Stepbrother Unsealed(34)

The brain can survive any trauma as long as it's got the bare essentials. It's plastic, one of many things we learn in BUD/s training, and the same truth goes double for civilians.

“This is the first time you've killed outside the force, isn't it?” she says, shaking her head. “Jesus, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn't have fallen behind you, Chris. If I hadn't stopped to look inside that scummy old theater –“

“The next sounds I hear coming outta your mouth better be chewing, babe.” My fist hits the small black dining table in our room with a bang. “I don't need your apologies. Nobody does. Those freaks I mopped up are the only ones who should be sorry for fucking with our special night, and they're too dead now for remorse. You didn't do a damned thing. I let you wander.”#p#分页标题#e#

“No, no.” Her gorgeous brown eyes pinch shut. She scratches at her bread and dunks it in the orange tinted bisque, swirling it like paint. “This is my fault. Everything, Chris. You know I wanted to pump you for information? I wanted to get into a SEAL's world, find out what makes you tick. I wanted to use you like my pet project for my senior thesis, to see a SEAL's psychology when he's not on the clock.”

I swallow a big bite of my steak and grin. She really thinks I'm clueless, doesn't she? It would be cute, if it wasn't so pathetic.

“I know all about your senior project. You're a bad tease, Delia. I played along to get into your panties. I don't give a shit what you write, as long as it's not classified. Nobody walking around without a trident patch on their skin knows shit. It's all fantasy to them, all pop culture, and I'm okay with you serving up exactly what they want to hear.”

She sighs. “I wanted to do something more. Get to the truth of all this, I mean. It's not just the project...I want to know you. I meant that the first time I ever told you, and I still do.”

I reach across the table and clasp her hand. “You will. Don't let the shit that happened in the theater take anything away. That's up to us. Now, you done playing confessional, or are you gonna drag your bread through that soup 'til it's cold?”

She shoots me a grudging smile and finally lifts it to her lips. I watch her chew, trying to keep my cock from splitting the seams in my trousers.

Fuck, those lips are kissable, biteable, and everything in between. I've tasted her before, but never as deeply as I want, and tonight's day one of gorging myself on everything quintessentially Delia.

Good girl. I need to keep her eating, so I decide to distract her with something more pleasant.

“Once you get writing, I hope you realize it's not all about death and destruction being a SEAL.”

She quirks her eyebrows, wondering what I'm getting at. “Oh. Yeah, I'm sure you guys boast about your women all the time...”

I laugh. “Not a lot of memorable fucks against the other shit guys get into on their off hours. This one mission, a new recruit snuck contraband rum on the last day of our training exercise in the Aleutians. He was so trashed by the next morning he tried to put the moves on a walrus.”

She laughs. She needs it, and so do I. Her happiness is sexy, a medicine we both need to bleach the dead men from our skulls.

I go into detail, telling her about how the idiot got down with the beasts, and almost got a tusk through his face before we pulled him away.

Somewhere in between the giggling, she's pushing steak and glazed asparagus into her mouth. Perfect.

I don't let her have more than half a glass of wine with her food. Letting too much booze into her veins could set her off all over again, even though it's starting to feel like a halfway normal evening. I work her with jokes and stories, trying to focus on her sweet face instead of the cleavage spilling out her top.

“Chris – stop! You're going to make me choke.” She kicks her legs underneath the table, brushing her bare foot against my leg. Lust starts seething in my hot veins.

I tell her about a soccer game we played with these kids in Afghanistan, and how we let them beat us, rewarding them handsomely in all the chocolate rations Uncle Sam gave us that month.

It's the least we could do after half of them lost their dads, executed by the Taliban fucks who rolled through their town before the military sent in my team for cleanup. I keep that last part to myself.

Even if it weren't classified, she doesn't need more melancholy shit tonight. She needs laughter, passion, my mouth all over her body.#p#分页标题#e#

I keep talking. She can't stop smiling, pecking at her food. I don't let her stop – not 'til she's happy and satisfied every damned way I know how to make a woman. Maybe even a few I haven't tried yet.