by Megan Green
I exhale in annoyance. “You know what I mean.”
He grins. “On the contrary, Emma. I have no clue what you mean.”
He’s full of shit, and he knows it. He’s enjoying this. Watching me dance around the issue. But for all my sharp words and foul language, sex is the one thing that has always made me feel…uncomfortable. Not the act itself. That, I freaking love. But talking about it. For some reason, I’ve never been able to do it.
I blush, giving the bulge in his jeans a pointed look. “Well, shouldn’t we do something about that?”
He lays back against the pillow, propping his head on his arm so he can still look me in the eye. “And what do you propose we do?”
I groan, exasperated at this game he’s decided to play when I’m clearly still ready and raring to go. “You know. Do it.”
He grins. “It? What is this it you speak of?”
I shove him so he’s lying flat on his back, climbing on top of him. If he’s going to insist on this before he gives me what I want, then fine. I can talk dirty.
I bend over, running my tongue up his neck until I reach his ear. “I want you to fuck me, Isaiah.”
His hands close tightly around my arms as he flips us both over, coming to rest on top of me. His eyes are dark, the lust I’m feeling reflected back at me in those dark pools. His jaw clenches as he works it back and forth.
What is he waiting for?
Right as I’m about to rip his pants off and guide him to me myself, he lowers his face to mine, kissing me gently.
“I will not fuck you, Emma.”
My face falls, disappointment washing over me.
His fingers work at the button on his jeans. He kisses the tip of my nose. Then each of my eyelids. He kisses each corner of my mouth before finally planting his lips firmly on mine.
“I will not fuck you, Emma,” he says as he works his way out of the denim. Once his legs are free, he settles himself back on top of me, the tip of his cock brushing against my entrance. “But I will make love to you.”
He pushes inside me, slowly gliding in and back out as I get used to the sensation. When he feels me relax, he moves deeper. He never stops kissing me. My mouth, my face, my neck, my breasts. His lips never leave my body as he moves inside me.
He feels incredible, his entire length filling me as my walls stretch and expand around him. The sensation building inside me this time is different. What he was doing before felt amazing. But this, this is transcendent. The pressure building in my abdomen is exquisite. I almost don’t want it to end. I want to stay here, on the brink of absolute bliss, forever.
Isaiah whispers he loves me with each thrust of his hips. And when I topple over the edge again, he follows along with me. We cling to each other as we climax, lost in the other’s cries of pleasure and love.
This time when he pulls me against him, I let him. He smooths my hair back from my neck, planting a kiss there.
“Thank you for loving me,” he whispers as I drift off to sleep.
The soft rustle of clothing wakes me early the next morning. I roll over, Isaiah’s body a dark silhouette in the dim light of the rising sun. His back is to me as he pulls his jeans back up his legs. My eyes adjust to the dim light in the room, and I make out the faint outline of something dark across the copper skin of his back.
“What’s that?” I ask, my voice still thick with sleep.
He turns to me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I push myself up, resting my back against the headboard as I rub my eyes. I switch my bedside light on, brightening the room so I can get a better look.
A large tattoo takes up the vast majority of his back. Running down the length of his spine is a military-grade rifle, its muzzle resting against a pair of boots. A helmet rests on the stock, two pairs of dog tags wound around the barrel. The whole thing is set against a backdrop of a tattered American flag. It’s stunning, the detail in each piece incredible, even from several feet away. And yet, something about it makes me sad. The overall tone is one of loss. It’s a memorial piece.
Isaiah sees me studying the tattoo and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands.
“It’s called a soldier’s cross. It represents those who gave all for the freedom of their country.”
I run my fingers down the barrel of the gun, tracing the names on the dog tags. Jonah Locke and Rob Wilson. He tenses under my touch.
“And James Stone,” he says softly. “I’ll be adding a third one this week.”
The men who died in Iraq. The deaths he feels responsible for. And now Jim. I lean across, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. His body heaves with a heavy sigh.
“I’ve got to get going, Emma. You should go back to sleep. I really didn’t mean to wake you.”
He stands again, reaching for his shirt before pulling it over his head. I watch him, disappointment filling me.
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”
He grimaces. “I need some time to think. I’m sorry.”
I throw the covers off me, climbing out of bed, and covering myself with a robe. I follow him out of my room and down the stairs, neither of us speaking a word.
Isaiah moves toward the front door when we reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Can I at least make you some breakfast before you go?” I ask, desperate for him to stay.
He lowers his head. “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” I can’t help the hurt rushing through me.
“Well, at least let me go get Jasper before you leave.” I walk toward the kitchen before he can protest, heading for the enclosed porch just off of it. We let the puppies sleep in here now the weather is turning cooler. Maggie usually sleeps with me, but considering I had a different bedmate last night, I find her curled up with her babies. Her head lifts as I enter, looking at me briefly before settling back in between Max and Lucy.
I scratch Jasper’s head lightly, rousing him from sleep. He follows me back into the kitchen, padding along slowly behind me. When we step into the warm house, he extends his front paws, yawning hugely as he stretches. He sees Isaiah leaning against the doorway to the kitchen and immediately perks up. Walking across the tiled floor, he rests his head below Isaiah’s fingers, practically begging for a scratch. Isaiah promptly complies.
We stare at each other for a long moment, the tense silence stretching out between us. I don’t understand what changed. Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life. And he’d seemed right there with me. And now this morning, it’s as if nothing even happened. As if I hadn’t spent the night loving him.
I pull out a chair at the table, falling into it, and putting my head in my hands. Something white catches my eye. I lower my hands, looking across the table to find a white envelope. It’s blank. I reach for it, seeing Isaiah tense out of the corner of my eye.
“What’s that?” he asks.
I shrug, not responding as I pull a thin slip of paper from the envelope.
I expect to see Joey’s messy script scribbled across the page. Instead, I find a single thin line of carefully printed block letters.
I drop the note, letting it flutter to the floor. Isaiah crosses the kitchen in two long strides, his hand closing around the letter as he brings it to his face. He scans the words briefly before crumpling it in his fist.
“This was on your kitchen table? You didn’t find it outside, taped to the door or something when you went to get Jasper?”
I shake my head. “No. It was sitting in the center of the table when I sat down.”
He looks back toward the stairs. “Could Joey have brought it inside when he got home last night?”
Another shake of my head. “He’s not here. He didn’t come home last night.”
Isaiah curses. He pulls out his cell phone, pressing a few buttons before bringing it to his ear.
He sags in relief when whoever he’s called answers. “Where are you? Uh huh. Okay. Look, I need you to get home. ASAP.
”
He grunts and mumbles a few more times before sliding his phone back in his pocket.
“Joey is on his way,” he says tersely, pulling out a chair for himself. He sits down hard, the chair scraping across the floor against his weight.
“Isaiah—”
His head snaps to me. “No. Don’t say anything. I’ve put you in danger by being here. I knew this guy was following me, but I’d convinced myself it was nothing. But he’s been in your house, Emma. This has gone beyond someone fucking with me, wanting to make sure I never forgot what I did. You could’ve been here. Fuck, you might’ve been here. Who knows when he fucking left that letter?”
I wonder briefly how he would’ve gotten past the dogs without them alerting us to his presence. But I think back to last night. Isaiah carrying me inside the house. Neither of us had stopped to lock the door behind us. He could’ve waltzed right through the front door. And the door to the porch was closed. The dogs probably didn’t even hear him.
My skin crawls at the thought of someone being in my house last night. Someone who was here while Isaiah and I were upstairs. Had he heard anything? Had he taken some sort of sick pleasure in knowing he was downstairs, listening to us while we were intimate? I slide the chair back, terror filling me as I dash to the porch.
I fling the door open, causing the rickety hinges to creak in protest. I flip on the overhead light, calling for all the dogs to wake up. For a terrifying instant, Maggie opens her eyes, but the other dogs don’t move. I scurry over to where they’re all piled together, furiously checking over each dog. Each of them groggily blinks at me, protesting against the intrusion of their sleep. But each of them is okay. I slump, burying my face and hands into the pile of fur, so relieved. If that son of a bitch had hurt one of them, I don’t even know what I would do. Go fucking ballistic, that’s for sure.
Isaiah and Jasper appear in the doorway, relief flooding his face as well when he sees all the dogs are okay. I usher them all inside, not wanting to let them out of my sight for an instant now I know there might be a real threat to their safety.
Isaiah waits by the door, watching the driveway for Joey to return. “I’m going to go file a report as soon as Joey gets here. I’ll have them send someone out to look around and take your statement.”
I look at Maggie. “Well, once Joey is here to stay with the dogs, I can go with you. It’ll be faster that way. Let me go throw some clothes on really quick.” I turn to go upstairs, but Isaiah’s hand closes on my arm, halting my movement.
“No. I want you to stay here. You’ll be safer away from me. This is about me, Emma. Not you. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
I want to protest, but at that moment, Joey’s tires crunch on the gravel driveway, and Isaiah is out the door before I can say another word. I watch as they talk briefly, Joey’s face turning from confusion at the situation to genuine concern. Isaiah claps him on the back before opening the door to his truck. Jasper jumps in, followed closely by Isaiah. And within seconds, the two of them vanish from sight.
“Holy shit, Emma. Are you serious?”
I nod against the phone, my voice caught in my throat. Realizing Haylee can’t see me, I swallow the tears that have been threatening all day. “Yep. You should’ve seen his face. He was scared, Hay.”
She exhales. “Well, I would think so. Aren’t you? That’s some scary shit. Someone was in your house!”
I shrug, again aware she can’t see me, but I don’t care. “Of course I’m scared. I don’t want some creepy asshole in my house. But more than that, I’m scared of what this will do to us. He told me I was safer without him, and he was dead fucking serious. He thinks he brought all this on me himself.”
Haylee is quiet for a moment. “Well, he kind of has a point there, honey. This guy wouldn’t even know who you were without Isaiah being part of your life.”
Anger floods through me. “Don’t you dare. It is not Isaiah’s fault some guy blames him for that day in Iraq. Again, something else that was out of his hands and beyond his control. He fucking blames himself enough. He doesn’t need anyone else adding on to that. Especially not someone who’s supposed to be his friend.”
The phone shakes in my hand, my fingers trembling through my fury. I love Haylee, but she’s not going to fucking pin this on Isaiah.
“God, Em. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I’m worried about you, that’s all. Please don’t be mad.”
Her words sound sincere, and I know she means them. Haylee is not the type to hold something against someone. She’s insanely forgiving, which is surprising after learning what happened to her all those years ago. But it’s one of the qualities I love most about her. Her ability to see people for what they truly are, regardless of the preconceived notions others may have of them.
I sigh. “I’m sorry too. I’m stressing out. And I’m worried too. Sorry for taking it out on you.”
“Oh please. I deserved that for my stupid, insensitive comment. Don’t even worry about it.” I picture her waving her hand, dismissing my apology. I’m sure that’s exactly what she’s doing on the other end of the phone.
“I don’t know what to do, Hay. I can’t lose Isaiah. Not over something like this. He may think I might be better off without him, but he’s wrong. Now that I have him, I can’t envision living without him. I can’t take losing another man I love.”
Tears well in my eyes because it’s true. While I might not be losing Isaiah to death like I did Chris, it would still hurt just as much. Possibly even more because Chris didn’t choose to leave me.
“So go to him. Tell him that. Tell him you’re not letting him walk away because some asshole decided to screw with you guys. Tell him you’ll get through this. Together. And don’t give him the option to say no.”
I smile. Haylee has become so much more confident over the past few years. I think back to the girl I’d first met. And while she hadn’t exactly been a doormat then, she’d lacked the self-esteem she possesses today. I have a hard time envisioning the Haylee of five years ago saying the words she just did to me, but this Haylee is much more “act now, question later” than she used to be, and I love it.
“What if he refuses to open the door? What do I do then?” I ask, wanting to cover all my bases.
“Did you hear what I said? Do not give him the option to say no, to not listen. To be a dumbass. Whatever. Don’t go to his house. Do it at the restaurant. He can’t close the door on you there.”
I wish Haylee were here so I could hug her. “You’re a genius.”
“I know, I know. Now go get ready. Ryan’s over at Wright Taste now. Isaiah’s bartending there tonight for his brother. I’ll text him and tell him to get his ass out of there. Don’t let Isaiah stew and think on this any longer. Go tell him you’re not letting him go that easily.”
I tell her I love her and hang up, dashing up the stairs to shower and dress. Joey catches me on the way out, and I tell him where I’m going. He grins at me.
“Go get him, girl.”
Last night was the best night of my entire life.
So of course, when I’d woken up this morning, I’d felt like complete shit. My oldest friend had died, and I’d spent the night wrapped in the arms of the most amazing woman in the world. I’d spent hours worshiping her body with my own instead of mourning the loss of my friend. I’d tasted true bliss on a night where I should’ve felt nothing but remorse.
And to top it all off, someone had broken into Emma’s house and left that letter. The guilt and disgrace I’d felt at the memory of Jim only increased tenfold when I saw the piece of paper in her hand. I’d put Emma in danger. I can never forgive myself for that.
The thought of someone entering her house while she was inside enrages me. What if he’d decided to come upstairs? What if I hadn’t been there to protect her? I shudder at the thought, quickly shaking it off. He wouldn’t have even been there if I hadn’t been. He’d have left that letter at my house for me to fi
nd. It’s my fault he was there. Just like it’s my fault Jim is dead.
After leaving Emma’s, I’d gone straight to the police station and was pretty much told there’s nothing they could do. The officer said he’d send someone out to look around, but if there were no signs of forced entry or any sort of evidence left behind, there wasn’t much they could do for us except file the report. He’d taken the letter, saying he’d dust it for prints and see if anything came up in their database. But he hadn’t sounded hopeful. I’d left frustrated, unsure of how to keep Emma safe.
I’d left Emma’s because I needed to get away for a while. I’d felt like complete shit leaving her after how amazing and understanding she’d been last night. But at the time, I’d thought I needed to be alone with my guilt. The moment I’d walked in my door however, I knew I’d made a mistake. Being alone with my thoughts was the last place I needed to be. But I’d put Emma in enough danger. I wasn’t willing to take another chance with her safety. So instead, I’d called Ryan.
He’d agreed to meet me at Wright Taste for a drink before I took over for Kev. I’d promised Kevin I’d tend bar tonight so he could go to Gabby’s dance recital. The Panthers were playing tonight, and we had a regular group of guys who made it a weekly thing during football season to come in and watch, placing bets amongst each other for every play. They kept Kevin busy when they came in, and they always left a damn good tip. He didn’t want to miss out on the business so he’d asked me to cover for him.
I’d agreed of course, but now, I was seriously wishing I could bail. The men were loud, their raucous laughter grating on my already frayed nerves. And the game hadn’t even officially started yet. I slump in the booth as I wait for Ryan, sending a silent plea to whomever might be listening this night would pass quickly.
Several minutes later, Ryan slides in across from me.
“What’s up, brother?” he asks, extending his fist across the table.
I bump it briefly with my own. “I’m a mess, man.”
