by Tawny Weber
“That place never felt like you. The you I knew when it was just the two of us,” he said, not sure he was explaining it right. “And it definitely wasn’t me.”
“Oh.” Ava contemplated a thin slice of zucchini. “What would have fit you? Blue and white stripes, metal anchors and beer steins from around the world?”
Grinning at the image, Elijah skipped the veggies and went right for the freshly fried tortilla chips.
“I wouldn’t say no to the steins.” Mouth full of chip and Ava’s pseudo-salsa, he let the flavors explode on his tongue, loving the heat, reveling in the spice. “But the rest? I’d be more comfortable in something like this, with all the warmth and color. The sexy comfort.”
“Sexy comfort?” She laughed. The surprised delight in her eyes lasted only a moment. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Because he’d never thought of it as his place. Sure, he’d lived in it from time to time. He’d paid the expenses. But since Ava had refused to move south, he’d lived most of his life on base, only able to get to Napa on leave or long weekends. He figured that denied him the right to dictate decor, even if he had been so inclined.
“You seemed to like it,” was all he said. No point digging at poorly healed wounds. “I did like the art on the walls, however.”
Like him, her gaze shifted to the trio of framed charcoals, the only thing he saw in here from their old place. The images—a fairy, a mermaid and a moon goddess—all bore Ava’s face. He’d drawn them on their honeymoon, and he was honestly surprised she hadn’t ditched them.
“I suppose it seems egocentric to hang drawings of myself on the walls,” she murmured.
“Why? Mack has huge framed photos of himself wearing skimpy underwear on his walls. I know guys with pictures on their walls of themselves getting awards, or standing on the field of battle. We surround ourselves with our identity, don’t we?” He liked that, even if only in a tiny way, she saw him as a part of her identity.
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” She offered him a carrot stick, first swiping it through the spiced black beans she’d creamed into some sort of hummus. Elijah nipped at the tips of her fingers as he took a bite. “You drew me as a fantasy. How would you draw yourself?”
She was his fantasy. But himself? He didn’t know how he saw himself any longer.
“I don’t know. I drew myself once as Popeye,” he admitted with a laugh. “Another time I was He-Man. You know, the cartoon guy.”
“The one with long hair?” Ava’s smile was pure delight as she skimmed her fingers through his short hair. Longer after ten days of leave, but still nowhere near He-Man length. “I can’t imagine you that way. Did you ever grow it out?”
“You’re kidding, right? My mother was even more obsessed with hair length than the Navy is.”
Smile dimming a bit, Ava seemed to hesitate, then force the words. “How is your mother? And your sisters?”
“Irritated that I’m not around to nag more often.”
“They were always gifted at the nagging.” They shared a commiseratory look, since overbearing parents had always been something they’d had in common.
The conversation turned to family, a few shared memories and tales of working at Mack’s gym. Ava shared dinner along with her debate over buying in as a partner there, with Elijah offering his opinion that she’d kick ass.
By the end of the meal, he was both delighted and frustrated. The food was excellent, the company interesting and fun, keeping him on the edge of laughter one moment, his brain endlessly engaged.
But every time he brought the discussion toward his career, she veered away. He wasn’t surprised. She’d always been reluctant to discuss his career. But he recognized the feeling nestled in his stomach alongside the delicious meal as disappointment.
“I saw a couple of old friends,” he said, trying again as Ava brought dessert to the table. Tortas Fritas, he noted, his stomach only seconds before full, growling with anticipation. “Jersey and Lon. Do you remember them?”
“Sure. Did you try the dipping sauce? I added spice to the chocolate that I thought would be good with these.” She held out a small, cherry-red dish filled with chocolate sauce for him to dip his crispy fried dough into.
“Good,” he declared after a taste. “Really good. So, Lon and Jersey and I were talking.”
“Did you want more?” Ava interrupted, gesturing with the chocolate.
“Nope. Thanks but I’m full.”
“Let me clear this away.”
“Can I help?”
“No, thanks, though. I’ll just tidy it a little while you relax.”
With a brush of her lips over his, she rose, turning on the music so soft rock glided over the room in a gentle beat. As she hurried into the kitchen with the uneaten portion of their dessert she chattered about the meal, about how glad she was he’d enjoyed it, about anything and everything.
Except what he’d been trying to discuss.
It was easy to recognize the familiar irritation scratching at the back of his neck. He’d felt it often enough during their marriage. He’d never pushed back then. Never tried to break down those walls she insisted on. But now he didn’t see that there was a lot to lose by giving them a test kick.
When she rejoined him, sufficiently chatted out and looking ready for seduction, Elijah returned her smile. He brushed one hand through the heavy curtain of her hair, sliding it back to bare her throat, to unveil the smooth skin of her shoulder.
“I have more dessert to offer if you’re interested in something a little spicier,” Ava said, gliding her fingers along his chin, down his throat until she reached his pecs. Combing gently through his chest hair, she briefly rubbed her wet lips over his before leaning against the back of the couch in invitation.
“And if I’d rather talk a bit before diving into dessert?” he asked.
The teasing left her eyes, but her smile stayed in place. “Then I’d distract you.”
That was what he thought. But his determination couldn’t hold out against the distraction of her finger now teasing his nipples. Elijah shifted, angling himself over her.
“So let me make sure I’ve got this right.” He lifted her arms over her head, bracketing both wrists in one hand as he pressed his hips against hers. “I’m good enough to have sex with, but that’s it?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“No talking, no sharing our thoughts, no future?”
“We have now. Right now. Let’s enjoy it,” she suggested, her tone a hint away from a plea.
He should just shuck his drawers and enjoy. But Elijah couldn’t let it go. “You really think you can keep your emotions out of it? That we can sleep together, come together, do each other over and over and over, and you’ll feel nothing?”
Arching her back so her nipples lifted in sharp relief against the deep purple silk of her dress, Ava offered a slow smile. “No. I expect to feel a lot of things. Pleasure, delight, excitement, satisfaction. Should I keep going?”
Ava asked the question while licking the sparkles of cinnamon sugar from her thumb, her tongue glistening with temptation.
Elijah’s body reacted instantly. He knew where this was going. And he knew how bone-deep stubborn Ava was when she’d made up her mind about something.
If he wanted her, wanted to spend time with her with or without clothes, it’d have to be her way. Or no way at all.
A part of him, the part that was so damned tired of following everyone else’s rules, wanted to get up and walk away. Why shouldn’t he? He knew the danger of spending time with Ava. She was his Achilles’ heel. His soft spot. He’d handed her his heart once already and she’d thrown it back at him.
Free and easy sex? He was a damned SEAL. He could get that anywhere.
Then Ava shifted.
Lifting her chin, she slid him a slumberous look from beneath heavily lashed lids. Her lips appeared wetter, glistening and tempting his mouth to take them. With just the slightest angle of her shoulders, her breasts seemed fuller, tempting his hands to cup them.
He noted how perfectly he fit between her thighs. As if coming home. And damned if he didn’t want to come. And, like so many things of late, he’d learned that while he could hold pieces of his life, he couldn’t have everything.
He might as well enjoy what he could.
“Just sex?” he murmured.
“You up for it?”
“Babe, I don’t think you can handle what I’m up for.”
With one strong tug, Ava freed her wrists. She wrapped one hand behind his neck, her fingers teasing his hair where it was growing out of its military sparseness. She slid the other under his shirt, her fingers hot as they scraped their way up his bare chest to tweak his nipple.
It was like an electric shock slamming through his body, right to his erection.
“Show me,” she demanded one second before taking his mouth. “Show me that you want me.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELIJAH WONDERED IF there’d ever been a scientific study done to assess how crazy a guy could go on leave.
Because all this inactivity after several days was driving him nuts. Hell, even the activity he was getting—namely, hot sex with his ex—was testing his sanity. He couldn’t say he objected to the changes in Ava. She’d always been sexy, but strong and willing to demand a variety of sexual favors?
It was damned appealing. And damned hard to keep in mind that it was only temporary.
Much like the rest of his life at the moment.
Elijah thrummed his fingers on his sketch pad but didn’t open it. There was no solace or distraction to be found in those pages. Not since he’d broken the hidden code.
Maybe if Savino, Torres, Lansky or, hell, even Jarrett would return a call he’d at least know what the hell was going on with those numbers. He recognized the series, knew it was a Swiss account. Ramsey’s Swiss account. So why the hell wasn’t anyone calling to confirm that, filling him in on the status of the operation?
He glanced up as Mack walked into the living room, pausing to give the headless statue a pat on its ceramic ass.
“How’s life treating you today?”
“Decent,” Elijah said after another contemplative look at his silent cell phone. Five messages out there, and not one person could respond? It was enough to drive a man to drink.
And drink he did. Granted, it was lukewarm coffee, long overdue for the sink drain. But it had a kick.
“That’s it? Decent?” Mack rolled his eyes as he dropped into one of the leather chairs flanking the couch Elijah sprawled on. Instead of his usual workout gear, the man was dressed in slacks and a white dress shirt. “Everything you’ve got going on and you can’t do any better than that?”
Decent was better than frustrated, Elijah figured with a shrug.
“You stewing over that meet at the VA?”
“Nah, not stewing. I appreciated Jersey and Lonnie hooking me up. It was a good thing, going in to talk to the veterans, hearing the stories, sharing a few of my own.” Sort of like group therapy in tap shoes, since he’d had to dance around facts, details or anything but the basic information about the work he did. Confidentiality didn’t end when discharge papers were served.
“You get any ideas about life after the Navy?” Mack asked, his eyes intent.
Only the idea that he didn’t see himself fitting into anything appealing. “A few thoughts,” was all he said.
“But you and Ava are doing good, right?”
“Sure.” Good. That was one word for how they were doing. There were a lot of other words that could be said for getting a lot of hot sex with a gorgeous woman, too. Frustration shouldn’t be one of them.
But frustration seemed to be Elijah’s word of the week.
He and Ava were having all that sex she’d wanted, and damn it was insanely good. It was like living the best of his old life with her. The laughter, the fun, the pleasure. More pleasure, truth be told, than they’d ever shared before.
She’d found an ease with her body that she hadn’t had when they were married. A confidence in its strength, and in its power. She had a firm handle on her life, knew what she liked and had no issue speaking up about it.
Things would be great. If sex was all he wanted.
But she wouldn’t talk to him. Not about anything that mattered. Not about the future. And most definitely not about the past. Given that their past drove their relationship, and he had no map to guide his way through his future, that made for some damned frustrating moments.
“Decent is good enough,” he finally said, trading his phone for a pencil. He didn’t draw, though. He just slid it between his fingers. “How’s it going with you? Any big decisions on the gym expansion?”
Nobody’s fool, Mack’s eyes narrowed. But being a good guy, he didn’t call Elijah on the subject change. Instead he launched into a long, rambling description of his plans, the state of the permits and his ideas for the future.
From the sound of it, the whole deal was wearing on Mack’s good nature and stressing him out.
Elijah listened with half an ear, the other half of his attention on his phone. No way were they all out on assignment. Was it a group effort, this ignoring him? Was it orders?
And God, how pathetic was this? Giving himself a moment to be grateful that Mack couldn’t hear his thoughts, since they’d earn him a smack upside the head from one of those shovel-size hands, no matter how tired his cousin was.
And for good reason. Self-pitying whining was for kids and losers. Elijah tossed the pencil from hand to hand, pulling his focus out of the ugly pit he was spending too much time in and searching for the optimism that’d once been second nature.
He’d almost found it when the doorbell chimed.
“You expecting anyone?” Mack asked, not moving more than to turn his head to the right.
“Nope. Want me to answer it?”
“Nah. My door, I’ll get off my ass and answer it.” Pushing himself out of the chair with a heavy sigh that said playing businessman was a lot more tiring to him than any amount of intense exercise, the large man lumbered toward the hallway.
With Mack out of sight, Elijah let his head drop back, resting on the cool leather. Was this Nic’s way of making the decision easier? Blocking him out? Or was it a challenge, testing Elijah’s willingness to push to prove he wanted to remain a part of the team?
He weighed the emptiness in his chest. He’d felt like this before, when Ava had dumped him. It was as if part of him was missing inside. His years of living without her had assured him that no amount of time was going to fill this hole, either.
Thanks to her, he’d learned that he could live with the emptiness. But that didn’t mean he wanted to.
Part of his reason for taking leave was to decide if he still had it in him to serve. To assess his own strengths, mostly the strength of his commitment.
But what if they didn’t want him to serve?
He was finally coming to the acceptance that he hadn’t failed his team. But what if they didn’t see it that way? What if the rest of the team thought the same as Jarrett did, that he was too damaged, too lost to handle the job any longer?
Screw that.
He’d been a member of Poseidon for a decade.
His service to the team, to his brothers, the brotherhood, had formed the man he was. A man of strength, of honor. And, dammit, of optimism.
He was a part of the team. He wanted to stay a part of the team.
“Cuz?”
Elijah lifted his head, blinked. Then, with a frown, got to his feet. “Yo,” he
greeted the men flanking Mack. “What’s the deal?”
“Hey there, Rembrandt,” Diego said with a grin, tapping a salute to his brow.
“Kitty Cat,” Elijah returned, his eyes shifting to his commander. Both men were in civvies, looking chill and comfortable. Nestled just behind Diego was the blonde beauty his teammate was marrying, looking much less chill and a whole lot of uncomfortable. “Hey there, Harper.”
“Sorry to do this, Prescott,” Savino said, lifting one hand in regret. “But you’ve just been recalled to duty.”
* * *
THERE WAS A lot to be said for hot sex on a regular basis, the wild edge of flirtation and simply enjoying life without expectations.
Feeling loose, her muscles singing, Ava strode through the hard-breathing bodies that filled her classroom, offering encouragement here, a push there. She led her students through a tough, exciting workout, ending with a short cooldown, then hung out for Q&A afterward.
She’d just finished answering a slew of questions on breathing techniques when she noticed Joe talking to Terri, who looked as if she was going to cry.
It hadn’t been that tough of a workout, so Ava hurried over to see what the problem was.
“What’s going on?”
“Just dealing with a membership issue is all,” Joe said, his platinum hair gleaming in its pretty, sleek tail. “Her membership badge doesn’t cover her for these early classes. I was giving her the down low on upgrading or finding an alternate class.”
Upgrading to elite membership, which was another hundred a month. Or taking one of his classes, Ava figured, since he scheduled his classes during afternoon and evening hours so he could hit the biggest segment of the membership. Unlike Ava, who arranged her classes for quality, not quantity.
“You’re fine, Terri,” Ava said easily, her gaze locked on Joe’s as she stepped between them to shield the mortified woman. “I’m sure Joe didn’t realize that you were here at my invitation.”
“At your—”
“I have the authority to open my classes to anyone I choose, regardless of their membership level,” she pointed out, giving a little wave of her hand behind her back. Terri, proving she was as smart as she was determined, took a couple of sidesteps until she was out of Joe’s line of sight, then hurried away. “Is there a particular reason you’re questioning that authority?”
