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“I can stay awhile,” Wes whispered against his lips. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t ever going to be enough, but the boulder in Dustin’s throat wouldn’t let him speak, would only let him pull Wes even closer, kiss him that much more desperately.
* * *
The middle of night was still, almost spooky, as Wes crept out of Dustin’s bed. His chest was strangely hollow. No wonder, given that his heart was lying there, all sleep ruffled, hogging the middle of the bed like he hadn’t ever shared a bed before. They’d kissed for a long time after the sex, then cleaned up before Dustin had coaxed him back into bed with more kisses and touches. The man was a major cuddler, and Wes was a serious sucker for his need for touch and connection.
He knew the right thing would be to wake Dustin up before he headed out, but he couldn’t handle that right now, couldn’t handle the idea of this being the final goodbye, not after how amazing the night had been. It wasn’t just the toe-curling orgasm that had ripped through him like the wind of a HALO jump. It was what he’d felt deep inside himself when their eyes had met. The trust. The emotion. The sense that he wasn’t ever going to find this with anyone else.
If Dustin woke up, he’d be tempted to say the words that had hovered on his tongue the whole time Dustin had dozed next to him. And he couldn’t do that, could only ghost a kiss across Dustin’s sleeping head before heading out.
If they gave voice to it, to this thing between them, he might never recover. This wasn’t just sex, hadn’t ever been if he was being honest, but at some point over the past few weeks it had passed infatuation, deepened and changed into something that scared him even as it consumed him. And it didn’t matter how fucking impossible it was, how doomed—his heart wanted. Needed.
The streets were all but empty on his drive back to base, the checkpoint guards looking decidedly sleepy as he showed his ID. The barracks were similarly desolate, a few lights on for the guys working overnight or early morning shifts, but otherwise quiet. He’d almost made it to his room when Curly wandered out of the communal bathroom, big water cup in hand. His eyes went wide as he took in Wes—and despite cleaning up at Dustin’s, his rumpled clothes surely gave his choice of evening activities away.
Fuck. Not again. Wes nodded, trying not to invite conversation.
“You out again?” Curly yawned. “Fucking kidney infection has me pissing like a racehorse every hour.”
This Wes really didn’t need to know, but he tried to look sympathetic. “That’s a bummer. We’ve got a heavy week planned too. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Curly waved off the concern. “And same could be said for you. You ever sleep?”
Wes flashed back to the utter pleasure of dozing next to Dustin, breathing in his scent and nearness. “I sleep.”
“Still not gonna tell me what you’ve got going on?” Curly gave him a shrewd look.
“Nothing. Was just out,” Wes lied. Curly was a nice guy, but he was way too up in Wes’s damn business.
“Hey, you got someone, I’m happy for you.” Curly held up his hands. “Hate to see you distracted though.”
“I’m not.” Wes put a hard edge to his voice. He wasn’t, right? Couldn’t afford to be. This thing with Dustin felt all-consuming, but he couldn’t let it interfere with his duty. That was how guys ended up hurt—or worse. And he’d segmented his worries for years with Samantha’s health stuff, so this shouldn’t be any different. But even as he said the words, doubts crept in. It was getting harder and harder to see Dustin as simply his commanding officer, just another SEAL.
“Whatever.” Curly sounded hurt that Wes wasn’t emptying his soul to him, but fuck if Wes had room to worry about his feelings on top of everything else.
“I’m headed to bed. Hope the kidney issue resolves quickly.” He jogged down the hall, hating that he’d just shut out his one real friend here, but he had no choice. This was a dangerous game he and Dustin were playing, one where the stakes kept getting raised, and someone was bound to get hurt—soon.
Chapter Eighteen
Dustin squinted into the sun which beat down on the barren valley with unrelenting intensity. They were on day four of a four-day training mission as they geared up for their next assignment, and the whole damn team was getting punchy.
“It’s a fabulous day for blowing things up.” Curly jostled Wes, who was trying to eat an MRE. Which Dustin was trying hard to not watch. Seeing Wes eat reminded Dustin of when Wes had cooked for him, and that led to memories he couldn’t have out here in the desert, where the mountains were the only thing that loomed larger than his dilemma over what to do about Wes.
