I move down the bed, and he clutches my head, thrusting his hips forward and fucking my mouth with the need of a sex-starved prisoner. He pumps fast and angry, banging the back of my throat with his thick, hard cock. I want whatever he’ll give me. I cup his balls, tugging gently, and he groans so loud it echoes in my ears, and when it fades, I hear, mine, mine, mine. He drags me up by the sides of my head, claiming me in another rough kiss.
“I want you in me, Alex. Now. I need you close.”
He reaches for the lube, and I take it from his hands.
As I get him ready, his eyes close and he whispers, “I can’t think when you touch me.”
“Don’t think, baby.” I align our bodies and push into his tight channel and lock our hands together. His eyes open, and my heart swells with love. “Feel what you do to me, T. Only you, baby.”
We kiss as we find our rhythm. Our bodies fit together perfectly. We fall into sync without any awkwardness. I’ve never felt anything as right as when I’m with Tristan, and I refuse to let the military take this from us.
His fingernails dig into my hands, and when I kiss his neck, his head tips back, giving me better access. I suck and lick, and he tears one hand from mine, reaching for his cock. I rear up, still buried deep inside him, and push his knees back. He’s breathtakingly sexy as he works his cock and his body accepts mine over and over, so tight, so willing. The sight takes me right up to the edge of release.
“Finish it, baby,” I say roughly. “I want to see you come.”
His eyes fly open, and heat blazes between us. He strokes himself harder, I thrust faster, and he reaches for me with his free hand.
“Kiss me,” he begs.
He groans into the kiss, and the sensual sound vibrates down my spine. When he comes, his ass clenches around me, and he bites my lower lip. The metallic taste of blood spills over my tongue and I spiral over the edge, holding back the words clawing for release. Love you, T. Love you so damn much.
He draws back with a brutally loving look in his gorgeous eyes, and it takes all I have to hold those words back. I know he won’t be able to fully accept them until I get my shit under control, but I’m so thankful for his love. I need this connection. I need him.
I collapse beside him, kissing him softly, and brush my hand over his handsome face. “I will slay this enemy. For both of us.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tristan
THE NEXT MORNING, for the first time since Alex and I began staying at his place, I wake to an empty bed. I’m not surprised, because Alex might not wear his heart on his sleeve like me, but everything he does comes from the heart, and I know he’s torn up about what happened at the clinic. All of his life decisions have come from his heart—his desire to make his family proud, his drive to become a man his partner can be proud of, throwing his life on the line time and time again. Even the crappy stuff that happened at the clinic happened because he was protecting his heart, and that has to matter, even if it meant hurting mine. His heart is equally important.
I step from the bed and pull on a pair of jeans and the sweatshirt Alex was wearing the first day I saw him on the beach. I zip it up, inhaling his masculine scent lingering in the fabric. I thought when I met the right person everything would be easy. We’d both be swept away. Some guys dream about being football stars or running empires. I dream about having a special man by my side to love and share my life with. If that makes me a pussy, then so be it, but I have always wanted the type of life, and love, my parents have. A love I know will last through the bad times and the good. I’m not a fool. I know relationships take work, but part of me truly thought when I found the right person, everything would simply fall into place. Alex makes me realize how naive I was. Our relationship isn’t the easy one I thought I needed, but somehow I know in my heart that he’s the right man and this is the right relationship for me. Maybe everything isn’t easy, but loving him sure is.
I gaze out the bedroom window at the sun creeping over the horizon, and somehow I know we’ll find our way through this.
When I turn to leave the bedroom, I catch sight of the sculpture his grandmother made of him standing in front of a flag. Alex sees a whole man in that sculpture and someone different when he looks in the mirror. As I go in search of my tormented boyfriend, I wonder if I’ll be able to help him see they’re both one and the same.
There’s a cold breeze coming in through the back door. Alex is sitting on the stone steps with his shoulders hunched against the morning chill. The screen door creaks as I push through it, and Alex turns. A warm smile curves his lips, and my insides melt.
“Was I too loud when I came outside?” he asks as I lower myself to the step beside him.
“You know noise doesn’t wake me.” I normally sleep like the dead, but I’ve gotten used to sleeping with Alex, and my brain has formed some kind of Alex Is Missing alarm. “Your absence is what woke me.”
His expression warms even more. The way he looks at me confirms everything I feel. It’s hard for me to look at him and reconcile the man I see as the uptight guy who dismissed me at the clinic. It’s like they’re two different people—a hurt and hiding man and a loving, caring boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and hands me his coffee. “I couldn’t sleep.”
We stayed up late talking about what it was like hiding his sexuality while he was on active duty, and as I look at him now, strong and brooding, I know the brooding is caused by what he’s done to me. I think Delilah is right, and he is falling in love with me. He cares so deeply for those he loves, which is why he carries so much guilt about Arty. He’s brooding because he wants to fix it all, and I know I’m right to have faith in him.
“I hate that I’m too weak to just make up my mind and instantly get over the military mind fuck.”
“And I hate that I let it hurt me instead of just being supportive and understanding and keeping my mouth shut,” I say honestly. “We both have weaknesses, but together we will ride out this storm,” I assure him. “I’m not sure I could have done what you did for all those years—being a soldier and pretending to be someone you weren’t. That took insurmountable strength. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it’s you.”
“You stand up for what you believe in regardless of what it costs you, T. That takes more courage than being too weak to oppose ignorant people.”
I take a sip of his coffee and hand it back to him. “That’s all new, Alex. Before you, I sat back and took all the crap I was given.”
“So why are you willing to fight dragons with me?” He shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care why. I’m just glad you are.”
I laugh softly and rest my head on his shoulder, gazing out over the water. I love being here with him. I love our privacy, our talks, these moments of truth.
“Because I think you’re worth it, and what do you mean you’re glad?” I lift my head from its cozy perch. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I shut my mouth and took it?”
He scowls. “Do you think I’d want you to do that? No way, T. I want you to be happy and to know with complete certainty how much you mean to me. I want everyone in the whole damn world to know how important you are.”
He puts his arm around me and pulls me closer. “I want to walk onto a military base holding your hand, and one day I will. I want to promise you that, but I know better.” He looks out over the water.
“I know you’re trying.”
“I want to show you I’m serious about moving forward in all parts of my life. I might be messed up where the military is concerned, but in every other aspect of my life, I’m not only capable of handling anything, I’m focused and driven enough to succeed.”
“You don’t really think I doubt that, do you?” I smile, and he returns the look, then leans in and kisses me.
“I don’t know what you think, but I’m going to prove I’m the right guy for you, even with my giant, glaring faults.”
I set the coffee mug down
on the step below us and wrap my arms around him. “I like a few of your giant qualities a whole hell of a lot.”
“Ditto, dirty boy.” He leans in for another kiss.
He tastes like coffee and my badass boyfriend, my favorite flavor any time of day.
“What do you say we hit a few bookstores and just chill until you have to go in to work?”
The smile tugging at my lips gives him his answer.
He pushes to his feet and reaches for my hand, tugging me against him. “Let’s take a walk before we go back in.”
I notice he’s barefoot, and he catches me glancing down.
He gazes down at his scarred foot. “I’ve got to do this sometime.”
I choke up, because the truth is, he doesn’t have to do any of this—let others see his foot or his leg, or be with a guy who can’t handle the few times in our lives we’ll be around servicemen or -women.
I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to, but I’m glad you’re willing to try.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alex
WEDNESDAY MORNING I finalize the paperwork, pick up the keys, and bring in a few pieces and hang the sign I made. I still haven’t told Tristan about the space, and I’m glad I waited to surprise him. By eight o’clock Thursday night I’m about ready to burst at the seams as I wait at a table outside of the Taproom for Tristan to get off work. The Taproom is busy, and I prepare for Tristan to have to stay late, as he sometimes does. I sit at a table on the pier and review ideas for the website and marketing materials we’ve been putting together.
Brandon saunters up to the table. “Hey. Mind if I hang with you?”
“Sure.” I kick a chair out from the table and he sits down. Brandon and I have gotten to be friends over the last few weeks. He likes to push the envelope, but I can tell he’s a good guy at heart.
He nods to my notebook. “What’re you working on?”
“I need a website and marketing materials for my furniture business.” I spin the notebook around so he can see it.
He scans the page, and his brows knit together. “Who’s doing the site?”
“I have no idea yet. I’d like to find someone who can help me with all of it, business cards, promotional materials, the site.”
Livi’s waitressing today, and she comes over and sets a beer down in front of Brandon. “Your usual.” She looks at me and says, “Your boyfriend is in there arguing with Charley over who’s hotter—you or Zac Efron.”
Brandon laughs, and I can tell he’s holding back a smart-ass comment, respecting the line I’ve drawn.
“What, no comment from the peanut gallery?” Livi asks.
“I like having teeth,” Brandon answers.
Livi gives me a curious look, and I shrug. “Well, if it helps, I voted for you.” She smiles and leaves to help other customers.
“Thanks,” I say to Brandon. There’s no need to elaborate.
He sits back and stretches his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “For what it’s worth, you’re about a hundred times hotter than Efron. But if she’d have said one of the Hemsworth boys…”
We both laugh.
“Seriously?” I tease. “I think I’m hotter than Liam.”
“Keep dreaming, pretty boy. When do you need the site by?”
“As soon as possible. Maybe three weeks or so.”
“Three weeks?” Brandon scoffs and scratches his stomach. “That’s a lifetime. I can have this done in a week tops.”
“A week?”
“Piece of cake, but I think you’re missing a few things on the site. You want ecommerce, don’t you? The ability for customers to place custom orders online and pay for them up front? Testimonials? Pictures?”
All great ideas I hadn’t thought of. “Yes, sure.”
“And I thought Tristan said you make more than furniture.”
“I make accessories, too.” I take out my phone and show him the pictures of my work.
Brandon begins outlining an infrastructure that baffles my mind. The guy’s a design savant, and he does it in about fifteen minutes flat, explaining as he outlines.
“To your customers, the landing page is like the front door. You want to visually engage them. Think of walking into a furniture store. You’ve got beds to the left, desks to the right, but you also have a mix of things in the entrance. The idea is to catch your customers’ interest so that while they’re looking at desks and beds, they’re also thinking about the other stuff they saw when they walked in. The way you do that with a website is with a banner.”
“Sounds good. What do you need from me?”
Brandon sits back again and locks his hands behind his head. “I’ll make you a list of what I need. Details mostly, like the company name, address, and a few more specs on the stuff you have here.”
“I really appreciate this, but what’s it going to cost me?”
“Not much.” Brandon looks me in the eye and says, “Unless you fuck over my boy Tristan.”
I sense Tristan behind me before I feel his hand on my shoulder.
“Did I hear my name?” Tristan kisses my cheek as he takes the seat beside me.
“Aren’t you two cute? Time for me to blow this taco stand and find a couple who wants a third spoke in their wheel.” Brandon waggles his brows and pushes to his feet. He guzzles his beer and sets the empty bottle on the table. “Text me your email address and I’ll shoot you a list of the things I need to get started.”
“Started?” Tristan asks.
“Brandon is going to design my website.” Brandon gives me his cell phone number and I zip off a text with my email address.
“Cool. He’s really good at graphic design, websites, and all that technical stuff I can’t stand.” After Brandon leaves, Tristan sighs and says, “What a day.”
His dark hair stands up like he’s just pushed his hand through it. His Taproom shirt stretches tight across his pecs, and a thrill runs through me thinking about the bite mark hiding beneath it on his left shoulder from earlier this morning.
“My day just got a thousand times better.” I pull him into a kiss. “How can I miss you so much after just a few hours?” I greedily take another kiss. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”
He eyes the bulge in my pants with a sly grin. “Now we’re talking.”
“Come on, before I bend you over the table.” I hand him his motorcycle helmet, grab mine and the notebook and eye the table.
“No,” he says, and laughs.
We’ve discreetly stocked every room in the house with lube to avoid having to run back to the bedroom when the mood hits us—which is about as often as we inhale.
“Fine, but I make no promises about the next table we see when we’re alone.”
Tristan
ALEX PARKS BY Jesse’s restaurant, which still doesn’t have a name. He reaches for my hand and walks toward the other end of the street.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a place up here I want to check out.” He points to the store on the corner.
“This place has been empty for months. It was on my list. Did you ever ask Dave about it?”
“Yeah, but it was under contract by some asshole.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He flashes the crooked smile that first caught my eye and dangles a key from his fingertips.
I feel my eyes bug out. “You bought it?”
“Well, lease to purchase. This was the space I saw with Dave after I dropped you at home the first day we went out looking with him. And now it’s ours.” He points to a large wooden sign above the door with the words ARTSEA DESIGNS burned into it. “I wanted to use my grandmother’s name since she pretty much led me to Harborside, and this was the best I could come up with.”
“It’s perfect.” I remember what he said when I asked him if he was taking care of his grandmother’s estate and then moving on—In a sense, coming here is my way of moving on—and then it hits me that he said ours and my thoughts stu
tter.
“Wait, Alex. Ours?”
“You’ve got the magic touch with people, T, and the vision for how to make this work. I’m just good with my hands. You don’t have to commit, but the hours are available if you want to work with me over the winter when you cut your hours at the bar. And there’s an awesome spot out back for a rock garden, I mean, if you know anyone who might want to make one.”
“A rock garden?” I say in complete and utter shock.
He hands me the keys, and they’re attached to a wooden charm I can tell he’s made. It’s in the same wavy shape as the sign, with ARTSEA DESIGNS etched into one side, and on the other he’s burned a capital A and used the crossbar to form the top of a T. My chest feels full at the sight of it.
God I love this man. I know the emotions I see in his eyes are real, and the love I feel when he touches me is genuine. I’ve never had that certainty before, and this key ring is silly as hell, but I fucking love it, too.
“You’re like a teenage girl writing our names on your notebook,” I tease to keep my rising emotions at bay.
“Shut up. That one’s yours.” He pulls out another set of keys with a matching insignia. “This one’s mine.”
He backs me up against the door with a devilish grin.
“Want to make fun of me some more?” He presses his lips to my neck, and his tongue snakes along my skin. “Because the punishment will be severe.”
Craving his touch after a long day of thinking about him, I play right into his hands. “It’s a pretty girly thing to do.”
With his big body pressed against mine and a serious look in his gorgeous blue eyes, he demands, “Open the door, T.”
“I don’t want to move.”
He presses in tighter, grinding his hips against mine. “Open. The. Door.”
“No way,” I say, and slide my hands into his back pockets, keeping him right where I want him. I love it when he gets domineering, because no matter how much he tries, he can’t do it and mean it. He’s got too soft of a heart when it comes to me. He’ll love the hell out of me, but he’ll never physically hurt me.
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