He did, straining. Groaning. Pinning her to the wall, calling her name into her ear, catching her earlobe between his teeth.
Their labored breaths tangled into a lip-lock. She went lax, and he held her off the ground, letting her stay in his protective hold.
“You should know.” His face inched away. “I’ve fallen for you too.”
*
Trace pinched his eyes closed, loving the weight of her body in his arms. “But I’m a lost cause.”
Her face fell, and he wanted to kick himself. But it was the truth. Doing right by her meant not leading her on.
“I really am sorry, Mar. It’s just… I’m damaged goods.”
She laughed. The sarcastic bite echoed in the bathroom. “Unreal.”
“What?”
Pushing out of his arms, she wrapped herself in a purple robe that looked as soft as she did. “If it’s not one extreme, it’s the other. My dad always said no one would stoop to the level of being with me. That I’m not worthy. I’m really sick of people defining me, making my decisions for me.”
“I’m not making a decision for you.”
“No. You’re just telling me what’s not an option. Same difference.”
He dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling and feeling like a dick. “Look…”
“I’m looking.” She brushed her hair and stared at him in a misty mirror. The nonchalance killed him. “Let me tell you about me. I made up a fake name because I was working on a classified project, and I had no idea what else to do to keep myself safe.” She shrugged. “I mean, I could walk around with a gun.”
“You own a gun?”
“No.”
“I don’t get it.”
She slumped against the sink. “I wrote a paper on biological weapons that was picked up by a journal. Some super special government person saw it and sweet-talked me into working with them. Made me feel so… smart. They capitalized on it. On me. The whole thing scares me. Before I was taken, I could see how I was vulnerable. They didn’t care. No one cared. Except my stupid father, who laughed and said my intelligence would kill me. He said that I was weak.”
A boulder cropped up in his throat. “I’d never call you weak.”
“But you do call me fairy-tale names because I—”
He shook his head. “Because you leave me when I least want you to.”
She shrank in on herself. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your problem.”
She scowled at him in the mirror.
He continued, “I think you’re trying so hard to fix what your dad thought about you, to convince yourself that you’re strong, that you failed to realize you kick ass.”
Marlena scoffed. “Now who’s crazy?”
“Why did you go to my hotel room in Germany?”
Her brow furrowed. “Because you’re hot.”
That made him smile, but it wasn’t the truth. At least, not the whole truth. “Tell me.”
She fussed with her hair, tying it, smoothing it, and taking it out again.
“Marlena?”
“I just…” She rolled her eyes. “Wanted to feel desired. Wanted to know if I was so awful.”
“What did you figure out?”
She turned and looked up through her eyelashes. “Not so awful, I guess.”
“Woman, you came alive like nothing I’d ever seen before.” He shook his head, still buck-ass naked, and his cock twitched thinking about that night. “If anyone could make me want normal, it’d be you. I don’t think I’m ever been more of myself than I am when inside you.”
“Damn it, Trace.” She snagged a towel and tossed it on him. “Don’t say that. Stop saying the reasons why we work and then saying no. I already walked away. You’re the one who’s hurting me. You’re the one fucking with me. It’s selfish. Got it? Get your head out of your butt or get out.”
She stormed out, slamming the door. It bounced off the wall, leaving him standing in her bathroom holding her towel. He wrapped the towel around his waist and trailed after her, a man on a mission. “Mar.”
There was no answer, even though he could hear her slamming through her closet.
“Mar.”
“What?” She slammed both hands against his bare chest, and he caught them. “What do you have to say?”
Good question. What could he possibly offer that wasn’t a joke?
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Let go of me. You should go.”
“No.”
She pulled back, and he released her wrists. His heart fell, knowing he let go of more than just her hands. She spun, purple housecoat billowing out, giving him a glance at what he wanted all over again. “It’s just—damn, never mind.”
Storming back over, she slammed her balled fist into his chest. “You are driving me insane! I’m so done with this. Go the hell away.”
“Have dinner with me?”
Her eyes looked as though they were a breath away from popping out of her head. “Excuse me?”
Where the hell had that beauty come from? “Dinner. Food. Walking around or whatever people do on dates.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Damn, Mar. I can’t win with you.”
“I’m really not that hard to figure out.” She pushed her shoulders back, retied her robe, and stormed the three feet it took to get back to her closet. “Go away.”
“I’ll be back here at seven.”
“Not interested.”
“See you then, Cinderella.” He walked over and kissed her cheek, completely mind-fucked and unsure why the hell he was feeling like a rock star.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Trace cracked his neck as he closed his car door. He hadn’t been on a date since high school, and those weren’t so much dates, but more like ways to get a girl alone. A date. What to do? He could hit up a restaurant, but that wasn’t necessarily his style, and dinner seemed predictable. Paintball? Maybe not her style, though he remembered her training that assault rifle at him in the jungle, and she had a pretty solid aim. If they went to a movie, he couldn’t talk to her. Or… Man, he was overthinking this date thing.
His phone rang, and he sighed, answering it. “Hey, man.”
“What are you up to?” Javier had to be at a bar and more than a couple deep.
“Heading toward you.” Trace turned the engine over and pulled out of Marlena’s driveway. “Pour House?”
“Yup—hey!” Whoever Javier was talking to, it wasn’t Trace. The call ended.
The Pour House was becoming their temporary stomping grounds while they were stuck stateside. The place worked for him. The crowd was right. They brewed their own ale, and the kitchen could do more than deep-fry a basket of chicken.
When he pulled in, there were the other Titan-loaned vehicles lined up there. They were blacked-out chargers and SUVs. Javier, Ryder, and Brock were somewhere in the dark barroom, playing pool probably. So that was how they kicked it when they were between jobs. How’d Titan’s main team do? Brock had told him something about cookouts and time spent at Jared’s wife’s gun range, aptly named GUNS. They were older. Delta was a much younger crew. Almost all of the men were his age and holding on to their own issues. Delta jived together. The more time they spent together, the more they operated like a well-oiled team. And no one had a girl.
Except Brock.
Rumor had it that he had a wife and family and had no problem going home between assignments. But even with that, he didn’t seem overly burdened. Trace’s chest felt tight thinking about it. But a different feeling curled around his stomach. When Delta was given the go-ahead to roam, he’d be on the next flight to hell’s backyard to find his brother’s tags in between jobs… and Mar would be in the United States.
The Pour House’s sign loomed overhead, beckoning him into a smoky oasis. Trace pushed the glass door open and wa
lked into the dimly lit, rowdy crowd. He nodded to a couple of guys who he’d seen before, and he found his way to the back. Just as he’d guessed, Brock and Javier were shooting pool. Ryder wasn’t too far away, with what had to be a waitress sitting on his knee. Crazy fucking Aussie.
The waitress popped off Ryder’s lap and headed over. “Thirsty, honey?”
“Something dark in a long neck.”
“Sure thing.” She flitted off with a wave to Ryder.
“Jesus, dude.”
He laughed. “I like America. America likes me. What can I say?”
Javier shook his head. “Like the country ever mattered.”
“True enough.”
“I need some help.” Trace walked over and leaned against the wall. “I’ve got a date.”
Javier missed his shot, and the cue ball jumped off the table. “What?”
Brock crossed his arms over his chest, remaining silent but looking amused with a down-turned grin.
“So how’d you get suckered into something like that?” Javier drained his beer while Brock took his turn clearing the table. “Son of a bitch, Gamble.”
“I’ve got next.” Trace wanted to play Brock. It’d be a good to get a read on the guy. Even if he liked him, there was still a lot to learn. “I did the asking, so no sucker here.”
Ryder laughed. “Well, that’s cute.”
Brock nodded to him after he finished up with Javier. “What do you have planned?”
“That’s my problem.”
“You’re talking about that girl, aren’t you? The college kid?”
“Yeah, her.”
“Kinda young, isn’t she?” Ryder asked.
“A couple years younger than me.”
His buddy shook his head. “Man, war will age you.”
A couple of them nodded. Trace felt double his age sometimes, mostly when thinking about Michael and all the fun they’d had before they joined up and ended up on two separate SEAL teams. Life had been a party until then. They’d killed it in high school. Shit, that was just a few years ago… but it felt like decades.
Javier whistled. “Girl’s smokin’ hot, bro.”
“Don’t I know it.” Trace cleared his head from the walk down memory lane. He wasn’t sure he liked Mar’s hotness quotient to be up for discussion. “Dates aren’t really my thing.”
“Stability isn’t really your thing.” Ryder walked over to the table. “Dates are for stable, sane people.”
“You should talk.”
Ryder shrugged. “I’m not taking a pretty sorority girl on a date.”
“She’s not in a sorority.”
“And that’s not the point, my friend.”
No shit. He scrubbed his face. “God, I’m getting caught up in this girl.”
The waitress arrived with his beer, and Trace stepped up to the pool table. Brock broke, ran the table, and left him with a couple of crap angles when it was his turn. Brock had a knack for staying in tune with their conversation and keeping his focus on the game. Trace sank his shot, missed the eight ball, and finished off his beer. Funny how something so boring could relax him. So, burying himself in Marlena wasn’t the only option, after all.
He nodded to the guys as the waitress cleared off the tables. “Alright, I’m out.”
“What’s the final verdict?” Ryder asked. “Where are you taking her?”
“Shit if I know.”
With a tray full of bottles, the waitress walked by, smiling. “Screen on the Green opened on campus this weekend.”
He turned to her. “Screen on the what?”
“Didn’t think you boys were from around here. Screen on the Green. They set up a big silver screen, and you watch a movie while sitting on the grass.”
All of them stood there, stupid.
The waitress smiled. “It’s great, I swear.”
“Like a picnic, sweetheart?” Ryder didn’t look convinced, but at least he’d come up with something to say.
“Something like that.” She shifted the tray. “Crazy fun, I promise.”
“Right. Thanks.” Okay, Screen on the Green. He might never live down the ribbing after doing something like that. But maybe it was worth thinking about.
Javier sidled up to Trace, calling over his shoulder, “Back in a minute, guys. Need to talk to my boy.”
“What?”
Javier paused then let out a slow breath. “Is this about your brother?”
The question hit like a throat punch. “No.”
“Look, we all know your birthday’s coming up.” Javier followed Trace to the front of the bar. “You’ve been a little all over the place since you joined Delta. Being that we’re stuck stateside, I think we’re all just worried about you.”
He knocked the door open, and sunlight burned his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Spending time with the chick—”
“Marlena.”
Javier nodded. “With Marlena. That’s nice and all, but—”
“But what?” he growled.
“It’s not you.”
Trace stopped. “Don’t you think I know that?”
“And a date? I mean, if you’re going to crack up, give a dude a little warning. Okay?”
His temples pounded; his throat squeezed tight. “What if…”
What the fuck was he even saying?
Javier’s face pinched. “What if what?”
He shrugged, temples still pounding. “I like her.”
“I get it. She seems like a cool girl. You two obviously have some history together, small world and all that.”
“I have a good vibe with her.” His heart started to race, his thoughts jumping in for good measure. “She’s funny, a little broken. So am I. Completely fucked in the head and…”
“And?” Javier crossed his arms.
Trace sucked in a long breath, dropping his head back to stare into the sun. “I’m never going to find those dog tags.”
Javier’s eyes hardened. Seconds ticked by. “We know.”
Deep in his chest, anger turned into a growl. Trace ran his hands through his hair. He’d seen the pictures from the improvised explosion that took out Michael’s armored vehicle. He’d seen how the wreckage had been torn apart by fucking nomads. The tags were gone, along with everything else. Fuck. He wanted them back. It was his only goal in life. His sole focus, getting him thrown off SEALs, getting him… “Fuck!”
“Trace, buddy, take a breath.”
He bent over, ducking his head between his knees. “I like the girl.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not. I’m worried you might hop from one obsession to the next. I’m worried that, until you deal with Michael’s death, like really handle your shit, you’ll always chase what you can’t really have.”
“The tags.”
“And the girl.” Javier gave him a sad smile. “We get the green light, and we’re gone. No more happy college-girl fuck buddies.”
Trace paced the sidewalk, his stomach knotted, his mind dry heaving incoherent thoughts.
“Hit up your Screen on the Green. Hang with her. Have a good time.” Javier sighed. “And give yourself a break, Trace. Your brother’s with the good guys—tags or not.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Trace had no idea why one beer and losing a game of pool would make him reevaluate the direction of his life or give him an insight that everyone else, apparently, already had. He nodded a good-bye to Javier and headed toward his car. Michael. Dog tags. Marlena. Fucking Screen on the Green. So much shit rambled through his brain.
He clicked the Charger unlocked and closed himself off from the world in the front seat. With a turn of the key, Trace revved the engine and hung on to the steering wheel, trying to take his mind off it all. He couldn’t. His mind wandered, leading him to pick up his phone and search “Screen on the Green,” confused about why he had focused on a stupid gathering. Maybe Marlena had something to do with all of it.
Chapter Fourteen
; ‡
There were picnic blankets everywhere on the rolling hill. Marlena hadn’t done that event since she was a freshman. Not that she hadn’t wanted to go to the movies over the last two years, but she didn’t have time because the biological engineering program was an ass-kicker, and she didn’t have someone to snuggle up with on a blanket. Not many guys stood in line to play boyfriend to a girl who took harder classes than they did, which was funny, because she had such a self-esteem issue.
But there she was, on Trace’s arm, carrying a giant blanket from her closet. He’d shown up with a bag of food and drinks, looking slightly unsteady about what he was offering. The man was a tatted-up warrior. He’d seen death and destruction, he was avenging the death of his brother, but walking onto school grounds with a picnic looked like it might kill him.
It was also Marlena’s first major public outing since Delta had rescued her. She hadn’t returned any phone calls, and while she walked through the crowd with Trace, more than a couple of people said, “Hey”—both people she’d avoided calling, and others who were interested in the guy who held her close.
God, did he have to do that? And did she have to go with him?
Because with every footstep, she was falling harder.
He towered over her. Even when he wasn’t dressed as though he should be in an action movie, he still carried that air about him. No guns strapped to him—that she could see—but his attitude begged someone to screw with him. Marlena’s gaze skipped over the crowd, and—deep breath in—she’d never felt safer.
“Why ya grinning, Cinderella?”
“This is really fun.”
With a sideways glance, he snagged her around the waist and kept them moving. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
“But still having fun.”
His smile didn’t show up often, but when it did, it stole her breath. He gave a quick nod and maneuvered her to the corner of the farthest section.
“We won’t be able to see the movie very well.” Maybe that was the point, if he wanted to get a little wild where no one could see them.
He paused and scanned the crowded hills. “It’s the best strategic, defensive position.”
“Just lost a couple of romance points.”
Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset Page 39
