Tell it to the Marine(8)
She laughed, but didn’t comment on his near slip. “Because I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. You served there and you have to relive that to help others.”
“They’re my brothers, nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”
“And who helped you when you came home?” The insightful question cut through the layers of separation, dividing James the man from James the psychologist.
“My work helps me every day. I knew the minute I received my discharge orders what I wanted to do. How I could help them. If I couldn’t be over there to cover their backs, I could damn well cover them here. Pardon my language.”
“You are forgiven.”
He turned them along the edge of the dance floor, drifting to the bluesy number. Her hands glided up his arms until her fingers interlocked behind his neck. The action lifted her breasts, cupped beautifully by the dress, and he allowed one look, searing it in his brain before retreating to stare into her eyes. Not that much of a retreat. The warm softness of her curves still pressed into him, and it didn’t take much of a leap to imagine riding between her bare thighs, her legs wrapped around his hips.
One battle at a time, Marine.
“You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t think.” Her forehead crinkled in a thoughtful frown.
“No, you’re correct. I just wanted you to have a firm basis for understanding my decision. Madame Eve offers an unparalleled service that seems to pair ideal couples together for meaningful interactions that may or may not lead to sex.” He tacked on the last as a reminder to his engorged cock, but the organ ignored him, wholly focused on the goddess in his arms.
“For some of our guys, it’s been the perfect way to meet someone with no strings, no expectations but still allow meaningful experience, plugging them back into the world, building confidence. That’s especially important because intimacy can’t be forced. The Marines who truly need it were reluctant to sign up until Luke volunteered all of us.”
The music drifted to a lonely, final note that hung in the air and they slowed. She took one step back. Instead of withdrawing, she ran a hand down his arm and threaded her fingers through his. James took the cue and led her back to the table. Rather than reclaim her seat, she chose his side of the booth and scooted until he could slide in next to her.
He took a moment to push her dinner plate toward her, along with a fresh glass of wine.
“That’s really beautiful, you know? And so much more classy than my reasons.” Her pink-tinged lips twisted into a self-deprecating smile.
“Not at all. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my brothers, but—and I mean this with absolute sincerity—signing up was for them. But this right here, this is for me.”
“Really?” The sudden flush turning her cheeks crimson added spark to her eyes.
He grinned, lifting her slender fingers to kiss her knuckles. “Absolutely. I meant what I said earlier about your movie and if you tell anyone what I’m about to confide in you, I will have to surrender my man card. So please consider your options with the following intelligence.”
She propped her free hand on the table, chin in her palm, eyebrows lifted, and made no move to reclaim the hand he’d captured between his.
“I’ve seen every single one of your movies, not always with a date. Even that Fourth of July picnic farce with the swingers you babysat for.” A partial truth. He’d actually seen some of them twice and at least three of them four times and owned every single one on DVD.
Her delighted laughter wrapped around him. The gleam in her eyes tempered the sobriety of her tone. “I promise, your manhood is safe with me.”
“Double entendre intended, I hope?”
“Absolutely.”
He chuckled, kissing her fingers again and they resumed eating, her hand firmly in his.
The conversation returned to sports.
She preferred basketball to football. He favored baseball and enjoyed basketball enough to debate team statistics.
He liked Italian to her French. She preferred an afternoon at the spa to shopping in Beverly Hills. He was satisfied with the online offerings.
She cited Tahoe as having the best ski resorts. He favored Wisp on the East Coast.
She longed to take a cruise and laughed when he retorted, “My ass rode in Navy equipment enough.”
Dinner stretched to dessert and finally to coffee.
They danced.
They laughed.
They talked.
He lost track of the topics, savoring her dry wit, pointed comments, and her absolute failure to agree with him just to agree. She warmed to the areas where they were at odds, favoring Jackie Chan’s Rush Hour to the clearly superior Legend of the Drunken Master. And wrinkled her nose delightfully when he told her it was a good thing she was so pretty.