Blinding Echo

by Tina Saxon

  “Tell me how you did on your tests.”

  “I’m a badass and got all A’s,” she says with extra pep in her voice.

  “Admit it. It was the sushi.”

  When she laughs, I glance over, her dark hair shines in the sunlight, framing her beautiful beaming face. “Are you saying I’m not a badass?” Her sass reminds me of the day we first met. It’s definitely grown with her.

  “No, you’re a badass. You have amazing pepper spray skills.”

  She pokes me in my bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

  The restaurant is small, ten tables sit close together. Two waitresses and a waiter move from table to table, dropping plates piled high of noodles or rolls. The waiter notices us first when we walk in. “Welcome, please, find a seat anywhere,” he says in a strong Italian accent. When I look around the crowded room, I spot only one empty table.

  “How about that one,” I jest, pointing to it.

  “That one is perfect.”

  Throughout dinner, I catch the owner who I thought was a waiter, frequently glance at me. So often, it’s distracting me from dinner with Ellie. Finally, he wanders over and says, “I thought you looked familiar.” He waves his hands around. Here we go. “And then I remember I read about you.” He pulls out a rolled-up magazine from his back pocket, his tan leather skin opening it and shoving it in my face. “This is you, right?” It’s a cover of Society Magazine and in bright red letters says, ‘American Hero’ with a picture of me wearing the medal, the weight of it heavier than the dead brother I carried back to the helicopter.

  I hate everything about that picture.

  I glance at Ellie and her smile touches her eyes. Even though she's excited, it does nothing to calm my resentment. I nod, expecting the validation alone will be enough. Instead, his arms flail around more, and he adds an excited noise. By then the entire restaurant is looking over.

  “Can you sign it for me?” he asks, placing it in front of me with a Sharpie. I hate that people sensationalize this. There is nothing glorifying about this. “I want to add it to my famous wall.” He points to a wall with at least fifty black framed pictures with autographs of famous people. I don’t belong on that wall.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t. We're here trying to have a quiet dinner.” I pick up the pen and cap it, handing it back to him.

  “I don’t mind,” Ellie says, cheerfully.

  “I do.” My voice is flat, and it pisses me off more when she jerks her head back in surprise. I curse under my breath. “I need a minute.” The chair scrapes across the floor and I brush past the owner. “Excuse me,” I snap over my shoulder and walk out the door.

  My feet pound the pavement, pacing back and forth. Everyone read the damn article. Everyone knows we didn’t all come back alive. But do they care what I went through to get that medal? Is there any compassion in their eyes when they meet me. Hell no. They only want a piece of fame. The exact fame I didn’t ask for. I glance up from the ground when I hear the door open from the restaurant. Ellie tilts her head as she walks over.

  “You okay?”

  “I didn’t mean to screw up dinner.”

  “You didn’t. We were finished, anyway. I’m more worried about you.” She places her hand on my bicep.

  “I’m fine. I don’t like how people act all star-struck when they recognize me. I’m not a movie star. I’m a SEAL. I was doing my job. The mission was successful, but I’m not a hero. If I was a hero, I would’ve left there with my whole team alive.”

  “Oh.” Her voice softens with understanding. “I wish I knew what to say to make it better.”

  “You don’t have to say anything.” I pull her into me and kiss her. Her sweet taste suppresses any bitterness left in my mouth. “See, already feeling better.” The anger is fading, but the guilt I can’t control burns inside me. Letting this fester inside me isn't healthy. I need a better way to manage it. The ocean is calling my name. The one place I can let go of everything and refocus.

  “Let me go pay so we can get out of here,” I say, walking toward the door.

  She yanks on my arm, stopping me. “I already paid.” My smile drops and she shrugs as I stare at her. “I didn’t think you’d want to go back in there.” People pass us by, walking toward the park. My jaw tightens as I breathe through the anger of letting someone who wanted an autograph ruin my dinner. Just sign the damn thing next time. “Kase,” she says, grabbing my chin so our gazes are locked. “I’m a modern woman. I’m okay with paying sometimes.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I would hope you’re not a modern woman,” she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You know what I mean. I can promise you that won’t happen again.”

  “Cowboy, it’s not like I’m poor and you’re a millionaire. I can pay sometimes.”

  I’m an asshole for not being transparent. The hidden truths need to stay hidden for a little longer. “Ellie,” I say, firmly. “I pay. End of story.”

  She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Fine. Now that we’ve established you’re stubborn and old-fashioned, let’s go, or we’ll miss the movie.”

  She grabs my hand and tugs for me to walk. “It surprises me you’re just now noticing.” I squeeze her hand and the sweet smile she flashes reminds me of when we were younger. Innocent. I’ve wondered if my obsession with her is only because of our past. If the love I had for her is blinding me. At the same time, I can’t stop thinking of her. She fills my dreams, my thoughts, my wants and needs. I’m falling in love with her all over again. I’m falling in love with Ellie.

  “So what movie are we seeing?” People fill the sidewalks in front of us, carrying blankets and coolers toward the beach park.

  “No clue,” she chuckles. “It’s movie in the park night. Is that okay?” She looks at me hesitantly. Like there isn’t anywhere I wouldn’t follow her.

  “Sounds fun,” I reassure her.

  For two hours, I’ve tried to keep my hands to myself. Keep my thoughts pure through the PG movie with hundreds of kids around us, but with each passing second, each innocent brush of her body against mine, I’ve been fighting a losing battle. My head aches, both of them, from trying to read into her touches. Her bare foot sliding against my calf as she sits up or her hand on my thigh, grip tightening when she laughs at something funny. They might be the simplest, purest touches but in my mind, she’s leaving hints to where tonight will lead. And in my head, it leads to her lying beneath me, screaming my name.

  “I loved that movie,” she beams as we walk back to her apartment. “I wasn’t sure how I’d like it since the original is my favorite Disney movie, but wow, it was perfect.” No, it’s not. Little Mermaid is. Her confession catches me off guard. My feet fumble a little as I stare down at her. Catching myself, I shake out of my stupor. “What, you didn’t like it?”

  I clear my throat. “No, it was great. Although, I pegged you for the Little Mermaid type.” I regret the words as soon as they clear my lips.

  She flashes a lop-sided grin, but her brows pull together. “It’s a strong second place, but Beauty and the Beast is the winner in my book. Why would you think that?”

  With a shrug, I relax my shoulders. “I figured you could relate to the independent woman choosing to live her life how she wants. Chasing her dreams.” The bullshit rolls off my tongue like it’s the truth. It’s not. She loved the movie because she always wanted to be a mermaid. Which is funny now I think about it because she lives at the beach, but doesn’t like to go into it?

  She rolls it around in her head and nods. “I guess I can relate. But I can relate to Beauty and the Beast too,” she says, softly.

  I grip my heart and gasp jokingly. “Are you calling me a beast?”

  Her lip barely raises to a smile as she keeps her face forward and the response pisses me off. I know what she’s thinking. “No. You are definitely not the beast.” Her voice is a whisper and I’m not sure she meant to say it out loud. But she did, and she couldn’t be more wrong.
r />   She’s not the beast.

  I am.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ellie

  Will the visible lies marked on my body make him look at me different? Will he finally taste the lies on my lips? He assumes he knows me. I didn’t choose to be an independent woman; I was forced into this solitary life to survive. All my insecurities rise to the surface the closer we get to my apartment.

  I’ve never cared about what men thought of my scars. Our time together was as forgettable as they were so there wasn’t any need to harp on my flaws. But Kase isn’t forgettable and I do care. Too much. The desire flashing in his eyes, burns inside me too but the war going on with my feelings has me twisted.

  He has scars too. I repeat over and over to myself. Except his are admirable, mine are just a reminder of how parts of my life were ripped away from me. Sighing heavily, I push the thoughts from my head. Kase stops us outside my apartment building and stands tall in front of me. The overhead street lamp shines down, illuminating his strong facial features. His eyes flicker across my face. “If I snapped a picture what would your story be?”

  I turn my attention to the red brick building and softly chuckle having heard this question a million times in my photography classes. What would my story be right now? A paralyzed woman who feels her body wake up, each nerve sparking to life. It’s terrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time.

  “Little Red Riding Hood?” he teases. “Or maybe Hansel and Gretel?”

  I peer up at him. “Why are you picking stories where I’m about to be eaten alive?”

  The wicked gleam in his eyes sends a rush of heat down my back. I swallow as he leans down and kisses the curve of my neck. “You should definitely run,” he whispers against my skin. Every brush of his lips against my warm skin melts away the concerns. I want this. I want him.

  If a man can’t accept my flaws, our story won’t be worth reading. He’d be moved to my did-not-finish pile. It happens.

  I link our fingers, flash a sweet smile and lead him inside my building. We walk up the stairs, stealing quick glances at each other. I try not to focus on how many levels we have left, how my breathing accelerates — and not because of the anticipation — but the apparent need to walk the stairs more often. It’s only six freaking flights of stairs. He fights back a smile, mocking my athletic ability.

  I slap him on the arm. “Stop making fun of me,” I say, winded.

  His laugh echoes down the hall as he holds up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

  I squeal in surprise as he swoops down and tosses me over his shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

  “I’d hate for you to faint from exhaustion before I get you inside.”

  I snort. “My door is only a few feet away. I could’ve managed.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” He slaps my ass when we get to my door. “Where’s the key?”

  The blood rushing to my head doesn’t make digging through my clutch upside down easy. “You could put me down,” I huff.

  “I could. But I’m not.” He holds out his hand, waiting for the key.

  I place the key in his hand. “You’re so romantic,” I snicker. It results in another swat to my ass. Heat spreads across my face and I’m thankful he can’t see me. I shouldn’t like it, but holy shit, desire surges through me, starting with the sting on my ass.

  When he slides me down his body, he leans me against my door. I drop my clutch to the side and he drops my keys. He focuses on my mouth and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “These lips could heal a dying man,” he rasps. The way he says it, profoundly intense, I wonder what's on his mind. With a slight tilt to my head, his eyes flash to mine.

  “I thought I was the one about to die in this story?” I say to lighten the sudden serious mood. He shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He smirks and slowly runs his hands down my arms. When he gets to my wrists, he grips them, moving them over my head.

  “Ecstasy induced death. It might be a thing.”

  “God, I hope,” I say, sounding a little too desperate. He hums when I let my head settle back against the door and close my eyes.

  “God has nothing to do with this.” He seizes both my hands with one of his and snakes his other one down my waist to the hem of my snug dress. His fingertips graze my hypersensitive skin and I shiver. “Fuck, Ellie,” he breathes heavily on my neck. “I’m trying so hard to take this slow.” His chest heaves against my aching breasts.

  “Slow is overrated,” I whisper. I don’t need slow or gentle. I need him. “Unzip my dress.”

  He lets go of my hands, and I fold them around his neck, leaning forward into him so he has plenty of room. With the speed of a racer getting out of a burning car, my dress is pooling at my feet, we’re entangled in a frantic case of hungry kisses, and drowning with need. He lifts me up and carries me to my bedroom. It surprises me when I hit the soft bed we didn’t run into anything since our mouths never came up for air.

  It’s not until he stands and the frosty air hits me while he reaches back to pull off his shirt, do I realize I’m laying almost naked, overhead lights glaring down on me like a spotlight. The vulnerability of the situation is heavy as I grab the throw blanket. He watches me as I cover my stomach, his brows pinch in confusion. I swallow, not wanting this to be a thing.

  He crawls back on top of me, the soft blanket acts as a barrier between us and he kisses me until my body relaxes, just past the point of forgetting about being naked. He knows too because his hand slips the cover out from between us. I grip it when it’s almost out.

  “Uh-uh,” he whispers, taking hold of my hand and peeling the blanket out from my fingertips. I close my eyes, steadying my breathing. I guess baring your soul isn’t as easy as one thinks. “Look at me, Ellie.” I chew the inside of my cheek, a storm of emotions brewing inside my heart. “You’re so beautiful. You need to get out of your head.” He lifts my hands again. “Keep them here,” he demands. I nod but keep my eyes closed. Seeing pity or worse, a recoil reaction, would not only ruin tonight, but it’d break me.

  As his lips skim the small scar on my chest, I fist the comforter underneath me knowing he’s yet to see the others. Every muscle in my body tenses when he moves down. Soft kisses graze the tops of my breasts, and I can’t help but smile when he groans. But it fades fast when he continues his path. The air conditioner kicks on, blowing ice cold air on my clammy face. I'm about to faint. The five-inch scar across my stomach, that doesn’t have feeling, is sparking to life as Kase drags his lips across it.

  “What’s this mean?” He scrapes his finger up my side, over my tattoo and I shiver.

  “Sii la luce che ti guida,” I whisper in Italian. “It means be the light that leads you.” I chance looking down to catch his expression. He nods twice while tracing the sentence with his finger, seemingly deep in thought.

  “I like it. Do you speak Italian?”

  “No,” I grin. “But I liked how it sounded in Italian.”

  When he climbs back up my body and kisses me again, I'm able to release the breath I was holding.

  “I’m not done,” he murmurs. “I’m just getting started.” The muscles that had just relaxed coil tightly around his words.

  Stop thinking and just feel.

  I push the insecurities, the darkness that looms right behind them out of my head. He’s seen the scars and still wants more. That’s enough to release the tension I’m harboring. He reaches behind my back and pops open my bra with one hand, slipping it up my arms and throws it to the side. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him to my mouth in a hungry kiss, craving the intoxicating feeling I get when he kisses me. Where I drown in his taste and nothing else matters.

  He makes good on his promise and worships my entire body with sweet kisses and soft praises. His touch seeps into my skin, tranquilizing my fractured soul. He’s healing me from the outside, in. By the time he’s done, my body is buzzing with desire and my mind is too fuzzy to worry about anything.r />
  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, nibbling my ear, my skin pebbles with goosebumps. “Your body is the fuel to my storm. The heat is so intense, I’ve never wanted a woman more than I do right now.”

  I swallow his words, and whimper as they spread heat inside me. It’s been months since I’ve been with a man but I never remember it being like this. My nails curve along his broad shoulders, down his muscular back and his whole body shudders, his fingers dig into my hips as he lets out a low hum.

  He moves from my lips down my chest and I cry out when he engulfs my breast into his hot, hungry mouth, sucking, while his fingers pinch my other nipple. He’s done with the tender endearments and has proceeded straight to ravenous hunger.

  My body’s buzzing with the desperation to feel each other. The feel of his muscular body underneath my hands makes me feel powerful. This perfect man wants me. My eyes roll back when his tongue circles my swollen clit and I moan at the delicious shiver it causes. He holds on to my thighs as he licks and sucks, my body is on fire as I beg him to stop, and then keep going. Unintelligible words and sounds slip from my mouth as my orgasm pulses through me.

  He growls when he comes up, wiping my wetness off with his hand. “You taste like candy.” I laugh, doubting it’s true. He leans down with a wicked gleam in his eye.

  “You don’t believe me? Taste,” he murmurs against my lips. I open and his tongue dances with mine in a heated kiss. It consumes our air, the erotic xxx of tasting myself on his tongue robs all my inhibitions. I moan against his lips as I wrap my legs around him, his hard cock rubbing against my wet center.

  He pushes up, kneeling between my spread legs as he puts on a condom. It’s sexy as hell watching him grab his heavy cock in his hands. When he slides into me with ease, he grips my thighs. Hard. His nostrils flare as his control slips. He pulls back as he begins moving in and out of me. My groans get caught in my throat whenever he pushes into me full tilt, the feeling devouring my senses.