“And the bastards who were stupid enough to fuck them,” Greg added.
Halfhearted chuckles went around the table.
“Hits a little close to home for you, doesn’t it, master guns?” Turner’s bottle thunked to the table. He folded his arms around it and leaned in close.
Caught in midswallow, Greg nearly choked. Yes, Seaberg and Turner knew about his past—they’d been there—but he didn’t want his dirty laundry aired in front of Cornwall or Jordan. Or, God forbid, Lani. She held him to a high code of conduct, and the last thing he wanted was for her to find out he wasn’t so stellar; although if she looked deep enough, she could find out the information.
Denying it now wasn’t going to do any good, either.
“It does, sir,” he freely admitted. “You know I have no sympathy or patience for people who fuck around on their spouses.”
“Just make sure you don’t turn this into a vendetta.”
“Not a problem, sir.” Greg could feel Cornwall and Jordan looking at him. Cornwall wouldn’t ask what was going on, and Greg was counting on Jordan’s exhaustion to keep him off his mark. Moisture on Seaberg’s bottle captured the dim light in tiny sun orbs. Greg focused on those and not his mounting unease.
“Good.” Turner leaned away, grabbing his bottle. “You took up the baton rather quickly on this. I was concerned.”
“Not to worry, sir. I’m a marine. I’m a professional. I’m…” He ran out of words and assurances. Covering the lapse, he glanced at his watch again, seizing on his original excuse to leave. “I’m in big trouble if I don’t get home.” He feigned a sip of beer and pushed to his feet. “If I dazzle her tonight, maybe she’ll be happy to ignore the screwed-up weekend.”
“If you get in a bind, you can always call Captain Hollister for advice.” Turner’s laughter carried too far for Greg’s liking.
“I doubt she’d appreciate that. She’s got plans of her own for the weekend.” Jordan’s Adam’s apple plunged with the gulp of beer down his gullet.
Turner rested his forearms on the table once more. “Lucky man.”
Yes…I am.
“Luckier than me.” Jordan scrubbed his hand over his face. “I swear, I don’t know how that got under my radar. I’ve been trying to catch her attention for months. No wonder I got nowhere.”
Greg’s control slipped a few notches. Jordan was making a move on Lani. He’d seen it last night. Knowing another man wanted his woman might be a turn-on. Knowing another man was after his woman, war. Jordan had a shot too. He was friendly, handsome, intelligent, hardworking—qualities Lani liked. A relationship she wouldn’t have to hide. Once she realized Jordan’s interest… Well, she sure as hell wasn’t going to find out from Greg.
Greg’s fingers curled into a fist he wanted to beat on the table while he screamed, Stay away from my woman! Rage that had, once before, nearly ended his career before it got started. Rage not unlike the kind that killed Regina Whittaker.
Jordan frowned up at Greg. “Why didn’t you say something last night?”
“I didn’t know. What she does in her personal life isn’t any of my business.”
Oh, but it was. It was very much his business. Every single, delicious second.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go.”
He had to get out of there before he did something stupid, like yank Jordan to his feet and shake him until his perfect teeth fell out. Needed to get home and assure himself that Lani was there and waiting, or on her way. To feel her, touch her; give her everything she needed, so she’d never want for another man… Except maybe one she could openly be with. The one thing Greg couldn’t give her, though at that moment, he was ready to give it all up for her… If only he knew he’d be able to keep her forever, that she felt the same way.
Greg eased through the base at the speed limit. Once clear of the back gate, he tore down the dirt roads that threaded through the boonies to his five-acre parcel. His four-bedroom house sat on a small rise that had a great view of the area and all the privacy he’d ever wanted. Right now, it had the one thing he needed more than anything else—Lani. He saw she’d pulled into the drive a few minutes before him, angling around to the garage in back. She smiled when she saw him, and the sight nearly crippled him. Dressed in black leggings and a white sweater, her long hair down, she was one powerful woman. Her smile faded when he stumbled from his car. He ached everywhere, inside and out.
They reached for each other at the same time, and he grabbed her to him like the lifeline she was.
“What’s wrong?” She cupped his head, rubbed his back. “My God, Greg, what’s wrong?”
“I just… I feel…” I love you, Lani. I love you. “I feel like I’m losing my control.”
She tightened her hold. “Then you can have mine.”
Words to soothe a Dom’s heart. The man in him who was in love wanted more and could never have it. He’d give up everything for her, even face court-martial. But Greg loved her too much to ask the same of her.
Chapter Nine
Lani ordered her heart to slow down. The look on Greg’s face had scared her half to death. A hundred thoughts had sped through her head, all bad. But this—his need to pull in control—they could handle. It was, after all, their purpose in coming together in the first place. Like others in the lifestyle, they’d brokered an agreement from the outset—a list of rules, likes, and dislikes. It’d morphed into this sweet give-and-take that was natural and symbiotic, the tendrils of which twined around and around her heart a million times over. Lani knew she’d gotten the better end of the deal. Greg was self-assured and confident. To hear he needed her as much as she needed him…
Doubt crept in. He was a master at giving Lani what she needed when she needed it. Wasn’t this the same? She’d needed to know she mattered to him. He’d given her this.
No. He was too shook up. She felt the tension in his body and the slow release of it as he held her. The day had taken its toll and chipped away, piece by piece. He needed her, truly needed her. It wasn’t always all about her. It was about him too. It was about them.
God, how she wished that were true.
Well, it was for this point in time, and that was all that mattered.
Greg pulled in a solid breath, then raised his head. A hint of humor chased away the ghosts. “You smell so good. I reek.”
“There’s plenty of time if you’d like to wash the day away and prepare the room for later.” She ruffled her fingers through his short hair, loving how the fading sunset caught those flecks of silver here and there. “You’ll feel better after a shower, and the ritual of preparation will help calm and center you. Dinner’s about an hour away.”
“Sounds perfect.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
He helped her carry in the groceries she’d purchased, put both their vehicles in the garage, and then they each went to their separate tasks.
Lani loved the luxury of making a meal an event. Greg’s state-of-the-art kitchen gave her the means to prepare it; a dining room made for family gave her the perfect place to present it. He’d built it all, having started with nothing more than a two-room cabin eighteen years before. This was his dream. Being stationed in the area three times and getting his contractor’s license helped him realize it. The man could build anything.
Here, caught up in the domestic bliss of making dinner with the sound of the bathroom shower a soft hum in the pipes, she could pretend this was their house. That the kids were off to the grandparents for the weekend, and she and Greg were taking treasured time for themselves. That this was real, not something they had to hide. That they didn’t live in fear of discovery and the inevitable orders sending one of them elsewhere.
Tears rushed her. Lani blinked them away and forced her attention to her meal. They were insistent suckers, though, drowning her eyes every time she thought she had them under control and blinding her efforts to dice vegetables for her pasta primavera. Too late she realized t
he shower had stopped and Greg was headed her way. She grabbed an onion, stripped the peel away, and sliced it in two.
“Feel better?” she asked without turning.
“Almost.”
The refrigerator opened and closed. A cork popped. Glasses clinked. The velvet sound of good wine slipped into fine crystal. Greg bracketed her body with his as he set a glass of shimmering pale gold beside her. She sighed and leaned into his warmth. He wore jeans and a long-sleeve black T-shirt and smelled like man-heaven.
“Onion got your eyes?” he asked, cupping her hip.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
Lani laughed. “Yeah.” How could she think she could fool him?
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” God, no.
He parked his hands on the counter and blocked her in with his arms. Possessive without the undertone of sex. She loved it.
“What’s for dinner?” He rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Spinach salad with dried cranberries, almond slivers, and tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette. Pasta primavera. Garlic bread.”
“Dessert?”
“Godiva dark chocolate for a bedtime snack.”
“I have the perfect cabernet to go with that.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“Hmm… I sense sarcasm.”
Lani laughed. “Intuitive too.”
“Smart-ass.” He kissed her neck and patted her bottom. “I’ll be outside.”
Lani tilted her head back and blinked her vision clear when she heard the back door close. Heartache was coming; she wasn’t going to sit in a puddle of tears waiting for it. It’d only ruin the evening and put walls between them, robbing them of what precious time they did have. Maybe this wasn’t real, but she could pretend all she wanted. She’d face the end when it came and not before.
She spun her fantasy back to life. The kids—two boys, because Greg wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of a girl, knowing some guy would eventually get his grubby hands on his daughter. The boys were with the grandparents for the weekend. This was a night for romance, love, and the sex play they loved so well. She couldn’t wait to surprise him and wondered what surprises Greg planned in their playroom in the building outside.
Lani was right. The ritual of setting up their playroom had calmed Greg. He focused on their pleasure and seduction, of being in control and bringing them to a bliss-rush no drug could reproduce. They had all the time in the world tonight. Slow, measured pacing.
To the outside world, this was the fun room. It housed a regulation pool table, dartboard, stereo system, full-size refrigerator and microwave, and a big-screen TV that stood before a semicircle of deep chairs…a man cave. The rear door led to a covered patio with a barbecue grill and a Jacuzzi. Off to the side, Greg had set up a volleyball net and horseshoes. This was his party room, and it’d seen a lot of use with family, friends, and coworkers.
Greg had made some modifications shortly after he’d started seeing Lani. Guests might think the open-beamed ceiling made for great acoustics. No one but he and Lani knew that struts came down and locked into a frame made to fit her. Padding that people thought he rolled out to practice martial arts instead cushioned his and Lani’s footsteps—or their bodies, when the tension got to be too much and they had to fuck or die.
A foam bed topper large enough to cover a king-size bed fit well over the pool table. The silk tassels dangling at the corners and sides that others thought were decorative trimming bound her spread-eagle. They’d fallen asleep a time or two on that table, too spent to move. A locked, hinged drawer hidden beneath housed their toys and equipment, things he’d never used on another woman…and never would.
Lani didn’t know he’d done all of this for her. Tonight, she would. He might not be able to tell her that he loved her and ask her to marry him, but he could at least give them this joy. I did this for you.
Imagining the joy on her face made him smile.
Greg selected the music and loaded the CDs into the stereo. He set out the toys and tools and then ran his fingers along the leather cuffs and floggers to double-check that they were still as soft and supple as when they’d last used them. He uncorked the bottle of cabernet to let it air, polished two wineglasses to a sparkling sheen, then arranged the electronic candles all around the room, nulling the need for other lighting. His final act was to set the thermostat to seventy-two. Not too cool, not too warm. Perfect, just like Lani.
Greg was hard as steel, his erection swelling one leg of his jeans. He left it on display, knowing Lani would appreciate the view. The game was on. Control—his and hers—fully in his hands. It energized him, creating its own bliss. Then he walked back into the house—a house filled with the scents of garlic, spices, and woman. Home and Lani. All kinds of hunger rolled through him.
She’d dimmed the lights too. A glow from the dining room beckoned him forward. The kitchen was spotless, with no sign of the dishes she’d used to prepare their meal. Then he glanced into the dining room. God help him. Greg wanted to say he noticed the table. But Lani stood there in his pale yellow dress shirt, her nipples upthrust and ripe for the taking. Every other thought went right out of his head and straight to his groin.
Control? What the hell was that?
“Wow!”
Lani smiled. “Thank you. Ready to eat?”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea how ready.” He pulled out her chair, inhaling her scent when she slipped into it. “You test a starving man…in more ways than one.”
She slowly draped her hair over her shoulder. “Then my work here is done.”
“Far from it.” One by one, Greg opened the top three buttons of the shirt and folded the edges away until nothing blocked her creamy cleavage. “A lovely view while we eat.”
She glanced up from the corner of her eye. “We could always eat naked.”
He danced his fingers along the edge of the shirt. “But then, the only thing being eaten will be you.”
He palmed her breasts and mustered the control to sit across the table.
The look on Greg’s face said it all. This time, it wasn’t passion that stirred Lani’s soul. It was the utter appreciation reflected in his eyes and gestures as he surveyed the table setting and the food. All the sex in the world couldn’t have compared.
His broad hand brushed over the Irish linen tablecloth and napkins her maternal grandmother had insisted every lady should own. The blue rose china was a gift from her paternal grandmother when she’d graduated from college and had been gathering dust since then. Ditto with the Oneida silver and the matching candlesticks bequeathed to her from her Great-aunt Iris. She’d packed it all in for tonight, for Greg.
“It’s beautiful. It makes me feel cultured and classy.” He plucked the edge of the napkin on the breadbasket and breathed in. “Smells wonderful! I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.” He lifted the wine bottle she’d placed in a bucket of ice beside them and filled their glasses. The pinot grigio was the perfect complement to her meal.
“Your house is probably saying, ‘What’s with all this girly stuff?’”
Greg grinned. “My house is probably saying, ‘Wow…a woman’s touch. Just what I needed.’”
That stopped her heart. She tried not to analyze it. He was being sweet, that’s all.
“This is nice,” he went on as they fixed their plates. “Very romantic. Quiet. Like it’s just the two of us in the world.”
“It’s your house, this location. I always feel centered and at peace here. I love when we go up to the sunroof or sit in the hot tub and watch the stars at night.” She’d never seen the Milky Way until she came to the desert. God, what people were missing. “It’s the perfect getaway.”
“You know you don’t need an invitation.” He bit into the garlic bread. Mmmm followed. “It’s why I gave you a key. You could be here every night, every weekend. I wouldn’t mind.”
Lani grinned. “I figured that out when yo
u cleared out space in your dresser and bathroom for me.”
“There’s space in the kitchen and dining room too if you want to leave any of this here.”
She twirled angel-hair pasta onto her fork. “It would make evenings like this more common.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me.” He speared a chunk of zucchini. “I’ve been thinking…”
She glanced up. Greg’s gaze was on his plate.
“About?”
“Let’s go on vacation.”
Her fork clattered to the china. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Hear me out.” Now he looked at her—dead-on and no-nonsense. “We pick a distant location. Maui…Europe…Australia. We’ve got the time on the books. No one needs to know. My brother and sister will be my points of contact on the leave papers. They’ll cover my ass. You know your sister and brother will cover yours. No sense getting our parents involved. They’ll give us the third degree.”
Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped. “I-I don’t have a passport.” That was the best excuse she could come up with?
“Then Maui it is. May or June?”
Lani struggled for a response and wondered where her common sense had gone. “Both of us gone from work at the same time?”
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Think about it, sweetheart. No looking over our shoulders, no having to worry that a touch or a glance will give us away. We can make the time off work.”
She held on tight, joy taking over. He was feeding her fantasy, making her think they could go for all that was missing, all they couldn’t have in the real world. Reality finally stepped forward. She slipped her hand free and clutched both on her lap.
“Dancing on some dangerous territory there, Master Gunnery Sergeant.” Yes, she’d gone there—said the safe word for slow down. Someone had to be the voice of reason. His grimace cut her to the quick. She would have missed it had she blinked.
“Yeah, what was I thinking.” He cut off eye contact and stabbed his fork into his salad. Lani went for her bread.
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