Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (36 page)

She screams my name wildly and carelessly and begs me to take her. She begs me to fuck her. I lift my head and glance at her, unsure of what I’ve heard. I’m tempted to reach up and place my hand on her forehead to check her temperature. Perhaps the last orgasm was too much and she’s battling delirium.

“You want me to
fuck
you? Is that what you really want?”

“Shane.” She blinks lazily, whispering with a raspy and sultry voice, “I do.” There is no hint of humor in her voice; she’s completely serious and the look of determination on her face matches her words.She demands with a deep, sultry voice.

Something transpires between us. Something erotic. Something epic.

In what feels like two seconds flat, I’ve shed my clothes and have Remy flipped over onto her knees. A hard slap strikes her beautiful, bare, sexy ass. She lets out a desperate yelp as I pull her hips up into the air before I plunge deep into her, making her scream out expletives that I’ve never heard her say before. Over and over, relentlessly and unapologetically, I thrust forward, asking her if this is what she wants while giving her every modicum of jealousy, every moment of doubt, and every measure of love that I have. I give everything to this woman.

She owns me.

Mind.

Body.

Soul.

I collapse, hot and sweaty, onto her slender back. The line between my body and hers is no more. Offering my love and gratitude, I trail kisses on her shoulder until my breathing regulates back to normal. “I love you.”

“I hope so. I hope that’s true.” She turns her face away from the cushion to look at me. Her cheeks are reddened, her hair matted.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Quickly, I shift my weight so that I’m underneath her and search her face, looking for any sign of where that comment came from. I love her. There is no question about that; she shouldn’t doubt me. “Hey, what are you
talking about?” I brush her short bangs away to look at her without any obstruction. “Why would you say that?”

She doesn’t respond immediately; rather a tight smile appears on her face until her gaze falls away. “I hope I’m enough for you.”

There’s an unmistakable ache in my chest. It’s the ache of self doubt and unworthiness and it’s painful. The idea that she doubts my love for her hurts.

“Remy,” I guide her face back to mine. “You are more than enough. You are more than I deserve. More than any man deserves. I don’t know what I’ve done to make you doubt how I feel, but you’ve got to believe me.” I raise my mouth to hers and pour my feelings into that one searing kiss. “What I feel for you runs deep; it’s in my veins and in my blood.”

“Please don’t get mad at me for what I’m about to say,” she looks at me with pleading green eyes.

“You can tell me
anything
. I won’t ever get mad at you.”

“Please, don’t ever cheat on me. Break up with me first if you have to. I’m begging you.” She buries her face in the crook of my neck as a shiver wracks her frame.

“Remy,” I breathe her name softly as my arms comfort her. Instantly I regret telling her about what happened with Mia. I was trying to be honest. I didn’t want her image of me to be tarnished, but I also didn’t want to lie to her. For so many months, years even, I’ve lived with misconceptions and misjudgment; I didn’t want that with her. I wanted transparency so when she asked a question, I answered truthfully.

“I would
never
do that to you. What happened with Mia was a mistake. One that I still can’t fully explain. But, believe me when I tell you that I would not cheat on you.” Daily, I will prove it. Daily, I will reassure my girl.

“Okay.” She seems to accept my answer. “It’s just…when I called you yesterday your secretary answered your cell phone.”

“She did?” Disbelief floods my body at the thought that either Karen or Dana would have answered my private cell phone and not told me about it.

“She sounds pretty.” A flicker of insecurity or perhaps even jealousy flashes in her eyes.

I know immediately that it must have been Dana, with her flirtatious tone, who answered my phone because Karen isn’t that brazen and she was out sick. Dana spent a good part of the morning updating Excel files on my computer while I was in a meeting.

Adamantly, I shake my head. “She’s not.” I’ll have to speak to her about answering my phone. “She’s got some fucking nerve.” I control the fury that rages beneath the surface of my skin. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, focusing my thoughts solely on my gorgeous girl.

“Let’s go to bed.” I slide out from beneath her and stand, taking her small frame into my arms. Holding her tightly against me chest, I breathe her in. I love the feel of her on my skin. I love the feel of her lips on me. More than anything, I love her.

Remy curls into my side, tossing her leg over my thighs after we make love again. I reach for my phone and snap a picture of her face as she sleeps. I toss the phone aside and fold my arms behind my head as a million things race around in my mind. I know I’ll be facing a sleepless night again; the adrenaline coursing through my body and the memories will not let me rest. I find myself staring into space until my eyes find the horizontal red and white stripes of the American flag hanging on the wall. My vision blurs as the red, the deep color of smeared blood, beckons me, drawing me back to a place I swore I’d never go again. To a place where I’m unable to erase the memories of what I experienced and saw too many times lives vividly as if it only happened yesterday. The weight becomes unbearable as my eyes close; I feel the dry heat as sweat coats my skin. I hear the barked orders wrestling and outweighing the gibberish of dark-faced men. I see him. I see the face of the young man I couldn’t save. The face of the young soldier who succumbed and died in my arms. I see his blood on my hands.

“Fuck!” I roared when I saw him slumped over on the dirty floor, writhing in pain.

My eyes darted around looking for the others. I set my rifle down. A chill ran through me as the sound of the blood running thick through my veins pulsed in my ears. Somewhere in the distance a stray dog barked; its sound reminded me that we’d been compromised, left completely alone, left for dead. Please, God! Help me. Help us.

The young man struggled to pull himself into a sitting position, but weariness overcame him as blood poured from the gaping wound.

I squatted down next to him to inspect the damage. I pressed my hand over the hole, but it was no use; warm blood spilled out between my fingers, staining them red.

His breathing became ragged; each breath shallower than the last.

A truck screeched to an abrupt halt. I closed my eyes and waited for the cavalry to arrive and rescue us.

“You’re doing great, Richards.” I uttered the lie. “Hang in there.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. He was dying.

“Yes, sir,” he gurgled as I pulled him toward me, protecting his body from more damage. I unstrapped his helmet and cradled his bloody head. I bit the inside of my lip to prevent my lips from quivering. I had to be strong for both of us. His blood stained hands reached for the dog tag tucked beneath his uniform. “Give this to my wife.”

“Now you listen to me, you are fine. I’m going to get your ass home to your wife. Okay! Do you fucking hear me?” I gritted my teeth and got in his face, praying that he would listen until help arrived.

“Yes, sir...yes, sir…tell my wife—” Vacant hazel eyes stared into mine as he fell silent, drawing his final breath.

Although I was in the middle of the scalding hot desert, I was frozen, cemented in ice, unable to move toward the sound just beyond the door. I wedged the lifeless body next to mine, curled my knees in and bowed my head. As the sound of foreign voices and heavy step drew closer, I knew I was next. It was my turn to die.

The day of his funeral I stood in the background, dressed in dark jeans and an even darker jacket. Shining my shoes and putting on my dress uniform would have been wrong. I was a fraud. I wasn’t a soldier who worthy of that honor because I didn’t do my job. I didn’t protect him like I should have. I was a coward.

I watched his pregnant wife, a pretty redhead, climb into the back of a black limousine. As it pulled away, I should have reached out, I should have run after it, but instead I stood there, defeated, and clutched the small pieces of metal in my hand. I turned to leave, unable to face the woman whose husband hadn’t returned home because of my command. It was my fault he would never meet his child. I was at fault for giving the wrong orders.

A distant voice stopped me in my tracks. I heard someone calling my name and the sound drew nearer and nearer until I realized she was running in my direction. Black tears stained her face.

“Shane! It is you. You came.”

Her small body barreled into mine and I wrapped my arms around her. Sobs tangled with words spilled from her mouth as she thanked me for protecting her husband; the husband who spoke highly of me, the husband who respected me, the husband who was dead because of me. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to hear because I had nothing to offer. I couldn’t console her. I couldn’t lie to her. I was a fraud. I was not a brave and honorable soldier. I should have died there that day.

“He knew. He knew he wasn’t coming home. He had premonitions and I told him he was just being paranoid.” She sniffed and wiped her face. “He said if anything ever happened to him that it would be okay. He said you would have something for me.”

I stepped back and opened my fisted hand slowly, revealing its content.

“Thank you,” she cried. “You have no idea how much this means to me. To us,” she sighed, patting her gigantic round belly.

“I wish I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more.”

“Shane, you did what you could. You can’t win against that kind of evil. Only God can destroy that and I believe He will. I believe that with all my heart.”

I left part of my heart there in the cold ground in Montana that day. Other parts of my heart were scattered around Wyoming, Vermont, Alabama and Michigan.

The sound of Remy’s alarm clock wakes me. After I reach over to shut it off, I whisper her name and caress her cheek with a surprisingly steady hand. My usual and automatic need for a pill to calm me is extinguished the moment she kisses my chest and tells me she loves me.

IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT
and the football team is pumped for what will be, for some, one of the biggest games of their high school career. Winning this game will advance our team into the division championship game. Scouts from different colleges will be here to check out the prospects. A leather ball and the ability to throw it far and well will be their ticket to a better life. Families have come in from all over the tri-state area to watch their brothers, sons, grandsons and cousins take the field.

I look up into the crowd and see Remy sitting amongst the students and parents, cheering loudly when each player of the starting lineup is announced. She waves quickly with hands kept warm by mittens and I notice how radiant she looks with her hair tucked beneath a knit beanie. She looks young enough to be a student here; not the insanely sexy woman I’m completely in love with.

Everyone is running on excitement and pure adrenaline as the scoreboard clock ticks down to zero and the game ends. A sea of red, white and blue fills the field as players and fans rush in celebration. The cooler jug is poured over the coach’s head as he heads out to wish his rival well. Throughout the celebration, I glance back at Remy who sits alone on the metal bleachers with her phone in hand. The next time I look back, she looks angry as she talks with someone on the other end.

It’s almost twenty minutes before the revelers disperse as people make their way to celebrate elsewhere.

“Hi.” I slide in next to her and wrap my arms around her body. The advice I’d given her to dress warmly was ignored.

Remy slips her phone into her pocket and leans into my arms, snuggling against my heat. Mitten-clad fingers cover her face as she mutters how cold it is.

I simply raise an eyebrow in response.

“Okay,” she groans, “you’re right. I should’ve dressed for Antartica. It’s freezing out here.”

“Imagine when it’s snows.” I tease.

“No, thanks. I’d rather not.”

“Bye, Mr. Davis.” A group of cheerleaders races by and waves, pausing for a moment when they notice my arms around Remy.

“Is that your girlfriend?” One of the girls asks. Another comments about how pretty Remy is.

Rather than explaining to a group of adolescent teens that the woman in my arms is so much more than my girlfriend, I simply acknowledge with a quick goodbye.

I feel Remy’s eyes on me.

“What?” I ask, looking down at her.

“You’re so cute.” Again she snuggles close.

“Cute? What am I a puppy?” I ask with mock offense.

She laughs. “You’re good with kids, that’s all.”

“I like kids.” I reply before I kiss her.

Brandon jogs over and interrupts us. “Yo, Davis. You guys in?”