by Tamara Lush
My phone pings, and I groan.
“It’s Mom. She really needs me right now; she’s freaking out about the holiday.” I look up. “I’m sorry I sprang this on you. I didn’t mean to make you upset. It’s an idea. Think about it, okay?”
She’s still propped against the headboard, her arms folded. Only now her eyes aren’t big or hard. They’ve got a faraway look, almost wistful.
I lean in and press a kiss against her mouth. “I’ll text you soon?”
She gives me a soft hum in return.
“Consider my plan, okay? We don’t have to tell anyone.”
She nods, and as I’m about to climb off the bed, reaches for me.
“Damien?”
I take her hand and kiss her palm. “Yeah?” I murmur against her skin.
“Thank you.”
Thirteen
Kate
I pick at the remnants of food on my plate. My cholesterol condition means I can’t eat much of the good stuff on Thanksgiving: no gravy, no eggnog, no pecan pie…and one slice of dry turkey.
Mom’s always tried to compensate by making delicious vegan side dishes, and this year’s no exception.
“The butternut squash is extra tasty this year,” I say, moving the mashed vegetable around my plate. And it is, mostly because she made it specifically for me.
But I don’t have an appetite for anything, not since I last saw Damien a few days ago.
We’ve both been too busy with the holidays—him with his family, me with the bar and Mom—to see each other. I think I’m suffering from withdrawal. I’m so edgy after our last conversation. Was he for real?
Everything about those last few minutes together left me feeling conflicted about his feelings. About my feelings. About everything. I hate it when I get this way, probably because I’m already something of a dreamer. I don’t need another reason to fantasize about having something permanent with Damien.
“You’re not too hungry, dear. What’s wrong?” Mom can always tell when something’s up.
“Stomach’s not feeling well.” I pat my midsection.
“Why don’t you go lie down? Take a nap and relax.”
“No, I’ll do the dishes. It’ll pass.” I rise and gather plates. “You should be the one to relax.”
Mom smiles. “Stubborn girl. If you’re going to insist, I’ll be in the living room. I’ve got to call Beau and wish him a good holiday.”
“Why doesn’t he come over for some vegan pumpkin pie?”
Mom shakes her head. “He’s down in Fort Myers with his kids.”
I carry the dishes into the kitchen, still thinking about Damien, as I run the water in the sink and squirt soap on the plates.
Why was I so offended by his proposal? He seems to want to help me. He’s a friend, and he’s trying to make my life better, like any friend would. Hell, if Lauren could magically wave a wand and give me health insurance, she would.
And yet…
It makes something inside sink in despair. He proposed because of my problem, not because he cares for me.
I want him to love me, dammit. There. I admit it.
Isn’t it silly, especially after such a short time? Sure, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Yeah, we have incredible chemistry. Fine, the sex is out of this world.
And of course, I adore being with him. The only other person who makes me laugh like he does is Lauren.
But he’s leaving. For an entire year, and God knows what he’ll do after that. I can’t fall for him. It’s a stupid idea. I don’t even know where I’ll be in a year. Probably not here.
I sigh out loud as I soap up the dishes. What started as a no-strings-attached hookup has turned into a complicated situation, and I hate that. Can’t we go back to our carefree fling?
“Dear?”
I glance up to see Mom in the kitchen doorway. “Hey. Almost done. You want to watch a movie?”
“No, because there are two handsome men here to see you, and they’ve brought more dessert.” Mom’s face is flushed with excitement.
I grin for the first time in days and wipe my hands on a towel.
When I get into the living room, Damien and his twin brother Remy are practically taking up the entire space with their muscles and their gorgeous faces. It’s stunning how much they look alike, although Damien is bigger and a couple of inches taller. Strange, because I feel zero attraction to Remy, and Damien is like metal to my magnet of a body.
“Hey,” I mumble, leaning up to kiss Damien on the cheek. I almost sigh in relief as I catch a whiff of his cologne.
I give Remy a quick hug, and he holds up a pie plate.
“Ma made this for you,” Damien says. “It’s a vegan cheesecake. Not sure how that works, but it doesn’t have cholesterol.”
“You told her?” I bristle. Had he mentioned his proposal, too?
Mom walks over and accepts the pie from Remy. “No, I told Ginger about your cholesterol issue. She said she had the best vegan cheesecake recipe she wanted to try. Doesn’t it look delicious? Who would like a slice?”
Remy stretches. “Well, we’ve already eaten but I never say no to Ma’s cheesecake. Even if it is vegan.”
He follows Mom into the kitchen, leaving Damien and me alone in the living room. We stare at each other awkwardly. Instead of staring into his eyes, I focus over his right shoulder, on a giant conch shell atop the bookcase.
“Hey,” I say.
He reaches for me, and in the space of a nanosecond, I’m in his arms. Something about the way he’s holding me and pressing his mouth to the top of my head, makes me tremble.
“Remy thought he’d drop me off. He’s on his way to visit a friend. But I could go with him if you don’t want me to—”
I brush my lips against his ear. “No. Stay. Please?”
Hours later, after a slice of Mrs. Hastings’ delicious vegan cheesecake and a slice of Ma’s pie, Remy leaves. Damien stays. Mom trots off to bed, saying something about “chatting on the Google with Beau.”
“I think Mom’s got a boyfriend,” I tell Damien as we stretch out on the sofa. I love how our legs fit perfectly together somehow, even though he’s so much bigger than I am.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s the neighbor guy. He’s older than her. You might have seen him around. He windsurfs a lot. His name’s Beau. He’s cool. Skinny guy, bald up top, long hair in back? Like a senior citizen mullet.”
“Retirement up front, party in the back?” Damien jokes, and I crack up. “Good for her. You know, maybe she’s not as fragile as you think she is.”
“Hmm.” My voice is soft. “Maybe not.”
The TV’s off, and we’re listening to the wind whisper through the palm trees in the yard. I’m debating whether to take him into my bedroom for some quiet, secret sexy time, but there’s something I need to discuss with him first.
“I’m sorry I was so weird the other day. Your, er, proposal. It caught me off guard.”
“I should’ve been a little smoother about the whole thing,” he admits.
“No, I’ve been super anxious lately, and I think my brain has this fight-or-flight reaction to any unusual information.”
“Anxious?” Damien frowns.
“You know, because of Mom and her situation. And me and my situation.”
“Understandable. You’ve been through a lot. Her diagnosis, your move, trying to deal with the insurance issue.”
I chew on my cheek for a few seconds. “How will it work?” I whisper.
“How will what work?” He kisses my forehead and works his hand into my hair. Which makes my skin tingle. I’m going to want to kiss him on the lips soon. Focus, Kate. Focus.
“If we get married. If your offer still stands.”
He grins and rubs the tip of his nose on my cheek. “We elope. Go to a City Hall somewhere and get married. It’s probably a simple process, right? Then I put you on my health insurance. It’s one form on my company website. Already checked. Sup
er easy. I think you’re covered within days of my filling out the form and sending in the marriage certificate.”
“And what happens while you’re gone? What if you meet someone?”
“What if you meet someone?” He leans back and scowls.
“I’m not looking for anyone. I wasn’t looking for anyone when you walked into my bar. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t normally go home with random men.” Old hurt and anger wells in my chest.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It was a rhetorical question because you asked me the same thing.”
Damn him and his logic. “I haven’t been with anyone since—”
“I don’t need to know. Don’t want to. Kate, I’m going to Syria. Even if I were single, I’d bet my life savings I wouldn’t meet anyone I wanted to marry. I’m not going there to improve my social life. I’m a military contractor who makes a shit load of money in exchange for doing undercover work in dangerous countries. And that’s the other reason I thought we should get married.”
I frown. “Why? Hunh?”
“Syria’s dangerous.” He takes a deep breath. “At least I’ll know you’ll be taken care of for life. If I don’t come back.”
His words are like a spike to my heart. During our discussion I never considered this angle or how it might be a reason for him to ask me this insane question
He’s headed into a war zone and might not return. My earlier thoughts that he was doing this out of pity are dissolving by the second.
“Damien,” I whisper. “Dammit, don’t talk like that. And wouldn’t you want everything, whatever you have or whatever you’d receive, to go to your family?”
“My family’s set for life. We’re rich. I’d rather you get the benefits. Which are substantial, for the spouse of a dead—”
“Stop,” I say harshly, pressing my fingers firmly onto his lips. “I don’t want you to say those words aloud. Hush.”
He grabs my wrist and pries my fingers from his face. “Let me take care of you, Kate. Please?”
I don’t know what to say because I’m fighting a flood of tears. Unsuccessfully. No man has ever said that. Never lifted a finger to care for me.
“So…” I croak. “I guess…”
I snuggle into his chest, pressing my wet eyes into his T-shirt. Christ, this just got even more complicated.
“Is that a yes?”
I raise my head and look into his eyes. He wipes the tears off my cheeks with his thumb. He must be nervous, because he captures his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Yes, Damien. I’ll marry you.”
Fourteen
Kate
Maybe getting married is the worst idea. Maybe I’m making a mistake by saying yes. Maybe I’m under Damien’s spell.
Right now, I don’t care.
Extracting myself from his arms and climbing to my feet, I hold out my hand. He gives me a quizzical glance, and I press my finger to my lips.
He takes my hand, and I lead him into my bedroom.
Thank God Mom’s not one of those parents who kept her daughter’s room a shrine to childhood. Since I left, she’s redecorated it tastefully, in shades of gold and white. Mom even replaced my hideous black floor lamp with sophisticated track lighting over the bed, which I flick on and adjust to a sensual glow.
The room is nothing like what I’d had when I was last here. I send Mom a silent thanks for having decorating forethought. Maybe she knew her daughter would come home someday and want to bring a man into to a bedroom with tasteful beach art and not NKOTB posters.
She also deserves the credit for replacing my twin with a firm queen mattress.
I steer Damien over to the bed, and he sits on the edge. A smile immediately comes to my face when I see his large frame on the place I sleep.
I straddle him, and all the tension in my stomach I’ve carried over the past few days loosens. My hands cradle his face, and his hands slide around to my butt and give a squeeze. Because I’m wearing a cotton skirt, he doesn’t stop there—his hands slide under the fabric and beneath my silky panties.
He grins. God, he’s so beautiful. And now I know he wants to help me, care for me, he’s somehow more gorgeous right this moment.
This is the man I’m going to marry.
And somehow that errant thought makes my body even hotter for him. I’ve never understood women who look at men and say “I want to have his baby.” Until now.
Thank God I have condoms here because I could almost—almost—fuck him raw. My hormones and need are raging like a Category 5 hurricane in my body.
I press my lips to his, and we kiss. Slow. His tongue slides to mine, and I suck, teasingly. With equal slowness, he tugs me forward a couple of inches, so I’m right on his cock.
Which is rock hard.
“You sure this is okay?” he asks in a quiet voice.
I nod. “Mom’s been taking sleeping pills lately. But we still have to be careful.”
His fingers delve farther into my panties, shoving them aside from behind. In one swift motion, his middle finger finds my core. I’m slick and eager for him already. He puts his mouth to my ear, and I cling to him as his finger enters me.
“I can be quiet, but can you? I don’t know. You’re pretty vocal when I touch you,” he murmurs. “It’s going to be fun finding out if you can come without saying a word.”
That voice of his, it’s like liquid sex. If we were in the hotel room, I’d whimper out loud. But now I have to be silent, and all I can do is rake in a breath as he simultaneously rocks me against his cock and fucks me with his finger.
My clit pulses in time with my heartbeat. I’m definitely a clitoral orgasm kind of woman, and while it feels incredible to have his finger in me, it’s only making me more desperate to relieve the ache in my throbbing nub.
“Baby,” I moan-whisper in his ear. “I want to come.”
“So soon? No.” He adds another finger, and I gasp.
“Yeah. Please?”
He’s so strong that it takes almost no effort to swing me over to the middle of the bed. He reaches up my skirt and pulls my panties down. I spread my legs and lift my skirt.
His gaze is on my pussy, and he licks his lips.
“So fucking wet and beautiful.”
I glance down and realize I’m a mess. Wet. Everywhere. Thighs and my carefully groomed bikini area.
“That’s what you do to me,” I whisper.
“And this is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to make you come in my mouth.”
He scoots down between my legs on his belly and proceeds to sip, lick, and kiss me down there until I’m ready to explode. Right before I do, I grab a pillow and put it over my face, hoping I don’t make too much noise when I come.
Later, after I climbed on top of him and fucked him as silently as possible, we lie naked on my bed in the dark, with only a sheet covering our bodies. My skin borders on being a touch too hot, but I don’t want to move away from Damien. The bedside lamp is still on, and I’m too lazy to roll over to turn it off.
“I’m wide awake,” I murmur. “I should be exhausted after all that, but I’m not.”
“Mmmm. Okay.” His growly hum means he’s probably sleepy. I run my fingers through his short hair.
“Why did you join the Marines right out of high school?”
He quirks an eyebrow and shifts to look at me. “Someone’s in the mood to talk.”
“Is that okay? I can let you sleep.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Nah, sleep’s overrated. Plus, I probably shouldn’t stay over. Your mom seemed happy I was here, but not so sure she’ll want to wake up and find me at her breakfast table.”
“I dunno. She’ll probably be okay. We can try. Maybe I’m saying that because I had two crappy nights of sleep without you.”
“Hmm.” He kisses my temple. “To answer your question, I felt like it was my best option. Everyone in my family had their thing. Remy was a champion sport fisherman by th
e time he was sixteen. Max was a rich real estate guy. Tate was in law school and working on being a crusading environmental attorney. And Natalia…”
That’s his older sister. I’ve seen her around a few times since I’ve been home, and I’ve seen her gorgeous, beach-themed necklaces and earrings all over the island. “She has her jewelry.”
“Exactly. And she felt like jewelry design was her calling and wanted to help my parents run the resort. I didn’t want any of that. Plus, I wanted to outdo the old man.”
I frown. Mr. Hastings always seemed cool. “Your dad? Why?”
Damien shrugs. “Angus is larger than life. He was a punk rock singer turned resort owner. There’s nothing he can’t do. He always held us kids to a high standard, and the others exceeded it even in high school. I didn’t. He’s tougher than nails, and somehow I thought the Marines would make me tougher than him.”
“Hmm.” I’m not sure what to make of this revelation. The Hastings family always seemed so together and normal, especially compared to my own quirky situation with Mom. Hell, I never knew my father.
“It’s not like Dad was physically or emotionally abusive or anything.” It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself. “But I felt different from the others. I’m not as outgoing. Not as much of an extrovert. I thought the Marines could help, somehow.”
“Did they?”
“Yeah. I guess they did. It’s hard to explain. We all complained about being in the Corps when we were in. And now we all tell stories about our days as Marines.”
“And now? What’s next? I’m not sure how military contracting works. Is this a career for you?”
Damien shifts so his arm’s under my head. “Dunno, Kate. It’s good money. It’s exciting, being a security consultant in hot spots around the world. But when I come back here, I realize that this is pretty fucking great, too. I miss the vibe. The peace and quiet. More so each time I come back. This place is special, and I didn’t realize it before.”
