Playing Dirty (16 page)

He sat on the bed and faced her. “What’s going on?”

She bit her lip. From their years together, he knew that was her tell. She had something to say and she wasn’t sure how he’d react.
 

Shit.
“Why do you keep looking at the clock?”
 

“I’m timing an early response pregnancy test,” she said. Apprehension clouded her pretty green eyes. “I need to be sure.”

The mule kick to his gut hurt like hell. They’d briefly touched on the subject before, but a pregnancy test made it real. Too fucking real. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
 

He didn’t drink from his mug, only clutched the warm ceramic in his suddenly, ice cold hands. God, if she was pregnant with Avery’s kid...

“Yes, but not quite.”
 

She gave him a direct stare, one filled with a level of determination that took him a little by surprise. She’d changed over the years. Expected, but had she changed so completely that he wouldn’t recognize the sweet wife he’d left behind?

“Where were you?” she asked. “I want the truth this time.” She paused and took a breath. “It’s just you and me here. I
need
to know what happened to you.”
 

“Mattie—”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you
dare
tell me it’s classified, Ford.”

This was not the conversation he’d thought they would be having, for which he was grateful, but he couldn’t say he was relieved, either. He knew his wife. She carried the ruthless gene and while she used it sparingly, when she did, he’d be damned if he could stop her from having what she wanted.
 

“What were you told?”

“Not much. Your plane was shot down somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea, there were no survivors.” She cocked her head slightly to the side. “What else did the government get wrong?”

He looked down at the coffee mug in his hands, then back at her. “Enough,” he answered. “Our plane
was
shot down by enemy fighters near the Syrian border. Three of us were able to parachute out. Brad Wilkins didn’t make it. Gus McMillan and I did, but I was eventually handed over to the enemy.”

“Eventually?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, a Syrian fisherman and his son found us, gave us shelter and nursed us back to health. My leg was busted up pretty bad, my shoulder was a mess and I had a few broken ribs. Gus was in worse shape,” he said. “Once I could walk, they turned me over to the Taliban and I was taken to Iran. I know I spent time in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. Maybe even Turkey. But, I eventually escaped and made my way to the American Embassy in Kuwait.”

“Oh God,” she whispered. “What happened to Gus?”

“I don’t know. Presumed dead, I suppose. Like I had been.”

“Has anyone told Shannon you’re alive?”

Shannon McMillan was Gus’s wife, and she and Mattie had been close. All the wives were close, but Mattie and Shannon had been almost as close as sisters. He’d been a part of a SEAL team. Those team members were his brothers-in-arms, on and off the field of battle. They’d been there for the births of one another’s children, celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, and when necessary, holding the other up during the hard times.
 

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe Paul? I can’t say.”

“We lost track over the years,” Mattie said, her voice tinged with regret. “After a while it was too hard to keep up the pretense that we were going to be okay.”

He didn’t think he’d ever rid himself of the guilt over the pain he’d caused her. If she’d let him, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

“Why did they take you?”

“I’m not sure.”
 

One of her arched eyebrows hiked skyward. “Try again.”

“I’m serious. I really don’t know for certain.”

“Why not just kill you?” she asked, then winced. “I’m sorry. But you know what I mean. For the past five years the Taliban, and now ISIS, have shown nothing but brutality with captives. You’re a service member, not an aid worker or even a reporter. For Heaven’s sake, Ford, you’re a SEAL. You’d think they’d have performed a public beheading in a great big ol’ F U to Uncle Sam.”
 

She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I need to focus on the fact that you’re here. Now. You’re alive and you’re home.”

“I can tell you this—they considered me a valuable asset. It’s what kept me alive. I was a useful bargaining chip. I was traded a couple of times for weapons, once for an armored vehicle. I was their ace in the hole if they needed to make a trade for prisoners, weapons, anything that might have given them an advantage.”

Mattie frowned. “There was a trade. Not too long ago, in fact. A low-level service member was captured and traded for prisoners in Guantanamo.”

“I heard about that when I was in Brussels being debriefed,” he said, then shrugged because he had no intention of telling her everything he knew. He couldn’t. She might never forgive him for not going straight to the closest embassy, but choosing instead to remain behind enemy lines to take out a chemical plant. Maybe if he had gone straight to an embassy he could’ve made it home in time to prevent her marriage to Avery. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

She set her mug on the nightstand and moved to sit beside him on the bed. Lacing their fingers together, she brought their joined hands to her lips. “I’m grateful that you’re home.” She turned her head so her cheek rested against their fingers. “I’m thankful that you are alive. Phoebe needs to know her father.”
 

He looked into her eyes, saw the uncertainty, the apprehension and his gut tightened. “What about Phoebe’s mother?”

The barest hint of a smile tugged her lips. “She needs you home, too,” she whispered.
 

She leaned in and lifted her mouth to his. Sliding his free hand along her jaw, he cupped her face in his palm, then dipped his head and kissed her.
 

She tasted sweet, like vanilla and hazelnuts.
 

She tasted like home.

He angled her head and kissed her deeper. She moaned softly and kissed him back with a hunger that fed his libido. His dick hardened and throbbed. God, he wanted her.
 

She ended the kiss far too soon. “I need to ask you something,” she said, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

In his current state, he’d have promised her the moon, the stars and everything in between if it meant he could spread her out on the bed and make love to her for hours. With a sigh, he dropped his hand. “What is it?”

“What if the test is positive?”

He smelled a trap. “Why don’t you check it first, then we’ll go from there.”

“No.” That single word held a wealth of determination. “Worst case scenario.”

They’d played this game a lot. Whenever they’d made major decisions together, they’d try to come up with different scenarios. Trying to determine what was the worst that could happen was their way of working the bugs out of a situation, and for the most part, it had worked.

“Worst case?” he asked. “You’re pregnant.”
And it’s not mine.
 

“What do you do?”

The fact that some little pink plus or minus sign held the power to dictate his future annoyed the crap out of him. But she hadn’t asked him what would
we
do, but what would
he
do? The ball was coming in fast and he had one shot at a homerun.
 

“We figure it out together,” he finally answered. “Like we always have.”

A quick nod was her only response as she stood and walked into the adjoining bathroom. Seriously? That’s all she had for him? His life, their future, was on the line here, and all she had was a freaking nod that said jack shit?

Screw that.

He stood and followed her. “What the hell kind of answer is that?” he demanded as he pushed open the door. She scooped the stick off the counter and held it behind her back. “This isn’t a game, Matt. It’s our life.”

“I know that,” she said. “And I need to be sure of the decision I’m making.”

“From where I’m sitting, you have one choice.”

“Not from where I’m sitting,” she countered hotly. “No matter what I do, someone is going to be hurt. Deeply hurt. Myself, included. I can’t take this lightly. I can’t make a snap decision, but both you and Trenton want one.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re mind is already made up.”

She glared at him. “Oh, really.”

“Yes,” he shot back. “You know what your heart is telling you to do, but you’re afraid.”

“Oh, you know so much, don’t you? Well, you’re not always right, Ford.”

He wasn’t buying her sarcasm. He knew a brick wall when he saw one, and Mattie had erected hers in record time. “You want a guarantee that I’m not going to run off to some hot zone and leave you behind, wondering, worrying.”

He struck a nerve because she looked away. But he wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily. “You’re scared shitless I won’t come home again.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it closed. But when she looked up at him, the fear was there in her eyes which had grown instantly moist. A single tear slid down her cheek.
“Aw, babe.” His own voice grew suspiciously hoarse as he pulled her into his arms and held her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Resign,” she said. “You’ve been gone five years. It’s not like they’ll miss you.”

He chuckled. “You have a point,” he answered. Not that he hadn’t thought about quitting, but he wasn’t willing to walk away from his career quite yet. He had options. What he hadn’t had was the opportunity to discuss those options with his wife. “How about we table that discussion for another time? I have to report to Carswell in another week. I’ll know more then.”

She shifted in his arms to look at him. He needed her trust, and he found it there in her eyes. If only he were worthy of it.

“Okay,” she said. “Just promise me that this time you won’t agree to anything until we’ve discussed it first.”

He placed his finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back. “I promise,” he said before he kissed her gently on the lips. And this time, he meant every word. No more life-altering decisions without her input.

He smoothed his free hand down her back. Instead of cupping her backside and drawing her closer like he wanted to do, he snatched the pee stick from her grasp.

“Give that back.”

He held it out of her reach and grinned. Not pregnant.
 

“Damn it, Ford.” She took a step back. “Give it to me.”

He moved closer, crowding her, invading her space. “Wanna know what it says?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I already know what it says.”

He moved even closer, pressing the advantage until her backside came in contact with the vanity and she had nowhere to hide. “So do I.” And he couldn’t be more thrilled that Avery would soon be out of the picture. For good.
 

He chucked the stick into the nearby trash can, then planted his hands on the vanity, trapping her with his body. “It says...” He leaned in and pressed his lips against the side of her neck, gently nipping the tender skin. She trembled, then angled her head to give him better access. “...you’re mine.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, then let it out on a moan. “Ford,” she whispered as she slipped her hands over his shoulders to wreathe them around his neck. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“A damned fine place to start,” he said, then captured her lips in a hot, bone-melting kiss. Endorphins kicked in and his head spun. God, he’d missed this.
 

He planned to do more than kiss her. Hell, as far as he was concerned, he was ready to move his bags from the guest room and turn her bedroom back into
their
bedroom. There was no reason for Avery to stick around now, and he had every intention of making sure Mattie knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Her fingers played with the hair at his nape. He angled his head and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth to taste. To take. To rebrand her as his, and his alone.

She made a sound somewhere between a groan of pleasure and a whimper of need. He couldn’t be sure. All he did know was that he wanted her with a fierceness that had him on fire. She still wanted him, too. Even after all the time apart, he was the one she still wanted. In the end, wasn’t that all that mattered? That they both still harbored that driving need to seek and bring pleasure to the other?

Through the haze of desire, he felt her tug at his hair, then push hard against his chest. Confused, he dragged his mouth from hers. “What?” he asked, breathing deep.

“Stop. We can’t do this,” she said and stepped out of his embrace.

She put more than a few feet between them. To him, it could’ve been miles. “The hell we can’t,” he said, his voice as harsh and raw as his emotions. “Dammit, Mattie. You’re still my wife.”

“I know.” Regret clouded her gaze. “And I’m sorry. But I can’t. Not yet.”

Frustration bit into him. Hard. “Why the hell not?”