Hard(57)

Jesus. Like I didn’t have that nightmare every night. I clenched my jaw.

“Son, do yourself a favor. Be grateful you’re alive. Take care of yourself. Find a pretty girl and settle down.”

“I can do this, I just need a chance.”

He stood, clapping my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can’t in good conscience clear you for duty. Not when you’d pose a danger to yourself and others. You served your country well, almost gave your life. Be grateful for the opportunity and focus on your continued recovery.”

He offered his hand. I reflexively shook it. He nodded.

“I’m sorry, son. But thank you for your service. You’re a hero to many people.”

The door closed behind him.

A hero?

To fucking who?

Years of training. Dedication. Motherfucking hell week—five days of physical fucking torture with no sleep—and it was over?

How could it be over?

How the hell could I survive the IED, the transport, the surgery, the recovery, only to have a goddamned headache prevent me from shipping back out?

Holy Christ, I survived spider bites, lacerations, and a parachute that incorrectly deployed. A damned headache knocked me out.

I ripped the gown off and pitched it across the room. It took out a glass container of tongue depressors. The glass didn’t shatter, but it toppled into the sink.

It wasn’t enough, but I wasn’t trashing a doctor’s office. It wasn’t his fault he ruined my life.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but it sure as hell felt like mine.

What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

Take money that shouldn’t have belonged to me and live some worthless life beside a pool? Grab some shitty nine-to-five to occupy my days?

All the damn opportunity in the world, and the one thing I wanted was gone.

Now I knew how Shay felt.

Shay.

Fuck.

I couldn’t face her. How many men had the honor of telling their women they were weak? Unfit.

Unworthy of the SEALs. Unworthy of her.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?





The front door slammed shut.

The windows shook with it, scaring the absolute bejesus out of me.

My heart just about stopped. The little library didn’t have a secondary exit to escape, not unless I wanted to climb up the fireplace. I abandoned my Kindle and dove over the couch—like the fraying afgan Gran knitted for me would protect me from goblins in my closet and intruders bursting through my door.

I grabbed the remote and reared to throw.

Bags thudded against the floor. I peeked at the door.

Christ, it was just Zach.

And he was…stripping.

Zach peeled his shirt off. His shoes kicked off next.

I swallowed. Pressing hard against the seam of his jeans was just the sort of trouble I knew he’d bring back from D.C.

“You’re home.” I gripped the couch. Suddenly, I was very aware that I stole one of his shirts to sleep in…and conveniently forgot to wear any pants or panties while I snuggled into a steamy book. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“Take it off.”

I smirked, picking at the shirt. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed it.”

“Take. It. Off.”

Oh, Lord.

His tone. That voice. The twitching muscles, rugged scars, and the devilish swirls of ink coating his chest.

Zach’s presence was enough to undo me. Combine that with the naughty book I read?

I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping alone tonight. Now I doubted I’d get any sleep at all.

But I hadn’t expected to welcome him home from D.C. on my knees. In fact, I planned on avoiding him as best I could. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him staring at me, studying me as I curled the shirt over my hips, across my navel, and over the swell of my breasts.

All I wanted was for him to stare at me. To touch me. Kiss me. Hold me.

Stay with me.

The shirt dropped to the floor. The cool air tickled over my skin, tightening my nipples beyond arousal and into a painful throb. Only his mouth could soothe them.

A single word stripped my defenses and clothes. His command was issued with SEAL authority and masculine desire.

“Come here.”

How could anyone resist? I’d never deny a man so powerful and sexy and charming and just…perfect. Too perfect.

My stepped padded close, slow and steady, letting the curve of my hip sway to tease his hungry gaze. I shouldn’t have encouraged this. A night with him was just another mistake.

But letting him get into my heart was worse.

I ignored every reasonable expectation for myself and touched the fierce ridges of his abs. The fear of losing him faded. He cupped my breast and soothed the ache inside of me.

I wasn’t following my head. Hell, I wasn’t even following my heart. I acted on need. Selfish, stupid, terrible desire. I never should have wanted this man. Embracing him would end in heartache and misery.