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“No, thanks.”
Monk was back to his uncommunicative self, but Striker didn’t care. All he wanted to do was go to the hotel and get some rest. He only hoped he could sleep and, if he was able to, that he wouldn’t dream about Aine like he usually did.
When Striker walked into the entrance of the hotel, the first thing he saw was Aine seated at a table with the plumber. A few moments later, two other men joined them at the same time “Stu” gripped the back of her neck with his hand.
He stood where he was, watching them, even when Ranger and Diesel walked over to the front desk to check in.
He could see her profile, illuminated by the table’s candlelight, and she looked like an angel. As if he’d called out to her, Aine shrugged the plumber’s hand away, slowly turned her head, and looked right at him. There was no way she could assume he was doing anything other than staring at her.
Their eyes stayed focused on one another’s until Striker saw the plumber about to turn his head. He tore his gaze away and joined Ranger and Diesel at the front desk.
Something about her haunted look before she’d turned toward him ate away at him. What weighed so heavily on her mind? It couldn’t be him; she’d obviously moved on with Stu.
Other things that had happened in her life haunted her. Did the plumber know all the trauma she’d been through in the last couple of years? Did he know that her father had lied about his identity her entire life? Did he know that she’d been kidnapped along with two of her closest friends and was held hostage in order to lure out the same man? Did he know she had nightmares nearly every night?
He probably did, and that part was too much for Striker to think about. The idea that his sweet Aine would lay naked in someone else’s
arms made every muscle in his body clutch in anger. If only her mewls of pleasure could belong only to him. He could see and hear her so vividly if he closed his eyes.
After almost losing his life in Somalia, he’d done everything he could to get back to the States for Christmas. It wasn’t as early in the day as Striker would’ve liked, but it wasn’t too late for him and Aine to celebrate together.
He whisked her away from the house where she was staying in Annapolis and drove her to his condo in McLean, Virginia.
Once there, the first thing they did was exchange gifts. Striker gave Aine a garnet bracelet that had belonged to the only relative who had ever truly cared about him: his aunt, Dorothy. Coincidentally, his aunt and Aine shared the same birthday: the third of January.
She gave him what he thought was a pocket watch, but when he opened the cover, he saw it was a compass with a message engraved on the inside cover.
If you take me by the hand
Open your heart
I’ll help you
Find your way back home.
A.
“I love it so much,” he told her.
“Is it silly for me to say this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had?” she asked.
“Not at all. It’s the best Christmas I’ve ever had too.”
He stroked her cheek with his fingertip. “Are you hungry?”
Aine’s cheeks flushed, and she turned her head.
“Look at me,” he told her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Not for food,” she murmured.
Striker lifted Aine in his arms and carried her up the stairs. “I missed you so much,” he whispered into her hair.
Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, and she brought her lips to his.
He lowered her to the bed and knelt in front of her, pushing the sweater she wore up so she’d take it off. He leaned forward and kissed the pale skin above the red lace bra that held the two most perfect breasts he’d ever seen.
Aine gasped when he pulled the cups down and her ample bosom spilled over them, exposing her nipples.
