Why was this so hard? It wasn’t like I was still in the hospital, pissing through a tube and waiting for them to glue my skull back together. I made it out of the fucking desert alive. I healed. I survived.
Would she see it as a miracle?
Or would she see the same man I saw in the mirror?
Weak. Frail. Aimless.
“I’m not on leave.” The words stung. My hands curled into fists. Six months ago, I couldn’t even do that. Progress. “I was medically discharged.”
Shay frowned. “You said you were going back to the SEALs in a few months.”
“I know.”
“You lied?”
She bit the word. It felt like a slap across the cheek.
“I am going back,” I said. Hope healed more than the migraine meds Gretchen tried to shove down my throat. “Now that I’ve recuperated, I’m appealing the discharge. I’m meeting with te doctors for a physical in two weeks. If they believe I’m fit to serve, they’ll issue me a medical waiver. I’ll reenlist.”
“What do you mean recuperated?” She asked. “What happened to you?”
Like she hadn’t seen the scars. I could pack muscle on top of more muscle, but all people saw were the purple, fading scars where my guts tried to blast out of me.
“IED.”
Shay edged closer to the bed. “So you were…hurt.”
An understatement. “Yeah.”
“How badly?”
“A couple fractures short of entering a classified Navy SEAL cyborg program.”
“Zach. Talk to me.”
I sighed. Shay slipped to my side. I smiled as she tugged the robe over the sinful darkness of her thighs. That little silky reveal was enough to refuel me for another tour.
“It was bad,” I said. “I’m…not at liberty to tell you where I was or what I was doing there. I can say I’m damn lucky that I made it back to the helicopter. I should be another bloodstain in the sand.”
Her eyes widened. She traced a shiny scar over my wrist. “But you’re okay now?”
“Of course,” I lied.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were on a medical leave?”
“Because there’s a chance they won’t grant me that waiver. They might not clear me to re-enlist. If that happens…”
I eyed the master suite. The estate grew on me. I still couldn’t find my way through it in the dark, but a man got used to living every day as a fantasy.
Especially when the most beautiful woman in the world caressed a scar that came from a fireworks accident when I was fifteen, not the explosion that nearly ripped my skull apart.
I brushed her hand with mine. The simple contact was better than any morphine they shot in my veins at the VA hospital. “Last night, you asked me what would happen if the one thing you wanted in life was taken from you?” I met her gaze. “I understand that fear. Completely.”
“You want to go back to the SEALs?”
“More than anything.”
“But it almost killed you.”
“It’s my life. Wanted it since I was a kid. I didn’t have much of a family, and I thought my dad was a soldier. It seemed a natural life for me.”
“Do you like it?”
“I did,” I said. “I liked the travel and excitement. Never had a reason to stay at home.”
Until now.
I didn’t say it. Probably should have.
“I’m sorry.” Shay looked away. “Oh hell. I sounded like an idiot downstairs.”
“I didn’t tell you Gretchen was my doctor when you first met her. I didn’t want you to know I had been hurt overseas.”
“That was dumb.”
Yep. Especially after I realized a girl didn’t get that jealous for nothing. “I promise. Nothing’s happening between me and her. Gretchen’s engaged. I have more to worry about than you.”
“Why?”
“Well…” I grinned, grateful for the conversation change. “She’s a lesbian.”
“That is a relief.”
“Should I be concerned?”
Shay’s playful tone amused me more than her robe slipping over her shoulders. “No, I’ve been very satisfied lately.”
“Just satisfied?”
She hummed. “As much as can be expected.”
“I’ll have to work harder. No one’s ever accused me of being adequate.”
Shay didn’t want to play. She tucked a falling curl behind her ear. I wished she let me do it for her. A brush to her cheek tempted me more than night between the sheets. Every second she allowed me to touch her cocoa skin was a gift, a blessing second only to her smile.
So why did her smile fade?
“You came back early,” I said. “Everything okay?”
She nodded. I didn’t believe her. I took her hand.
She let me hold it.
I’d explode just imagining her lithe, gentle fingers pumping my cock.
“It was a rough night,” she said. “My friends…weren’t acting like my friends.”
“What’d they do?”
“Asked for money.” Her eyes rose to mine, honest and desperate. “And I would have helped, I would have. But…I don’t have the trust. And they got mad...”
Shay was as lovely on the inside as out. She’d spend her last cent trying to make sure everyone was happy. She’d run errands, copy homework, and give money because she mistook gratitude for love. And her asshole friends seemed the type to exploit it.
I tugged her close, surprised when she rested her head on my shoulder. “You don’t owe them anything, baby.”
“But I will help them.”
“I know.”
“I just hoped tonight would let me clear my mind. I needed…to think.”
And I needed to kiss her. Maybe that was her problem. Too much thinking, not enough kissing, touching, and fucking.
“They didn’t even try to help with Professor Sweeten. They asked how I pissed her off and then…bam. And Heaven, I swear, she better not come near me again. Not unless she’s on her knees and I’m on my way out of church.”
“Sounds like a rough night.”
“Why are you the only one who understands?” She swallowed. “Why are you the only one who even tries to understand?”
“Because I know what it’s like to have everything but still lose the one you want.”
Shay quieted. I thought I blew it. It sounded romantic in my head, but what the hell did I know? There was still too much shrapnel, swelling, and half of the desert rattling around my brain for me to make sense of most things.
I should have spelled it out for her. Laid it all out and waited for the rejection.
But I always did like torturing myself. Kicking my own ass meant I was getting stronger. Worked in the weight room, on the battlefield, and in the bedroom.
I didn’t have to say a damn thing. Shay reached for me, her delicate fingers stroking over my cheek. She leaned in, gentle, and kissed me.
Goddamn, those lips. With a single nibble to my bottom lip, Shay might have asked me to burn down the damn estate, and I’d have agreed with the flick of my tongue against hers. My cock throbbed for her. I shifted in my jeans, but that gave it room to get harder.
I wanted this fucking woman.
I wanted everything about her. The pouty lips. Those hidden curves under the robe. Her body. Her heat.
Her dreams. Her secrets. Her every vulnerable thought.
And, in return? I’d be the one there for her. Her douche-bag friends or absent father would never hurt her again. I’d comfort her. Hold her. Kiss her.
Until I shipped back out.
Holy Christ.
I spent two months in the hospital and six in therapy. Every damned second of my recovery was spent forcing myself to take the next step, add the next weight, and meet the next challenge.
I never had a reason to stay that could compete with my desire to go.
Until her.
Shay stood. I curled my fingers in the comforter so I wouldn’t throw her onto the bed. She tickled the knot of her belt.
The silk opened.
Fell away.
And she stood before me in perfect, goddess-like perfection.
Dark. Sensual. Curvy and feminine and absolutely utterly beautiful, from the ebony curls of her hair to the swell of her breasts and the hidden treasure tucked between her thighs. She let the robe drop to the ground and turned. Her firm ass brought a man to his knees quicker than a gun slammed into the back of the head.
She escaped into the bathroom. I stared after her, my heart punching a hole in my chest.
The water started again. Her voice echoed from the tub.
“Zach?” Her words were a light tease. “Are you coming in or not?”
Chapter Sixteen - Shay
Heading to campus sucked.
Just plain sucked.
That’s why I didn’t do it alone.
Zach didn’t know how much it meant for him to tag along. Unfortunately, he decided to cheer me up on the back of his Harley. In a history of bad ideas, crawling onto a two-wheeled monstrosity driven by a guy named Hard might have been my most dangerous adventure. It still wasn’t my worst idea, but if I cracked my skull off the asphalt or swallowed just one bug, so help me God…
“Are you sure this thing is safe?” I bit my nail. Zach fit a helmet over my head. The dimples flashed. He thought my reluctance was hilarious. “I’m really not brave enough for this.”
“It’s fine. Once you hop out of a helo in hostile territory under enemy fire, a little bike ride seems pretty relaxing.” Zach wore a pair of sunglasses. Aviator. Like he tried to be the cliché soldier. It worked. “Still, I’d rather tour Afghanistan on the bike than take I-75.”