Here And Now (American Valor 2) (12 page)

That he could handle.

He yanked open the refrigerator door and stared inside, letting the cool air wash over his heated skin. It had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from her just then. When the zipper had finally given way, revealing the snowy white strapless bra and matching baby-doll panties she wore, his fingers itched to remove the rest of her clothing as well.

And he wasn’t even going to think about the fact she was using his shower right now. Or what she might look like with soap bubbles and water droplets streaming down her naked body.

Lucky shook his head, trying to rid his brain of the image he’d painted.

Bacon.

That’s why he was standing there with the refrigerator door wide open, cooling the whole damn house, as his father used to say.

When the bacon was halfway done, he heard the shower shut off. Once again, he was hit with a barrage of images. Of her toweling off. Of her massaging lotion into her skin. It didn’t matter that he knew for a fact he didn’t own a bottle of lotion since she probably carried one around in that freaking suitcase she called a purse.

To further distract himself he tossed bread in the toaster and reached for a tomato. If wielding a knife didn’t get him to focus on what he was doing, he was bound to lose a damn finger. And explaining that to his coworkers in the ER would be just tons of fun.

“You made bacon? You are a god.”

He turned to see her leaning against the small island, her damp red hair piled in a bun on top of her head. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the shower, making her even more beautiful than when she was completely done up. Not to mention, she looked hot as hell wearing his old gray ARMY T-shirt.

But why, oh, why, did he give her his old black PT shorts to wear?

Unless he was mistaken, she’d rolled the waistband a few times making them even shorter, like they weren’t short enough to begin with. Thank God the silky running shorts came with built-in underwear; otherwise, he really wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all tonight. Knowing she would be sleeping only feet away would make things hard enough.

He was hard enough already.

Lucky poured a glass of water for her, then one for himself since he clearly needed to cool off.

“Hydrate,” he said, handing her one of the glasses.

After the toaster popped, he went about making their BLT sandwiches, adding cheese to both and leaving off the lettuce on hers. Instead of sitting at the table, they stood side by side, hovering over the small island as they ate their sandwiches in silence. When she was finished, he cleared away their plates and loaded them in the dishwasher.

“I’ve got one last thing for you.” Lucky grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from a nearby cabinet and shook out two tablets into his palm. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

With a nod and a weak smile, she took them from his hand and peered over the rim of the glass with those hypnotic bright blue eyes as she swallowed them down.

And just like that he was transported back to the first time he saw her after transferring in the middle of seventh grade. How those blue eyes stared up at the new kid as he shuffled past her desk to reach an empty seat in the back. Every day, he would wait until the very last minute to arrive for math class, just to see if he could get her to look at him that way again.

Then, without any warning, she rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. At first he took it as a simple thank you, nothing more than a friendly gesture, until she grew bolder, taking his head in her hands and guiding his face down to hers.

Her lips were chilled from the water she’d just drank, but warmed almost instantly as they kissed. Her tongue tasted of bacon with an underlying hint of tequila. But none of that mattered because, dear God, how he’d wanted this for weeks, years even, if he were completely honest.

Lucky wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her body flush with his, neither of them holding anything back as they kissed. When he grew light-headed and desperately needed oxygen, he trailed his mouth across her cheek to her ear, down the column of her throat. Clearly she was just as affected, her chest rising and falling in heavy pants, a soft gasp escaping her lips when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her hands roamed over his chest, down his stomach until she reached the bottom of his shirt where they snuck beneath the cotton fabric, her fingertips skimming across his bare skin, then edging beneath the waistband of his jeans.

The first tug on his button snapped him from his delirium.

They had to stop. He needed to stop this.

Using every ounce of willpower, he took hold of her wrists and stepped back, putting space between them. “We can’t do this, Rach. I’m sorry but . . .”

A few seconds passed as her initial confusion gave way to understanding.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before he had a chance to explain, she rushed from the kitchen to the guest room, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, because he did. So goddamn much.

But just an hour before, she was upset from seeing her ex with her best friend. He refused to be the stand-in, the rebound guy, the one to help her temporarily forget, despite the fact his body was so very willing to oblige her. Then there was the little matter of just how much she drank.

All he knew was it couldn’t happen like this. He wouldn’t let it happen like this.

If a time came when they did cross that line, he’d make damn certain she was of clear mind and heart because the last thing he wanted to be was a regret.

Chapter Twelve

W
HEN SHE WOKE
the following morning, Lucky’s house was quiet. Despite her throbbing head, she eased out of bed and made her way into the kitchen. The clock on the stove told her it was nearly ten and on the small kitchen island, next to a bottle of red Gatorade and ibuprofen, was a note from Lucky.

Meeting Dad for breakfast, then off to class. Have a project due tomorrow so it’s going to be a long day.

Great. He’d essentially left her a polite but firm brush-off for the entire day.

Rachel gathered her things and pulled the locked door shut behind her, choosing to wear his clothes instead of changing back into her costume for the short drive back to her house. But even after she returned home, she stayed in the T-shirt and shorts he gave her, telling herself it was so she could finish all of her laundry in a single day.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact she liked being surrounded by the scent of him or could lift his shirt to her nose anytime she wanted throughout the day and have a sniff. Of course each time she did so, it brought to mind a different memory from the night before, each one more embarrassing than the last. How he threw her over his shoulder and hauled her across the parking lot after she threw rocks at her ex. How her fantasies ran wild as he helped her out of her shoes. How she completely threw herself at him and he turned her down.

Lucky was by far the best friend she’d had in a very long time and in a single night she’d succeeded in screwing it all up. All because she’d gotten drunk and lost her head.

She didn’t hear from him at all that day or the next. She was even more surprised when she arrived at work on Friday night only to find out he’d called in sick. During her lunch break she tried calling him a couple of times, with each one going straight to voice mail. She also sent a few text messages during that same time. And another as she walked out the doors at the end of her shift. So either he was really sick or something terrible had happened.

Twenty minutes after leaving work, she stood on the front step of her parents’ house, knocking on the glass storm door, delivering yet another of her mother’s prescriptions. Her current plan was to get in and out as quickly as possible and then drop by Lucky’s house to check in on him.

A stiff breeze blew from the northwest, sending a shiver down her spine and signaling winter was on its way. She knocked a second time, the action stinging her knuckles because of the cold. Rachel wrapped her arms around herself trying to stay warm, and as she stood there freezing her butt off, she couldn’t help but wonder if her brothers would bother to knock on the door of their parents’ home or if they would have just walked right on inside.

She’d lifted her hand, ready to knock a third time, when the wooden door opened up, bringing her face-to-face with her father. “Hi, Dad.”

Still, he made no motion to open the door or invite her inside.

“What are you doing here?” he asked through the cracked glass.

She held up the small pharmacy bag. “Mom needed a prescription refilled so I stopped and picked it up this morning.”

His frown deepened as his eyes shifted to the paper bag, then back to her. “She’s not here.”

Finally, he pushed the storm door open just wide enough to reach through the gap and take the bag from her hand. Then he promptly turned his back and shut the door in her face.

“Great to see you, too, Dad,” she said to the closed door before turning on her heel and going back to her truck.

For as long as she could remember he’d treated her this way. Not anyone else in the family, only her. At least with her mother Rachel could look to a specific moment in time and know exactly why her mother quit speaking to her. But her dad? She didn’t have a concrete reason as to why. In the past, whenever she broached the subject with one of her siblings, the answer was always the same. They didn’t know why he treated her differently. Or worse, they changed the subject and pretend like she never asked the question to begin with.

What angered her most was the fact his actions still had a way of burrowing beneath her skin after all of these years. No matter how much she tried to brush it off.

Then it was like déjà vu a few minutes later, when she found herself knocking on another front door waiting for someone to answer. Any other time she would have walked right into Lucky’s place, but after what happened the other night and not knowing what he was thinking about things, well, it was probably for the best she didn’t just barge right in.

She knocked a second time and a third since his Jeep was in the driveway. Finally, she saw shadowed movement through the door’s pane of leaded glass just before it flung open. He looked like hell, his eyes red and swollen, and despite the cold front moving in, he wore only a pair of basketball shorts.

“I’ve tried getting ahold of you all night. Dottie said you called in sick. Are you okay?” she asked through the screen door. And then she spotted the bottle of Jack Daniel’s dangling from his fingertips.

He stood there dazed for a moment before stumbling back to the couch, but at least he didn’t shut the door in her face. She yanked open the screen door and invited herself in. Then, as she closed the front door behind her, took a better look at him. And what she saw scared her.

Lucky was a man who was always in control. She’d never seen him drink more than the occasional beer and now he was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle like it was water.

“Why don’t I make you something to eat?” Rachel dropped her purse on the coffee table and was on her way to the kitchen when he finally spoke.

“Always the caretaker,” he said, his words cold and hardened.

What he said was true about her, but his tone implied it was some sort of character flaw.

She was halfway tempted to pick up her purse and go, leave him there to wallow in his misery all alone. She’d spent enough of her life being one guy or another’s verbal punching bag and she wasn’t really in the mood for his crap. But she couldn’t shake the idea that something had happened, something terrible.

“You know what, to hell with the food.” Rachel took a seat on the coffee table, putting herself directly in front of him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Instead of answering her, he tipped the bottle of Jack to his lips, staring blearily at her as he took another long drink of whiskey.

“Is it your dad or Brenda? Are they okay?” If she hadn’t just come off shift, she would’ve thought it a possibility. By the way he squeezed his eyes shut when he shook his head, the pained look on his face, all of it led her to believe she was on the right track.

“Your mom? Half brothers?”

Again, another shake. It was as if that was the only movement he could muster.

She took the bottle from his hand and placed it on the table next to her. “Lucky, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s going on.”

He pointed to the open laptop next to her and she ran her finger across the mousepad to wake up the computer. After a brief flash or two, a news article appeared on the screen.

The Department of Defense announced today the deaths of four soldiers who were supporting Operation Enduring Freedom. All four were assigned to the 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment at Hunter Army Airfield in Savannah, Georgia.

The names listed weren’t ones she recalled hearing him talk about, but with all the nicknames he used, they could have been. But whether or not it was guys he spoke often about hardly mattered since he’d always said his military unit was like family to him.

“Are these guys you served with? Your friends?”

He nodded. “Three others are hanging on by a thread.”

She moved to sit next to him, turning sideways so she could cradle his face in both of her hands. At first he tried to refuse her comfort, to push her away, but she only clung tighter to him. “I’m so sorry, Lucky. So sorry.”

His chest heaved while he stared at the names on the computer screen. “I should’ve been there with them. If I’d been there, maybe I could’ve . . .”

Rachel covered his mouth with her fingers. “Don’t do this. Don’t. It’s not your fault. I promise it’s not.”

Lucky squeezed his eyes shut and grasped her wrist in his hand, trying to pull her hand away as if her touch physically pained him. But she refused to move away, to give him space. When Ethan died, she would have given anything to have someone comfort her, to just hold her hand. Instead, she was left to suffer through her grief all alone and she’d be damned if she let him do the same.

Even though he tried to push her away, she fought him tooth and nail. He finally gave up the fight, first leaning into her, crying against her shoulder, his arms loosely draped around her waist. But in time, he tightened his hold, banding his arms tight around her middle, even dragging her into his lap as he buried his face in the curve of her neck and cried.

They remained that way for what seemed an eternity, until his breathing evened out and he lifted his head to look at her through bleary eyes and dark, damp lashes. She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs, wiped away the lingering wetness from his tears, before leaning forward and placing a kiss to one cheek and then the other. Then, as she stroked his jaw with her fingertips, she pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.

His body went tense beneath her, and when she drew back, those dark brown eyes stared at her with an unreadable expression.

Her first thought was that just like Halloween night she’d gone too far.

Rachel whispered an apology as she attempted to climb off his lap; instead, his hands tightened around her waist.

“Don’t leave me.” He lifted one hand to push the hair back from her face, tangling his fingers in the long strands and twisting it around his fist. “I need you, Rachel. Please.” Tugging on her hair, he drew her closer until her forehead rested upon his. “Please.”

She knew what he was asking. Knew he wanted more, needed more from her than a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on. A little voice in the back of her mind said she shouldn’t do this. That he’d drank far too much, was far too vulnerable and upset. That she was only taking advantage of the situation.

But Lucky didn’t wait for her to respond with an answer. Instead, he initiated their second kiss, with a series of gentle nips to her lips, the heavy scruff on his upper lip tickling her as he drew his mouth to hers. And without any regard to her heart, she dove in headfirst.

He might have been the one asking please, but really, she needed him just as much. Needed someone to drown out the sound of her father’s voice on repeat in her head. Needed someone to make her feel needed for even the shortest amount of time. To hell with her parents, her family. To hell with everything. She only needed this one thing. She needed
him
.

Rachel took hold of her scrub top and lifted it up and off her body. As she pressed her body against his, she was surprised by the chill of his skin. He pulled her closer, soaking up her warmth as he kissed her mouth with unbelievable tenderness. His lips and tongue tasted of whiskey, his hands felt rough and callused as they moved against her skin. She thought it might be all he needed, to be connected to someone, to steal the heat from her body.

But his kisses turned frantic, desperate. His fingers pulled at the few clothes she still wore while his mouth moved over her face and body in unpredictable movements. In one second he was kissing her lips, the next, he was pulling the lace cups of her bra downward, his mouth latching on to one breast, sucking and biting her nipple until he moved to the other and repeated his actions. All the while he blindly tugged at the drawstring of her pants, then hooked both of his thumbs into the waistband and shoved them down, along with her panties, as far as he could.

Rachel raised up on her knees, finishing what he started and pulling the pants free from her legs. Meanwhile, he’d freed himself from his shorts and in an instant was thrusting upward at the same time he pulled her down onto his erection, a harsh cry escaping his lips as he buried himself deep within her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her to him as if his very life depended upon it.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as her own tears now fell upon his skin. Her fingers skimmed the length of his spine, stroked his nape, raked through his disheveled hair. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

They remained that way for several moments, until the tension reached a point she had to move. She raised up on her knees, only to slowly sink back down upon him, the motion eliciting a sound from him that was more pain than ecstasy. She continued to move slowly over him, giving him her care, her love. She would give him whatever he needed so he knew he was not alone.

Then, without any warning, he flipped them so she was now flat on her back, his arms and shoulders pressing her legs higher and further apart as he drove deeper, harder, into her body. She grasped hold of his shoulders, dug her fingernails deep into his flesh. The tension built and coiled low in her belly, bringing her to the very edge as he cried out his release. When he finished, he collapsed on top of her, his body limp from both the physical and emotional exhaustion.

She pressed kisses to his temple, smoothed her hands over the muscular planes of his back and arms, lightly dragging her nails against his skin. He relaxed further and further into her until her hips ached from the weight of him.

“Lucky . . . my hip. I need to get up.”

He withdrew from her body and sat back on his heels, swearing under his breath as he tucked himself back into his shorts. At first she’d thought she’d heard wrong as he stared down at her partially clothed body. Then he swore again, this time as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

His regret came far sooner than she expected.

And while she’d been thinking her first time with Lucky hadn’t been exactly what she’d imagined all these months, she didn’t regret having sex with him. At least, not until this very moment.

Her stomach roiled as she sat up and tried to put herself to rights. With trembling fingers she repositioned her bra and pulled on her shirt, then rolled off the couch and hurriedly stepped into her pants.