21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (4 page)

“I can’t help it. You miss Mike. You’re pissed at yourself because Mike went home and you weren’t there to watch his back, to protect his family and save him from himself. But it’s not your fault.” The words hiccupped, but she didn’t care. He swung the truck into a dark parking lot and shifted into park before twisting in the seat.

Between one breath and the next, he’d snapped off her seat belt and tugged her across the bench until she crushed up against him. It was a mistake to hold him like that, to let him hold her. But he needed her.

Hell, I need him
.

She sobbed all over his nice dress shirt. Her arms slid around him, her hands going to his hair. Still cut high and tight, she missed the gentler waves where it would tumble in his eyes. He’d come back a bigger, harder man, but cocooned against him, the years slipped away.

A rumble shook through him, a low laugh tickled her and the bubble of tension inside her popped. Laughing through tears was the best emotion and the more he laughed against her, the more laughter punctuated her tears.

“Why are you laughing?” She chuckled, pulling back enough to look at him. But the circle of his arms trapped her close. His forehead drifted down to rest against hers, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the next to nothing light.

“This is so not what I meant when I asked you to come with me. I never wanted you to cry.”

She shrugged, no easy feat this close when it brushed her chest to his and her nipples stiffened. A lazy thread of desire unwound from the tension, zinging along half-forgotten nerve endings. Eleven years and his proximity still turned her on.

Who am I kidding
? She’d loved this man her whole life. When he asked her out on a date the day of her sixteenth birthday party, she’d written in her diary that she’d been born to love him. Eleven years and heartbreak didn’t diminish the feeling no matter how much hurt and resentment she’d tried to bury it in.

“Luke,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you told me. I’ve missed you.”

He went still against her. She shoved away the regret that crept through her. She would never regret reaching out to him. It hurt to think he might reject her.

Again
.

But she would never stop being there. He spoke of Shari in wonder, wonder for how she supported the man she loved, wonder for how she managed all those years and would be willing to fly halfway around the world for a couple of days, but she didn’t wonder.

I would have done the same damn thing if he’d just let me
.

Resolve exploded through her, she was through waiting for him to give her that opportunity. Nestled close to him, the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek, and the strength of his arms around her, she closed the gap to press her lips to his.

He stiffened, but his mouth opened to her questing tongue. The gentle kiss went from zero to raging forest fire. Liquid heat blasted through her blood and between one breath and the next, she straddled his lap, his hands pulling her hair loose to tumble down around them in a curtain. Every inch of his hard muscle pressed against her softer flesh. He tasted of the wine he’d ordered at Sybarite and something darker, deeper and more masculine.

He tastes like Luke
.

A groan rolled through her as his tongue sought entry, dueling with hers, stroking her teeth, lapping up every breath. Her dress inched up her thighs and the hard length of his cock burned through the clothes separating them. She rolled her hips, rubbing against him, sending tingles of electricity darting through her sex.

She soaked her panties at the thought of stripping away those last barriers. She wanted to feel him inside of her. They’d played it safe for years, never even made it past second base.

“Rebecca,” his voice slurred ever so slightly between kisses as their mouths moved together. It was like dancing, tongues waltzing together, circling each other. “Rebecca.”

He leaned his head back, fingers fisting in her hair, trapping her when she would have followed. His chest rose and fell. His excitement fueled her own. “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.” His murmur was low and throaty. Would he sound that raspy and hoarse when they were naked and rolling together? She shuddered, one aching tangle of need. Her body vibrated with it. Her hands flattened against his chest, the pounding of his heart a delicious cadence beneath her questing fingers as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s ever hurt this good,” she murmured. She wanted to feel his skin, to see his body, to touch every inch of him with her hands and her mouth. He covered her hands with one of his, halting her action.

“Becca, stop.” The order shuddered through the desire questing in her system.

“You don’t want me?” The traitorous words slipped out before she could stop them. Even in the low light cast by the dashboard, she saw the words strike their mark.

“Baby, I want you more than I can say. But not like this, not because you’re feeling sorry for me.”

He couldn’t have cooled her ardor faster if he’d slapped her. “Sorry for you?” She repeated the words, hardly believing them. “Sorry for you?”

“Becca….” His tone shifted, wary. She tore away, ignoring her body’s lonely cry as she tumbled onto the passenger seat. She grabbed the door handle and jerked it open, all but falling out of the truck.

He was out the driver’s side door and circling around even as she found her shoes and her purse. The cold night air provided the bracing reality check she needed against the wild desire riding hard through her body.

“Becca, wait.”

“The hell I will.” Fury pounded in her temples, mingling with her aggravated desire and frustrated need. “That wasn’t feeling sorry for you, you…you…jerk.” She punched her finger at his chest. “That was me loving you.” He took one step back as her finger jabbed him again. “That was me reaching out to you.”

Another jab. Another step back.

“That was me wanting you.” She jabbed him one more time. “I have never felt sorry for you. I grieved with you. I hurt with you. I missed you until I thought my heart would wither and die. But I have never pitied you.”

She whirled, fueled by eleven years of loneliness and betrayal. She had no idea where the hell they’d parked, but she couldn’t stay there.
Not for this
. Not when her love bled like a raw wound, the stitches she’d knitted around her broken heart tearing loose.

“Becca, I love you.”

And now he has to go and say that
.

Luke clenched his fists, forcing himself to wait. If he touched her again, they would be in the bed of his truck and he’d be driving away all his good intentions as he thrust into her hot, sweet, willing body. He’d called himself a fool for stopping her. The first, sweet taste of her lips in over a decade, and time turned back to high school.

No, not high school—home.

Home
. For the first time since he walked out of the damn park, he’d come home. Too much between them to not do this right, to not answer the questions that he’d left burning between them.

No way would he walk away this time, but she deserved every opportunity he’d denied her. Her fury was a beautiful thing. Her swollen lips glistened, her face flushed, and her eyes sparked. His radiant Rebecca, so righteous in her fury.

“Babe, I love you.” He repeated slowly, watching the slim line of the back she’d turned on him. Again. He knew every inch of her, not as intimately as he might like, but he used to be an expert in her expressions, body language, and soul. He might be rusty, but he trusted his instincts. She didn’t run.

Not now
.

“What do you want from me?” Pain wrenched through every word.

It’s now or never, Dexter. Man up, Marine
.

“I want to tell you about the worst day of my life.” Not an eloquent man, he couldn’t even pretend. But Becca needed truth. She needed honesty. If it hurt him, then he deserved the stripes on his soul for every injury, real or imagined, he’d inflicted on her.

The park had been redubbed President George Bush Park in 2005, but it would always be Preston Park to him. Still the place he met his girlfriend to break her heart.

And mine
.

Her shoulders lifted, her head tilted upward. She sucked in a noisy breath of air, exasperation taut in the expression she turned back toward him. Standing there, stocking feet on the hard asphalt, spiky heels in one hand, purse in the other, rumpled dress, and disheveled hair, she seemed both patient and pissed.

God, I love her
.

“I’m listening.” If that was the best she had to offer, he’d take it.

“Get back in the truck so you’re not cold?” He tacked the question mark on as an afterthought, but when her eyebrows rose, he backed off. He could warm her feet up when they finished.

“Mom died. Brianna died. Dad went away. I was pissed. Angrier than I’ve ever been about anything. I wanted to do something about it. The Marines offered me a way to not only avenge them, but to honor them, too. I can’t even tell you when the idea entered my head.” He fought for neutrality. He didn’t like explaining himself to anyone. But she isn’t just anyone, she’s the only one.

“I told Dad I wanted to apply and he drove me down to the recruiter. I talked to the guy for an hour and then I signed the papers. I applied for my GED the same day. I wanted to talk to you about it, but I thought it wasn’t fair to you to put that decision on your plate. I didn’t think it was right that I was taking your last year of high school down the drain with mine. I couldn’t protect Mom or Brianna, but I could protect you.”

He dared to look at her and the haughty distance in her expression melted. “You didn’t have to protect me….”

“The hell I didn’t. You were putting everything on hold to look after us. You were at the house every night, cooking dinner, sitting with Dad. Hell, you were even doing the laundry. You were my sanctuary and I wanted to lose myself with you, but if I’d told you I was going, you would have supported it, packed me up and waited. Sat here, waiting for me.” He dared her to disagree with him. But the mutinous expression answered without words. Yes, she would have waited, and he wouldn’t have stopped thinking about her.

“But babe, before you start hating me for not wanting you to wait for me, that wasn’t it…that wasn’t it at all. I wanted to marry you, I wanted to fill you with babies, but I was an eighteen- year old kid with a GED and a hate on for Al Qaida, heading off to the Marines where I was pretty sure I was going to get myself busted up. I wanted more for you than that.”

“You are such an idiot.” She flung her shoes down and he counted himself lucky she didn’t throw them at him. He took a step forward, edging back into her space.

“Yes, I was. But I was a kid. A kid who was stupid in love. A kid who would have been stupid if all I ever thought about was you. If you were here, I didn’t think I could leave you. Making you hate me was the coward’s way out, but I thought you would be better off, you could meet a guy, marry him, have a dozen babies.” Bile crawled up his throat at the idea of some other guy touching her, holding her, loving her. Worse, the sourness at the idea that she might love this faceless, nameless bastard that Luke would have throttled.

“So it was easier to just dump me? To walk away? To say nothing?”

“Yeah. After, I couldn’t take it back. Then your letters came.”

Her sharp, indrawn breath stabbed him in the gut. “You got them.”

“I have every single one that you wrote.” The first one arrived while at basic—the flowing script cutting him. He’d worn away the return address on the first one, stroking a thumb over it. “But I couldn’t open them. I had to make the break clean.”

“Why? Why would it have been so awful to know I was here for you? That I would wait, support you in any way I could? Why wouldn’t you let me be there for you?” She took a step toward him.

“Because I was scared, Becca. Scared that I’d get out there and the only thing I would do is think about you, get killed, and leave you grieving. At least, I told myself, if I did buy it over there, you wouldn’t be mourning me. You’d have a great life and it was all I had to give then.”

If he could go back to his eighteen-year-old self, he’d thump him hard. His dad even agreed with his decision, but in retrospect, his father didn’t see much point to civilian life and love anymore. He turned all Marine, all the time, after their loss.

“But I kept the letters. When I deployed, my base commander kept them and shipped them over in bulk. They went everywhere with me. I promised myself when I came home for good, I’d read them then. I’d read them and see the life you’d built for yourself.”

“And have you?” She stood directly in front of him then, staring up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Nope. I wanted to, but I had the idea for Mike’s Place and I guess I came back here because I wanted to be close to you. Told myself I’d get Mike’s Place started and then I’d read them.”

“You were never going to read them, Luke Dexter.” Exasperated amusement, not censure, filtered through her words.

“I’m an ass, Becca. I’m an ass who loved you too much to hold onto you. But I’m not ass enough to walk away this time. I’m right here. I’ll do whatever penance you want, I’ll get on my knees if you need me too, and I’ll crawl the rest of my life if that’s what it takes to prove it to you.” The text-messaged words echoed in his mind. They were the right words. “Life doesn’t always offer second chances and I sure as sh—heck don’t deserve one, but….”

He hesitated. He wasn’t pleading his case really well. Hell, he didn’t even know if she had some jackass in her life. He considered the way she’d crawled into his lap and the lack of ring on her finger and he’d bet he could push the imaginary boyfriend out without a hell of a lot of effort.

Rebecca blew a breath up at the hair tumbling in her eyes. She turned back toward the truck and his heart squeezed. He’d blown it. Somewhere in that muddied, dumbass explanation he’d shot his chance to hell. But instead of getting in the truck, she tossed her purse inside and pivoted to race across the six feet separating them.