Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“You’re so damn sexy,” I growl, as I smooth my hand between us, gliding up her leg, getting closer and closer to her sex.
She leans back in my embrace, letting me support her, as though my horny woman knows I need to see her when she’s being like this, when she’s captivated by lust.
Then, outside… a loud crashing noise. Somebody’s here to hurt my woman. She yells as I spin away from her, moving toward the door.
“Get back,” I snarl, moving for the door. “Get somewhere safe.”
“Kayden—”
But it’s too late. My heart is hammering like a war drum, the call to battle too overwhelming to ignore. Every thought is obliterated except defend her. It’s my duty to keep her safe. I throw the door open, ready to fight whatever bastard has come to hurt my woman.
Then I find my neighbor, an elderly woman named Clarissa, struggling with her suitcase. She leans down to pick it up, wincing. She looks up as I charge from my apartment, taking a step back, letting out a short gasp. I must be giving off the same vibes I did when I defended my woman from those assholes at my woman’s place.
“Kayden,” Clarissa says. “Is everything all right?”
I take slow breaths, pissed at myself for snapping like that, for rushing to conclusions that make no sense considering the circumstances. What the hell do I think… that enemy combatants are going to rush my apartment, intent on harming my woman for some crazy reason?
“Let me help you with that,” I say.
My voice sounds way too dark, way too tough. It reminds me of how I sounded overseas when it was time to switch off my emotions and do what had to be done.
“You don’t have to…”
“It’s no trouble at all,” I tell her.
“Well, thank you.”
I walk down the hallway and haul her suitcase up, waiting as she unlocks the door. There’re still some residual instincts clinging to me, telling me I have to be hyperaware, ready to flip into action if there’s another noise.
Stop it.
I repeat that phrase over and over in my mind as I carry the suitcase into her living room, laying it on the couch.
“Would you like a coffee or anything else?” Clarissa asks.
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I have company.”
“Sorry for the noise,” she says, as if she has any reason to apologize.
As if it’s her fault my mind slipped out of the current situation into the past. As if it’s her fault I surged into action when there was no need.
“You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her.
Leaving her apartment, I return to mine, finding Luna sitting on the couch with her hands gripping her knees. She looks up, her eyes wide, emotion flitting across her expression. It’s fear mixed with sadness and a touch of tragedy.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling deflated as I drop into the armchair.
I look numbly around my apartment, even as adrenaline rushes around me. It’s like any second it could all come crashing down, this life we’re working toward. Even if I know that doesn’t make sense, the thought is still there, haunting me.
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
Her voice reminds me of the distance I’ve naturally placed between us, like I don’t think I deserve to be close to her after what happened.
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Kayden, you’re shaking,”
She stands, walking over to me, slipping into my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it is—my woman pressed close to me, the heat of her body taking on a new significance now. Offering comfort as well as lust.
“I’ve got to stop doing that,” I say.
She trails her hands around my neck, clinging on, guiding my gaze to hers so that we’re staring into each other’s eyes.
“It’s okay,” she says, firmer this time. “You don’t have to feel guilty, bad, anything. I get it. It can’t be easy.”
“It’s just…”
I trail off, my natural impulse kicking in, telling me to shut down this conversation before it gets started.
“You can talk to me,” she says. “You don’t have to. I won’t force you, but you can if you want to. I’m here for you.”
“There’s nothing to say,” I snap gruffly.
“No, that’s crap. We both know it’s crap. There’s lots to say, but you don’t want to say it. It doesn’t make you weak. It won’t make me think less of you.”
I swallow a lump of emotion, my body trembling. She’s right. I can’t stop shaking.
“I guess sometimes it’s like this trigger’s pulled inside of me.”
I force each word out. It’s like slugging through thick mud, pushing inch by torturous inch.
“It wasn’t meant to go down that way.”
“What wasn’t?” she asks.
If she wasn’t staring at me with such intensity, such acceptance, I might be able to laugh this off, or tell her it’s no big deal.
“There are men who return from war and never experience a single bad thing,” I growl. “Men who can come back and slip into civilian life like they never left.”