear Luke raise his voice. Although I don’t mind he hasn’t returned yet, I’m curious as to why he hasn’t. I slink toward the door on my tiptoes and peer out into the expanse of the cool hallway.
“Her car is out there. I know she’s here. Why are you lying? You never lie?”
That’s Chase. The ceilings are high and a pin drop echoes in here. I didn’t set out to eavesdrop, but now I know they’re talking about me, I climb the wide stairs following the path I’m familiar with.
I can’t see them, but I know they’re nearby. Luke’s voice carries next. “The next one. Promise. I’m out of town this weekend.”
Actually, he’s not. “You haven’t missed a single one of my club parties for the last five years. I planned it because you would be here, bro. Remember? We went over our schedules?”
“Things change,” Luke replies. “My schedule changes every single day.”
“It’s this chick! Stop lying! Your dad forced you to be nice to her, but does that mean you’re on full-time fucking babysitting duty? She’s not even hot enough to fuck up everything for. Can’t one of the other guys be her bodyguard? Christ, Hart. I don’t even know who you are right now.”
Adrenaline hits as Chase’s words slide home. My stomach flips entirely and my sweat turns cold. What I should do is stay where I’m at with my back pressed against the wall, but rage calls and I spin from my spot to face the men. They’re standing in front of what looks to be a library or an office.
“You are such an asshole, Luke Hart. I am a project to you.” I swallow and shake my head once.
Chase chuckles, amused by my anger. “I fucking knew it,” he says as his gaze flits over my body. Then he turns to Luke. “You have always been the worst liar in the entire world. The why remains elusive. Why are you lying to me about her? Why don’t you want to go to my party? Doesn’t look like she left her car here to throw off the media.” Chase’s gaze dips to my legs. “Looks like she was working out in your gym. With you. Together. That’s what it looks like.”
I want to scream at him because my feelings are hurt. That would be the normal chick thing to do, and right now I can’t show him any kind of weakness or he’ll prey on it. That’s how the world works. How it’s always been for me.
“Yeah, Hart. Tell him why you’re on babysitting duty. Tell me, is your dad paying you to be my friend?” I hit him where it hurts. Money.
Chase chuckles, one hand on his expensive double G belt buckle. “Oh, she didn’t know. My bad.”
Luke’s standing tall, arms folded across his broad chest. For the first time since I showed myself, he turns his gaze to his friend. “Why the fuck would she know, genius?”
He doesn’t deny it. My heart splinters a bit, a little less than with Henry because I have learned. I expected it. Chase and Luke are arguing now, bickering between themselves about some party and I tune them out. I wrap one arm around my middle, exposed in my workout gear, I turn and run back to my room, my sneakers squeak on the stone as I go. Slamming the door, I wince. I knew this felt too good to be true. He never had any interest in me. I was probably an easy target because he might as well if he had to spend time with me. The truth crashes into me as I take my clothes off piece by piece, leaving my sneakers and socks in the bathroom. Turning on the water, I stand under the spray and let it wash away the bullshit lies.
By the time my hair smells like expensive magnolia tinged orange and my body is scrubbed, I’ve decided to either kill him or act indifferent. I pull on another tank top without a bra, a clean pair of workout shorts, and drag a comb through my wet hair.
When I exit the room, Luke is sitting on the opposite side of the hallway, head in his hands. “You have to listen to me. It’s not like that.”
Not like what? Another stupid oversight on my part?
“I don’t have to do anything you say. Definitely don’t want to listen to any more lies.”
He puts his palms on the ground and pops up to stand. “Chase can’t know details.” Luke swallows. “He’s the kind of guy who twists things. Turns them into something they aren’t.”
I nod. “He’s your supplier of club chicks. Can’t tell him you’re with me. That would be idiotic. Got it.” I pause. Hart eyes me, one brow up. “What’s for dinner?” I add.
“You’re not pissed?”
I smile at him. “No. That would imply that I cared to begin with. Whatever was going on between us is over, Hart. It was the wakeup call I desperately needed. It’s unfortunate I had to overhear the truth, though.” There’s a pregnant pause as Luke seems to mull over my words. “I can still stay here, right? You did say the invite would be open to any Team guy. Not stepping on any toes if I take a spare room?”
“You can stay.” He narrows his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like something someone says changes how you felt about me an hour ago. What happened in there isn’t you not caring.” He points at the gym. “I can fetch the security footage if you want to watch it for yourself.”
I ignore him as he tries to play on my emotions. “Did you or did you not become my friend because Maverick told you to?” There’s a flutter in my chest as I wait for his response.
He looks to the side, breaking eye contact. Shit. “Yeah. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you now.”
I blow out a breath through my nose and shake my head. “That’s rich. Unbelievable!”
“I would have been your friend anyway. You’re acting like a real—”
I cut in. “Say it. Call me a bitch. I dare you.”
His jaw clenches. “I would never.” Oh, but he would. I can see it in his eyes. I’m overstepping the imaginary boundaries by brushing this off.
“Right then.” I walk past him, my paper notebook and pen in my hand. “When does the maid come to do the grocery shopping? I’m going to make my list now.” I look over my shoulder. Luke is staring at my ass. I made sure to put on the booty-est of my booty shorts. “What’s for dinner, Luke?”
“My fucking balls, I guess.”
>
Chapter Fourteen
Luke
Aarabelle says it again and I know she’s being dishonest. I may suck at lying, but she’s absolutely atrocious at it. Figures.
“You’re a player and I really don’t care.”
The way she’s playing at ambivalence makes my blood boil. “Just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. You called me a project fuck, Hart. Like I had to be worked on. So, I guess that means you’re my project avoidance.”
She’s scribbling things down on the notepad I gave her as she saunters through my pantry, pulling open the refrigerators and moving canisters on my shelves, completely fucking up the perfect organization that was there before her. She’s pissed and won’t admit it outright.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Project fuck. Definition. Wherein I don’t go by my typical fuck playbook and bag you immediately. I use restraint. Self-control. Building something different. Better. Working up to it. Getting to know you first.” She stills. “That’s what I meant by project, not whatever self-deprecating thing you have in your head.”
She spins, eyes wide. “I wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t choose me first. I’d never be standing here if you hadn’t been forced into a friendship, er, mentorship, or whatever it is Maverick thought I needed.”
“You do need the friendship though. Can’t you see that? I’m not saying acceptance wouldn’t have happened eventually, Little Dempsey. I’m saying that you were accepted quicker because…I vouched for you.” She goes to fight back, but I hold up a finger. “I’m not saying I, specifically, had anything to do with it. It could have been any of the guys. Even Dagger. I’m not glorifying my sway of the Team; I’m saying having an ally helped turn that acceptance corner. I won’t apologize for it and you shouldn’t ask me to. I helped you because it was the right thing to do. I knew that even then. Before he asked. When you were wet and sandy and miserable during Hell Week. I’d decided then. I kept helping you because I like who you are, not because he asked me to do so.”
Her face softens, but my heart is still hammering. “That bullshit about not caring doesn’t fly with me. I’m not that kind of guy. If you think I’ll let you walk all over me because you think I did something dishonest, you’re dead wrong.”
She brushes past me to the kitchen island and continues writing. She tears the top piece of paper off.
Her lips press into a thin line. “Fuck you, Hart. Here’s my list.” Aara extends her shaking hand, but I let it hang between us, eyeing it then meeting her eyes.
I shake my head once. “No. No one talks to me that way. Is it a hate fuck you’re after? I’m not that guy either. I’m not careless with your heart. I’m careful with what knowledge I tell others. You’ll learn the difference.”
Her hand falls to her side and I can see her quivering. She slams the piece of paper down on the counter. “That’s what it is then? My strong will against yours?” Her voice shakes. “I’ll win every single time. You’re a man. I’m scrappy because I have to be to get what I want.” Aara hangs her head. “It felt too good to be true. That’s what hurts the most. That I was wrong again. Seeing Henry today reminded me of how manipulating people can be.” Her eyes meet mine. “Every time I let my guard down, I end up failing. Sometimes it’s my fault, sometimes it’s not. There’s nowhere safe unless I’m fighting.”
With her shoulders hunched and her lip trembling, it takes everything in me not to wrap her in a hug. That would give her the wrong idea about what I stand for. “You can’t fight for the rest of your life. Honestly, other than the obvious career implications, what is it you’re worried about with regards to me? Ground level. What is it?”
“It’s cliché to say getting hurt again, but that’s the ground level worry. That everyone will say I told you so…again. That Henry will be validated in cheating on me because I’m a shit girlfriend. That you’re inhumanly beautiful and I look like a charity case standing next to you. That everyone will use our relationship as a platform for why women don’t belong in the Teams.” She leans her elbows on the island and puts her face in her hands. “That women ruin the dynamic of everything. That I’m too weak to say no to you.” She turns her head to look at me. “That loving you will cost me everything even if I deem you everything.” A tear slips from the corner of her eye, but she wipes it away. “That other people will get to dictate my love life because I’m a role model.”
“I can’t argue with any of that. I’m not in your shoes. No one can steal intangible objects. I’m sorry you had to hear that from Chase. I’m sorry it made you feel less than or unworthy. That’s what I’m sorry for.” There’s a lump lodged in my throat I have to swallow down. “Everything else is your problem.”
Aara smirks. “You really don’t want to rage fuck? How could I be so wrong about you?”
“Nope. Not into sex with anything resembling anger. Order whatever you want for dinner. Then use the panel to tell security it’s coming. I’m going for a walk on the beach.”
She stands, hands on her hips. “Just like that?”
“What do you want from me?”
Her gaze lights on my abs, and it rises to my eyes. “It’s late. Stay with me. We can make something quick here. Together.”
I sigh. “You’re frustrating, Aara. Granted, I don’t know how to argue with someone who is living with me, but I think this is where one person takes space to cool down.”
Aarabelle walks to stand in front of me. “That’s what normal people do. Normal couples need space during and after an argument. Or I guess they rage fuck. I don’t want to be normal.”
“We’re not normal,” I say. “That’s a blatant fact.”
“We’re not. What should we do now that we’re arguing that’s more…us? Less normal.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I never did get my workout in, but it’s too late for that now.”
She opens her mouth then closes it again. I tell her to spit out whatever it is that’s on her mind. Tentatively she takes another step in my direction. “Something my mom said comes to mind. She said always apologize for something you know is worth forgiving. If it’s a thing you’d want to be forgiven for. Apologies are given because you value the other person and are willing to admit that they matter to you. Kind of along the lines of not sweating the small stuff, but at an elevated level.” Aara casts her eyes down and mutters, “Maybe we act elevated.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and scroll through music until I find what I’m looking for. I tap play, and the Macarena blares through the speakers. “Elevated. Yes. I propose we dance to the first horrible song we can think of, together, and then apologize.” I clear my throat. “It’s a rule. Like, never go to bed angry at your partner, except elevated.”
Her eyes grow large, but as I suspected the song makes her grin. “I can’t dance,” she stutters.
“Neither can I.” Extending my free hand, I slip my phone back into my pocket. She takes my hand. “But this song makes everyone a dancer. Don’t fight it.” The chorus arrives, and I spin her so her back is pressed against my front and extend my hands out next to hers. “Look at us. We’re dancing.”
Aarabelle shakes her head, and also her ass when the part of the song arrives. We hop at the same time, except she spins and faces me. In the dim moonlight streaming into the kitchen, the air changes. The anger I felt abates. Her soulful eyes search mine.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I’m sorry, too. For bringing up getting paid to be my friend, too. That was harsh.”
I lean down and kiss her nose. This feels good. It feels productive and whole. Something worthy of my time and energy outside of my usual scope. “All is forgiven.” The horrendous song ends, and silence envelops us.
She nestles into my chest and clasps her hands around my back. We stay like that for several moments. I wonder if we’re both thinking about the looming deployment and how complicated the dynamic is going to be. Th
ere’s no going back from this, and no matter how many rules we make, I know there won’t be enough to keep this under the radar. One thing being friends with Chase has taught me over the years is that if you can’t change the rules, read between the lines and find the gray area. Find the fault in someone else’s logic. I was able to get my hands on an emailed copy of the mandate about integrating women into the SEAL Teams. It’s full of legal jargon. If I want this to work and if I don’t want Aarabelle taken down because of it, I need to find the loophole. I will find it.
“I have some grilled chicken in the fridge we can heat up,” I say.
She pulls away, and I can see her nipples are hard. No bra. She doesn’t say anything in reply, she merely hums the Macarena while retrieving the chicken and lettuce. Heating the chicken, she moves around my kitchen opening and shutting drawers and cabinets, familiarizing herself with where everything is. It gives me pause and also makes me hard. I show her the dining room on the other side of the house that I rarely go into. Typically, it’s used for holidays and special occasions. The long rectangular table seats fourteen. She picks a chair in the middle of one side and I sit next to her. We eat slowly, making a list of the songs we hate the most. We agree on some and not on others. Who doesn’t like Uncle Kracker? She’s so wrong there.
Chase’s ringtone cuts our dinner conversation off. I reach into my pocket to silence it, but something spurs me to take the call. He’s supposed to be pissed at me right now.
“What’s up?”
“You didn’t let me get to what I really came over to tell you.”
I swallow hard. “Okay, tell me now.”
Aarabelle pretends not to be listening to me. She pushes away from the table, taking her salad plate over to the window on the other side of the room to give me privacy. “It’s kind of the news you want to hear in person, but you’re possessed right now so I’ll just spit it out. Chantal is pregnant.” He coughs. “And it’s yours.”
Legacy: A Salvation Society Novel Page 16