by Kate Aster
The angle of the sunlight on Allie’s car showcases the streaks of dog slobber covering her windows.
No, what she needs is an SUV or a van. Something that she can transport dogs more easily in. I’ve seen her pile three or four dogs into her car and it’s a little like watching clowns at a circus piling into an old VW Beetle.
I wonder how much she’d protest if I bought her something more suitable. If I tell her it’s for her dogs, I might get her to accept it.
The drive is long, just long enough for me to make plans to head to a dealer on Monday morning and take a look at some options. She’s got a nonprofit. I can donate anything I want to a nonprofit, can’t I?
I’m surprisingly happy when I pull alongside Allie in front of the townhomes. “You’re home, Kosmo,” I tell him, glancing behind me to see his eyes are half shut.
Allie greets me at my car door, extending her hand. “Want me to open the door for you guys?”
I nod, handing her my key, and stoop to lift Kosmo. He seems to shun my help, though, and stumbles out of the truck on his own, half wagging his tail as he approaches the front door. He staggers straight to my leather couch and looks at it with longing, unable to make the jump up on his own.
I bend over and lift him onto the couch. “You’re home now, boy.” I scratch his neck lightly and kiss his cheek. “Now get some rest.”
Allie is standing by the door. “He seems happy to be home, huh?”
“Yep.” Me, too, I realize. “I better grab my mail. Want me to get yours?”
She nods. “I’ll get a bowl of water for Kosmo in the living room in case he’s thirsty.”
“Good idea. Thanks,” I say over my shoulder. It’s almost noon, but the birds are still in high form, singing their hearts out. I can hear the creek babbling behind the backyard and imagine yesterday’s rainfall is making it flow a little harder than usual. The gravel crunches beneath my feet as I feel remarkably content after a good eight hours of sleep. I crack a smile. More like ten hours, I realize, doing the math. I certainly wasn’t much company for Allie last night.
And Allie was the best company I could have asked for.
I grab a couple envelopes out of Allie’s box first, all junk mail from the look of it. In my own, the usual stack of bills greets me. And a card.
My heart seizes up as I see the return address.
I don’t hear the birdsong any longer and the cheerful babbling of the brook has been replaced with a loud, droning sound from the surge of blood flowing to my head. I know what the envelope is. Instinctively, I know.
Walking back into the house, Allie says something to me, but I don’t know what. I’m not even sure if I shut the door behind me, and only with the knowledge that I don’t want my dog wandering off, do I force myself to check it.
I set the mail down on the counter and lift the card. The handwriting is neat, probably Clare’s, each letter proudly created with a calligraphy pen. There are no tears on the envelope. Now isn’t a time for tears.
Now is not the time for rage, either, but it’s what I feel building inside of me.
“What’s that?” I hear Allie ask me, but I can’t even come up with an answer. I open it, seeing the words on the card. Even though I already know what they’ll say, each one cuts into me like a knife.
“It’s a graduation announcement,” she answers herself, since apparently, I seem unable to.
My hands are shaking as I flip it over and a wallet-sized photograph falls to the counter from behind it. It’s small and posed, like most high school senior photos. And God, the kid looks just like Torres.
I can see him now, ducking behind the Humvee, his leg shot up and his hands covered in blood as he struggles to stop the bleeding from Crosby’s neck. But there’s no panic in his eyes. There was never any panic in his eyes. Nor in mine; it was what we were trained for. No panic, even as I made the call that would end his life.
“Who is that?”
Her voice seems so faraway to me now, and I feel like I have to crawl through a tunnel back to her world to answer her. “Son of one of my brothers in the SEALs.”
A silence hangs between us for a moment, and I feel myself sinking again into a memory till her voice tugs me back. “And his dad died?”
I’m surprised she figured out that much, and I almost glance at her except that I can’t pull my eyes from the photo of a young man who is graduating without a dad because of me.
“My fault,” I say, and I’m shocked to hear the words fall from my lips. It took six months with a shrink before I could say that to him, and I never was able to admit it to anyone outside of his office on base.
I wait for her questions, but they don’t come. Instead I feel myself talking again. “We were on a mission and got hit by an IED followed by some heavy fire. We had two men down, and I was pinned behind a Humvee with them. One was bleeding pretty bad, shot in the neck. It didn’t look good. Torres was shot in the leg. We had another Humvee coming up behind us and needed to get to them, but the vehicle couldn’t make it to where ours had fallen off the side of the road.”
My palms are wet, caught up in emotions as this kid’s picture slices my soul open and raw emotion pours out of me. “I had to get them to safety. But I’d have to do it one at a time. Crosby was worse, so when our backup started firing to cover me, I grabbed him and ran. I had thought I could make it back to Torres in time, but I was too late. He was shot in the head.”
“You couldn’t save them both.”
I snap back to reality, the colors and contrast of the world suddenly so sharp to my eyes that they burn. “I couldn’t save either one of them. Crosby died only minutes after I pulled him away from the Humvee. There was nothing I could have done to save him. I could have saved Torres. If I had taken him first, he would have lived. And this kid,” my hand is shaking as I wave the photo in Allie’s direction, “would have his dad at his graduation rather than in a fucking casket.”
I wish she’d leave, and I want to tell her that. But I can’t. All I can do right now is feel the two hands that she’s planted at either side of my face as she looks into my eyes. “You couldn’t have known Torres was going to get shot again. Anyone else would have taken the other man first, too. He was in the most trouble. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. If you had taken Torres first, you’d be feeling guilty about Crosby because you wouldn’t have known that he was going to die anyway.”
“Yeah, no shit, Allie. But at least this kid would still have a father. It’s about him, not me. Who gives a shit how I feel?”
“I do!” Her eyes are harsh now, unlike the sweet girl who rescues dogs in her spare time. I don’t want to see the anger in her. This is why I can’t be with her. There’s blood on my hands and I can’t wipe it clean, no matter how many shrinks I see.
I grasp her hands, probably too firmly, and pull them off my face. Her gentle touch burns me right now. I don’t deserve her compassion. She should save it for Torres’s kid. He’s the one in pain right now. He and his mom.
I feel the rage burning inside me—rage I feel at the world, not at Allie. But she’s the only one around and if she’s smart, she’ll get the fuck out of here now. “You want to know why I’m up at night?” My voice sears my throat as the words escape me. “That’s why, Allie. That’s why I can’t be with someone like you. Your world is different than mine.”
“We live in the same world, Logan.”
“We don’t. Yours is full of a future. Mine is still sinking in the past.”
“So stop it. It’s not what Torres would want. Or Crosby.”
My eyes narrow on her and I can’t help the anger I feel toward her optimism. “Save your dogs, Allie. Don’t try to save me. I’m not worth it.” My tone is biting and I hope it’s enough to drive her away. I don’t care right now if I hurt her feelings. I’ll hurt her more if I drag her into the nightmare I live in each day.
Grabbing my neck, there’s a fire in her eyes that I’ve never seen before as she
pulls my face down to hers.
“Fuck what you say, Logan. I think you are worth it,” she says, and then presses her lips to mine fiercely.
My body feels like it’s been torched as I spin her around, pinning her against my counter. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her teeth scrape against my chin as she moves her mouth downward. “Bringing you back to my world.” Her breasts are pressing against my chest and I can feel her nipples harden against me. My fingers drop the photograph and find their way up to her head, tunneling through her hair and grasping the back of her neck like I’m holding onto her for dear life.
I start to protest, but she’s pulling off her t-shirt and I’m seeing skin that I need desperately to taste. My lips drop to her delicate collarbone as I cup her breasts with my hands.
I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t. But I also know that I desperately need to sink myself into her just to feel human again.
Chapter 15
~ ALLIE ~
My breath is ragged as he slips his hands beneath my bra, and I’m covered in goosebumps from the feeling of his calloused fingers swiping against my taut nipples.
I know this is the wrong way to get what I want from him, and I can already imagine the regret I’ll feel afterward. But right now, I’ve never felt more powerful than when I saw that lost look in his eyes replaced by desire.
Never have I felt more like a woman than at that moment, and it’s got me in heady stupor, my veins coursing blood to my hormone-soaked brain. I reach down to feel the throbbing beneath the zipper of his jeans and he pulls my hand away. I’m struck by disappointment, till he reaches beneath my legs to lift me up.
I savor the taste of him as he carries me upstairs and lowers me onto the bed. Standing above me, his eyes are full of heat, and I know not to expect a sweet, gentle bout of sex from him right now. If I wanted that, I should have initiated it some other time, back in that hotel room maybe. Not at a time when the demons of his past have filled him with fury.
He pulls off his shirt and I nearly gasp at the sight of him. I’ve seen his muscles before, but it’s an entirely different experience knowing that I’ll get to touch them, feel them sliding against me skin-to-skin. I pull off my shorts and toss them to the side of his bed and he does the same with his jeans.
I reach for the erection that is tenting out from his briefs and he lowers his mouth to mine while I touch him. Teeth graze against my tongue and I hear a moan that is more like a growl when I slip my hand beneath the thin fabric and feel the supple, tight skin throbbing over such hardness.
His mouth is moving to my breast, leaving a damp trail of kisses along my neck. Freeing himself from his briefs, I feel his cock pressing against me, urging for entry. Arching my back, I ache for more pressure, and he senses my needs as his hand moves to my panties. I should be embarrassed by how wet he’s made me, but I can’t feel anything but pleasure as he slips two fingers past the fabric and enters me.
I cry out from pleasure instantly, my body bucking beneath him, urging him deeper, wanting more contact. My muscles quiver as his fingers open slightly, spreading me more. I come hard and completely, and my pelvis is still rocking as his mouth moves lower on my body and I feel his hot breath above the thin cotton.
He peels me free of the cloth and his voice is thick with command. “Open your legs.”
I can’t think to deny him. I’d do anything at this point to keep these sensations going. His lips meet my clit and my vision glazes over from the feel of his tongue circling around my center as his fingers move inside of me. I feel myself climbing up again, soaring toward a climax that is still just outside of my reach, till one of his fingers delves deeper, arching just so that it hits my most sensitive depths and I come hard against his mouth.
“More,” I say as he climbs off of me, and I am relieved when I see him pull a condom from his nightstand drawer. I honest-to-God might have forgotten, desperate as I am to feel him inside me. He sheaths himself quickly and I take a long look at his form above me. “You’re huge,” I utter softly, and feel the heat of embarrassment sting my cheeks realizing I said it out loud. But it’s true, he’s long and thick and it seems in perfect proportion to his body.
My words seem to arouse him more, as he plunders my mouth again so thoroughly my lips feel bruised.
There’s emotion in his eyes, and I don’t know how to define it. Harsher than lust, fiercer than need—almost an urgency steeped in anger. It scares me, and has my heart picking up speed as he spreads my legs, but also makes me moist with desire.
“Say you want this, Allie.”
I feel a spike of terror flare through me that he’s become just rational enough to stop. And I don’t want him to. I need him inside me like I need my next breath.
“I want this. I want this.” I repeat it over and over, even as he slides himself inside of me. He’s barely nudging into me at first, and it’s not what I need. My fingers rake against his back, and I pinch them into his skin as I pull him closer, urging him deeper.
His head gives a single shake as he resists. “I could hurt you,” he says, and I know his words have more meaning than just this one joining of our bodies, but I don’t care.
“Hurt me,” I say, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. He responds by entering me with a single thrust, so deep that it does hurt, a spellbinding pain that I want to feel again even as he slowly pulls out. My body yields to him as he thrusts again, pounding into me, jarring against my womb and rocking my body against the sheets that are slick with my sweat.
I’ve never felt a man this deep inside me and it’s shattering me. My breathing is staggered and I’m certain my heart is skipping a beat or two, trying to recover from the shock of his entry. My channel spasms around him as I soar through a climax that has me seeing stars in the back of my skull. I cry out his name and I feel my eyes tearing up, moist like the rest of me.
“Are you okay, baby?” He’s staring at me and I can tell the rage is subsiding, before I’m ready to see it go.
“I’m okay. It feels good, Logan. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
He brushes a lock of hair off my face, and I see a trace of tenderness in his eyes. Then more, as he kisses my jaw up to my ear and whispers, “You’re so gorgeous when you come.”
I feel his tongue tracing along the outer edge of my ear as he starts to move inside me again, slower this time, but just as deep. His hand moves down my leg and he slides my thigh higher on his hip. My other thigh follows, till my ass is arching upward with my legs wrapped around him. The angle is a little different now, and I can feel his cock touch my G spot on his next thrust. My eyes widen, and he smiles in response. “That’s it, baby.” His words coax me up a spiral again, chasing pleasure, as I feel another orgasm in my reach. I’ve never had sex like this and every cell in my body seems overly receptive to his touch. I’m exhausted, and feel like there’s no way I can have another, but the need is so great.
My eyes lower from his face to his abs, to the tight V of muscles that leads to where we are joined together and the sight of him inside me just about pushes me over the edge. One of my hands moves from his back to his rippled chest and I feel the muscles moving underneath his skin and he slides in and out of me. I rest my hand at his heart and can feel its rapid beat beneath my fingers. The rhythm of it soothes me, even as the feel of him pressing inside me has every muscle in my body tingling and contracting.
His eyes are locked on mine as his muscled arms hold him up from my body so that I’m not crushed, allowing me to take in the sight of his remarkable form joined with mine.
I want to feel him shatter the same way I did. I need to feel that—to know that the power I briefly possessed when I tempted him into this is still mine. “Let me feel it,” I urge him. “I want to feel you come, Logan. Now.” I try to make my voice demanding, but it’s not as powerful as his was. But from the flare of passion I see in his eyes, I’m thinking I might have won. He pulls one of my legs upward s
o that my calf is over his shoulder. Then the other. I’m totally vulnerable to him now, my body so open to his length that when he thrusts inside of me I cry out intensely. His body stills at the sound of my gasps.
“Don’t stop,” I demand, and revel in the look of desire in his eyes as he takes me. I’m drunk off the sight of him pounding into me. I know I shouldn’t get such a thrill from the look of his body, but I can’t help it. I’ve never had this before, and I might never have it again, and even that doesn’t dampen this feeling of wantonness that grips me as he thrusts inside of me. His body glistens from sweat, accentuating the shape of him and driving me upwards again into the heavens as a burning heat pools at my center, building, building…
My body aches beneath him, muscles I didn’t even know I had cry out, yet still the fire builds inside me with every thrust. Till I finally feel myself come again, screaming out his name shamelessly, my entry gripping him tighter with each spasm, till he joins me in release with a final thrust.
His chest heaving, he gently moves my legs back down to the bed. My body seems to protest as he pulls himself from me.
“Did I hurt you?”’
I want to lie and tell him he didn’t. But I remember he said he never lies, and I want to honor that. “In the most extraordinary way.” I smile as I say it, and I hope he takes my meaning.
His lips brush against my face—my cheek first, then my nose, then my lips, resting there for a moment or two before he slips from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
The bed is damp and cold without him and I long to beg him to come back. But I can’t assume that he wants more of me. I offered myself to him as a distraction from his pain. And if the pain is gone, I might not be what he needs anymore. The thought of that terrifies me.
I hear him in the bathroom, moving around. The sound of water running. He might be showering, wiping himself clean of the mistake he just made with me.
Oh, God, I hope it wasn’t a mistake. It would devastate me. Even if I never get to have sex with him again, it hurts even more to think he might not want to be my friend anymore.
