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“Mmm… I approve. She’d be pissed if she knew what I did to it though.”
Julia laughs. “Pissed? Oh, please. Sally would give you a high five and donate a dozen more to the cause. Do you have any idea how much underwear Ben destroys? Lilah has to buy that shit in bulk.”
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of that mental image. The only woman I want to think about ripping panties off of is Julia.
She holds out her hand toward me. “Come shower with me.”
“I dunno. Let me think about it,” I joke, putting my arms behind my head and raising an eyebrow at her.
“Suit yourself. I’ll just lather myself up, I guess.” She shrugs at me before turning and sauntering her sexy ass toward the bathroom. I’m on my feet so fast I’m surprised I don’t break the sound barrier as I catch up to Julia and scoop her off her feet.
Julia’s pushy in the shower, and it’s fucking adorable. She lets me soap her up but pushes my hands away when I turn the loofah on myself.
“Excuse me, that’s my job.” She glares up at me as she takes the loofah, but the effect is ruined by the smile she can’t quite suppress.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She runs her soapy hands over my chest, her fingers tracing some of my larger scars. “Where’d this one come from?” she asks, stroking the rough one over my heart.
“Hostage recovery. POW.” I watch her face, worried about how she’ll take it. Some people get weird about my scars. Sympathy, overly patriotic, hell… turned on. That’s one I never quite got.
“Is it weird that I just thought you were just out there sailing on a ship this entire time? Like marching in those cute little sailor hats and eating in cafeterias?”
I shake my head. “That’s more or less what I led everyone to think I was doing. I didn’t want to worry Dad, and the easiest way to do that was to downplay everything.”
“How bad was it? Really?” Her hands are on my abs, frozen, like she’s forgotten she was touching me.
I could lie. I could sugar coat things like I did with Dad. But I don’t want to. I want to tell Jules everything and trust that she won’t lose her shit.
“It wasn’t bad… It was important. It made a difference.Imade a difference. It’s all classified so no one will everknowit, but I did. Until tonight it was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.” I wink at her and she grins, her hands moving again.
“It was just intense. We saw things no one should have to see, did things I wish hadn’t been necessary.” She nods and I can see in her eyes that she gets it. “I can’t imagine working with sick kids is exactly easy,” I say.
Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a small smile. “No, it’s not. But I make a difference.”
It hits me hard, how much we’ve both been through over the last eight years. I’m sure as fuck not the kid I was when I enlisted, and she’s definitely not the same girl. Our lives have expanded, our experiences shaped us. We were fighting for the same results; separate but parallel without even realizing it.
Tangling my hands in Julia’s wet hair, I tip her face up so I can kiss her. As much as I hate to admit it, my dad was right. I avoided Julia for so long that I almost missed the person she grew into. She’s still a stubborn pain in the ass with an independent streak a mile wide, but this side of her is something I never really saw or fully appreciated before now.
I’ve spent my entire life wanting the best for her. Wanting her to be happy above all else; even when it meant I had to step away and keep my mouth shut. I’ve always loved her, but that silent, tortured pining was a shadow compared to the way my heart beats for her now.
I won’t shut up and I won’t walk away. Not again. Not as long as it’s within my power to make her mine.
We finish rinsing off and I throw my sweat pants back on, watching Julia slip into a fresh pair of shorts and another bra thing that’s going to be laying in expensive black tatters on the floor by morning.
“I see you plotting over there,” she says. “Just pull it off over my head next time.”
I shrug. “No promises.”
She laughs, pulling back the cover on the bed, eyeing me standing on the far side of the room. “You’re not planning on sleeping on the couch, are you?”
“Stabby, miserable couch with your creepy cat staring at me,” I say, holding out one hand and pretending to weigh it against the other. “A king-sized bed with a half-naked Julia.” I pretend to ponder it and she chucks a pillow at my head.
“I need a glass of water and my phone, but when I get back, you’re going to get it for that,” I say pointing a finger at her.
“God, I hope so,” she grins back at me, climbing into bed.
I walk down the hall, smiling so hard my face hurts, but when I get to the kitchen I freeze. My dad is leaning against the kitchen counter, eating a little plastic cup of yogurt. Too late, I realize I’m not wearing a shirt. My hair is still wet from the shower, and since I clearly didn’t come from the guest bathroom next to his room, it’s not hard to piece this together.
