Текст книги "Off Base"

Автор книги: Tessa Bailey

Соавторы: Sophie Jordan
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Four

Beck sipped the whiskey he’d just been handed from Lieutenant General Sutton. Truth be told, he’d never much cared for spirits. The occasional beer or two during a football game seemed to fit the bill fine without hindering his ability to think, but he welcomed the unfamiliar burn of whiskey now because the taste reminded him of Kenna. If that wasn’t a warning shot, he didn’t know what was. The girl made him think of being drunk and out of control. Made him want to get that way. Who needed the ability to think when his brain seemed determined to keep her image dangling in front of his eyes like a carrot? Flashes of her sparked in front of his eyes now. The feel of her mouth, the weight of her in his lap. Pathetically, he even thought of how she’d almost made him a sandwich. He wanted to pin her down and ask her why she’d wanted to make him a sandwich. Wanted to go back in time and let her make the darn thing.

Clearly the whiskey was already taking effect.

And okay, he might have also felt the need to indulge tonight for more than one reason. Chiefly among them, the lieutenant general had invited him for dinner, wanting to congratulate him for his role in the evacuation of five Army POWs. Scouting their location, placing surveillance on the makeshift prison, leading the extraction, despite the mission being compromised by a major explosion. He didn’t want to be honored. Didn’t want to be patted on the back for a job well done when he’d lost a good man on the very same mission. He banished the vision of Xander and locked out the upcoming meeting with Cullen where he would have to relate news details he wanted only to forget.

Beck shifted to ease the pressure on his right side, as if the throbbing had grown worse because of the memories. Like a lifeline, he drew Kenna’s face to the forefront once more. Why? Why would he put himself through the torture when she’d left him? Lord, he’d made a fool of himself in front of her. Begging, pulling on her pretty hair. Having no idea if he should touch her to make her stop writhing around on his thigh. She’d probably laughed her way out the door when he’d fallen asleep. Had she gone back to a boyfriend? Girls who looked and smelled and made sandwiches like her had boyfriends.

When he realized his hand had tightened on the tumbler of whiskey with enough force to shatter it, he took a deep breath and loosened his grip. Lord, this aggression wasn’t like him. His cool head had been a factor in earning him so many promotions. What was it about this girl?

While they waited for the final guest to arrive, Lieutenant General Sutton was relating a story of his time on the ground during the Gulf War, speaking in the hushed tones people reserved for tales of ghosts and battle. Beck’s mind struggled to distance itself, find a quiet place a million miles away from thoughts of where he’d just returned from, but he wanted to be respectful, so he forced himself to pay attention to every word.

“We didn’t know it at the time, but we were the lucky ones.” Sutton slapped him on the back. “Same as you. Lucky enough to be alive with the life education most men aren’t privy to. It’ll serve you well, whether you know it or not.”

Beck nodded once. “Thank you, sir. I—”

“Sorry, I’m late.” A muffled female voice, followed by familiar booted footsteps, came from the front entryway, and Beck’s body went screaming into high alert. All five senses sharpened the way they did before going into battle, his shoulders bracing for impact. He was experiencing déjà vu, not because his subconscious was rerunning this scene. No, because he’d expected it. Maybe not this exact way, but he’d expected to see her again. Would have gone to find her himself, if necessary.

Kenna was the final dinner guest? But they were waiting for Sutton’s daughter. Beck felt sucker-punched as reality dawned. Kenna—the girl who’d gotten on her knees and pleasured him—was Lieutenant General Sutton’s daughter. For the love of God.

He thought he’d readied himself for Kenna to walk into the room, but he’d been ten kinds of wrong. No, she strode into view in combat boots and a miniskirt, long hair—hair he’d pulled—piled on top of her head. And he just managed to catch himself before staggering back. It couldn’t be typical, this impact she had on him. Like ten smooth sets of hands stroking over his body at the same time. He shouldn’t be anxious to get those green eyes on him. Shouldn’t regret he hadn’t thrown her onto that damn bed yesterday, given her the kind of fucking he ached to dole out. The kind he’d watched on his laptop screen, where the female grew sweaty and moaned for the man to thrust harder, her ass shaking with the impact. No, he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that. If anything, he should be mad as all hell that she’d omitted her identity, but he couldn’t muster it around the relief of seeing her again.

She was busy digging in a grocery bag and hadn’t looked up yet, so he used the time to straighten up, pull himself together. Glue his gaze above her neck where it belonged, especially with her father standing at his shoulder. Jesus.

“I swear, I left right on time, but I—” Kenna looked up and the smile froze on her face. So she hadn’t known either. Well, at least he wasn’t the only one being caught off guard. With an obvious effort, she turned her attention to Sutton. “I, uh…s-stopped to get that beef jerky you’re always going on about. The one—”

“Thank you. Although, Tina picked it up for me this morning.” Sutton patted his daughter on the shoulder, much like he’d done to Beck. “I’d rather you’d been on time.”

“Ah, you know me. Unfashionably late.” She dropped the grocery bag down to her side, throwing a glance at Beck. “Just ask Major Collier. If I’d been any later to pick him up yesterday, he would’ve started walking.” She widened her eyes slightly. “Right, Major?”

Beck hid his surprise that she’d acknowledged their acquaintance in a sip of whiskey. “I was grateful to have a ride at all on short notice. Thanks again, ma’am.”

“That’s right. I forgot you two already know each other,” Sutton said, just as Tina joined them in the living room to take Beck’s now-empty glass and sail back toward the kitchen. Beck noticed she’d only offered a passing nod in Kenna’s direction and that Kenna didn’t appear surprised by the less-than-welcoming gesture. “I’ll go make sure Tina has dinner in order,” Sutton continued. “Make yourself comfortable, Major. Kenna.”

The air left the room as soon as they were alone. She was both too far away and too close for his peace of mind. Questions hovered on the tip of his tongue. Questions that she anticipated, based on her expectant—slightly defiant—expression. But the bag of rejected jerky she’d brought looked so sad, dangling against her boot. And he didn’t like the welcome she’d received. Not at all. Knew it had to account for the steel she’d put in her spine, the adorable way she lifted her chin. So he didn’t ask why she’d kept her identity from him. Yes, because he didn’t want to be predictable, but more so because he wanted to distract her from the tense undercurrents he’d felt running through the room. He needed her to feel welcome, even if it wasn’t his place or his home.

“I’m not much of a fan of dinner parties.” He cleared his throat into the silence. “You ever hear of murder mystery dinner theater?” She shook her head slowly, as if trying to discern his angle. “There’s a place down in Atlanta—Agatha’s, I think it’s called. From the time my sister and I entered middle school, my mother used to drag us there for our birthdays. These actors would put on a big whodunit on stage while everyone ate ribs.”

A spark lit her eyes. “So bad it was good?”

“Exactly.” Oh God, she’s so damn pretty and I’m stuck talking about dinner theater. “We started off hating it every time, but then my mother, she’d start laughing. She’d laugh so loud, the actors would forget their lines. Soon none of us could keep a straight face.” He shrugged. “I think that’s why I can’t enjoy dinner parties anymore. They pale in comparison.”

“I hate be the bearer of bad news, True Blue, but this one is going to keep the disappointment streak alive.”

“Now, see, you missed the point of the story.” Beck sidestepped an ottoman and risked a move in her direction. “I was going to tell you that this dinner party already beat the others. Just from having you walk in.”

The plastic bag of beef jerky hit the floor, spilling its contents. On reflex, Beck stooped down to pick it up, which was a grave mistake if he’d ever made one because it put him eye level with her thighs. He tangled a hand in the plastic bag so he wouldn’t touch her. Ducked his head so he wouldn’t look, either. Just a peek had been enough to dry his throat and make his dress pants feel three sizes too small.

He started to shove the packets of jerky back into the bag, but stilled when he felt Kenna’s hand brush over his shaved head. “I told you, Major. You’re allowed to look at my body.”

“Not right now, I can’t.” His tone was harsh so he softened it. “Wouldn’t be right in your father’s house.”

She hummed in a low, soothing way that made him close his eyes. “Not a lot of men would care.”

“Those men aren’t worthy of your time.” He twisted the plastic in his fist. “Speaking of which, I’d like to know if you’re spoken for, Kenna.”

“No. I don’t let men speak for me.” A few beats of silence passed during which thick, consuming tension drained from Beck. “Why aren’t you pissed at me?” she asked, her nails trailing down his neck and back up. “For not telling you who I was.”

Her touch was torture and he never wanted her to stop. Ever. But he forced himself to move away before he lost the battle and looked at her legs. Maybe even let his hands encounter that supple skin. “I’m not pissed about that. I’m only curious why.” Beck rose from his crouched position, watching her breath go shallow when he reached his full height. Did she like tall men? He hoped so. “I’m only angry that you left. Before I could…”

“Before you could what?” She moved closer, just close enough to graze his rib cage with her breasts and turn his cock to steel. “What would you have done to me, Major?”

Breathe, man. In and out. “I won’t say the words under your father’s roof.”

She traced his belt buckle with a single finger. “But you would tell me outside?”

“Only if you’ll give me the chance to do what I say.”

Confusion and indecision flashed in her green eyes. “I assumed you would go out last night to celebrate being back. Finding a girl to pick up where I left off wouldn’t have been hard.” She swiped a palm against her skirt as she stepped back. “You didn’t…do that?”

“I went out for a couple beers by myself.” He hadn’t wanted to, but the silent gray apartment had forced him out, just to encounter the noise to which he’d grown accustomed, back in the bustling Army facility he’d lived in so long. He should have gone to find Cullen, have the discussion he’d been putting off, but he’d wanted to give his friend one more night with a clear conscience. A luxury Beck didn’t have. “There were girls there, yeah. Smiling and dancing. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the door hoping you might walk in.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. “Stop saying things like that to me.”

“Why?”

“I—you should save those pretty sentiments for someone who will appreciate them.”

The flush on her cheeks told Beck she appreciated them just fine, but he wouldn’t call her on it. Not just yet. She might get angry, and he had plans to kiss her this time around. “So you want me to detail how I’d like to touch you. You want me to look at your body, but you draw the line at me saying nice things.”

“That about sums it up.”

He scratched his jaw. “You’ve given me something to think on, Kenna.”

Sutton swung open the kitchen door then, calling them to the table. Beck threw a wink at Kenna and gestured for her to precede him.

* * *

Kenna twirled a forkful of pasta and let it unwind. Her appetite had apparently gone on sabbatical. Or the floating lust balloons bumping around in her stomach simply left no room for food. Although battling the urge to climb across the table and straddle the major’s lap was eminently wrong, considering her father sat three feet away, that’s exactly what she wanted to do. Highly unlike her in so many ways. She’d been at dozens of these dinners with her father, honoring one soldier or another. Mostly it turned out to be an excuse for the lieutenant general to relate his own stories. And usually the guest sent a discreet glance or nine at her cleavage throughout the meal. A perfect amount to remind her men only wanted one thing, thus justifying her plans to remain unattached. It wasn’t a cynical practice. Just a little reward for being practical. Seeing the male-female dynamic for what it was. A necessary function that rarely survived in the long term.

Beck hadn’t glanced at her rack once. Not once. He was a giant, sexy, unassuming phenomenon, and she didn’t like it. Upstairs in the old brain chamber, that is. The upstairs chamber that housed intelligent thought wanted to put him in a clean-cut category. One that made sense and didn’t throw her ideas about men into a freaking tailspin. Downstairs, however? Downstairs liked his resolve very much. Couldn’t wait to break through it when the timing was right. Shake him up again like she’d done yesterday.

Those were the two key parts of Kenna she was comfortable addressing. Upstairs and downstairs. The middle…the middle was off limits. That clumsy, clunking organ in her chest shouldn’t have sped up when Beck said sweet words. It should have disregarded them as a line. A ploy to get into her pants and finally lose that pesky virginity. And she might have pulled it off if he would just stop smiling that half smile at her across the table and start looking at her boobs and not her eyes. What was wrong with him? This bra was a man assassin, pushing those puppies up in a way that usually had members of the opposite sex groaning when she passed. She might as well be wearing a hockey jersey for all the attention Beck paid them.

Oh, it was on. In more ways than one. As soon as they were alone, she would snuff out this wayward blip on the radar screen and everything would make sense again. She’d slake her mega-watt—frankly, embarrassing—attraction for Beck tonight. He would head back to Georgia in a matter of days with his newfound knowledge of the female body and set to work using it right away, probably snatching up some chesty milkmaid or whatever the hell they had on tap down there. She’d be nothing but a fond memory to him and she could go back to meaningless, road trip hookups every few months.

Beck’s gaze met hers, one dark blond eyebrow cocked as if she’d voiced the thought aloud. Could this man read her mind? Back in the living room, she’d gotten that sense. Best to remember he was apparently one of the Army’s sharpest minds. Not just a peach farmer who not only remembered the manners he’d been taught, but stuck to them like Gorilla Glue.

“Are you sure you won’t stay past Wednesday night’s ceremony, Major Collier?”

The mind-reading major gave a reluctant head shake. “Much as I’d like to stay a while, sir, I need to be back in Georgia. My grandfather is getting on in years and needs help around the farm, harvesting the peaches and such.”

Her father wiped the corners of his mouth. “I try to imagine a mind like yours going toward peach farming and I just can’t. We need you training new recruits, here at Black Rock, passing on your problem-solving ability.”

“All due respect, sir, I put in my time.” His smile matched his good-natured tone. “I think you’d be surprised how much strategy goes into farming. My mind won’t be wasted; I’ll just be switching focus.”

Kenna took a long sip of her Diet Coke, watching Beck over the rim of her glass. No matter how personal or unintentionally condescending her father’s questions became, he kept his cool. Not a stutter or hesitation. He didn’t have to think about his answers because he was telling the truth. Somehow she didn’t have a single doubt of that. Not for the first time since they met, she wondered who would land this man. How easy it would be to trust him if a woman allowed herself.

During the course of the meal, she’d learned more about Beck’s time overseas. His ability to find patterns and devise unique and often diplomatic ways to ended crises. He’d had the option of coming home more than once, but had turned it down. Although Beck had mentioned to her father that going home and leaving behind his fellow soldiers hadn’t felt right, Kenna had a feeling it was more. While the major might be unassuming, she had a hunch Beck knew his talent made a difference. The kind between life and death.

“There’s a ceremony coming up?” Kenna asked, surprising herself. She hadn’t spoken since they’d sat down, unable to fit in a word edgewise around her father.

Beck looked uncomfortable for the first time that night. “There’s a medal ceremony I’ve been asked to attend—”

“Asked to attend?” Her father interrupted with a rumbling laugh. “He’s the honoree. Major Collier is being presented with a Silver Star.”

“Oh,” she whispered, wondering why he’d never mentioned it. Wasn’t an impending honor something a soldier would be proud of? Why did he look so uneasy? “Congratulations, Major.”

“Yes, congratulations,” Tina echoed with a smile as she rose from the table. Kenna stood to help her father’s wife remove the empty plates, but the older woman gestured for her to sit back down. “More whiskey, gentlemen?”

Kenna noticed Beck frowning at her nearly empty Diet Coke. “No, ma’am,” he said. “One was enough for me. It might be a short drive back to the barracks, but it’s still driving.”

Her father leaned back as Tina took away his plate and disappeared into the kitchen. “Have another, son. Kenna can drive you home. It’s on her way to the garage.”

While her pulse began pounding in her ears, Beck’s frown only deepened. “Garage?”

“I live in an apartment above a garage on the south perimeter of base,” she explained, before her father could jump in. “They let me use an empty warehouse downstairs for my work.”

“What work is that?”

Had his voice gotten deeper? Kenna suddenly felt like they were the only two people in the room, everything else blurring into nothingness as he zeroed in on her. Held her still under his regard. Oh God, she was going to drive him home. Just the knowledge that they would share the enclosed space of her car once more made her thighs squeeze together. “I’m a welder. I create metal sculptures.”

The right corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah?”

Before she could answer, Tina stuck her head out from the kitchen. “Joseph—I mean, Lieutenant General—there is a call for you. Colonel Wheeler.”

“I’ll take it in the study.” Her father slapped his chair’s armrests and stood. Beck immediately followed his lead. “I’m afraid this man is as long-winded as they come.” He nodded at Kenna. “It could be a while, so I won’t keep you sitting here. Both of you get home safe.”

Beck saluted her father and the older man followed suit before leaving the room.

Then they were alone again. The table seemed to shrink between them, as if tempting her to do as she craved—crawl across it and launch herself at Beck. He’d managed to hide every trace of desire for her during dinner, but how would he fare if they touched?

His easygoing demeanor had departed the room with her father. His cheekbones appeared more pronounced and tinged with red, his hands curled into fists.

“Ready to go?” she asked, inwardly cringing at the breathless quality of her voice.

“No.”

“No?”

His eyes cut to the side, then back. “If I stand up, you’re going to see what happens when you look at me that way for over an hour, Kenna.”

“What way is that?”

She could tell he was struggling not to look at her cleavage. Inside, she was begging him to, but his gaze remained locked on hers. “Like maybe you’re planning on doing something bad.”

Kenna could hear Tina washing dishes in the kitchen and knew from experience the woman wouldn’t seek Kenna out or re-enter the room. Working as a tech specialist, Tina had lived on base during Kenna’s wild streak and didn’t seem prepared to forget about it any time soon. She couldn’t be more grateful for the woman’s aversion to her now, though, because cracking Beck’s determination had just become a challenge she couldn’t refuse. He was an immovable rock staring her down from across the table, but she saw more. She saw desperation, pain and hunger—all for her—and she needed to be the one thing that could shake him. Save him. Just for tonight, she wanted to be someone’s requirement to go on breathing.

When she rose from the table, he interpreted her expression right away, shaking his head. “What are you doing?”

Without answering, she circled the table and trailed a finger across the massive breadth of his powerful shoulders. They began rising and falling, seeming to expand with each movement. It reminded her of his size, as if additional thoughts were necessary. His obvious strength was the turn-on because it was kept so tightly leashed. She wanted to snap that leash.

Whether or not he’d done it consciously, Beck had leaned back into her touch, leaving a gap of room between his body and the table. Kenna stepped into that space now, between his parted legs, and ran her hands up his muscled chest. Beck’s head fell back on a rough exhale. “Kenna, I’ve got a strong will, but you’re testing the hell out of it.” The column of his throat worked. “This isn’t right. Not here.”

She looked down and saw the thick ridge of his erection, outlined where it lay against his belly. Anticipation sent dampness spreading between her legs. Need him inside me. Need him to need me back. “When you think about your first time, Major…” She flicked open the top two buttons of her shirt. “Am I on top, riding your big body? Or do you have me on my back, taking it hard?”

His tight-lipped groan sent a shiver pulsing up her thighs. “Don’t make me say these things here. I’m trying to do this right.”

Trying to do what right? Be respectful to her father…or something else? She didn’t want to know, so she finished opening the trail of buttons and parted the thin material of her shirt. He managed to keep his gaze plastered to the ceiling until she unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. His head came up, eyes blazing as her bare breasts bounced free. “Jesus Christ.” His tongue dragged along his bottom lip like a man getting ready for a meal, but instead of feasting on her, he said, “I could live off the sight of you, darlin’. But if you don’t put your shirt back on, I’ll hold you down and do it myself.”

Her sex clenched at his words, the mental image of Beck angrily dressing her. “I’ll put my shirt back on if you answer my question.”

Kenna stepped closer, bringing her breasts within an inch of his mouth, and his entire body shuddered. “What was the question again?”

“Your first time.” His puffs of breath made her nipples tighten. “Me on top? Or you?”

For a split second, she thought he might give in and suck one of her peaks into his mouth, but he remained in place. “When I first saw you, I thought of…”

“Tell me, Major,” she whispered hoarsely. “Say all the bad things in your head.”

His swallow was audible. “I wanted to hold you down and—and fuck you. Without holding back. I wanted to push your legs wide open and fuck you while your nails made my back bleed.” The words were rushed, out of breath. “Even if you screamed, I didn’t want to stop. Just wanted to pump and fuck until I stopped thinking and only felt you.” His hands shot out to grip the sides of her open shirt, closing the material over her breasts with a heavy, relieved exhale. “But I’d want you on top, Kenna. I don’t think we could do it the other way. Wouldn’t I hurt you, darlin’? You’re so small compared to me.”

Very few times in her life had Kenna been struck speechless. Beck’s graphic description of what he wanted to do with her blazed through her middle like a lightning storm, but the sweetness that followed, his covering her breasts, laid a balm over the scorched earth left behind. She felt pulled in two directions and each one was equally appealing. Sex with him wouldn’t be as black and white as she’d hoped. The tingling in her neck said run, run away and don’t look back, but when she remained silent too long and a hint of vulnerability crept into his expression, she knew it would never happen.

Messy or not, she was running headfirst into the oncoming storm.