Say You're Mine(24)

“Night, cupcake.”

“Good night,” she whispered back, staring blankly at the wall while trying to pretend she didn’t even notice he was there.

“Oh, by the way?” He rolled toward her and ran his fingers over her cheek from behind her, his touch gentle and almost nonexistent. “That’s how I would have done it.”

She swallowed, not saying anything.

Quite frankly, she had nothing to say to that in the first place. Steven’s breathing evened way too fast, like usual, and soon he was asleep. She lay there a little while longer, trying to shut him out of her mind. It didn’t work. Every time she closed her eyes…

He was there.





Chapter Nine

The next morning, Steven woke up before Lauren, even though he hadn’t slept more than an hour or so, after she basically told him that last night meant nothing to her. From any other woman, this would be great news. The last thing he needed was his one-night stands falling in love with him.

But she wasn’t just a fling.

The fact that she could fuck him and forget him like he meant nothing—well, it kinda pissed him the hell off. No matter how much he denied it, or how many times he acknowledged how wrong he was for her, all he could think about was what she did to him with that damn tongue of hers…

And when they could do it again.

For the first time in his adult life, he woke up craving more from a woman. There was no denying that his usual wham, bam, thank you ma’am wasn’t enough with Lauren. This was an entirely new feeling for him. One he couldn’t handle, quite frankly.

Sleeping in bed with her had been impulsive. There had been booze, and kisses, soft touches, long repressed desires let loose. But he hadn’t planned it.

And now he had no damn clue what to do.

Rolling out of bed, he stretched and yawned, glancing over his shoulder at the clock. It was seven thirty, and he didn’t have to work today. Neither did she.

So why the hell was he so damn awake?

He turned back to Lauren, frowning. She slept peacefully, her back to him, and she hadn’t moved all night. He’d pretended to fall asleep, giving him a chance to think in some peace and quiet. He’d lain awake throughout most of the night after they…what? Made love? Fucked? What should he even call last night? It had been different than any other experience he ever had. And he couldn’t stop thinking about it—or her. Or how she made him feel. What they could be, if only he dared to find out.

And if he forgot all the reasons she deserved better.

As if she could sense his thoughts, her brow wrinkled and she squirmed, letting out a soft sigh. She mumbled something under her breath, squirmed some more, and rolled over, reaching across the bed as if she sought him out. He waited to see if she would wake up, but she settled back in and breathed evenly once more.

Over the span of his adult life, he faced bombs, bullets, war, and death. He could kill another man without blinking an eye, if it was for a good cause. He could shoot, bomb, fight, fuck, and drink. But when it came to living, to taking a chance on something like him and Lauren, he hesitated. When it came time to try maybe being happy…

He wasn’t sure he could do it.

If that wasn’t dysfunctional, he didn’t have a clue what was.

Crawling back into the bed carefully, he lay completely still, staring at her nightstand, while trying not to freak the hell out about all the “feelings” shit going through his head. What he’d seen inside of it, through the glass lid, had triggered a memory…

One long forgotten.

It was nine years ago, when he’d just gotten back from his first tour overseas, and he and Lauren were alone—just the way he liked it. They hiked to their favorite pond in the woods, because he told her he needed some peace and quiet.

She instantly helped him get it.

After a few drinks and a couple of hours, she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. Even now, he could still remember the way the sunlight hit her hair, and the way her blue eyes sparkled, like it was yesterday…

Reaching out, he smoothed her soft hair out of her face. She watched him closely, biting down on her lower lip. “What was it like over there?”

“Awful. Bloody. Hot.” Steven shrugged and turned away, not wanting her to see him. He lifted the beer to his lips and took a swig, but it tasted bitter. “I don’t know how people do stuff like we do over there, and come home to their wives and kids. How they just…go back to normal.”

“Do you wish you had a wife to go home to?” she asked, still staring at him as if she read his thoughts and knew him better than he did. Sometimes, he thought she just might. “Or kids?”