Rev (27 page)

Saylor scampered off in front of me and headed into one of the many stores showcasing strange and billowy clothing.

Hmmm…not my speed.

That was another thing. The girls I’d drowned myself in—those fast and easy women of the low-lit bars and drunken night—wore the tightest skirts and dresses, advertising each and every swell and curve of their bodies with overeager desperation. Saylor was different. And somehow, I wanted her even more because of it. Every glimpse of her body, the flash of a soft breast under the flow of her white top, the outline of her exquisite ass in those tight jeans—it drove me wild. I didn’t know how long I could resist, even though I knew I had to. My life depended on it.

Yeah, and how much is that worth?

It’s not like I was living the dream, with everything figured out. More like getting by, growing unhappier each and every day.

I followed Saylor into the boutique and sat on the couch in the corner—though I couldn’t be sure if it was for decoration or actual use—and waited until she came out of the dressing room.

Holy fucking shit.

When she did, I froze. Unexpectedly, since it wasn’t a lingerie store or anything.

Not even close…

This place sold all that billowy, flowing stuff that stylish girls liked to wear to the beach. It wasn’t exactly my speed. Left too much to the imagination, if you asked me. But hell, when Saylor came out of that dressing room, there was something in the way that everything she was wearing came together. Something in the way her skirt, though loose, accentuated the feminine, smooth lines of her legs. Something in the drape of her top over the prominent swell of those delicious looking breasts. It made me want her more than I’ve wanted any woman.

“What do you think?” she asked.

All I could think about was tearing off those clothes. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll wear this now since we’re heading back down the rest of the riverwalk.”

I nodded. “Seems like the right thing to wear.” I wasn’t the verbose sort. I knew that. But boy did I wish I could say something a bit more effusive.

Sometimes though, words are cheap.

Chapter 10

The way the lights reflected off the water was magical. The town was a fusion of old and new, with the diversity of architecture merging with the natural beauty of the location. The mad frenzy of nightlife filled the air. Lights flashed, sounds reverberated down the long corridor of the river, and we made our way towards the end of the path.

It was there, overlooking the entire town from the far end of the Cape Fear River, where it splits off in two, that he touched me. Not like before, by accident, but with a deliberate force. His hand reached under the small of my back and he held me for a moment, as if deciding what to do next, and I was afraid the moment would end there and be lost forever.

To my relief, he pulled me closer. I could feel the pulse beneath his chest as I pressed into his shoulder and he tilted my head up with his other hand. 

He breathed heavy. “I knew this was going to happen the moment I saw you.”

“I know.” In truth, I did. It had to. Fate had marked us from the beginning. I wanted him in the worst way the moment I laid eyes on him. And now, a full day after, it was worse. I ached from the tension between us. I begged for him to resolve it. “I need this,” I reassured him, sensing the hesitation.

And then he kissed me. And I knew there was no going back. In that moment, we erased our only sane option. We committed to facing the retaliation of a criminal world that controlled both our lives. It was only a matter of time—we both knew.

But his lips on mine, the tense muscle of his arms wrapped around me, and our bodies pressed together—that instant overcame all doubt and fear. His hand moved lower, down around the bend of my hip and drew me close enough that I could hear his heart beat faster and faster. His other hand held the back of my head, caressing gently with strong fingers while he locked his lips with mine and ran the edge of his tongue swiftly over the middle of the opening between them, gently easing my mouth open.

The scent of bourbon drifted over me with his warm breath, as if it were inherently a part of him. He gently nibbled on my bottom lip and his tongue reached past my teeth and into my mouth.

He groaned. “ Fuck, I want you.”

I reached up and around his broad shoulders, feeling the hardness of his body and the thickness of his tightened muscles.

“Let’s go back now,” he urged. His hand slipped lower down my body to where I wanted it. He firmly grasped my ass while devouring me with his mouth.

   
Holy crap…

I felt the moistness build between my legs as I thought about those strong hands and that hungry mouth devouring every part of me.

And that cock…

I’d only imagined, but now I felt it growing and pressing against me as Dean cupped my rear and pulled me closer. Hard and throbbing, it reached up and across my lower stomach as our bodies touched. I wondered at the size, knew it was big from the feel of it against me.

Suddenly, there was talking back up the riverwalk. Dean pulled away, and several people appeared up ahead. Without speaking further, we both followed the trail back the way we came, close together but quiet.

We stopped at the parking lot and the valet ran out to get the car. Dean put his hand on my arm, smiled—the first time I’d seen him smile—and went inside the small office to pay. I waited for him outside where the valet would pull the car up.

My heart still fluttered and my head still spun. I couldn’t believe this was happening, knew that it shouldn’t, but understood that it had to. I’d never felt anything like this. I needed him.

“Hey, how long have you been waiting?”

I turned to see a man standing to my side, moderately handsome in that generic sort of way, somewhere in his 30’s.

He smiled in an ingratiating way and came closer. “They always take a while with my Porsche. Between you and me, I think they’re in the middle of taking it out for a spin.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” I said flatly, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

Unfortunately, he stepped even closer. “Bill,” he announced, stretching out his hand.

Out of politeness I extended my own. His hands were feeble and clammy. I was glad when the handshake was over.

He stepped back as if surveying me. “You know,” he started, “you have a great look. Ever thought about modeling?” He smiled again.

“Um…Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say and honestly didn’t want to say anymore.

He pressed on. “Well, listen, why don’t I just give you my number. I, well, I have a lot of connections. They’re filming things around here all the time. So you never know.” He shrugged.

“Right. You never know.” I shrugged.

He smiled, again, all teeth and smug posturing. “Well, if you want to talk some options over, my meeting was just cancelled, so I’m free the rest of the evening.”

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

“Well,” he kept going,  “I don’t want this opportunity to pass you by. I mean a girl like you—”

“What about a girl like her?” Dean interrupted, grasping the valet ticket and cash in his tightly clenched hand.

“Who the hell are you?” Bill spat out, nervously eyeing Dean. “Her boyfriend or something?”

“If I were her boyfriend, you wouldn’t be standing there on two good legs.”

I turned to Dean. “Let’s just go, okay?”

He didn’t respond. I could tell by the way he was crushing the paper in his hand and the way his arms tensed under the thin material of his t-shirt, that he was pissed. And, knowing what underground fighters were capable of, I was concerned that he’d be unable to handle the situation peacefully.

But he did. Bill backed off and the valet pulled up with the silver Pontiac, and Dean remained quiet and calm.

Too quiet and calm.

That brief but compelling moment shared between us, and the closeness we felt after, faded away as we stepped into the car. Thing were quiet between us and the tension was of a completely different kind. Dean was closed off again. The hardened angles of his face remained still as the light and shadows streaming through the windshield played off his features. He stayed silent, only speaking once to answer my question.

“You’ll take me to the Wildlife Resources thing tomorrow at Holden Beach, right?” I asked, wishing things between us were like they were back at the riverwalk.

“Sure, yeah.”

He didn’t say a word after that. The pebbled surface of the driveway crunched under the weight of the tires as we pulled up to his ocean cottage. He got out and I followed him into the house without so much as a look between us.

As we passed the bedroom door, he stopped and pointed. “You know where everything is. I’ll be here, on the couch.”

I searched for some sign of what he was thinking, some way to get through to him. But his eyes were dark and expressionless, staring out blankly as he reached into the fridge for a beer. “Alright,” I began, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Dean.”

Dean nodded and plopped down onto the couch, took a long swig from the bottle, and leaned into the cushions, away from where I was standing. I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me.

Chapter 11

Three Years Ago…

Shit, I thought it was hot in Fayetteville, N.C. But the Iraqi desert was a whole new level of scorching torture and ball-soaking humidity. I checked my military issue watch—yup, 118° degrees…awesome.

“Yo, Hunter.”

It was that guy, Evan. I met him two years ago at the Enlisted Marine Commissioning Program. Since then, I’d attained the rank of Captain while he was stuck with the single gold insignia of a Second Lieutenant for another three months. Ryan and Chase, my buddies from back home, ribbed him about it, calling him “nugget” and “butterbar.”

“Told you to call me Dean, Second Lieutenant,” I said, jokingly.

“Cut the crap, Captain.” Evan punched my shoulder. “Getting big my man.”

“Yeah. The Marine gyms are nicer out here in the middle of the desert than back home for some reason. We got some great equipment coming in.”

Evan laughed. “Man, thank all the corporations looking to get support-our-troops brownie points.”

“Well, whatever the hell we’re doing out here, I’m just doing my job. I don’t take sides. I serve the country.”

Evan laughed again, patting my back. “Oh man, you’re too much. They should put you on the poster.” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh man… Right, so anyway, we’re due in 5 over in the Colonel’s tent. Something didn’t work out during the flyover and the helicopter went down.”

I seized up. “Wait. That was the
Red Dog
squadron…Ryan and Chase were with that expedition!”

Evan shook his head. “I totally forgot. Shit… Man, I’m sorry.”

I sprinted the entire way to the tent, Evan jogging behind me. All seats were taken and we stood to the side as Colonel Graham made his way to the podium and withdrew the glasses from his right chest pocket.

“At 0500 hours, squadron HMLA-777,
Red Dog
squadron, passed into the Fallujah territory with the express purpose of aiding militia forces in the containment of an insurgency uprising.” He paused, squinting down at the papers in front of him.