by Sabrina York
And then, she pushed him back onto the bunk and kissed her way up his body, covering him as she proceeded, until she was a blanket on him, a delicious warm and welcome weight.
They spent the rest of the afternoon making love in his camper. Sometimes slow and easy, sometimes manic and crazed.
It was a glorious relief to expose himself to her, to let her see, touch, and explore his leg. It was a glorious relief that he saw not a whit of revulsion in her eyes. But when he told her as much, she smacked him.
“You need to have more faith in people.”
“I do. But people have let me down. Not everyone can handle something like this.”
He should have kept his trap shut, because she heard something in his tone, something he hadn’t meant to reveal.
“Who couldn’t handle it?” she asked. Just like that. Bold and ballsy, like she was.
He’d shared this much. Might as well share it all. “My brother.”
“Mark?”
“Yeah. Last time we talked there was a . . . confrontation.”
“I’m sorry.” She held him closer. “What did he say?”
Brandon winced as he recalled the conversation that had ripped him to shreds. He’d been weak, bed-bound and reeling from his loss.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t need to tell me.”
Yes. Yes he did. “I don’t remember all of it. I was on pain meds at the time, but the gist of it was, without my leg, I was no longer a man.”
He loved that she lurched up, outrage rampant on her delicate features, and spat, “He did not say that.”
“He did. But in his defense, he was trying to convince me I needed him to take care of me.”
“You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone.” Untrue. He needed her. “Look at you. Living on your own, dancing pro-fricking-fessionally. Hell, I didn’t even know you had any physical challenges at all until I overheard Cade and Lisa talking.”
“Ah. So it was Cade who ratted me out.” It hardly mattered now. He was happy she knew. Delighted she knew. Relieved she knew.
She offered her patented sex-kitten grin. Well, if it wasn’t patented, it should be. “Did I mention I was eavesdropping?”
“You’re such a wayward minx.” He tried to pull her back down into his arms but she was on a roll.
“I can’t believe your own brother would actually say something like that to you. He must be a complete jerk.”
“Only on days that end in Y.” Brandon tried to calm her with a smile. Besides, there was no reason for her to be upset. He’d made his feelings more than clear. Mark was no longer in his life and he never would be.
He stifled a ripple of regret. Mark was his only family. Since their dad had been in the army, they’d moved a lot, so the only constant in the universe had been their four-person unit. Mom, Dad, Mark, and him. One by one, he’d lost them all.
And now he was alone.
Ah, but not entirely.
Porsche flopped down on him and stroked his chest with idle fingers. “Were you close growing up? I can’t imagine Ford saying something like that to me.”
“We were close. But he was the oldest and thought that made him God.”
She snorted. “Gosh. Not like Ford at all.”
“I think it may be an older-sibling syndrome or something.”
“Probably.”
“Besides, everything was a competition between us. Who got the best grades, who ran the fastest, who got more attention from Dad. Mark always won. He was better-looking, taller, smarter, a better shot, and had better luck with the ladies.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
God he loved her. He tightened his hold, as though in just this, he could keep her in his arms forever.
“When he found out about what happened, he came to visit me in Walter Reed. He was between rotations. When he saw me, he was horrified. I could read it on his face. And then he said he was leaving the service and taking me home.”
She propped herself up and stared down at him. “That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“You don’t understand. The way we were raised, the service was everything. Hell, I don’t think I ever made a conscious decision to sign up, it was simply understood that I’d be a SEAL or a ranger or a Marine . . . and that would be my life. For him to quit to babysit me would be like chopping off his own leg, and I knew it. So I told him to go f— Um. To piss off.”
“In so many words.”
“Right. Anyway, he got mad and went off, calling me an ingrate and stubborn and stupid and all the shit Dad used to say when he wanted to make us do something we didn’t want to do. And I lost it. It was like heaping salt on a big old gaping wound. When he got to the part about me not being able to take care of myself, much less protect my country, I called the orderly and made them throw him out. I told him I never wanted to see him again. Shortly after that, I transferred to a private facility in Austin and, in time, got myself together.” He chuckled and waved down at his missing leg. “So to speak. I was determined to prove him wrong.”
“And you did.”
“I fucking did.”
She was silent for a moment and then blew out a sigh.
He crooked his head so he could see her. “What?”
“It’s a pity you can’t rub his face in it.”
“What?”
“You know.” She levered up onto her elbows and used him as her perch. “Neener, neener, Mark. Not only can I take care of myself, I can pleasure my woman and make her a steak that gives her mouth orgasms.”
“Really?” He quirked a brow. “Mouth orgasms?”
She nodded and waggled her brows. “Really.”
For some reason, this amused him. “I’m not sure how to feel about that. One the one hand, I am delighted to give you an orgasm of any kind. On the other, it seems counterproductive to divide my resources.”
“I assure you, one can lead to the other. If you play your cards right.”
“I’m all for right-played cards.”
As sexual byplay went, this wasn’t the steamiest, but Brandon did have a good feeling about where it was going . . . until Porsche said, “Do you ever think about contacting him?”
What?
“Who?”
She sighed. “Mark. Are you even paying attention?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Do you really want to remain estranged? Forever? That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
“Healthy? Having someone bellow that you’re a worthless lump of flesh isn’t exactly helpful.”
“It did motivate you to reclaim your life.”
It had. But the bitterness was still there, festering in his soul. Surely, in time, it would be covered up by some new indignation.
“Did he really call you a ‘worthless lump of flesh’?”
“Yes.” Although, when he thought back, he wasn’t sure if it had been Mark who’d howled that invective, or his own inner voice. “Something like that.”
“I really don’t think I like him.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never meet him.”
“If I ever do, I’ll kick him in the shins.”
“Would you?”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course, darling. No one calls my man a worthless lump of flesh and gets away with it. Although, if you prefer, I can rack him in the balls.”
“There’s a vision.”
“Ford taught me all kinds of that stuff.”
“Mark is a Navy SEAL. An expert at hand-to-hand combat.”
“But I am a sweet, unassuming, tiny woman. He’ll never see it coming.”
He had to laugh. “I appreciate your defense of my honor. I do. But you don’t need to worry. Like I said, you’ll never meet him.”
“Did I say I was worried?”
He loved the glint in her eye. After a moment she said, softly, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“How did you deal with it?”
“It?”
“How did you cope with such a devastating loss?”
He stared at her for a moment as his brain filtered through his two losses. Oh, his leg, for sure, but he’d lost his brother too. His family. And while he knew which one she was asking about, he had no idea how to answer. It had shattered him, walking up in a hospital bed in Germany, missing a chunk of his body. He’d gone to the dark side for a while—they all probably did. Wondered if life was worth living anymore. Wondered if he was still a man if he couldn’t be the one thing he’d always wanted to be: a SEAL.
Mark’s comments had echoed all his darkest fears, which was probably why he’d lashed back when typically, whenever he and his brother had a confrontation, it was Brandon’s role to defer . . . or walk away.
Then again, it was tough for a man with one leg to walk away.
So he had attacked. To protect himself, to barricade his vulnerable core.
But he wasn’t that powerless man anymore. Time had passed. He’d had therapy. Physical and emotional. And one day he realized, this was his life now and if he wanted to honor all the heroes who’d come before him, he had to make the best of it.
“You just cope, I guess. Figure out a way. I mean, there’s not much choice.” He gestured to his phantom limb. “I’m pretty sure it’s not going to grow back.”
“I can’t tell you how impressed I am by you right now.” He liked the way her eyes shone. Not a smidgen of pity in them anywhere. “You are a true hero.”
Heat crawled up his cheeks. “I just wake up in the morning and put my leg on like anybody else.”
Her laughter was like music to his ears.
Chapter Twenty-four
They had a lovely afternoon, just exploring each other and snoozing, but before long, it was time for the dinner picnic, which would be held out by the lake, followed by the karaoke party and more performances.
Porsche laughed when Brandon showed her his outfit.
A dickey and a bow tie.
It was ridiculous, but when he was dressed—in that and a pair of black rip-away stripper pants, she was stunned at how sexy he looked.
“Well?” he asked, holding out his arms.
“Um, yum.” She eyed him hungrily. “Are you sure we can’t blow this off?”
He frowned. “It’s in my contract, and I’m pushing it with Cody because I refused to participate in the skinny-dipping.”
“They don’t really skinny-dip. They just swim and jump off the dock wearing really tight Speedos.”
“Cody said G-strings.”
“Well, yeah. More like that.” She thought a minute. “Or floss, if you will.”
“Wait. Have you attended one of these before?”
She went all innocent and nodded. “Mmm hmm.”
“Did you look at other men?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you looking at other men.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and purred, “Darling, there are no other men.”
Apparently mollified, he grumbled a bit and then said, “Yeah. Well, I was able to get out of that torment because I agreed to serve drinks.” His hand fluttered around his neck. “And wear this.”
“You look sexy,” she said, adjusting the tie. “You better not let any of those other women touch you.”
“I shall try to abstain. But I can’t fight them all off.”
“You’d better.” A playful growl. Or maybe not playful.
At any rate, he laughed.
They rode on trailers pulled by tractors to the lake. Thankfully, they’d been swept clean of hay, because most of the women were in swimsuits and cover-ups and most of the men were half-naked and oiled up. She could just visualize the poor things, all tarred and feathered. That would have been a monumental mess to clean up.
When the convoy arrived, the pavilion was alight and everything had been prepared for the party. It struck Porsche then how much went into the back end of these events and how hard everyone worked. Claire was there with her clipboard, but she didn’t even glance over, which made Porsche a little twitchy. She needed to tell her, once and for all, how she felt about Brandon—and Cody—but clearly this was not the time. At any rate, as soon as they’d all disembarked, Claire took the four-wheeler and headed back to the house to set up the bar for the cocktail party to follow.
Since Brandon was—technically—working, Porsche joined Hanna and her group and had a lovely time talking to Diane and Amy. Sidney seemed to be very reserved, which was unlike her, but it was probably on account of their ongoing rivalry over Cody. It had been like a constant thorn between them since they discovered at a sixth grade slumber party that they were both in love with him.
She should probably let Sidney know the coast was clear for her incursion, but since her friend was so grumpy, Porsche decided that it could wait. Besides, it was unlikely she and Brandon could keep their relationship private much longer.
She knew she didn’t want to.
She wanted to grab the mike and scream it to the world.
Getting the mike away from Cody, though, might be a challenge.
As everyone finished up their meals and staff came around to clean the tables, the ambient music changed and Cody took the stage to announce that the karaoke competition had begun. They all moved up in front of the stage to join the festivities.
What followed was pretty hysterical, considering some of the songs the participants chose, and the strained voices with which they belted them out. They were brave, some of those women, or they simply enjoyed themselves so much they didn’t care that somewhere in the deepest darkest Amazonian jungle, a toucan was having a seizure.
On the flip side, some of the singers were very good, but none as good as Amy.
It was a surprise, because Amy was a laid-back, unpretentious individual. Who could have imagined that she had pipes?
The song she chose was “Survivor,” by Destiny’s Child, and a roar went up when it began, indicating it was a favorite among attendees. But then, when Amy opened her mouth and belted out the first verse, everyone stared.
She was phenomenal.
The women in the audience and even the men started clapping along as Amy sang in a strong alto. When the second verse began, Brandon stepped up on the stage and launched into a dance by her side. The ladies went nuts, especially when he began executing astounding flips and twirls that seemed to make a mockery of the laws of gravity. He bounced like a gazelle from one side of the stage to the other with a nearly magical grace and in perfect synchronization with the upbeat music.
Everyone sat, riveted by this dual performance. It was exceptional, to say the least.
But then, as the last verse swelled, Brandon did something Porsche had never expected. Apparently, no one else had expected it either.
He yanked off his rip-away pants, revealing a pair of black briefs covered with little red hearts and, of course, his leg, joined by his prosthetic just above the knee. There was a moment of crushing silence as the crowd took this in and then, a roar arose. One that filled her heart with pride and pleasure.
Because the women went wild, battering him with their approval, their complete acceptance of him, just as he was.
He continued to dance out the final steps of the song and, when the music ended, and he twirled to a halt, falling onto his good knee in a practiced pose, everyone rose to their feet and hollered and cheered.
Brandon stood, chest heaving, and took a bow. He walked over to Amy and asked for the mike. She gave him a long hug first and then with a smile, handed it over.
He searched the crowd until he found Porsche and caught her gaze. “That one was for y
ou, baby,” he said in that rough, ragged voice. “Because you inspire me to be the best man I can. You inspire me to be myself.”
And again, the women lost their minds, issuing forth more rapturous applause. The chick next to Porsche gushed to her friend, in an awe-struck voice, “Ohmygod. Do you think he was talking to me?”
“Of course not. He was definitely looking at me.”
“Oh gracious. Have you ever seen such a manly man?”
“I’m going to go get him.”
“No, me.”
It took all her self-control, but Porsche managed not to whack them.
She pushed past these poachers and rushed up onto the stage and launched herself into Brandon’s arms, and he kissed her.
There.
Now no one needed to wonder who he’d pointed at. To whom he belonged.
He was taken.
He was hers.
“I am so proud of you,” she said.
“Me too.” Cade clapped him on the back, and Porsche glared at him. Why was it Cade always magically happened to appear when she and Brandon were kissing? It was as though he had radar.
“I had no idea,” Cody gusted as he stepped into their circle. He stared at Brandon’s leg in awe, and Brandon gave it a proud flex. “That was amazing.” Cody turned to Cade. “We’re going to have to have him back.”
“For sure. And no more hiding that leg,” Cade said with a chuckle. “Look at those women.” He waved out at the huddled masses yearning to get their grubby paws on Brandon. Porsche tried not to clutch him too possessively. But seriously.
He. Was. Taken.
All of the other dancers rushed up too—obviously none of them had known Brandon’s secret. They were full of questions and congratulations on a fantastic set.
Andy, the one with the enormous neck and long blond ponytail, pushed in and clasped Brandon’s hand in what appeared to be some secret military handshake. “Way to steal the show, man,” he said with mock outrage.
Brandon chuckled. “Anytime, brother. Anytime.”
