He looks up from weaving around a couple of ladies in front of him and his eyes automatically land on me. I see him pause there for a second and his body jolts in recognition, then a matching grin graces his face, his dimple peeking out.
Hesitation gone, for the most part, I squeeze through the crowd of people, his family on my heels, and throw myself into his arms. He wraps his arms around me, lifting me off of my feet as he spins me around in a circle.
We come to a stop and he squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. He stands there, just holding me, and I don’t ever want to let him go. Those months he was gone were unbearable.
When he does finally loosen his arms, it hits me that this is what it will be like when he leaves for his first duty station and I go off to college. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of miles will separate us. Our entire relationship will be comprised of letters like those I have stowed in my closet. Quick trips we can steal in between our schedules. Spending more days apart than with each other.
He lets me go to embrace his family and I step behind him, giving them room to welcome him back. I look around, lost in thought, and my gaze settles on the women walking around us, a couple of them a few years older than me, nearer to Jack’s age than mine. They smile and eye him appreciatively and suddenly I feel like a little girl caught in dress up, not quite old enough to play these adult games.
Are those the kind of women that he’s around when he goes out with Ben and his friends? I watch them walk away, keenly aware of their confidence and worldly air. I’ve never been out of Florida. I’ve hardly even traveled away from our small town of Nassau. How could I compete with women like that? What does he even see in a girl like me when he has options like that?
I bite my lip as he swings an arm around my shoulders. “I’m starving. Where are we going to eat?” he asks his mom.
“One track mind,” Livvie says.
“We made you your favorites back at home,” his mom replies. “Consider this your day.”
“Yeah,” Livvie says. “Because tomorrow I declare to be my day.”
“Every day is your day.” Jack ruffles her hair and kisses her forehead. “I missed you, brat.”
Livvie smiles back up at him. “Missed you, too.”
His parents file out in front of us with Livvie detailing to them exactly what she wants for her dinner. A cocoon of intimacy surrounds us, even in the middle of the crowd. The arm he’d thrown over my shoulders pulls me close enough so that he can press a kiss to my hair. My eyes close and a sweet ache takes up residence in my chest and pulses throughout my body.
“I missed you, baby.” His voice is steady and deep. Intoxicating. God, he puts me under his spell just by speaking.
“I missed you, too.”
“Anything exciting happen these last couple weeks?”
I bite my lip, the words threatening to spill over. I swallow them, determined to let him have at least one good day back. “Nothing much, really.”
“I’m sure Mom and Dad have something planned for tonight, and I have to help out at the gym tomorrow, but I want you to come with me. Hang out for a while.”
“I’m all yours,” I say.
His eyes darken and he pulls me closer.
“Son, I’m going to get your bags from the line while your mom and sister pull the car around,” his dad calls from the hall in front of us.
“Thanks, Pops,” he answers, his gaze still intent on my face. His heartbeat races under my palms and mine trips over itself to catch up. He can’t seem to stop touching me, rubbing his hands over my arms and down the exposed line of my back. In the pause between his dad’s words and their departure, every naughty word he whispered to me during our video chats comes rushing back.
His family breaks apart, going in their separate directions and leaving us alone. Jack tears his gaze away from me and glances around. He spots whatever it is he’s looking for and pulls me behind him, towards an empty corner. He has a knack for finding deserted spaces.
My blood heats and pools low, replacing the uncertainty and doubt. This, we’ve never had a problem with. I can lose myself in this. He drops his backpack and cages me against the wall, his easy-going expression suddenly replaced with what I can only describe as savage need. The change is so swift and shocking that I don’t resist when he presses me against the cool tile of the wall, even though I can hear people just a couple feet away. His body is hot, so very hot, and rock hard when it comes into contact with my own.
Feelings that I can’t even begin to describe riot through me, but the one thing that I do recognize is simple. Need. I crave his touch to erase my worries about our rapidly changing future, to fill the empty parts inside of me.
One hand slides up my back, the material of my dress riding dangerously high as it catches on the roughness of his palms. The other cups my neck and jaw to bring my lips to his in a desperate kiss that conveys a hundred nights worth of separation and want.
My own response shocks me. I make a frantic, surprised sound against his lips as my arms go up and around the broad shape of his shoulders to pull him even closer. His lips don’t even bother with gentleness. They plunder, forcing mine open. Our teeth knock together, and I think I forget to breathe at some point.
He pulls back a little and I look at him, my brain suddenly fuzzy and drunk. His nose rubs against mine and he says, “That didn’t even take the edge off. God, you taste even sweeter than I remember.”
I grin at him, my earlier reservations forgotten. College, the future, and responsibilities can wait. I bring his lips back to mine and steal as many kisses as I can before his family gets back. Before reality can ruin this one perfect moment.
There are three things I love most in this world, and two of them I can probably live without.
The other smiles up at me. “Shouldn’t we be getting back soon? Your dad’s gonna notice we’re gone at some point.”
I kiss her breathless, mostly to taste her again, and the rest to stop the conversation from going anywhere near my dad. Sofie groans and her fingers dive back in my hair, tugging a little, just the way she knows I like it.
We probably should head back soon, before someone does search us out, but I can’t seem to muster up any fucks to give. Not with her body all hot and soft beneath my searching hands. Especially not when she sucks in a breath and her fingers tug me closer. Seeing my family was great, but I’ve spent the past six months dreaming of touching her. I’ve only been home for twenty-four hours, but I’ve spent as many of those with my hands on her as I can.
I smile against her parted lips. “Oh, you like that, huh?” My fingers pull down the cup of her bra. She whimpers. “You do, don’t you?”
She kisses me instead of answering, and I let her. The very tip of my finger circles her tight nipple. A light touch, not near what I really want to do to her, but just enough to have her panting.
In time, she forgets the pretense of kissing. We’re sharing heaving breaths and I thank fucking God for the secluded corner.
“Want me to stop?” I tease her lower lip with my teeth, sucking it into my mouth and nibbling. At the same time, I pinch her nipple between my finger and thumb. She gasps against my mouth and her hips strain toward me. I laugh. “That’s not an answer, baby.”
In the distance, a door opens and lights spill out. Just enough to illuminate her shirt all rucked up over her chest, her bra yanked down, and her pretty nipples tight and pink and needy for me. Fuck me.
Her eyes flash to the sound of grunts and thuds that echo down the hall. She makes a move to hide herself in the shadows. I still her hands by her side.
“Uh-uh. Not gonna let you go ‘til you give me an answer.”
Her gaze meets mine and she pauses a beat, then says, “Who says I want you to let me go?”
I grin, cause damn if she doesn’t just surprise the hell outta me sometimes.
She reaches under her shirt and drags my free hand from her hip to her other breast. My smile dies. Fuck me.
I must have said it out loud this time ‘cause she laughs, her head falling back against the concrete wall with a thud. My body follows her back like it doesn’t want to be left behind. And hell if I can disagree.
My thumbs draw circles around her nipples and she makes the sexiest goddamn sound in the back of her throat. I could just eat her up. I almost lose focus, almost forget that I’m supposed to be the one teasing her and not the other way around.
I forget about the sparring I’m supposed to be running and the people probably waiting on us in the other room, wondering where we are. My world has narrowed to a pinpoint and at the center of it is this girl. I can’t even muster up enough give a shit to care that she has me wrapped around her finger, no matter how much crap I catch from the other guys. They’re the ones wrestling with other dudes on the mat when I have my hands full of her instead.
Her hand comes back up and guides my right hand down to the waistband of her shorts, effectively sucking any and all air out of the immediate vicinity. I press my forehead into the cool concrete above her shoulder in an attempt to regain rational thought.
It doesn’t work.
She urges my fingers underneath the elastic of her short pink exercise shorts I’ve been admiring all afternoon, and holy shit, she’s not wearing any panties.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” I whisper against her shoulder.
“Jack, please.” Her voice is short. Thin. Desperate. The exact voice I heard in every single naughty fantasy I’ve had since we’ve been apart. The one that makes me lose all common sense.
My chest heaves as my fingers slide over her smooth skin, finding her wet. I narrow in on a spot that makes her hips jerk. Her arms go around my shoulders like twin vices. My middle finger glides between her lips and I have to put a bracing arm against the wall to keep us both upright. She spreads her legs, damn near hooking one over my hip.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding and bite down on her shoulder. My fingers flick over her and she moans. Her scent surrounds me in the small, dark space.
“Gotta be quiet,” I whisper against her skin.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You better.”
I could spend the rest of my life like this, tangled up in her. The thought of the months we’re going to spend apart, possibly even years, feels like a distant worry. I tuck it in the back of my mind. Instead, I focus on her. Her scent. Her taste. And I know if we were anywhere else, she’d be naked.
God, I want to see her naked. The one time I was able to get her in bed before I shipped out wasn’t enough. In fact, it was a tease. An awkward, sweaty, quick tease, considering it was her first time, and I was more worried about hurting her than anything else. I promised her the next time would be better, longer, but she’d just smiled up at me and said she didn’t care.
Fuck that. I did. Which is why I’ve made her come as many times and in as many darkened corners as possible since I got off the plane. For the last few days, my one and only goal has been to learn her each and every response. Now, I can tell she’s close like it’s second nature. The same way my body innately responds in the ring. Her breath speeds up and if it wasn’t so dark, I know I could see her olive skin turning red. She’s making these little sounds in the back of her throat, and I don’t know why the hell I started this shit out here in the open, where I can’t take my time. Where I can’t see her.
Next time. Next time I’ll get her away somewhere. Away from our families. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere with a bed. We should definitely have a bed next time.
Her arms constrict around my neck. My fingers start to cramp in the sliver of space between us, but I don’t stop.
“Don’t stop,” she echoes, confirming my suspicion that I can read her body like nothing else.
I slow, an ache spreading through my hand, and she pulls at my shirt in protest. The door opens again and laughter spills out. We’re around the corner from the main gym, down the hallway that leads to the bathrooms in an alcove that houses the water fountains. There’s barely enough room for the both of us. The light’s been broken here for a week or two and my dad hadn’t repaired it yet.
Lucky for me.
When the door closes and footsteps follow, Sofie looks up at me, her eyes wide. I should pull back, let her fix her clothes, but I don’t. I strum faster and her eyes go even wider. My fingers are slipping and sliding over her now, so much that I can’t keep any type of rhythm.
The footsteps grow closer.
We’ve got a couple minutes—maybe less—if they’re heading this way. Based on her frantic movements, she’s almost there. I use my chest to keep her pressed against the wall and hitch her leg all the way around my hip. With that hand, I dip inside the back of her shorts and find her. I add teasing fingers to her entrance, and that’s all it takes. She bucks against me, and I take her mouth to swallow the sounds of her orgasm. She whimpers as it fades, panting, chest heaving.
The person down the hall coughs, their shoes squeak. As their steps get closer, I reluctantly remove my hands from her pants and straighten her bra and shirt. The latter, I do so slowly, memorizing the look her of her like this.
Vulnerable. Sexy as fuck.
All mine.
The door opens and closes again and more footsteps echo down the hall, startling us from the seclusion of the shadowed corner.
“You okay?” I take a step back, adjusting my dick so it doesn’t tent the front of my pants. At least not more than it already is.
Sofie kisses my jaw, her hands pressed to my chest. I suck in deep breaths to try and clear my head, but the scent of her lingers, driving me wild, making my mouth water. She shifts by me, her body brushing against my overly sensitive skin as she picks up her discarded purse and I nearly growl out loud in frustration.
The first person rounds the corner just as Sofie bends at the waist, surreptitiously getting a drink of water from the fountain. I try not to look at her twisted shorts, the seams visibly askew, or her shirt, still crumpled in my hurried attempt to make her look like she hadn’t just come apart in my arms.
“Shit, Jack,” comes a voice. Damian ambles up with a grin, a towel slung around his neck. “The fuck are you doin’?”
“Hey, man.” I nod at him, stepping a little closer toward Sofie on instinct. He may be a friend, but I sure as shit don’t want him—or anyone—close to her after what we just shared. “You here for practice?”
“Yeah, gotta get ready for that tournament coming up.” His eyes flit over to Sofie, but he doesn’t mention her flushed face or disheveled clothes, though we both know what we’re doing back here.
“I didn’t know you were gonna get in that. Congrats, man. I’m sure you’re gonna do great.”
He nods his gratitude. “Your old man mentioned you were back in town. We should get together sometime before you ship out again.”
I start to guide Sofie around him. “Sure, definitely.”
“Was this the girl you’ve been telling me about?” He holds out a hand in Sofie’s direction. “This guy couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m Damian.”
Sofie glances at me, then back at him before offering her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
When Dad first signed Damian on a couple weeks ago, I had reservations. The tour in Iraq was a tough one for him and I wasn’t sure he’d be up to the training, the fights, the travel. He’s a wildcard, always has been, and an absolute demon in the ring, but Dad had been adamant.
“We need that kinda blood in the business,” he’d said.
I agreed, not that I had shit to say about the business.
“This place will be yours someday. Remember that. The decisions I make now will affect you in the years to come.”
It was pointless to argue with him, besides, it turns out Damian did revitalize interest in MMA at the gym, which was good for our bottom line. Didn’t really matter to me either way. I didn’t plan on sticking around. I’d known I wanted to join the Marines for years, follow
in his footsteps to join the infantry, then the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program, also known as MCMAP. Eventually, I wanted to become an instructor.
I just wasn’t sure if I would be able to continue those steps and retire to be a small business owner. How could I go from being a hero to working in this backwoods town? He may have been okay with it, but I sure as hell wasn’t.
Of course, I didn’t tell him that at the time, so I just shrugged and brushed it off.
“We’d better get back,” I grunt. “Maybe we can make plans sometime this week?”
“Sounds good, man.”
I turn and bump into Sofie, the change in momentum causes her purse to fall off her shoulder and spill out of her grasping hands to the ground. Papers, pens, and a lone Chapstick scatter over the floor.
I kneel down to help her gather up her things when my eye catches on a familiar logo, one I’d been dreading.
Damian fades to the back of my mind once I catch a glimpse of Sofie’s face.
Present
ANOTHER SUMMER STORM beats at my windshield, but this time, I don’t begrudge the rain. It keeps me camouflaged as I watch the funeral proceedings from a distance. After getting caught by Jack, the last thing I want to do is run into him again.
Even though I can’t hear the reverend’s speeches or the consoling words from friends and family, I can feel them. Pressure builds in my chest until it feels like I’m being pressed into my car seat by a huge boulder. Tears burn my eyes and blur my vision, turning the world around me into one giant teardrop.
Shame makes my ears and throat grow hot. Shame for waiting all this time. For not explaining to her the reasons why I had to leave and why I couldn’t face coming back. For not being a better daughter. She deserved so much better than what she got. At least my younger brothers were good kids. Rebellious, like most Varano’s, but good, for the most part. I’m happy she had that while she could, and that they had her.
Twin drops crest over my cheeks and drop onto the simple black jersey dress. I wipe the wetness away with a hasty finger and inhale deeply to soothe the tingle that signals more are to come.
Survivor (First to Fight Book 2) Page 2
