She’d rolled over onto her side with her top thigh slung over the bottom, her head propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed, making her hair tumble into her sultry eyes. A gentle smile lit up her face.
She’d never smiled at him like that. Not once.
Even so, he’d seen that smile before. Always directed at another man.
His best friend.
His heart froze in mid-beat.
“Can you stay and talk to me a little?” she whispered.
“No.” He turned and began toward the door again.
“Until I close my eyes?”
“Nope.”
“I won’t be able to sleep.”
“No.”
“Pleeease…”
He paused just as he made it to the doorway. Freedom. Two more steps and he’d be gone. Away from her and that soft, sweet smile that could end wars. The smile that had never been meant for him. That had never belonged to him. The smile that had always belonged to the man who had gone to war for it, more times than Rocco himself.
That smile belonged to the man who’d died for it.
Every bone in his body told him to keep walking away from what wasn’t his.
What couldn’t be his.
He turned, gripping the doorframe with all his might.
“Pleeeeeeeese….” She reached for him, her eyes shrinking as her smile grew.
There was a certain way a woman could say please that made it impossible for any man to say no. Not the kind of ‘please’ that was laced with impatience and annoyance. The kind she was only saying because she knew she had to. But the kind that was so gentle, so docile, so devoid of any sense of pride or vanity, it was impossible to ignore.
Impossible for his feet not to move back to the bed.
Impossible not to sit on the edge, even as the fight to keep his eyes on her face and not her body nearly tore him limb from limb.
“Yay!” She slung her arm across his lap.
He slapped it away. “Don’t touch me. And be quiet.”
Her face curled into a frown that still managed to be drunkenly adorable. “You’re the only person I know that can be mean and nice all at once.”
He dropped his own arm into his lap and let it settle between his splayed legs, hiding the real reason he’d swatted her hand away with such speed.
“Did you like my singing tonight, Rocco?”
“Sure didn’t.”
“Hater. The bartender said I sanged like an angel.”
“Probably got a view of the hot pink thong that’s been hanging outta your jeans all night.”
She rolled onto her back with a stupid grin, apparently too drunk to argue with him the way she usually would.
Then she gasped, eyes flying back to his. “My car!”
“We’ll pick it up from Charlie’s tomorrow morning.”
“I hope someone steals the piece of crap!”
“Why are you screaming? Blue’s asleep.”
Her eyes went big, and she brought a finger to her lips, pursing them. “Shhhh!”
“That’s right. Shush. Let’s run with that.”
“I love Blue.” She cocked her head to the side on the pillow.
“I love her too. So let’s close our eyes and go to bed so we don’t wake her.”
“She’s so preeeetty.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Her eyes are blue.”
“I noticed.”
A pregnant pause fell. “She hates me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. You even said so. In the bathroom. She loves you, and she hates me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But I get it…” She took a deep breath and tilted her head further. “Obviously I don’t know how to take care of me and my baby. I failed. I’m a failure.”
His stomach tightened, and so did his eyebrows. “Go to sleep.”
“No, really.” Her face sobered, even as the rhythmic bob of her head proved she was far from it. “Ever since Troy died, I feel like I just spin, and spin, and spin. Around and around. Over and over. I guess working at the parlor was the only way I could stop spinning anymore. To control some more. I couldn’t tell you that, though, because you’re so mean. I had to fight you back, you know? Everyone has to fight back. Just like you and Troy and Justin was fighting back. In the war… Remember?”
His breathing picked up as he managed to decipher just about every other gurgled word that rippled out of her mouth. Even though it was sluggish and slurred, he still heard what she was saying, and it made his fingers curl around the duvet.
“I wanted to prove to you that I could take care of my baby by myself. I wanted to prove you all the way wrong. But…” She pressed her lips together again with an exaggerated shrug. “I couldn’t.”
“You’re too drunk for this conversation—”
She grabbed his arm when he went to leave, digging her nails in.
The same way she had in the bathroom. Her nails were in his forearm at that moment the same way they’d been in his back. His stomach. Inches from the waistband of his pants. He eased back down onto the bed as the memory made his knees feel like jello, cradling his fisted hands on either side of her body, just far enough to stop their skin from touching. Erection still raging between his thighs, he no longer moved to hide it. It had quickly become a distant memory when up against the pain now in her eyes and singeing her voice.
She waited until he was settled once more before a lump moved down her throat. “I’m really sorry.”
“You don’t—”
“I was really, really wrong. Really bad.”
“Stella—”
“I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself for losing you the FBI.” Her eyes widened and watered. “Ever. I ruined your life. And I was such a jerk to you, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m a spoiled, selfish idiot.”
He searched her eyes, voice lowering. “It’s hard for a woman to humble herself with a guy like me. I understand. I don’t make it easy.”
“You’re wonderful.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“No!” She slapped his arm, shrinking when he shushed her. “Even when you’re not, you’re patient. And strong. And generous. I didn’t know that about you. I thought you were just a regular ass, impatient ass, mean-ass Sagittarius.”
He breathed out a laugh.
She shifted. “You know what else it is about Sag’s?”
“Hm?”
“They’re scared…”
He blinked slowly, licking his lips.
“Scared of being hurt. They fear it so bad, they build walls around their hearts.”
He looked away.
“But… you’re not like that with Blue. You don’t have walls. You’re so good with her. Gosh. She’s really lucky. She’s really lucky to have you.”
His eyes found hers once more. “She’s lucky to have you too.”
“She loves you so much.”
He tightened his fists on the bed when his limbs began to tremble. “I’ll never be what Blue deserves.”
She frowned an exaggerated frown that reminded him, once again, that she was in no condition to be having this kind of conversation. Especially not for the first time.
Regardless, he went on. “How could I be? It’s not like I ever got the blueprint on how to be a father.”
“Just because you doesn’t have one couldn’t mean you didn’t be one.”
He bobbed his head back and forth as her grammar continued to suffer. “To be a good father, you need to have a good father.”
“That’s a big fat lie.”
He chuckled softly, but his face sobered a moment later.
She reached up to stroke his cheek, but missed, hitting him in the eye instead. “But Troy!”
Rocco slammed his eyes closed, narrowly escaping having one of his eyeballs clawed out by her nails, rearing back.
She didn’t seem to notice. “And DJ! An
d Justin! You always said they was your family growing up.”
He moved her hand away from his face. “They were each other’s family. A real family. I was just the lonely orphan neighbor kid who they humored enough to let hang out on Christmas and Thanksgiving so I wouldn’t have to suffer at the foster house alone.”
“Oh, Rocco, that’s really incorrect. Troy always told me you was his brother from another’s mother.”
“Exactly. ‘From another mother.’ They were my family, but they weren’t my family, you know?” He pressed his lips together. “Blue deserves a man who knows what it means to exist in a real family. To run a real household.”
“You’re being so silly,” she whispered. “You’re the strongest man I ever met.”
He shook his head, frowning softly down at her. “If you only knew…”
“I don’t know how you could be so strong to lift me… and Blue… and you. That’s three.” She held up three fingers. “Three people. That’s really heavy. That’s a lot. Oh!” She snapped her finger. “And my mom and dad, too? How can you lift all of us like that, and still be…”
Rocco didn’t realize how closely he’d been hanging on her every word until she stopped. When he realized no more words were coming, his stomach clenched.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
She nodded.
“When I was 23, right after I graduated and left the army?” He took a deep breath. “I applied for the FBI. And I got it.” He nodded at the stunned look on her face. “I got it, and I turned it down. And from that moment forward, every day, every hour, every minute… I’ve never regretted anything more.”
“Why?”
His eyes ran her face. “I was afraid.”
Her frown deepened.
His eyes fell to her lips. “Afraid I’d fail. That I wouldn’t be good enough. That I’d have to come back here and look you all in the eye and tell you I couldn’t do it. Look Troy in the eye and tell him I’d never be as strong, as smart, as brave as he was…”
His gaze fell to their hands when the warmth of her fingers wrapped around his, stroking his palm, sending prickles up his arm that made the hairs stand on end.
He kept his eyes down. “Strength isn’t the absence of failure, Stella. Real strength is facing the idea of failure, feeling how much it scares the absolute shit outta you, and charging in head first anyway.”
He looked back up at her, and their eyes remained locked for several long moments. Until her fingers had tightened around his to the point of pain. Until his own fingers curled and clenched hers right back. Until the moonlight flittering through the sheer white window curtains made her eyes glisten until they didn’t even look brown anymore—but rich with copper and gold. Making her tiny freckles more pronounced than he’d ever seen them.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered.
Her face curled with emotion.
“I’m really, really proud of you, Stella Armstrong. Because you might’ve failed, but at least you fought. You got back up. You didn’t take the easy way out. That’s what real strength looks like.”
Her chest swelled.
He leaned in. “I will always be here for you and Blue. No matter what. If you ever need anything. Anything. I’m always gonna be here.”
She sniffled and gave another rapid nod. Their clasped hands fell away as they shared a soft smile. When Stella’s fingers began trailing up his forearm a moment later, however, his smile vanished until he could hear his own breathing and hers too. Loudly enough to convince him the sound was bouncing off the walls.
Her breasts swelled against the cups of her bra, the stronger her breaths became, eyelids heavy as she ran the tips of her nails gently along his skin. He readjusted his hands on either side of her body when his elbows felt close to buckling, every caress of her nails sending a warm chill through him and making his whole body shake.
“So strong,” she whispered, drawing her touch up to his bicep, her warm fingers making it flex instinctively. She tightened her grip around it when it did, her breathing becoming heavy. “So hard.”
A lump moved down his throat like a jagged rock ripping his flesh.
She lifted her heavy eyes to his. “I like how hard you are. So that I can be soft. I like being soft.”
He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t obey Nor would any other muscle in his pulsing body as she trailed two fingers up across his broad shoulder. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering through his collarbone.
“Not all the way soft, though.” Her eyes widened. “I’m gonna get hard again. On the outside. I like being jiggly on the inside, but not on the outside.”
His voice came softly, broken. “You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes flew up to his and widened.
Those big brown eyes didn’t belong to him. Those full lips as they dropped open under the weight of his words. That hand on his shoulder. None of them were his.
They could never be his.
He should walk away.
“What’s your biggest dream?” he asked.
She squinted.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You had one a few months ago—when you were begging me not to sell that Birkin bag at the pawn shop.”
“Please don’t remind me of my tragic loss. The wound is still too fresh.”
“There’s gotta be something bigger.”
“There’s not.”
“How? How can you not have a dream? Everyone does…” His voice broke when she removed her hand from his arm and slung both her arms over her head with a heaving sigh, exposing her smooth underarms, entranced by a part of her body he’d never seen before. “And I’m not just talking about getting your mitts on the latest shoe or handbag. I’m talking about a real dream. The kind you can’t stop thinking about. The kind that wakes you up in the middle of the night with butterflies in your stomach. Chief Correspondent was Troy’s. Forensic Science is Justin’s. The FBI… FBI was mine… What’s yours?”
“Blue.”
“No, something that’s just for you. Something you’d have wanted even if you’d never had her. Something selfish—which is a road you already travel quite naturally,” he teased, “so this should be easy.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Massage, I guess?”
His eyes grew vacant. “Maybe I should’ve specified that the dream should be legal, Armstrong.”
“It’s legal! Maybe not in the building you caught me in, but… in other buildings.”
“Other buildings?”
“A spa… or something. Maybe. Like the one that hired me today.” She brought her arms down and played her fingers together with a shrug. “I already gots my massage license. After me and Troy was married. Then he got that big promotion… and then all the book deals… and then the Netflix series, and I just… I never hads my chance to use my license. Once the train was really rolling, money was nothing. It was like water. Tap water. Not that fancy Evian stuff you hate to waste. He didn’t need me to do nothing. He always took care of things. Or at least I thought he did.” She sobered for a moment, but snapped out of it a second later. “But I love massage. Always, Rocco. So I guess I’ve already gots my biggest dream, right? Since I got the job today.”
It was the most coherent thing she’d said all night. “So, that’s your dream? Your biggest dream? Rubbing down wrinkled old naked men for the rest of your life?”
“Why not? I like making people feel good. So what if it’s my dream?”
“I’d tell you to dream bigger.”
She nibbled the inside of her lip. “Well, I always thought, maybe… someday… I could go back to school? Finally finish my business degree? And maybe… open my own spa.”
He searched her eyes, voice softening. “Yeah?”
She blushed, eyes falling. “It’s stupid.”
“No.” He waited for her eyes to lift back to his. “It’s your dream.”
A long silenc
e fell but neither moved to fill it. Neither broke their eyes away.
“I’ll tell you what my real dream is,” she teased a moment later, appearing to sober up more and more the longer their conversation went on. “To never see you screwing some random naked woman in my pool house again.”
He tilted his head with a smirk. “You know for someone who hated seeing it so much you sure can’t stop bringing it up.”
“You traumatized me!”
“Traumatized? Please. You loved it. You’ve always been a filthy little voyeur.”
“Oh my god, you’re not bringing up freshman year.”
“I’m not bringing up anything. Just stating facts.”
She cried up at the ceiling as if imploring the gods. “Because every 14-year-old girl is just dying to walk into her boyfriend’s bedroom and catch his perverted best friend jacking off, right? Every innocent 14-year-old girl is a filthy, horny voyeur, just waiting in the shadows, praying for their moment to finally arrive where they can see Rocco’s dick in real life.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Don’t act like you weren’t totally embarrassed. The way you just calmly pulled your pants back up the moment I walked in, avoiding my eyes. I know you were dying inside. That you’re dying inside right now just thinking about it.”
“Not at all. Masturbation is completely natural.”
“So why did you never bring it up to me again? Why couldn’t you look me in the eye for an entire month after? Why did you never tell Troy about it, always stiff as a board when you were around the two of us because you thought I would tell him?”
He looked away, fighting a smile.
She pointed at his face. “You’re blushing!”
“I’m having second-hand embarrassment for you.”
“Oh please! You’re the one that should’ve been embarrassed. I should’ve gotten a heartfelt apology, a condolence card—something. But nope!” As Stella found herself being rocketing back to that day, she was much less willing to bite her tongue to spare Rocco—or even herself—the humiliation, pressing her fingers together with a squint. “You know what? I have questions. Why?” Her shoulders rose high, as well as her voice. “Why were you even jacking off in his room in the first place? Did you not have your own room to jack off in?”
Forbidden (War Book 1) Page 14
