by Karina Halle
“I’m making an effort,” he says carefully, his voice hushed. “I’m trying. You need to try, too.”
He leans in an inch, his eyes now fixed on my mouth. My breath hitches.
“You deserve happiness, little red,” he murmurs, his eyes briefly going to my ear as he reaches over and tucks another windblown strand behind it. “You deserve to feel beautiful.” His fingers rest on my chin, holding me. “I want to make you feel beautiful. Will you let me?”
As if I have a choice.
Before I can mumble some sort of agreement, he closes the space between us, smiling just a little before he presses his lips to mine. The kiss is both soft and hard, a layer of caution hinting at the lust underneath. His mouth is warm and I can taste the whisky, the sweet burn of it as his tongue gently brushes mine.
Sweet Jesus.
I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like this before. This tenderness, this intimacy that feels more personal than sex. I melt into him as his hand goes to the back of my neck, his palm warm as he grips me.
“Is it working,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.
“What?” I say, completely breathless, my lips buzzing from where he kissed me, my body both loose and tense, wanting more, so much more.
“Do you feel beautiful yet?” he leans in again, this time the kiss harder, hungrier. I open my mouth to let him in, and the groan he lets loose rattles me from the inside out.
I don’t feel beautiful—I feel starved. The way he’s kissing me lights my body on fire, puts the sun in my soul. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt like this, and in these heady moments, just his mouth, his taste, his hands at my chin, in my hair, I’m someone else entirely.
I wanted to escape. This is my escape.
Keir can make me start anew.
CHAPTER NINE
Keir
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone as badly as I wanted to kiss Jessica. Not just for my own deep desires, to find some relief in this constant yearning, but to switch off her brain and put her own heart at the forefront.
And so I did. I couldn’t wait a second longer.
She tastes sweet somehow, like whisky and sugar, her lips and tongue moving like silk against mine.
A hot current of lust ripples through me, from my mouth to my toes, my dick hardening in my jeans. The sudden need to devour, to taste every part of her and explore the secrets of her body rises up like a firestorm, and for a moment I forget that we’re sitting in a public place, the sun setting behind our backs and lighting up the sea in shades of lavender and gold.
I know I need to show restraint again, to be a gentleman, to back off and let her breathe. But now my hand is slipping down the side of her dress and cupping her breast. She lets out a gasp into my mouth which further fuels me.
I haven’t been with a woman in so long. There have been a few in-between tours, but I can barely remember their names, let alone what they looked like. With Jessica, I feel like I can never forget her, she’s that ingrained in my blood.
She pulls back, breathing hard, her hands going to my chest to keep me back.
I immediately feel sheepish, like I’ve pushed her too far, and my hand drops off of her, giving her space.
“Sorry,” I mutter, about to get up but she wraps her hands behind my neck and keeps me close.
“Don’t be sorry,” she says with a smile, her lipstick smudged, her lips looking flushed and swollen which immediately makes me think of other parts of her being flushed and swollen.
My dick feels like cement now, my skin tight.
I try and clear my throat a few times. “I got carried away.”
“Then I like it when you get carried away,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine. She looks more apologetic than afraid. “I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a while.”
I nearly roll my eyes. “Now you tell me.”
Her grip tightens on my neck. “I just needed to take things slow. And tonight…”
I wasn’t planning on sleeping with her tonight, or even trying to. She’s in a vulnerable state right now after everything that happened today, and I care about her too much to be the guy that takes advantage of that.
“Don’t explain,” I tell her quickly. “We can take it slow or not at all.”
“No,” she says. “No, I want you, I do.”
“Then it’s best I take you home,” I tell her.
She closes her eyes and nods. “Okay.”
I get up and then grab her arms, hauling her to her feet before bending down and picking up her crutches. As I do so I glance at her leg in the splint. Her toenails are bare. They deserve some polish, something as bright and sexy as she is.
I call us a cab and we wait on the park bench, sitting side by side and sharing the last of the whisky. I’m tempted to put my arm around her but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate or not. I want to tread lightly for both our sakes, even though I’m fighting some pretty primal urges here. The way her throat moves when she swallows her whisky, the twilight making her skin glow. Every basic caveman part of me wants to sweep her off her feet and carry her over my shoulder to some dark hidden place where I can devour her again and again.
The cab shows up instead.
We get in the back, our hands nearly touching as the driver takes us through the darkness. No one is saying a word but I suppose our breath is enough.
Traffic is light tonight until we hit Ferry Road and then we’re at a standstill.
“Accident up ahead,” the driver tells us. “Will be a bit longer, sorry.”
I tell him no worries and settle back in the seat, giving Jessica a shrug. “Guess it means we have more time together.”
Her face is shadowed in the dark and sublime as a gilded painting as she stares at me. The planes of her cheekbones, the dimple in her chin are lit up by the slowly passing lights that bathe her in yellow gold.
“What is it?” she asks, and I realize I’ve been staring.
But it doesn’t make me stop.
“You’re just so beautiful,” I blurt out. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re real.” I lick my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “Are you real?”
She opens her mouth to answer. Then closes it. She gives a little shake of her head, a strand of fire-red hair falling across her pale skin. “Sometimes I’m not sure.”
I can’t help myself. I lean in closer.
I’m going to kiss you again and I won’t be able to stop.
Then loud, shrill sirens erupt around us, giving my heart a jump-start. I sit back in my seat, disoriented, as an ambulance and police cars come up from behind, their lights flashing red.
“Sheesh,” Jessica says, craning her neck to look. “Looks pretty bad.”
We’re stuck at a red light and the emergency vehicles are all going through, though more keep appearing behind us. All around me is just blackness and lights. I feel like I’m in a tomb. The sirens are getting louder and louder, penetrating my ears, my soul.
And then suddenly I’m no longer in a cab. I’m in a helicopter.
I can hear the turbines whirring, smell the fuel. It’s night and we’re going down, sirens in the background. The red warning light flashes.
This isn’t real, I tell myself, closing my eyes and putting my hands to my ears. None of this is real.
And the very thing that is real, Jessica, I can’t hear her. Can’t see her. Can’t even smell her. It’s just engine oil and that sharp tang of blood; it’s burning wreckage and flesh.
The helicopter is going down. It will explode on impact. I’m going to be torn to shreds, pieces of me everywhere, just like what happened to Roger and Ansel, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
It’s what you deserve, I tell myself. You failed them.
You failed them.
“Keir!”
Hands are at my wrists, trying to pry them away from my ears but I can’t let go. I’m lost to this chaos.
“Please, please.” Jessica is whis
pering, kissing my knuckles. “Please, it’s okay.”
Her hand goes to my back, slowly rubbing it in circles.
“Keir,” she whispers, her voice standing out among the sirens that are now fading into the background. “Keir, I’m here.” She kisses my hands until I have the strength to pull them back from my ears.
She holds them in hers, her lips at my ear. “I’m here. Everything is all right. You’re safe. You’re okay. I know it’s hard but just breathe. One deep breath in. Okay? Do it with me.”
She takes a deep breath, pressing her hands to my chest, pushing in slightly.
I breathe in. It feels like I’m fighting for every inch of my lungs.
She exhales long and soft. “Now let it out. All of it.”
My breath feels caught in my chest, and for a moment I’m about to panic. I think about dying, I think about my men, I think about all the death I’ve seen and how many times I breathed through it all, how many times I told myself I’d get used to it.
And I got used to it.
I barely noticed how bad it had all become.
“Breathe it out,” she says, smacking me lightly on the back. “Now.”
I breathe out in a large whoosh, my eyes opening to see where I am. The back of a cab, slowly moving through traffic, past an accident on the side of the road I can’t bear to look at.
“In again,” Jessica says, and though I’m too ashamed to look at her, I do as she says. I take in a deep breath then let it out through my nose this time. My heart rate starts to return to normal, the space in my lungs growing.
“That’s it,” she says with a sniff.
I dare to look at her. Her eyes are glowing, wet.
Oh, fucking hell. I just had a flashback right here with her.
I’d been so good about these lately, so on top of things, stopping my mind before it ran away on me, before it tricked my body into thinking it’s real. Because it does it so easily. So, so easily. Full-on hallucinations become your reality. When they first started I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I’d heard about it from the other men, but it wasn’t something you were supposed to talk about.
When I left deployment I had to fill out a survey that asked if I was suffering from any hallucinations, sleeping problems, anxiety, panic attacks, anger issues, drinking or drug use. I nearly ticked them all off, but I was never referred to a specialist, never told to get help.
So I dealt with it the best I could. And it was getting better, all on my own. At least it had been.
And tonight of all nights, I think I’m in a fucking helicopter about to die and Jessica had to witness it all. As if my night terror wasn’t enough.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, my words barely audible. “Sometimes I’m…I’m fucked up.”
“Fucked up?” A crooked smile flashes across her face. “Welcome to the club. I’m the president.”
I have to laugh at that. “I don’t think so, little red.”
She’s staring at me and I know the question on her lips is What the hell happened to you?
But I can’t tell her. I don’t even want to admit I’m in the army. I don’t want to be anything remotely associated with Lewis Smith. I don’t want his name brought into any of this. I just want her to know me as Keir McGregor, and that’s it.
Keir McGregor, one fucked-up bastard.
***
Light splashes onto my face. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud.
I slowly open my eyes to see I’m in my own bed. It’s morning.
Gingerly, I wiggle my fingers and toes, instinctively checking for any damage before I sit up. My head swims a bit but other than that I’m okay.
I can’t remember a bloody thing. There was the flashback in the cab with Jessica…then that’s it. My memory stops right there, goes blank like a void.
A sound comes from the kitchen.
Before I even have a moment to process it, I’m springing out of bed, ready to grab a knife from my bedside drawer.
Then Jessica appears in the doorway, wearing my Guns N’ Roses shirt again.
“I made breakfast,” she says, smiling brightly. “It’s a bit cold now, I didn’t want to wake you.”
I close my eyes, rubbing the heel of my palm between them. “Sorry. What, uh…I don’t remember much of last night, it seems.”
“No?” she asks. “You seemed coherent. Just…distant. Locked in your head. Didn’t seem like a fun place to be.”
I shake my head, unable to believe that I blacked out part of the night. “God. I’m so sorry.”
“You did keep saying that all night,” she says. “And then you downed a lot of whisky. I wasn’t about to stop you. You needed to do what you needed to do. I still managed to get you into bed though before you passed out.”
I look down at my boxer briefs and raise my brow. “You undressed me.”
“That was the fun part,” she says. She nods to the kitchen. “Now hurry up and eat.”
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her absently as I head to the bathroom. I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I’m too ashamed, embarrassed. Part of me doesn’t even want to go out there to face her.
But the other part does. The part that wants to stare at her face, listen to her voice, be in whatever light she’s shining my way.
I take a seat at the table and she pours me a cup of coffee. Other than the omelet she’s made, it’s a copy of our first breakfast together.
“Did I do anything…inappropriate last night?” I ask, my hand shaking slightly as I reach for the mug.
“Unfortunately, no.” There’s a twinkle in her eye. For a moment I wonder how much of this is put upon, a fake attempt to be cheery, to make everything okay. But then I realize that nothing is ever fake with Jessica. Despite my fucked-upness, she’s actually happy to be here.
I hate to admit how goddamn good that feels.
“You didn’t have to stay over,” I tell her.
She reaches for the omelet and scrapes some on her plate. “I wasn’t about to leave you.”
“I’m fine.”
She passes me the plate and gives me a steady look. “You probably are. You probably have been. But if we’re going to be friends, friends who maybe kiss every now and then, friends don’t up and leave each other when the going gets rough. Or if one of you has an episode. That is what it was, right? Some sort of episode? Like your nightmare?”
I have trouble swallowing the coffee down. I nod once. “Yes. Something like that.”
“And you still don’t want to talk about it.”
I give her a pleading look.
“Okay,” she says, cutting into her eggs. “Just so you remember you promised to one day.”
I give her an agreeable grunt and get lost in my thoughts for a moment, relishing the fact that we’re almost acting like a couple.
“By the way,” she says between bites of her food, “your tattoos…what do they mean? What is the Latin one?”
I cough uneasily, take a sip of coffee. “Nec Aspera Terrent. It means many things…difficulties be damned, hardships do not deter us, the strong do not fall, no fear on earth.”
I don’t add that it’s a very popular motto for militaries around the world and certainly was for our regiment.
“And the ship? The ravens?”
“I like both those things,” I tell her. They have more meaning, of course, but probably nothing as profound as she expects.
“I see.”
After that, we eat some more and my mind goes over what happened last night, and how I used to be able to keep it under control.
Back when I came home between tours, I had a schedule that I kept to that kept me remotely sane. I would go to the local pool and swim laps for two hours every morning. At night I would run for the same amount of time. Only then would I be able to sleep the whole night through, only then would I be able to turn my inner torture into outer torture. A transfer of strength, of pain.
I’d stopped doing that since I moved
to Edinburgh. Actually, since I first learned about Jessica. She became about that transference of pain, of guilt, of everything.
“What are you doing today?” I ask her suddenly.
“I have my physio tomorrow,” she says, squirting tomato sauce onto her plate. “So a whole lot of nothing.”
“If I take you somewhere…if I come up with something for us to do, will you do it?”
She puts her fork down and eyes me. “What is this something?”
I sit back in my chair. “Once upon a time I was an avid swimmer. Did laps every morning. I just think with your leg, how hindered you feel…might be a nice way to feel free.”
“I couldn’t,” she says, looking as if she ate something bitter.
“Why not?”
“Because…”
“It will help your leg. Your muscles will get a workout without pain and you won’t have the weight or the pressure. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if your physical therapist suggests water therapy for you. I’m sure she will. This will just be a private session. With me.”
“I’m not exactly in bathing suit shape,” she says softly, looking down at her hands. “I’ll have to take the splint off. My scarring…”
“I have scars too. Let them stare at the both of us. Who fucking cares?”
She sighs and blows a strand of hair out of her face. “I hate how convincing you are.”
I grin at her, feeling like I’ve won a very minor battle but a battle nonetheless. “One of my many charms. I stockpile them, you see.”
Jessica lets out a laugh. “There you go again.”
I sit back, and even though there are a range of emotions and fears trying to fight for space in my brain, I try and focus on just one thing.
Jessica in my kitchen, eating, laughing, the sun shining in behind her.
I know I’ll do everything to keep this a reality.
***
Later that afternoon, I get a cab to take us first to the pharmacy where I gather some supplies, then to Jessica’s place so she can dig up a swimsuit. While I’m waiting I do a quick Google search for the best pools in the city, then start looking at some cars that may need a fix or two. I have another surprise for her down the line, and I need a car that won’t conk out on the first mile.
