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To try to get you out of my head, I don’t say, even if it’s the truth.
All morning the sight of her standing on that porch has returned to me, the sass in her eyes, the shyness warring there.
Her hips, fucking hell … the way they move out slightly, enough to grab onto, a sturdy beautiful frame that’s made for fucking and childbearing, that’s made for me.
Again, I wonder what would happen if I saw another man try to lay a hand on this woman.
Fire flames through me at the thought.
It wouldn’t be pretty.
“Just to walk,” I murmur. “Why don’t you come along with me?”
“Well, Lava does seem to like you.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “Let’s do it for the dog.”
She laughs a gorgeous sound.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you always this somber?”
I shrug. “I guess old habits die hard.”
“What, you’ve got an old habit of being a grump?”
My smirk grows wider. I try to gather my regular coldness and detachment but around her, it’s like trying to hold onto a melting ice cube. Her heat just burns it up, makes my usual character slippery.
“Maybe I’ll develop a new habit of putting ladies in their place, eh?”
She glares, but there’s a note of playfulness in her eyes. “Oh, so you’re a sexist, huh?”
“Like I said, I’m old fashioned.”
Without discussing it, we started to walk along the harbor, along the side that’s bordered by the rock face. The sea is a startling deep icy blue today, catching the few spears of sunlight that are brave enough to lance through the clouds.
“So you don’t believe women are allowed to work?”
“What?” I chuckle deeply. “Of course they should.”
“So I guess you’re not that old fashioned, then,” she banters.
I shrug, thinking about all the primordial things this woman looks fit for doing right now, the savage way I’d bend her over and peel off her winter clothes. Inch by inch, I’d reveal her flesh, savoring the way it’d become prickled with goosebumps for me, the way she’d shift her hips from side to side, eager to feel my precome-slicked length inside of her.
“Where have you floated off to?” she asks, as we walk up a wooden pier, our shoes making crunching sounds in the snow.
“Oh, I was just thinking about fairies and angels.”
“Yeah right,” she giggles.
Her laugh. Jesus Christ. It’s so intoxicating.
“I thought you might be thinking about—never mind …”
“You thought I might be thinking about my military service,” I murmur.
She nods shortly. “Busted. Yeah.”
“No,” I mutter, fighting the urge to reach out and take her hand. Maybe there’s some deluded part of me that believes I can still fight this, that the spell this woman has cast on me hasn’t already made it too late. “I don’t tend to get stuck in the past like that. I try not to, anyway.”
We pause as Lava flops around in the snow, swishing here and there, having the time of his life.
Millie glances up at me, biting her lip. “Yeah, I get that,” she says. “I’ve been trying to work on that as well, not getting trapped in the past. Not that anything as dramatic as military service has ever happened to me. I’m not saying that.”
“What happened, then?” I ask, unable to mask my genuine interest.
She flinches and for a moment, I see darkness creep into her eyes. But then she laughs it off, waving a hand.
“Oh, nothing much. I auditioned for a play in high school and this other girl got it.”
“Hmm,” I murmur.
“What?” she demands, back to sassy now. “What’s hmm about that?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Just hard to turn off my SEAL instincts sometimes.”
“And what are they telling you right now?”
That something terrible happened to you and you’re ashamed to talk about it.
“That I’m hungry,” I say. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Yes,” she says. “Pancakes. Absolutely sublime, if you’re wondering, though I would’ve liked them to be just a tad thicker, and the texture, well, there’s an art to that, isn’t there?”
“Is there?” I ask, moving closer to her, and closer. I can scent her in the air, a scent so much stronger and prepossessing than gun smoke. “I don’t know. I’m not much of a chef. You sound like you know what you’re talking about, though.”
She shrugs, causing those juicy breasts to jostle up and down.
I can’t fucking stop.
“Maybe a little. I’m going to be a chef one day, hopefully. I’m a waitress at the moment.”
“I’m sure you’ll be an incredible chef,” I say.
“How could you possibly know that?” she fires.
Because I have a feeling you’d be amazing at anything you tried to do.
“Because anybody who can get that passionate over pancakes must have a bright future,” I joke.
She laughs and I wonder what it’d be like to spend the rest of my life prompting that laughter, that gorgeous goddamn noise.
Without discussing it, we start walking back up toward the parking lot, toward my Chevy. It feels good to walk alongside her, Lava sniffing the path ahead, and I can’t help but think about walking like this with a couple of toddlers and a dog of our own, a family unit, warm and safe against the cold of winter.
