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ucia.
For years, he’d played by the rules he’d written for himself since he joined the Navy—nothing serious. He’d never invested beyond a night or two. And in return, whatever emotions or insecurities might have come to the surface instead remained locked away.
But Lucia had let him in. Even before the mask came off, she’d given him glimpses into what drove her passions in bed and out. And after the mask fell, she’d let him see her. The real her.
“Cade,” she asked, her brow furrowed. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s a damn shame you have to wear a dress to dinner. I’d rather see your curls teasing your bare breasts all night.”
She rewarded him with a sensual smile. “We could order room service.”
“No, I’m taking you out.” He walked over to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. He needed to feel something other than the unnerving need to strip off her clothes and take her. Nothing kinky. Just plain old missionary, his body hovering over hers, offering him a clear view of her face as he took her.
Claim her.
Except she wasn’t his. And after tonight, she would slip out of his life. There was no way around it. Hell, he’d been trained to think outside the box, but he couldn’t find a path forward that didn’t involve hurting her.
If he tried for more, she’d discover he’d been on a mission to find her that first night. And if that didn’t break the woman fighting for a way forward, crawling out from under a past that had taken too damn much, the fact that a relationship with him would lead to loneliness just might crush her.
He unscrewed the top to the miniature bottle and sat down on a corner of the bed. “Put on your dress,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow, and he lifted his gaze to the makeup on her face. Anna had kept it simple, allowing Lucia’s big brown eyes to shine. And her red lips were a masterpiece, shifting attention away from her cheek to the mouth that featured heavily in his fantasies. He owed his mother’s friend a thank-you call for going all in.
“You’re just going to sit there and watch?” she asked.
“Yes.” He raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. “I want to walk out of this room hard for you. While we’re out, I’ll be counting down the minutes until we return.”
She turned her back to him and slipped her black cover-up over her head, revealing her black one-piece suit. “Where are we going?”
“A supper club with a reputation for creative drinks, good food, and live entertainment.” He tracked her movements as she drew the straps down her shoulders.
“You’ve been?” She opened the closet door.
“No. The bartender at the place where I met my dad recommended it.”
The suit still covering her, she disappeared behind the door. “How was your afternoon with your father?”
“Better than expected,” he admitted. “He was the one who quizzed the bartender on the hot new places in Vegas. And convinced her to secure our reservation.”
“Your dad planned our night?”
“Yeah. And it was a nice change of pace. Most of the time when I see him, he rehashes the past over and over.” Cade took another drink of bourbon. “Now that the tables are turned and he’s the one left alone, I think he feels guilty for the way things worked out with my mom. She was always complaining about the waiting. And my dad didn’t get it.”
“Get what?” she asked.
“The Navy and relationships don’t mix. My parents are proof of that.”
“Do you visit him often?” She reached out and tossed her suit onto the floor beside the mirror.
“No. I’m deployed or training most of the time. Last year, I spent over three hundred days outside the U.S. And I try to see my mom some, too.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. Knowing the woman who drove him insane with a need that bordered on wild stood behind that mirror…shit, his parents were damn near close to the last thing he wanted to think about right now.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I can’t see you.”
“I know.” She leaned her head out and wrapped her fingers around the closet door’s edge. “I’ve never done this before. But I want to be bold. And I want to give you a very private Vegas show.”
Oh, fuck yeah.
