He had to search for the last one, a tie dyed colored peace sign on the back of her neck, just below her hairline. “Nine.” He kissed the back of her neck, trailing his kiss to her jawbone and then to her lips. “I win.”
“Winner takes all.”
He kissed her, cradling her face in his hand and caressing his tongue against hers. He moved slowly, almost deliberately, sliding his hands from her face to her back. His palms were flat against her skin and he pressed them underneath her bra and down her sides, as if he were acquainting himself with her curves from ribs to hips and back again.
She dug her fingertips into the fabric of his shirt and tugged it upwards. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and yanked it off the rest of the way, tossing it to the floor. As he reach down and unbuckled his belt, Madison let her eyes drift across his chest. He was trim and muscular; on his left peck was the tattoo of a skull in an Army beret, encircled by the words US Army. She could see what looked like a red castle on his left bicep and what might have been a black keystone on his right. The keystone was cut by a thick scar. With her eyes, she followed it up his arm until she lost it at the top of his shoulder.
His gaze met hers. He shimmied out of his jeans and briefs. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I’m more worried about a ghost watching us.”
He slid her underpants down and, once off, nudged her legs apart with his knee. “I can turn the light off.”
“Leave it on.”
He smirked and kissed her again, lowering himself down on top of her. With a gentle thrust of his hips he was inside her. He let out a little moan against her lips and fumbled with her bra, finally yanking it up over her breasts so he could get to them.
Her breath caught in her throat. She moved her feet to his calves, pushing herself up to better match his rhythm. “You feel amazing.”
“Jesus, a week was too long to wait for this.” He caught the underside of her knee and pulled her leg up, pinning it under his arm. “I might have to make this one up to you.”
“I’m not timing you.”
He touched his forehead to hers and kissed her, his light laugh soft against her lips. “Good, well, just do me a favor and stop arching your back like that.”
“Like how? Like this?”
“Exactly like that.” He bit his lip and again kissed her, mumbling against her lips. “God…Madison…you’re…”
He looked at her for a moment, as if he was going to say something else, but instead buried his face against her shoulder, dragging his teeth across her skin. As far as she was concerned, whatever he had to say didn’t matter. All she cared about was that he kept making her feel the way she did. She could feel it from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her toes. Every movement he made sent sizzles of electricity down her spine, made her want him to slow down so the feeling didn’t stop. Fuck graduate school. This made getting thrown off the Normandy dig entirely worth it.
* * * *
After they’d showered, he perched on the edge of the bed and watched her brush out her hair. “Your tattoos are beautiful, by the way. Not as beautiful as you. But they’re stunning.”
“I spent more time getting inked than I’ve ever spent studying.” She dropped her hand to her thigh and idly traced a tangle of poppies. “This one was the worst. It took forever. My ankles were the most sensitive because of the bones, but this one was so damn big, I had to do it in like, five sessions.”
“Do you think you’ll get any more?”
“It’s an addiction, so yeah, once I figure out the next piece.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and crossed the room to him. “I’m particular. Not to mention poor, since the stipend on this gig wouldn’t cover a tat the size of quarter.”
He pulled her into his lap and kissed her. “I guess I should get going.”
“I think you should stay.”
“Well, I did want some of that continental breakfast you’ve raved about.”
She laughed and kissed him. “Get into bed.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
She turned the light off and hustled through the darkness to reach the bed, snuggling against him under the covers. She felt safe. Secure. Whatever was prowling around in the dark would have to get past Mike to get to her and, irrational as it sounded, it made her feel better. He was real beneath her fingertips. He wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t an echo from the past. He was hers. She was his.
He was silent beside her for so long, she’d convinced herself he’d fallen asleep. But then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I have to tell you about the scar.”
She looked up at him, even though she knew she couldn’t make out the features of his face. “No, you don’t.”
“I want to tell you what happened.” His arm tightened around her, but she could feel a tremor in his fingertips. “I don’t want to hide it from you because...whether I like it or not, it’s me. And I trust you, I know you’ll understand.”
“Okay.”
He fell silent again before taking a deep breath. “The scar isn’t just on my arm. It’s in my head. When I got home, after it was all said and done and they’d pinned medals on our chests and told us we were heroes, I couldn’t shake it. Everything that happened seemed to fester in my brain like a splinter festers under your skin.”
She remained quiet.
“We were on patrol outside Fallujah. One of my buddies, Cam, and I were doing a sweep of this house. We’d been past it a thousand times, these two little girls were always on the front stoop. It was just like any other house. They all started to look the same after a while. In and out. There were two rooms in the back of the house. We’d been playing poker all afternoon and Cam owed me two hundred bucks, so he gets this bright idea and says, ‘You know, Lieutenant, I don’t have two hundred bucks to pay you. How about I let you pick left or right and we call it even?’ I told him he was a cocksucker. He said he’d let me pick and he’d spot me fifty bucks next hand. So, I stepped in front of him and went left with Dennings and Stormer, and he went right with Martinez and Baker. And…the next thing I know, the entire center wall was blowing up in my face. Everything went black for…God, I don’t even know how long I was out for, maybe a minute or two. I was lying on the ground. My arm was ripped open, my ear was bleeding from the percussion of the explosion. Dennings lost an eye. Stormer’s legs were blown apart. Then this firefight broke out and…there were shots coming from everywhere. People yelling in what seemed like a hundred different languages. I just remember crawling through the rubble and finding Cam—”His voice broke and he cleared his throat, hesitating for a beat. “Dennings and I had to drag Stormer back to the trucks. I still don’t know how we did it. I could barely lift my M16 to fire and Dennings was half blind. But even then I knew. I knew. I was the one who made the choice. I should have gone to the right. I’d taken a step in that direction but when Cam put the option out on the table, I just mindlessly went to the left. And he died. Because of me, he went into that room and got blown up by some fucking kid with explosives strapped to her stomach. It should have been me.”
“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” She didn’t know what else to say. Saying nothing probably would have been the better course, but at that moment, he seemed so vulnerable. The guilt and devastation seemed to weigh in his voice, like it was pulling even the tone and tenor down.
“No, it wasn’t my fault. But you know what they called me? They called me a hero.” He rubbed his free hand over his eyes. “The Army, in their infinite wisdom, gave me the Bronze Star for ‘a heroic and meritorious achievement in service’ in dragging Stormer back to the trucks with one hand and evidently shooting a bunch of militants with the other. I saw it as an award for killing my best friend. Then, they gave me the Purple Heart for almost getting my arm ripped off, which I saw as further confirmation I was too weak to have saved Cam anyway. I tried to kill myself in the hospital and I couldn’t even get that right. My enlistment
was up and I told them all to go to hell, but even if I hadn’t, they put a medical flag on my record for behavioral health issues and I couldn’t have re-upped if I’d wanted. I was honorably discharged and sent home as a hero. All I really wanted was to not feel anything anymore, for the ground just to swallow me up and make it all go away.”
“Did you go home to family?”
“Thank God I did, or else I probably would have tried suicide again. My mom, she saved me. I hated her for it at first, but she kept her eye on me. She got on my case when I drank too much, made sure I wasn’t alone when I was down, and forced me to go to counseling sessions. It’s been almost two years, but if I close my eyes, I can see his face. He…he looked surprised, like he didn’t expect to see them—”
His voice broke and he exhaled, his breath ragged. He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes and then squeezed her against him. “Now that I’ve effectively ruined the moment.”
“I don’t think so.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. “What happened isn’t anything to be ashamed of; it makes you who you are. And, if I can be so blunt, I really dig who you are.”
“That makes me happier than I can describe.” He cupped her face in his hand. “There’s something about you I just can’t shake. I’ve never been able to talk about Cam, but with you, it’s easy. Like it’s okay.”
“And I’m a good time.”
He chuckled. “And you’re a good time, but you’re more than that—to me, anyway.”
She snuggled against him, the silence surprisingly comfortable, and listened to his breathing grow increasingly deeper as he drifted to sleep. Everything seemed ridiculously perfect. She was falling in love with a brutally hot man. She had an impressive gig at an archeological site, though, the boy far outweighed the job. It was enough to make her smile in the dark.
She felt pressure on the bed next to her, as if someone had braced their hand against the mattress to lean over her. Something moved; a pressure, a movement so subtle and soft that slid strands of her hair from her neck. His voice was stronger this time; his breath tickled her flesh. He’s the one who will understand.
Chapter Twelve
For the remainder of the weekend, Mike left her room only long enough to pick up clean clothes, his toothbrush, and Chinese takeout for dinner. He reported that, despite his efforts not to rouse Liam’s suspicion, Liam was suspicious and accused him of fucking her. Mike hadn’t denied it. Liam’s response was, reportedly, “Well, it’s about time.”
“I think it’s a better utilization of resources for you to stay here, anyway.” Madison tossed her book bag into the back and crawled into the Jeep. “Gas prices as they are. Granted, you’re not receiving the same miniscule stipend I am, but still. You have to think about the big picture.”
“I think I’m spoiling you.” He sounded unusually playful. “Shouldn’t I make you miss me? Wouldn’t that make you want me more?”
“Not a fair tactic.”
“I’m not saying I’d actually go through with it, because that’d keep me from getting what I want. That’s counterproductive.”
“You, sir, are enjoyable to have around.” She hesitated. “Besides, when you’re with me, he leaves me alone.”
“Who, Brad?” Mike shifted the Jeep into drive and pulled out onto the main street. “Oh. You mean him, him.”
“Unless I’ve been too distracted to notice.”
“Not to brag, but I have been pretty distracting, haven’t I?”
“You’re surprisingly spry for an old man.”
He reached over and squeezed her knee, then rested his hand on her thigh. “Despite your age discrimination, I’ll guess I’ll stick with you instead of Liam. I’m pretty sweet on you and, really, he just has a nasty habit of stealing my t-shirts.”
“To be fair I, too, have stolen one of your t-shirts.”
“You had to wear something to the ice machine. Flip flops and a smile weren’t going to cut it.” He chuckled. “I mean, I was completely okay with it, but that family of four across the hall might have disapproved.”
She laughed and slid her hand into his. It was different with him than it had been with Anthony, or any other previous boyfriend for that matter. Mike could look into her eyes and tell her how crazy he was for her or tease her and tell her ridiculous jokes. Either way, she always felt like she was the center of his attention. Anyone could be passionate, but with Mike, she felt like she was home: happy, relaxed, just herself. Nerdy, history obsessed Madison—and that was who he wanted.
He slowed the Jeep at an intersection and flicked on the turn signal to make a left hand turn. Madison leaned forward in her seat and squinted, staring across the street at a small, family run diner. “Is that Brad?”
“I’m willing to bet that Cianna he’s intertwined with.”
Brad’s arms were wrapped around a petite blonde, her head tucked awkwardly underneath his chin. As Madison watched, the stance only looked more awkward and unnatural. His hands were locked on his own wrists instead of cradling her body, and his stance was stiff.
His eyes suddenly shifted and he seemed to see her watching their embrace. He locked his gaze on her and slid his hands into the woman’s back pockets.
Madison looked away. “He creeps me out.”
“I’m telling you, he’s just using her. Again. Liam and I tried to ‘do the right thing’ the last time this happened, but she didn’t want to hear it. She insisted he loved her. Then when his marriage broke up—”
“He was married?”
“Baby, you have no idea the shit that went down. It was like a train wreck. We wanted to look away, but we couldn’t stop watching. His wife found out about Cianna—and no doubt all the other Ciannas that had come before—and she showed up at the dig site with two suitcases of his stuff. She didn’t say a word, just threw them in the back of Brad’s truck and left. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. Well, that is, until Brad broke things off with Cianna and we had to live through that whirlwind of emotion.”
“I didn’t know archeology was so salacious.”
“It’s of control. I know he’s only doing this because he can’t have you.” He let go of her thigh only long enough to shift gears, then replaced it. “I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown me off the team yet.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know.”
“I doubt that. I have problems keeping my eyes off you.”
“Well, then maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe Cianna has him satisfied enough that he’s moved on from saying inappropriate things to me.”
Mike made a noncommittal grunt in his throat and exhaled loudly. “Look, I know we’ve only been, you know, together for a couple days, but promise me you won’t let him get you alone. I’m being irrational I know it. But…just don’t let that happen.”
She swallowed hard. “I won’t.”
“I mean, he’s a good guy and all. I’m probably just over protective.”
“No, I’m completely comfortable with staying on the opposite side of the Farm from him.”
Mike nodded. His eyes flicked down to his cell phone and he frowned, idly tapping his index finger against her thigh. “He’s a bastard. What does that text say?”
Madison picked up his cell phone from the floor, where it was tethered to the charger cable connected to the cigarette lighter. She swiped her finger across the face. “I’m running late this morning, so head up the front pits on your own. Put Liam and Madison on the pits by the woods. Cianna will be in later.”
“Oh good, he’s back in Cianna’s pants so now I have to head up the dig.” Mike snorted. “I’m sure he won’t share his salary in return.”
He turned the Jeep down the dirt road leading to the Spangler Farm and parked in the shadow of the bank barn. The sun already felt oppressively hot, which didn’t bode well for the rest of the day considering it wasn’t yet nine in the morning. She couldn’t imagine how unbearable it would be in July.
“Seeing as how I’m in charge until Bra
d manages to find his way in, I’ll get the front pits uncovered and start moving some dirt around.” He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. “It’s going to be a long day.”
“You act as if Cianna’s participated in the past.”
“Excellent point, she hasn’t, but at least when she was here there was the faint glimmer of hope she’d do more than sit in the shade. Or stand in the shade. Or draw pictures in the shade.”
“She made a phone call one time that was work related.” Madison looped her backpack straps over her arm. “And she stacked those papers and put them in a file folder. That’s something.”
“That’s being overly appreciative of her abilities.”
“She’s being judged on abilities in completely different categories than we’re being judged in.” Madison stepped out of the Jeep and cupped her hand over her eyes. The sun felt like it was singeing the tip of her nose already. “I’m not even getting college credits for this gig! I’m here for the sheer love of the field.”
“To be fair, you’re getting laid too.”
“Touché.”
He leaned over and pulled the neck of her shirt out slightly, planting a kiss on her bare shoulder. “I hope you were expecting the Spanish Inquisition.”
Liam was charging across the field between the bank barn and the woods, his short legs pulsing like pistons through the tall grass. He pointed at Madison. “Time for a bitch session. Michael, if you’ll excuse us.”
“Bitch session?” Madison raised her eyebrow. “I’m not fielding complaints today.”
“Yes, bitch session.” He nudged her toward the test pit at the tree line. “I’m a bitch and you need to dish. Toodles, Mikey.”
Madison turned to Mike and smiled, shrugging her shoulders in defeat and allowing herself to be herded to the pit. “We have to get set up.”
“I knew you’d say that, so I took it upon myself to get in early and get set up. It was an astounding amount of effort, what, putting out some shovels and buckets. Oh, and the sifter too but if you recall, I’m the one who muscled it—alone—to the summer kitchen on Friday. You’re fucking Mikey.”
With Me Now Page 13
