Текст книги "Off Base"

Автор книги: Tessa Bailey

Соавторы: Sophie Jordan
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Two

What the ever-loving fuck just happened?

Kenna stared out the windshield of her car, watching Beck climb the concrete stairs leading to his home for—how long? A day? A month? They hadn’t gotten around to the particulars of his stay. There’d been no real small talk, had there? No, he’d bared it all in the span of ten minutes. Just do not pass go…do not gawk at the magnificent virgin in the passenger’s seat. Because as she watched him move with a mixture of unassuming grace and innate confidence, she could freely admit that yes, he was indeed magnificent. The set of his shoulders, the sturdiness of him said this was a man who moved mountains if he put his mind to it.

No, there was no if about it. He had. Or at least he’d managed to shift something mountain-like inside her in a mere ten minutes. What was she supposed to do with these sucky, yucky feelings? Just watch him disappear into the barracks, effectively letting him get away with it? People—men, especially—usually took one look at her storm-trooper-meets-Cyndi Lauper look and wasted no time lobbing innuendoes at her head like mud-covered softballs. She never cared because those dudes all blurred together in a rippling sea of douchebags. This guy wouldn’t blend. He’d confided in her, and she was heavy with that responsibility. She…liked being heavy with that responsibility, which made no damn sense.

At the top step, Beck turned his head, catching her gaze through the windshield. She would go to her grave thankful that no one was in the car to hear the noise that left her mouth. It went something like ohhhnooowhuu. If he’d managed to keep the entreaty from those intense blue eyes, she might have driven off and endeavored to forget about Major Beck Collier, virgin extraordinaire. But it was there, even if he didn’t realize it. He needed someone. Someone kind and compassionate. That someone definitely wasn’t her, but he sure as shit needed someone, and there was no one else around.

She watched him tug a single key from his canvas bag and open the door. He ducked beneath the doorframe and vanished a second later. Kenna didn’t realize her fingers were digging into the steering wheel until they started to hurt. A sense of urgency danced in her ribcage, fluttering rapidly, slowly climbing into her throat.

“Goddammit.” She swiped a hand through her dark, messy hair before pushing open the driver’s side door and stepping out.

The morning chill had begun to dissipate, the ground soaking up the minimal heat and reflecting it onto her denim-clad legs. This parking lot was usually buzzing by now, but the Sunday silence amplified the sound of her boots clomping along the asphalt, echoing the nervous knocking inside her ribcage. On the second floor, she could see Beck had left the door slightly ajar, almost as if he’d hoped she’d follow. Please let that be the case. Otherwise this move was a smidge on the creepy side. She’d only signed on to be his transport, not his kick-it buddy.

Decision is already made, Kenna. Too bad she didn’t have a clue what she would do once they were in the apartment together. She had no game plan. Or exit strategy. But she knew driving away would feel awful if she didn’t do something, so she followed in his footsteps up the stairs, like one of those cartoon characters floating along on the aroma of fresh-baked apple pie. Or peach pie, as it were.

“Hardy har,” Kenna muttered, stopping outside the door. Since when did she hesitate to do anything? To celebrate her eighteenth birthday, she’d gone streaking at the annual Army/Navy football game. Scaled the local water tower, spray-painting Kenna was here…with beer on the side. As a welder, she worked with fire, for fuck sake. Being nervous around a virgin was flat-out unacceptable. Even if he was Bigfoot-sized. After a full-body shake to loosen her nerves, she pushed the door open. When she saw Beck, her chest squeezed so tight, she swore it was wringing itself dry.

He stood still in the center of the dim, dull, undecorated apartment, bag at his feet. His hands were propped on his hips, head tipped forward. Lonely. He looked so lonely. The wrongness of that rose like an angry tide over her and immediately, she had a game plan.

Although, it felt nothing like a game.

Kenna squared her shoulders and breezed into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen. If someone hadn’t stocked the place with basic food staples for this man, she was going to raise hell next time she saw her father. “I decided to hang out for a while, Major. You’re welcome.” She tugged open the refrigerator door, pleased to see a loaf of bread, butter, cheese. A six-pack. “You hungry?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but started piling ingredients onto the counter. Thank God she had something to do with her hands because after a full minute, Beck still hadn’t answered. Bad move. This had been a bad move. For all she knew, he had plans. Or—

“Kenna.”

His gruff voice came from right behind her and the fluttering in her ribcage moved lower, so she didn’t turn around in case it showed in her expression. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this. I can make myself a sandwich.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” She threw a pack of Kraft singles hard onto the counter and crossed her arms. “Someone should be here to welcome you back. It’s not right.”

The stretch of silence was driving her crazy, so she turned to face him…and forgot how to inhale. Starved. He looked starved for something other than food. His pupils had swallowed the blue of his eyes, throat working up and down, even as he kept his gaze determinedly above her neck. Who was this man?

“It was my choice,” he said. “My choice not to burden anyone. Not just yet.”

Kenna took a step closer, and he sucked in a breath. God, the effect she was having on him…it thrilled her, made her legs go weak, but at the same time she felt his acute pain. Frustration. “You don’t seem like the type to be a burden,” she muttered. “The exact opposite, actually.”

“I appreciate you saying so.” There it was. He slipped. His attention falling to her breasts for the barest of seconds before racing back up. When he spoke again, his jaw was so tight, she could hardly understand him. “But it ain’t true. What I came back with, what I failed to do…it’ll be a burden on everyone soon enough.”

Curiosity demanded she question him, but his words stopped her. She was the queen of avoidance and understood his need to delay the inevitable. Whatever it was. She also knew exactly how to distract him from thoughts of being a burden. It was why she’d followed him upstairs, wasn’t it? Yes, she could admit that now. Admit to this irrefutable need to smooth his frayed edges, to make up for the betrayal he’d experienced. It was this man inspiring the need to provide solace. No one else could have done it.

Kenna reached down and took his hand, leading him from the kitchen. As they passed through the brown-on-gray living room, she scowled, hating the dust motes in the air. The lack of character. She knew the moment Beck realized she was leading him to the bedroom because his breath began rattling in and out behind her. His hand tightened around hers as if he wanted to pull her to a stop, but couldn’t find the will. When they cleared the threshold, Kenna let go of his hand and kicked the door shut.

He shook his head as she toed off her boots and slowly approached. “W-what are you doing?”

She pushed him into a sitting position on the bed, raked her fingers up his massive thighs. “I’m welcoming you home, Major.”

* * *

Beck reached deep inside himself, searching for the extra slack in his rope. Can’t find it. Can’t. He’d reached the end. Resisting her might have been possible before she’d touched his legs, but no one had ever touched him there on purpose. Not so close to his dick. Christ above, was she going to touch him there? He held his breath, head falling back on his shoulders as her touch inched higher, higher. Please touch me. Grab me hard.

Just before she reached his lap, her hands detoured up the front of his uniform jacket. Beck released a shaky exhale and she laughed softly. Knowingly? When she reached the top, he tipped his head forward again to watch her undo the buttons. One by one, she popped them open, green eyes steady on him as she worked. His severe disappointment that she hadn’t touched his throbbing erection gave way to awe. What was this gorgeous, electric girl doing here with him? Her face was mere inches from his, her mouth so ripe. So delicious looking, while at the same time a little…bad. The kind of mouth he dreamed about at night, alone in his bunk as he stroked himself off. He shouldn’t be thinking of her—parts of her—as an object. What was wrong with him?

Hot. I’m so hot. Need more than my own hand. Nothing is working anymore.

Kenna pushed the jacket off his shoulders and down, leaving his hands tangled in the sleeves at his back. He started to free his hands, but she stayed him with a head shake. “Major?”

“Yeah?” He swallowed hard. “Yes?”

She moved closer between his outstretched thighs, stroking her nails over his shaved head. It felt so damn good, he moaned. A moan cut off by what she said next. “You can look at my body.”

As if magnetized, his hungry gaze landed on her breasts and devoured. They weren’t good-girl breasts, the kind that girls of his recollection hid beneath white cardigans in church. Kenna would have been called a sinner if she’d walked into his old church, no matter what she was wearing. She didn’t have breasts, she had…tits. Naughty, up-to-no-good, made-to-bounce tits. The kind he’d seen in skin magazines or in high-quality porn, when he broke down every so often and watched. They were pushed up in leather, exactly as they were meant to be. Heck, if he tugged her top down a mere inch, her nipple would pop free. The thought of licking her little peaks while she sat on his thighs sent another bolt of uncomfortable lust straight to his dick, forcing him to shift on the bed.

“Kenna, I’ve never seen anything like you,” he ground out. “But I can’t look anymore or I’ll embarrass myself.”

She surprised him by leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Nothing you do or say here will be embarrassing.”

Then she dropped to her knees. Beck’s cock surged against his fly with such intensity, his hands untangled themselves from his jacket with frantic movements so he could grip his aching length. He had no choice…would have done anything to ease the agonizing throb. His gaze shot to hers, dreading the judgment he’d find there as he squeezed and released. Stroked through his restricting pants. These uncontrollable urges of his had become too much. No matter how often he denied them, they never stopped, only gaining intensity. He witnessed no judgment on her face. Instead, he saw pleasure. Seduction. She liked watching him touch himself? Jesus…she did.

Beck found himself widening his thighs and leaning back on one elbow so she could watch. Just having her attention centered there was going to be enough to finish him. More. More. Just a little more. But before he could start that final ascent, she removed his hand, replacing it with her own. His elbow gave out and he fell back on the bed, thighs shaking, stomach clenching.

“Have you ever had a woman’s mouth here, Major?”

“No,” he croaked. “Please. I know I shouldn’t ask, but please. I’ll do anything.”

He forced himself to lift his head so he could watch her unfasten his belt, work his button, unzip his fly. The lessening of pressure wrenched a groan from his throat, but nothing on his earth would ever compare to seeing his stiff dick in her grip. The softness of a woman’s—no, not just a woman…Kenna’s—hands put his own to shame. Precum leaked from the tip the first time she stroked her fist from base to head as his chest shuddered in and out on harsh breaths.

“She missed out, didn’t she, sweetheart?” She looked up at him under heavy eyelids. “You’re going to make some woman very happy with this.”

Her pink tongue skated over the tip, and his hips jerked wildly on the bed. “Darlin’. Darlin’, please…I’m hurting. I’m hurting all over.” Jesus, he’d never called anyone darlin’ in his life and who the hell cared? He reached down and wound a fist in her hair because he couldn’t not use her as an anchor. “Is this okay?”

“Hold on tight,” she whispered, before sucking half of his erection into her mouth. Beck shouted the vilest of curses at the ceiling. Swore his life was coming to an end. Every ounce of feeling in his body raced to his already sensitive cock, swelling it inside the sweet heat of her mouth. That mouth, that mouth that was designed for sinning, hummed around him as it worked, the vibrations hitting his balls like lightning strikes. Savoring noises that polarized and woke a beast inside of him at the same time. His survival was in Kenna’s control, and he gave it over without a moment’s hesitation, trusting her to end the torment. In that moment, she was everything. His sin, his salvation, his caretaker. All of it.

“Your mouth. God, your mouth. You. Just you, Kenna. I’ve needed you so bad.”

Every last thought bled from his mind when she took him to the back of her throat. She beat him off with several quick strokes as she sucked back to the tip and his very consciousness wavered. Nothing had ever felt this unbelievable. Nothing. It didn’t seem real, yet it was the most tangible thing he’d ever experienced. Never stop. Never.

“Keep doing that. Suck, just suck it hard for me. The way I’ve been dreaming.” His fists tightened in her hair. “Please, Kenna, please. Again, again. I’m going to—”

Beck broke off with a roar as blinding pleasure ripped through his middle. He lost control of his body, hips pumping upward trying to wring every last glimmer of perfection from Kenna’s mouth. Her fingernails dug into his thighs and she moaned around him, taking everything he had and more. The more he hadn’t known existed until now. The pain in his stomach faded into a dull memory, muscles practically liquefying him onto the mattress. It was impossible to wrap his mind around the stunning relief, so he scooped Kenna off the floor and onto his lap and held her, inhaling her incense scent in greedy gulps, knowing he would equate it with pleasure for the rest of his life and he was glad for it.

But the sweeping relief vanished when he became aware of her movements. She shifted in his lap, hands clenching and unclenching in the material of his shirt. “Now you, Kenna,” he growled, tipping her flushed face up. “Show me how to do that for you.”

Her nod was jerky, gaze refusing to find his. “When we wake up, okay?”

Sleep? He couldn’t sleep knowing she was experiencing the same discomfort he’d been afflicted with. Not a chance. “No. I need you better.” Hoping he wasn’t going too far, Beck pushed her thighs open, wincing at her moan. “Oh God, please…let me take care of it. My hands, my mouth—”

“No,” she blurted, softening her refusal by rubbing circles onto his chest. “I’m not ready just yet, okay?”

She seemed ready to him—beyond ready—but he’d rather saw off his arm than push a woman toward anything she didn’t want. Even if the idea of leaving her wanting sort of felt like both arms had already been sawed clean off. Dammit, he should know what to do here. How to fix her. It hurt to swallow. “When we wake up?”

“Yes,” she breathed. He reclined back onto the mattress, taking her body with him. He swore there was no way in hell he’d fall asleep, but then, he’d never had Kenna curled up underneath his arm. Never had her rub her face on his shoulder. Never felt her tuck her small feet between his legs.

Home. I’m finally home.

That was his last conscious thought before he fell asleep.

Chapter Three

Kenna stared through the lens of her helmet at the two pieces of cut metal she was welding together, but found herself getting lost in the blue sparks. She set her welding gun down and slumped onto the workshop stool. From across the space, she could feel her friend Darla watching in that quiet way that used to unnerve her, but right now only served as an irritant.

Feeling irrationally restless, she pushed her helmet up and studied the half-completed sculpture sitting ten yards away on an elevated pedestal. Yesterday, the idea of finishing the piece of artwork that would be displayed in a local park had imbued her with a sense of accomplishment, but nothing was penetrating her preoccupied state of mind today. Not even Darla, who sat perched on the adjacent workbench tracing the spine of a thick book with a single finger. Probably Tolkien. Or something else that involved a Middle Earth-like setting.

It was Monday afternoon and her friend had just broken free of second-grade hell, hoping to catch Kenna in the workshop. As if she’d be anywhere else. These days she seemed to spend every free second in the dark workshop, working on various orders from around the country. When she wasn’t chauffeuring giant, sweetly complicated men around base and subsequently giving them a sexual education, that is. Or the beginnings of one. Before she’d crept out the apartment door and burned rubber getting out of the parking lot.

Totally healthy.

She wasn’t too proud to admit she’d gone home afterward, rifled through her sock drawer for the perfect vibrator, flipped it to the highest setting and gone to town. Because, holy mother of blow jobs, she hadn’t even been the one receiving pleasure and yet she’d never—never—been hotter in her life. The way Beck had begged, twisted on the bed, yanking on her hair and gasping in such a purely masculine way, she’d shivered the entire time. Not only had lust burned her from head to toe, there had been unmistakable power. Power in being the first for him. However, something beside Beck’s wood had popped up. A…connection. A passing of trust. An idea far too emotional to acknowledge, so she was hell-bent on ignoring it.

But Beck didn’t want to be ignored. A day later and she still felt guilty for leaving. More than guilt, though. She couldn’t shake the intuition she should have stayed.

And done what, Kenna? Found out more about his sweet-potato-eating, aw-shucks-ing life? The last thing she wanted was to get caught up with some peach farmer who missed his dog. They had nothing in common. Except their apparent love of getting him off.

“Oh, um. Hi over there?” Darla hopped off the workbench, clutching Tolkien to her chest. “You can’t think that hard while holding a blow torch. It’s a hazard, and I’m not wearing the appropriate footwear to run from a structural fire.”

Kenna eyed her friend’s plaid clogs, complete with metal spikes on the heel and admitted Darla was right. She’d be doomed. “Where do you even find shoes like that?”

“Don’t make me explain the Internet again.”

Kenna removed her helmet and ran a rag over her sweaty head. “One time. One time I have trouble downloading a file and I’m suddenly classified as a computer-illiterate granny.”

“Nah, they teach grannies the Internet now.”

They traded an exaggerated smirk. “Okay, fine. I’m done for the day. Disaster averted.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Darla propped her slight hip against Kenna’s workstation. “What has you thinking so hard? Saturday night we ate pizza and watched The Hobbit—”

“Against my will.”

“—and today you’ve gone from Sporty Spice to Scary Spice.”

“Jesus. I can’t take the Spice Girls rating system today.” Kenna melted off her stool and clomped toward the mini fridge for a bottle of water. How long had she been working? “I’m just bogged down with work orders. It has me stressed.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

The water bottle paused in its ascent toward her mouth. Ah, the hell with it. She was too tired from her sleepless night to lie convincingly. Not to mention, her astute friend would get it out of her eventually, so this was merely a timesaver. “Hooked up with a virgin who’d just landed back at base. Started to make him a sandwich, but, uh—”

“Yeah, right.”

“What? I make the dopest sandwiches.”

Darla calmly set down her hardcover book on Kenna’s vacated stool. “Kenna, I’ve known you for four years and you’ve never hooked up on base. Not so much as a kiss on the cheek from a soldier.” She let her words hang in the air for a beat. “You are religious about leaving base when you want male company. The whole thing with your mother—”

“Hey.” Kenna laughed a little too loud. “This is getting a little deep for a Monday. Maybe I just decided to switch up the old routine. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

“I’m not alarmed. I’m just surprised.” Darla’s red-painted mouth lifted on one side. “Who was the lucky anomaly, you sly dog?”

“Uh, you sound like a dirty old man.” Kenna attempted to hide her reddening face by pulling the protective leather apron over her head. “Seriously, it doesn’t matter. He’s going back to Georgia and I’ll never see him again. It was just a thing.”

“A thing.”

“Yeah.” Kenna waved her hand. “A thing.”

“A virgin thing is so not your thing.”

Oh, yes it was. It was so her thing; she couldn’t think about it without contemplating another run for her sock drawer. Big muscled thighs, his voice cracking, not an ounce of male bullshit. Just pure awe and gratefulness…his all-out roar when he came. The way he’d cradled her to his chest afterward like a precious artifact. Damn. No thinking about that, remember?

“Speaking of male company, we need another road trip soon.” Kenna skirted past her friend and started to clean off her cluttered workbench. Darla was right. She’d broken her rule. Memories didn’t fade at Black Rock and her mother’s loose reputation continued to linger. Kenna got a kick out of dressing provocatively while never, ever, letting a single soldier lay a hand on her. Maybe it signaled her twisted sense of humor, but it was Kenna’s little way of punishing them for judging her mother for behavior deemed acceptable for men. Yeah, she’d burned her rulebook last night. Killed it dead. Now, even making the suggestion they go to a neighboring town, far from the base gossip mill, felt somehow disloyal. And completely unappealing. Bad. Very bad. “How about tonight?”

Darla’s face adopted its stern teacher countenance. “On a school night?”

“Come on—”

Kenna’s cell phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans. She fished it out between her thumb and forefinger, read the display name and smiled. “Father. Hi.”

“Kenna.” His gruff, no-nonsense voice boomed down the line. “Staying out of trouble?”

Her heart sank a little. “Yes, sir.”

That wasn’t a lie, but she’d deserved the question. In the not-so-distant past, the lieutenant general’s phone call would have gone unanswered because she would have been busy getting up to no good. Acting out, her school counselors had said. At the ripe old age of twenty-two, she could look back and agree. Following her parents’ divorce, her mother had moved off base, which had led to Kenna being passed around every three days like a piping hot potato. She’d embraced her new role as a seeming nuisance by burdening her parents at every turn. Running away, getting picked up for public intoxication, shoplifting. It all ended five years ago when her father had a heart attack.

Something miraculous had happened. The invincible lieutenant general had begun to need her. During his recovery, Kenna had moved in permanently, become his right hand. Cooked for him, cleaned, taken him to physical therapy and administered his medication. The two of them had grown closer in their own subtle way. Although, she now wondered if her imagination had invented that bond. As soon as her father was back on his feet, she’d been sent to live with her mother. Unfortunately, by then, her mother had moved on and married her boyfriend and gotten pregnant.

Kenna had been on her own ever since. That’s how she intended to keep it. Because while she loved her parents unconditionally, she knew what happened when you loved someone too much. They only loved you back until your usefulness ran out. So instead of pretending she wanted that shiny romantic future like everyone else seemed determined to have, she left base every few months, met some drunk ex-frat boy with a chip on his shoulder and engaged in a meaningless one-night stand.

It worked for her and no one got hurt.

“Glad to hear it.” Her father broke back into her confidential thoughts, making Kenna cringe. Think about puppies or unicorns. “I need you here for dinner tonight, please. Nineteen hundred hours, on the nose. We’re having a guest.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded tonelessly, although hearing he wanted her around filled her chest with helium. Her father might have—in essence—kicked her ass out, but that specter of the friendship they’d developed still loomed. “Do you need me to come early? I can throw something together—”

“No, thank you. Tina has it covered.”

Tina. Her father’s new wife. She and Kenna were cordial, but they didn’t exactly exchange chatty text messages or do makeovers on each other. Apart from the day Tina had exchanged vows with the lieutenant general in their landscaped backyard, Kenna hadn’t even been invited over once. Maybe that would change after dinner tonight?

“Should I bring—”

“We have everything. Just don’t be late.”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I won’t be late. See you later, sir.”

When she hung up, she ignored the sympathetic look from Darla.