Afraid to Fly (Anchor Point #2)(34)

Eventually, the cocktail hour ended and everyone took their seats. Like we had at the Navy Ball, we sat with some people from work. Someone's wife wrinkled her nose and gave us some side-eye over her wineglass, but didn't say anything. No one else even looked twice at us. A few years ago, it would have been scandalous. Apparently same-office relationships had lost their novelty after Chiefs Hanson and McKinley in security had gotten married last year, and same-sex ones weren't exactly a shock since they all knew Travis and I weren't straight. So when we started seeing each other, it had warranted about as much gossip as someone losing their change in a vending machine.

Fine by me. I could get used to this progressive Navy.

The Christmas party didn't have anywhere near the pomp and circumstance of the Navy Ball. The chaplain did the invocation as always. The color guard presented the colors. The CO said a few mercifully brief words. After that it was booze, food, and more booze.

A couple of guys from the office below ours were having an animated and possibly heated discussion about . . . something. They were both gesturing wildly and speaking loudly, but hell if I could make out anything they were saying. 

I glanced at Travis, and he was watching them too. His expression was half-amusement, half-horror-eyes wide, but lips quirked.

Shaking his head, he laughed. "I don't miss those days. Do you?"

"Not at all." I rested my hand on his leg. "And it's kind of refreshing, being here with someone who isn't drunk out of his skull."

Travis turned to me. "Not a fan?"

"No. Not at all."

"Then, if you don't mind my asking . . ." He searched my eyes. "Why the hell were you with that guy you brought to the ball? Was the sex really that good?"

Warmth rushed into my cheeks. "Not really. To be honest . . ."

He put his hand over mine.

I stared into my drink. "I don't know. When he was sober, he was great. We had a good thing . . . sometimes. And . . ." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "But it was a disaster waiting to happen, and I . . . God, I guess it was just so good to be with someone again, I didn't want to let it go. So I held on, and realized the reality of the situation when we were at the fucking Navy Ball."

Running his thumb alongside my hand, he said, "At least you didn't hang on after that."

"Oh yeah. I'm glad it's over."

"At the risk of sounding like an opportunist-" he kissed my cheek "-me too."

I met his gaze, and we both laughed, and it took a second to realize he'd kissed me-even if it was only a peck on the cheek-in public. Not just in public like the day I'd kissed him on the pier, but around people from our command. And no one was freaking out. Not even me.

He smiled and leaned in. He stopped, though, hovering in that safe zone between being close and being close.

My heart sped up. I resisted the urge to self-consciously glance around. No one had given us any shit so far, so why the hell not?

I closed the remaining distance and pressed my lips to his.

It was quick and light, followed by a long look and a smile from him that turned my bones to liquid, but it felt great. A chaste kiss with my boyfriend at the command Christmas party? Jesus. Times had really changed, hadn't they?

Some commotion turned our heads. Captain Rodriguez and Commander Johnson had taken center stage with the microphone and the box of tickets for the gifts. The CO was almost too shitfaced to stand without her husband's help, and the XO was slurring so bad I doubted even he understood what he was saying. Somehow, they were supposed to draw the tickets for the gifts, but I suspected they'd need some help before they were halfway through the box.

Travis and I exchanged glances as the top of our chain of command slurred their way through . . . whatever it was they were trying to say.

"She always get that drunk at these things?" I asked.

"Not usually," he replied. "But everyone seems to let their hair down at the Christmas party, so . . ."

"Yeah, seriously." I picked up my Coke and took a sip. "I went to one of these a few years back where a junior enlisted guy managed to knock a glass of red wine down the front of the CO's uniform and get away with it."

Travis laughed. "You're kidding."

I shook my head. "Nope. And we're all pretty sure it wasn't an accident."

"Why's that?"

"Call it a hunch. He was"-I made air quotes-"'trying to take a picture of the ice sculpture' and 'accidentally' backed into the CO. And that might've been true, but man, something about the way he told the story . . ."

"Sounded a little premeditated?"



       
         
       
        

"You think?"

"What'd the CO do?"

I shrugged. "Had another glass of wine. He was so wasted by that point, he probably didn't even remember the next day. Probably woke up with a stained uniform and figured he'd dumped it on himself."

"Sounds about right."

"Fucker deserved it anyway," I muttered.

"That kind of CO, huh?"

"So much." I rolled my eyes and reached for my Coke. "He was a fucking dick, and I defy you to find anyone on that boat who disagreed."

"Pretty sure we've all worked for someone like that."

"Mm-hmm. We just usually don't get the chance to knock wine all over the bastards. And even if we do, none of us have the balls to go through with it."

"I hope that kid realizes he's a goddamned legend now."

"If he doesn't, the rest of us sure do."

"Amen to that."

We watched for a while as the CO and XO stumbled their way through drawing some gifts. Half the people who'd won them were equally drunk, and with the amount of glass being given out-bottles of wine and liquor, mostly-I was amazed nothing had shattered yet.

Beside me, Travis sighed. "I think these were more fun when I was younger." He looked at me. "Does that mean we're getting old?"

"I'm pretty sure we're already there."

"Fair point." He slid his hand over my thigh. "You want to stick around, or get the hell out of here?"

I glanced down at his hand, then at him, and the mischievous gleam in his eyes told me he didn't mean let's go home and watch TV.

"Hell yeah," I breathed. "Let's go."

We both stood, but I paused and picked up our tickets. "What should we do with these?"

Travis shrugged. "Give 'em away?"

"Sounds good to me."

So we handed off our tickets to a nearby ensign and her husband, and got the hell out of there.



Our uniforms would need some serious ironing later, but for now, they could stay in their rumpled heaps on my bedroom floor.

Tangled up in a kiss, we sank onto the mattress, Travis guiding me down with a hand behind my head.

Oh yes. This. This was what I wanted. Being out in public with him, openly letting the world know that Travis was my boyfriend, had been fun. Sharing a kiss where I wouldn't have dared a few years ago had been amazing.

But now I didn't want the public. I wanted him. Alone.

I slid my hands up his sides, and he tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

I froze. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." He laughed, his lips grazing mine. "Just, uh, kind of ticklish right there."

"Oh. Okay." I hesitated. "Is your back all right, though?"

"Mm-hmm." He kissed under my jaw. "It's good. Maybe we should take advantage of it while it's not throwing a fit."

I shivered, arching under him, and ran my nails down his waist. "Anything you want. I'm all yours."

"Good," he moaned against my throat. "Because I want you so bad right now." He pushed himself up and looked in my eyes. "Seriously, anything you want tonight." He swept his tongue across his lips. "We can even fuck. If . . . if you want-"

"All I want is you."

"But if-"

I kissed him. "I want you," I whispered. "No way in hell are we doing something that'll hurt you." And before he could protest, I claimed another long kiss, and his body relaxed against mine.

I pushed him onto his side, and he grunted softly when I wrapped my fingers around his cock. He did the same to me, blanking my brain and sending goose bumps up my spine.

It didn't matter that we couldn't fuck. I enjoyed some wild, headboard-pounding fucking as much as the next man, but this was amazing. Lying here, stroking each other and kissing, in no hurry at all but already out of breath-it didn't get any better than this.

And what kind of man would I have been if I'd taken him up on his offer, knowing how much pain he could very well be in afterward? No way was I making him spend a night in more pain because of me. I couldn't imagine hurting him.

So we stayed like that-legs intertwined under the sheet, hands moving in unison, lips moving lazily together. Little by little, the intensity grew. Grips tightened. Strokes picked up speed. Kisses were more frantic, more breathless. His skin was hot against mine, his breath cool as it rushed across my skin. He hooked a leg over mine. I held on to his shoulder with my free hand.

I wasn't in any hurry, but I sure as hell wasn't putting on the brakes either. If we came too fast, well, we'd have to catch our breath and start over again. And if we did this all night, keeping each other on the brink while the room spun around us, that was perfectly fine by me too.