Page 76 of Rescuing Mary

And he definitely thought about her as he lay in his bed.

When he closed his eyes, Truck could swear that he felt Mary’s body next to his. He actually reached for her, but when his hand encountered nothing but cool sheets, he knew he was hallucinating.

Or was he?

Could he be remembering?

Mary had stayed the night twice since they’d slept together on her couch, but both times they’d stayed out in his living room.

So why could he practically sense her here in his bedroom?

Opening his eyes and turning over, Truck flicked on the light next to his bed. His eyes slowly roamed the room, looking for something, anything, that would tell him he wasn’t making things up that he just wanted to be true.

His eyes stopped on a section of wall next to the door leading out to the hall.

He stared at the white wall for several minutes, trying to bring something into focus that was just out of reach.

Sighing in frustration, Truck flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Mary was his. He knew it down to the marrow of his bones, but he didn’t know how to break through the barrier that was still between them. It was frustrating. He wanted to tell her that no matter what had happened with them in the past, it didn’t matter now.

But he had a feeling it did matter. A lot.

Tomorrow, he’d start getting to the bottom of things. He was a Delta Force soldier, for God’s sake. One who was currently on a forced break. It was time he tried to find out about his and Mary’s past on his own.

Feeling better now that he had some sort of plan, Truck closed his eyes once more. His imagination kicked in, and his hand moved of its own volition. He brushed it against his dick and felt himself immediately harden.

“Fuck it,” he whispered and pushed his boxers down, freeing his cock. Then, bringing the feeling of having Mary against his side to the forefront of his mind, Truck got himself off. After he’d gone to the bathroom and cleaned up and returned to his bed, he felt much more relaxed.

Mary was his.

Period.

And no one would keep him from her.

Not his friends, and certainly not Mary herself.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, after Truck had made a pot of coffee and a spinach and mushroom omelet, he heard a knock on his door. He was shocked to see Mary standing on the other side when he looked through the peephole.

He opened the door quickly and said, “Mary.”

“Surprised to see me?” she asked a little hesitantly.

“Actually, yes,” Truck told her. But he was just glad she was there. He’d had time to think about what had happened the day before, and he’d realized the more abrupt she was, the more emotional she was feeling. Whatever had happened right before she’d told the others about his continued headaches had obviously touched her deeply.

“Can I come in? We need to talk.”

“Of course,” Truck said, opening the door wider. He inhaled deeply as she walked past him and, once again, the feeling of familiarity swept through him.

* * *

Mary was lying in bed in front of him. Her head was resting on his arm, using it as a pillow. His chin was resting on top of her head and his free arm was curled around her waist. She was moaning softly, and Truck was murmuring quietly to her.

He felt helpless to help her. He couldn’t take away the nausea. He couldn’t magically fix her. All he could do was hold her and let her know that she wasn’t alone. That he was right there with her. Loving her.

He moved his hand to run his fingers lightly up and down her arm. Neither spoke, but he was letting her know without words that he was there. That she could lean on him. That he’d take care of her.