Lyons clears his throat and shifts his feet. “How’s married life?”
I snort. “Really?”
He levels me with a glare.
“It’s fine.”
Lyons quirks an eyebrow.
“What?”
His eyes narrow.
I watch Jim’s ex leave with her date.
I throw up my hands. “It’s nothing. Just . . . I don’t understand men’s taste in women sometimes. Jim’s ex is . . .” I make a face and shudder.
Lyons laughs and bumps me with his shoulder. I missed my friend. He’s like the brother I never had, the same way Bear and Jim are brothers. His arms come around me, and their weight is like slipping into a familiar coat. I rest my head against his shoulder and we both stand in silence for a bit, gazing out over the ocean.
“I found a picture linking Marco and Santoro to my father’s murder.” The admission is like a weight off my shoulders, but also cuts deep into my soul. “They were both with the supposed random robber. Fucking Marco was directly involved. I have it on a DVD.”
Lyons snarls and opens his mouth to respond, but his attention is captured by something over my shoulder. He goes rigid.
I whirl to find Jim, standing only a few feet away. His lowered brows and angry curl to his upper lip make my breath hitch in my chest. His body language reads as barely restrained violence. Shit! “Jim, this isn’t what it looks like.”
Jim steps forward, pulls me to his chest, and squeezes. When he leans back, he tips my chin up with one finger, and his expression softens a fraction. “You ran out like you saw a ghost. I thought at first it was my story, but when I went to find you, I saw him.” His eyes narrow on Lyons.
I pull back a smidge and turn toward my friend. “This is Lyons, a friend of mine from back home.”
Jim wraps his arm tightly around my waist. “Which friend?”
Oh. I probably should have clarified, seeing as I just dropped my lurid past on him no more than twenty minutes ago. “Not the one who killed my father.”
Lyons extends his hand. Jim eyes it for a moment before reaching out with his own. The two men size each other up and exchange a brief handshake while my pulse returns to normal.
Jim turns back to me. “So, what’s that you were saying when I walked up? You found a picture?”
Quickly, I fill Jim in on the cloud, the DVD, and the photo that I found, linking Marco and Santoro to the man who’d supposedly randomly killed my dad.
At the end, Lyons’s eyes are wide and dark. Shaking his head, he lowers his voice. “I still don’t understand. Why the fuck would Marco do this? To us? To your dad?”
His shoulders slump and I reach out and squeeze his arm, understanding the need for comfort. “I don’t know. Has anyone else gotten hurt?”
Lyons shakes his head. “Marco’s been quiet. No one’s been visiting the bakery. Actually, Marco disappeared for a couple of days a little while back. Thought maybe he got what he deserved. But then he popped up again.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re not still trailing him personally, are you?”
Lyons turns and straightens to his full height. “Hell, yeah, I am. He betrayed us. We were his family. I’m not letting him get away with it.”
Before I can protest, Jim nods approvingly. “Best to keep track of your enemies, so that they can’t sneak up on you.”
My mouth hangs open. Why do the men in my life have to be so damn stubborn?
Lyons exhales, dragging his hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I know today of all days isn’t one to go through all of this.”
Understatement of the year. Though I should never have to go through any of this on any day, but on my birthday—the first one since my father passed—is just a cruel twist of fate. Somehow though, having Jim by my side, makes me feel better. Stronger.
Jim frowns. “What day is it?”
Lyons shuffles his feet in the sand and slides me a sideways glance as if to say “sorry.”
I sigh. “It’s no big deal, just my birthday.”
Jim touches my cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug and duck my head. “I don’t know. Because it’s really not all that important? And because it reminds me of my dad.”
“It’s important to me,” he says, his voice soft.
A short silence follows until Lyons breaks it with a brisk clap of his hands. “Why don’t we continue this conversation somewhere a little less open? I can make my world-famous hot chocolate as a birthday treat and you can tell me all about newlywed life.”
I glance around the deserted beach and wrap my arms around my waist. Lyons is right. Our house would be a lot more comfortable—not to mention, safer—place to talk about Santoro.
“You got a ride?” Jim asks Lyons, who nods. “All set then. Follow us.”
The ride back home is short and mostly silent. Until Jim reaches over and squeezes my thigh. “Please, don’t ever run out on me like that again. Especially now that I know the truth about your dad.”
“I promise.”
The rest of our conversation waits until the three of us are safely tucked away inside Jim’s kitchen. Once Lyons finishes making hot chocolate, we all carry our steaming mugs into the living room. I curl up on the sofa next to Jim, leaving Lyons with the love seat.
Jim takes a sip, and then lifts his mug at Lyons. “You weren’t joking about world famous. Shit’s damned good.”
Lyons brushes his knuckles on his chest and grins. “We all have our things we’re good at.”
“And modesty isn’t one of Lyons’s things,” I say.
“Just like cooking isn’t one of yours. Speaking of which, strong work not burning down the kitchen . . . yet.”
Jim snorts. “Oh, don’t worry, she tried that the first morning she was here. Her attempt to make microwave pancakes. May they rest in peace.”
I grab a throw pillow and swat my husband in the head with it as Lyons snickers. Jim grabs the pillow and pulls it from me, resting it on the other side of the couch. Then his gaze bounces between myself and Lyons. “I want every detail about what went down.”
Lyons and I take turns filling my husband in about how Marco, Lyons and I used to be inseparable. About what a great man my dad was. About the investigation my dad did into Santoro, and how we were all clueless that Marco was working for him until it was too late. How there was no way my dad’s shooting was random, and how we’re both convinced Marco started the fire that burned down my house. Every last painful detail, until there was nothing left inside me. All of it, out in the open.
Jim gets up and paces. “So, you’re saying you don’t think Santoro or this Marco fucker will come after Taya? How can either of you be sure?”
Lyons leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. “At the end of the day, we can’t be sure. That’s why I’ve been trying to keep tabs on him.”
I sit up straight and jump in to attempt to relieve some of the worry my husband is obviously feeling, judging by the wrinkles in his forehead. “There’s really no reason to believe they would. They have no idea I found my dad’s cloud storage and was able to retrieve info about Santoro and Marco from it. All they know is I turned whatever I’d found prior over to Lyons, then disappeared.”
Jim stops pacing and sits back down next to me, pulling my head onto his shoulder when I yawn. “Maybe we should continue this tomorrow night? I could bring the team in on this too.”
I jerk my head up and frown. “I thought we would go over the DVD tonight.”
Once again, Jim and Lyons perform some of that silent guy communication over my head before Lyons rises to his feet. “I don’t see what one more day can hurt. Plus, I’m all in favor of any reinforcements we can get.”
Jim nods. “Need a place to crash tonight?”
Lyons shakes his head. “Appreciate the offer, but I’m good. Already paid up on a hotel down by the water. I’m looking forward to opening my windows and sleeping to the sound of wave
s.”
I stand up and Lyons hugs me tight. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you. So good to see you.”
I sink back onto the couch and twist sideways while Jim walks Lyons to the door, where they exchange numbers. Jim tucks the phone back into his pocket and opens the front door. “I’ll text you tomorrow once I’ve got a time that works for everyone.”
“Sounds good. Oh and, Taya?” Lyons says.
“Yes?”
“I know you didn’t ask, but I think you did good here.” He motions his head to Jim, flips me a thumbs-up, and then strolls outside.
When the door clicks shut, Jim turns to me with his head cocked. “Am I missing something, or did your friend just give me his stamp of approval?”
“I don’t think you’re missing anything.” Lyons has always been a little overprotective, so him taking to Jim so easily is completely unexpected. I’m thrilled that my best friend and my husband seem to have an instant affinity for one another.
Jim collapses onto the couch next to me and his hand snakes down to reach for mine. “There’s a lot to process, but that’s not a bad thing.”
The uncertain waver in his usually deep baritone tugs at my heart. In all of the excitement about seeing Lyons and recounting my story, I’d never had a chance to comment on his. I wrap my arm around his waist and snuggle up next to him, burying my nose in his shirt and inhaling his warm, spicy scent. “Definitely a good thing. No more secrets, deal?”
His big body shudders before he squeezes me tight. “Deal.”
We cuddle like that for a few minutes, with his arms wrapped around me and my ear pressed to his chest, rising and lowering with each of his breaths.
He shifts his weight. Coughs. Clears his throat. “So, um, exactly how tired are you?”
With that one sentence, my body zings to life. “Not as tired, now that you asked me that question.” I press my lips to his warm neck and nip his sun-kissed skin gently.
He shivers before pushing me a foot or so away. “Hold that thought—please—but I actually wanted to ask you something else. Something important.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jim
Taya stares up at me with a combination of anticipation and trepidation. Feelings echo inside of me. I twirl around the small, velvet box in my pocket until my fingers clench around the case, squeezing the life out of it.
My wife tilts her head. “What?”
In truth, she deserves better than me, someone who makes her feel safe and cherished. Someone whom she can be proud of. I want to be that person in the worst way.
I stare into her trusting brown eyes and make a vow. I will be that person. Especially now. Knowing how much my wife needs protection.
That trust, shining up at me, almost brings me to my knees.
No secrets, I remind myself, giving the box one last squeeze.
“No secrets,” I repeat aloud. More to bolster my courage than anything else, but Taya sits up straighter.
“Is something wrong?” She bites her lip and her brows furrow.
Here goes everything.
I pull the box from my pocket and slide to one knee. Before Taya understands what’s happening, I flip the box open. I had a long speech planned out, but fuck it. We’ve done so much talking already.
“Will you be my wife?” My voice barely registers above a whisper. “Will you marry me, the traditional way?”
Never has one question made me more nervous. More like my entire life hangs in the balance. My heart beats so hard and fast in my chest, I’m afraid my ribs are going to have bruises.
Taya’s brown eyes go wide when they fall on the diamond, sparkling against the black velvet backdrop. Every second that ticks by is an eternity of both hope and agony. My hand is this close to trembling on the box when she flings her arms around my neck and burrows her face into my neck. “I’d love to.”
Her response unleashes something in my chest. I want to whoop but instead, I burst into a stunned smile. Though, I’m not above begging for a little extra affirmation. Not from this woman. “You would?”
She pulls back and her matching smile makes her entire face glow. “Yes. I would.”
Under her encouragement, I slide the ring onto her finger. The sight of the diamond, sparkling against her skin, rouses some primal feelings. Mine. Finally.
Taya’s eyes search my face. She leans back against the cushions in slow degrees and places her narrow feet across my lap. I grip one, marveling in silence at how my hand dwarfs even this part of her. Oftentimes, Taya feels like a Valkyrie, unafraid and all-encompassing. Then something will happen. It could be a large moment like when she came home after her fall or a small insignificant touch like my hand on her foot. It drives home just how fragile she is, how human. She’s a warrior, and I’m a shield that’s a shade too small. I feel ill-equipped to protect all of her precious, vulnerable pieces.
Her gaze drops, chin tucking in. “I’m sorry again about how I ran out of the restaurant. It wasn’t the right thing to do. Not after you trusted me to open up.”
My stomach twists into a knot as my fingers trail along her smooth legs. “Yeah, well, can’t say I blame you. And you didn’t even get to hear the rest of it.”
She starts to protest but I shush her. “No. You need to hear it all. Especially if you’re agreeing to be my wife for longer than the year.”
Taya quiets down and slides fully into my lap instead, wrapping her arms around my neck. I clutch her instinctively as the darkness that had begun to edge my vision recedes like low tide. Taking a deep breath, I finally admit to what the psych eval had been insinuating all along. “I missed the grenade the boy hid in his other hand and it went off. I hid the fact I was hurt from my team, even from Lux, who was our medic. But he figured out two days later when we went out on a mission and I nearly shot our interpreter. He reported me and I retaliated, confronting him and hitting him with the butt end of my gun. Bear dragged me away, but the damage was done.”
Taya draws in a sharp breath through her teeth and there’s worry for me in her wrinkled brow. “Did you ever get a chance to apologize?”
“To Lux? No, I didn’t. After he outed me to command, the team turned their back on him. So when it was time to come home, he swapped out with a SEAL from another team who’d gotten injured to stay in Kabul. Maybe even to get away from me. Now he’s dead, and there’s no more time for apologies.”
“I’m so sorry, Jim. That has to be so tough. But I bet Lux understood in the end. He wasn’t just a SEAL but your best friend, after all.”
Her simple words give me hope for the first time. I bury my face in her neck. She smells amazing, like sweetness and sandalwood. “I’m sorry again about your birthday. I should’ve known, especially since the information was on the paperwork we were given at the beginning of the program. What about a present? I’ll get you anything you want.”
Taya lays her head against my shoulder and wiggles her finger in front of us. “You already gave me the most amazing gift.”
“That wasn’t for your birthday. So, tell me what you want.”
“A kiss will be just fine.”
I press my lips against the column of her throat before trailing more kisses lower, nipping and biting my way down her body She still has on her dress from dinner, and I slip her free of it. By the time she’s naked before me, she’s stationed on the edge of the couch, and I’m crouched between her legs. I toss the last of my clothes off and grip her beneath the knees. Taya squeals when I pull the lower half of her body off the couch so she’s flat on her back, ass hanging in midair, and her legs hooked over my shoulders.
“I said a kiss.” She sounds breathless, and I smile, pleased.
“You didn’t say where.”
I don’t give her a chance to retort. I want her on my mouth. I give her a combination of tongue and teeth, savoring the flavors of her skin and committing each sound she makes to memory so I can replay them later. She arches against my mouth, helpless t
o back away or bring me closer. She rides my tongue and when she shatters, I let her slide, boneless, down the front of my body.
“I don’t—” I know she’s on the pill, but I should still wear a condom. My body trembles, taut and unwilling to pull away from her warmth as my hand reaches over to my discarded pants.
Taya grips my bare length for one sweet, torturous moment. “I want to feel you.”
I slip inside of her, and as her inner walls clamp hungrily around my width, we groan in unison. Moving with her is like a dance, one smooth stroke after another until the sound of flesh against flesh is the only sound in the room.
I lose bits and pieces of myself with each stroke. When she clutches me close, and our bodies move as one, it’s impossible to tell where one of us ends and the other begins. It’s all sweat, tongues, skin and an ever-growing need for more. I push deep one last time, and her legs, wrapped around my waist, spasm. She bucks as my orgasm sets off her own, her muscles clenching and releasing while she rides out the waves until every drop of my cum is milked away. I hold her still so I can feel the way her walls spasm.
Our heavy breaths calm by slow degrees, and the sweat cools on our skin. It’s warm enough, luckily, that we don’t need a blanket. Skin on skin is more than enough. I pull her into my arms on the couch, and she nuzzles her body tight against mine, her eyes shut.
I mouth “happy birthday, Taya” against her shoulder and press a kiss there.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll run out and get her some flowers and balloons, maybe a small cake. God, I want to see the surprised happiness I’m hoping will light up her face.
She sighs heavily, as if fighting a losing battle against falling asleep. “I love you.”
My chest swells as if my heart just grew three sizes. A wide Grinch-sized grin plasters on my face. More than anything, I want her words to be true, not some feeling mumbled as part of a dream, because being with Taya is like finding my place in the world. I belong here, wrapped around her and growing drunk off the smell of sandalwood. I want her completely. Forever and always.
Issued (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 1) Page 21
