I turn to face him. “Someone is following her,” I tell him, though it comes out like drunken speech.
“Why are you so upset, man? She cares about you. She gives enough fucks to call me to make sure you didn’t do something stupid. Like tagging one of those girls.” He nods his head to a large group of chattering women. They’re eyeing us down like hawks. “Or drowning. Or smashing your beautiful face up in a collision with cement.” He trails a finger down my face. I smack his hand away.
I nod. “She gives a shit. Congratulations to me. Do you know what I’m going through with her?” He sucks in a breath and tries to guide me out of the gate toward the hotel. I let him lead.
He clears his throat. “I know. You’re stronger than I thought you were. After all this time. He’s been gone for so long.” Maverick looks up to the sky, remembering Stone Sterns. “You’ve stuck by her.”
I have and I’m just now realizing the price. I’ve turned a blind eye to the obvious for too long. “I love her. She loves him.”
Maverick stops walking and turns to face me. “What are we talking about here? Morg being followed and her safety, or something else entirely?”
The urge to call her back to get more details springs to mind, but I know I’m too drunk to do anything about it. “Both! A fucking ghost follows her and some other fuck is walking around breathing when he should be six feet under. Why her? Who is it? In case you forgot, we’re leaving for six months. Morganna will be back in Virginia all by herself. Alone. No protection.”
“We’ll handle her safety. For that matter do you think Morganna would let anything happen to Morganna? She takes care of herself and we’re just backup, Stevey. She’ll be safe. Do you think I’d let anything happen to her? ”
“You let him happen to her.”
His face falls. “And now our conversation comes full circle. Stone isn’t here to kick your patsy ass right now. Luckily I know he wouldn’t want me to, because Morg loves you. She fucking loves your crazy, stupid ass. Give her more time, because that’s what you should do, or peace the fuck out and let her find someone else. Then you can go right back to your fucked up relationships. That sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?” His tight grip on my shirt loosens. The night air chills my body and goose bumps prick my skin. “You’re drunk. If you weren’t this wouldn’t even be an issue, would it?”
I let my gaze fall to the ground. “No. Because I wouldn’t have the balls to speak the truth otherwise. When I’m with her I can’t…I just can’t. I’m going to bed.” Turning from Mav, I walk directly back to my hotel room, and he doesn’t stop me. The alcohol numbs the pain in my chest, but it doesn’t numb my mind. Falling onto the down feather bed, I cross my arms over my face and pray that I wake up in an alternate universe. Somewhere I’m not haunted by the decision I didn’t make before Stone did. A place that’s fair, without heartbreak or complications.
My phone pings a text message from her. I love you.
So much for calling instead of texting when she has something important to talk about. Fuck all of this. Fuck it all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Morganna
Past
“DON’T VILLIANIZE THE guys, Morg. It’s just the way they are. I’d bet if you polled a non-SEAL group of type A men there would be just as many cheaters.” Stone is exasperated as he pseudo-defends his friends.
I huff. “What makes you different from them?” One of the guys cheated on his wife—his very pregnant, very beautiful wife—after ten years of marriage. Though he’s admitted to cheating all along because he could get away with it. It was the thrill of the chase. Personally, it makes me want to vomit.
Stone replies without hesitation. “Because I love what I have with you more than anything else. I’d never do anything to jeopardize our relationship.” He stares me directly in the eyes, his brownish color twinkling with sincerity. I trust him, it’s just disheartening after hearing story after cheating story. Especially given my profession. I’m inundated with marriage failures and scandal so wild it makes my head swim.
I lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth. “I just don’t want to end up in that scenario. I see the heartbreak too much for comfort. It’s almost as if I know what it feels like.”
He shakes his head, furrowing his brow. “I’d never give you the clap, baby. Don’t you worry.” His smile is beatific, nothing grander.
“I don’t want syphilis either. Write that down,” I bite back. Stone pulls me into his chest and kisses my neck. “I can’t believe you’re deploying. It’s surreal. We’ve talked about it a million times, but it was always like this looming date that I never thought would come.” I sigh, as I feel his tongue against the hollow of my neck.
“It will go by quickly and then I’ll be right back here with you,” he says, kissing behind my ear. With one hand he holds me tightly, while he draws the other more skilled hand between my legs. My panties are long gone as we’ve been in non-stop sex sessions since this morning. Tonight is the grand goodbye for six months. A lump forms in my throat.
“What if you don’t though? What if you don’t come back?” I breathe out, closing my eyes. His hand stops moving. It’s a rhetorical question asked just for reassurance, but I realize he’s pondering his response and I immediately regret asking.
“Then you wake up, you drink your coffee, and you go on.” At his candidness, I push him away a touch so I can see his eyes and try to rearrange my lust-hazed thoughts.
“I drink my coffee? That’s your proposal? You die and I drink coffee? I know that your euphemisms are usually pretty solid, but not this time, Stoner.”
His smile is sincere. “I’m not going to tell you to stop using creamer, baby. I’m just saying it’s simple. You wake up and live life. It’s too short not to. If I don’t come home, it’s a perfect example of that. Brevity forces passion. Passion fuels life. You have passion in spades. You’ll use it.”
My eyes start to water and an unexpected anger rears. An anger I can’t control, a fury that pokes holes in my armor. How dare he put these thoughts in my head. No one has that right except for me.
“I don’t want coffee with creamer, Stone. I want you. I want longevity, not brevity. You are the only person who can make me feel this way. You are the person that I love, that I chose to be my forever.” He cradles my face, his smile turning wistful when he sees his words affecting me. “I want your passion,” I say as a tear slips down my face—an angry tear laced with spite and dread. My heart beats on at a ragged, dreadful pace as scenarios spin through my mind.
I realize that these horrible scenarios are actually a possibility. The bones in my chest feel like they’re caving in. This conversation puts a face next to the word deployment. A face I don’t like, that I don’t want to familiarize myself with. I can’t reply, I don’t know what to say. I’m out of my element. Sighing, I wait for him to speak.
“I don’t want to upset you.” He kisses the tear off my cheek. “You have to know what I want for you in case though, right? I want the world for you, Morg. I want love for you. I want a life so full of passion that it exceeds your wildest dreams. If I’m not giving it, someone or something else needs to.”
Another heavy tear moves down my face. With his pointer finger, he wipes it away. Cocking his head to the side, he examines me from head to toe, eyes narrowed, mind working overtime.
“I want to remember you just like this. Exactly like this—with the sun shining down on you. Your lips pouting, your hips taunting, your eyes begging, your mind trying to make amends with your heart. ” He smiles again, his eyes a touch glassy.
“You’re being so morbid that I can hardly stand it. You don’t have to remember me like this, because you’re coming home to this,” I explain, motioning toward my body and face, choking on my own words.
He quirks a manly brow. “I do have to remember you like this so I can jack off late at night and annoy Maverick.”
I laugh through my tears. He knows how to turn a con
versation around quickly, his humor making everything a little lighter. It’s why I’m drawn to humorous people. Or maybe it’s because I lack a side of humor myself. The need for humor is a weakness I never realized I had until my first best friend blazed a trail into my life.
“That is so disgusting, but I’m not going to veto the idea.” When my lips melt with his, residing there is the passion he’s speaking of. There is love blistering so bright that I know for a fact no one can ever extinguish it. Try as I might, this fire and love that we share will never die.
Until, well, it simply does.
Morganna
Present
He parks his truck in front my house and honks the horn to alert me to his presence. Such a chivalrous prince, that Steven Warner. We haven’t spoken since he came home from his training trip in Arizona—since his drunken phone call that he no doubt is embarrassed about. I grab my gym bag and head out the front door, taking care to lock both of the new deadbolts. I hear Gunner whine from the other side of the door and I’m reassured knowing he’ll be right there when I return.
The car that trailed me for a couple days isn’t that big of a deal. Spies are everywhere in Virginia Beach. You’d be surprised by how frequently they pop up in normal places. The grocery store clerk, the bartender, the hot blonde who poses as a frog hog just to gain information about the guys. Specifically, spies looking for any information about SEALs are everywhere. They’re harmless for the most part. I know that’s what it has to be. When Stone died, my photo was plastered everywhere. It’s someone who wants information, or a piece of Stone. Perhaps they’re just curious. They don’t want to harm me in anyway. Or, that’s what I’ve told myself over and over as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep at night. The honest truth is that I don’t feel safe.
I pull the handle of the passenger door of Steven’s truck and climb inside. His scent hits me like a freight train. It’s all man and so mouth wateringly hot that I can’t help a faint sigh. I’ve missed the buffoon—everything about him.
I turn to him and find his eyes already wandering over my body. He’s not wearing a smile and his jaw works. “Nice to see you still breathing,” he says.
Setting my bag on the floor, I ignore his jab. I’ve wanted to tell him about everything. About the car, about the hooded man my cameras caught creeping in my garden, about how sometimes Gunner barks at the window when I don’t see anything, but that would mean relinquishing power. I can’t. That’s not me.
“I’ve missed you, too.” I cross my legs. The black spandex workout shorts ride up, showing him exactly what he’s missed.
His eyes dart down to the high hem. “You make a man fucking crazy.” Steven closes his eyes and strokes the stubble on his chin. Opening his eyes and sighing heavily, he merely shakes his head and starts driving toward the boxing gym.
“You can’t pretend I haven’t always been this person,” I admit, after we’re out of my driveway. He should know better than to try to take control of things. “You did miss me, didn’t you?” I ask, realizing he hasn’t said anything remotely flirty since I graced his presence. This workout outfit took entirely too much planning for him to act indifferent.
His gaze flicks to me and then back to the road. “Morganna Sterns needs reassurance, does she? That’s a novel idea. Give me a second to wrap my mind around that one.” His biceps bulge and release as he grips the steering wheel in an attempt to control something. God knows he’s not controlling me right now.
I grab his arm. “Of course I don’t need reassurance. I’m trying, Steven. I want things to be okay between us. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who has apologizing to do.”
“After you sent me a teenaged text message expressing your true feelings I’ve decided that you needed to do some talking before I beg your queenly forgiveness. Lay it out for me, because I’m not taking any less than one hundred percent anymore. I’ve tried, good God, I’ve tried. I can’t pretend it’s good enough anymore.”
His words drip with jealousy and anger. I admit the text was a bad move. He knows I love him. I’ve always loved him. Growing up, I love you was a normal phrase in everyday conversation. How can you not love a man that balances you so well as a best friend…and now as a potential match? It did mean something more when I texted him, but he shouldn’t look at it any differently.
“I shouldn’t have sent that. I needed you to know that I care about you and about us,” I explain. “You were asking, drunkenly mind you, things of me that I couldn’t give you. What this queen is saying now in person is that I love you, Steven. I care about you.”
His face stays indifferent, cold, as we pull into a front-row parking spot. He walks around to open my door for me, but that’s the only acknowledgement of my words that he’s offering. Or maybe at his angriest he still feels the need to be a gentleman. I can’t read Steven when he’s volatile. I’m not sure anyone can and it makes me uneasy.
“No one is here,” he growls, pulling the huge set of keys out of his pocket. That’s not unusual. Steven likes to work out at odd hours and the old man that runs the joint is his friend. “I figured teaching without any interruptions would be best.” I watch the muscles bunch his t-shirt across his back as he works the heavy lock open.
I nod. He’s not asking. I take my bag into the solitary locker room, setting it atop a bench on the opposite side of Steven. He strips his shirt off over his head. His smooth, chiseled chest looks dewy, as if he’s already worked out. Standing to face him, I pull the bottom hem of my stretchy workout tank over my own head, making sure to meet his eyes the second the fabric clears my view. My sports bra and tiny shorts are a main attraction as his gaze darts to both places. He’s sizing me up, wondering what I’m doing. Little does he know, I have no idea what he’s playing at. I’ll fight his mood by confusing him even more.
Turning, I give him a view of my backside as I pull my long hair into a ponytail. He grunts as I peer over my shoulder to find him leaning back against the lockers, his hands behind his back, fiery gaze locked on my ass. With one foot on the bench, I lean over to tie my already double-knotted sneaker.
He punches a locker, or at least I assume he does from the noise reverberating the empty space. “Infuriating. Fucking infuriating,” he yells, backing away from me, while gazing at me like I’m escaped zoo wildlife. Dangerous wildlife. Shaking his head, he grabs his gloves off the end of the bench and vanishes from view. “Hurry up!” His voice echoes as he exits.
My first thought is Why does he need his boxing gloves if he’s teaching me how to hit? The second thing is that Steven is actually the tiger, with complete control of the situation. He’s oozing a dominance that I can’t ignore, that I’m not sure I want to ignore it. The nice guy who played by my rules is gone and I can’t say I’m not happy about it. Biting my lip, I think about his massive body looming over me, how his smile seems to have disappeared.
Grabbing my much smaller gloves, I decide I won’t let his act affect me. When I enter the dimly lit gym I find him next to the large ring pounding the ever-loving life out of a human shaped punching bag. His hands fly, his left hand just as lethal as his right as he hammers back and forth, seemingly without needing oxygen. He grunts and groans as sweat sluices the crevices of his back muscles. The frog tattoo shakes with the force of his pounding. Steven has no idea I’m watching. His thwacks are so loud and punishing, I doubt he’d notice me if I was standing in front of him. The one-minded determined focus makes my entire body tingle with desire. I want that arduous venom turned on me. Stepping quietly, I approach the ring, hoping not to disturb him.
When I get close enough to smell his sweat I swallow, my throat working. Lust blasts me from every angle. I wasn’t prepared for Steven in this form today or the automatic physical reaction my body is having to him. The bag swings wildly as he picks up his pace. His legs planted firmly on the ground start to rise as the ferocity of his blows become rougher.
“Don’t just stand there enjoying the fucking show, get
in the ring and warm up,” Steven barks out, his voice labored and rough. My eyes widen at his back, at his tone.
“Fuck you, Steven!” I yell out, making sure to speak louder than his loudest punch. I almost never curse, but he’s coaxing another side of me out to play…and fight.
He hits the bag one more time and I think it might have broken. He spins on me, breathing hard, cocky smile appearing through his pants. “Fucking is as fucking does, Ma’am,” he says, stalking up to me, his abs flaring with each breath he takes.
It takes effort to force my gaze elsewhere and I climb into the ring, with his fantastically cruel, handsome face emblazoned on the back of my eyelids. If he’s playing at pissing me off, he’s done a right fine job. I’ll slam the grin right off his face. He slides into the ring, standing, feet wide, in the corner directly across from me. He reminds me of a beast. An angry, scorned beast, and I’m not the cowering princess he’s hoping for. Half of the lights aren’t turned on, so part of his massive body is cascaded in shadow. Warming up, I bounce from one foot to the other, whacking the air with my gloves in a less skillful way.
He interrupts. “Speed, surprise, violence of action,” Steven breathes out, his gaze locked on my face. “That’s what will save your life in any situation.” I hear his words, but I don’t let them sink in. He steps forward, into the light. I catch my breath at his masculine, perfect magnificence. I can see his hands bunching inside his gloves by his sides. The black shorts that hug his thick legs are soaked; his hair is just as wet and standing in spiky points.
“You can be such a dick sometimes. What do you want from me?”
He takes another step toward me, his shadow spreading across the ring like a fog. “I want you to pay attention. I need you to be safe while I’m gone. No matter the cost. Hit me.” He pulls off his gloves, unlacing them with his teeth, and lets them drop to the floor, and then extends both hands in front of him, palms facing forward.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 51
