Authors: Katie Porter
Let him tell her, or let him not.
A thousand angels balanced on the head of a pin, right there in their kitchen. This wouldn’t fix them, but it sure as hell might break them—not if he couldn’t choke up some sort of honesty.
He pressed his forehead to hers. It was enough. The air shifted between them. Breath over lips, they created a place that was new and warm and whole. “I can’t remember. I can’t remember the last time I was really excited. You know. Other than…” His hand waved between them, fingertips dancing. “Other than this thing that we’re doing.”
“That can’t be what we base a future on. I can’t be the only one pulling us along as a couple. I can’t be the only one with any sort of energy or drive. It gets fucking exhausting. And you know what else? I don’t deserve that shit.”
“You don’t.” He shuddered out a long, unsteady breath. He cupped her shoulders, and his thumbs swept back and forth over the thin silk of her pajamas. “But I’m serious. I don’t even know where to start.”
She didn’t know where the karate flier had landed. Didn’t really matter. “It doesn’t have to be the
dojo
on base. I don’t care. If you said you wanted to walk the Strip in a loincloth because that would make you happy, I’d be fine with that. Really.”
That wolfish grin of his surfaced again. “Better than fine. You’d pay money to see that.”
A little levity wasn’t always a horrible thing. And the image of him in a white strip of cloth wrapped around his lean hips and ass made her smile. “We could practice around the house first.”
“Are you
sure
it’s not about wanting to see me beat up random dudes for salacious reasons?”
“It certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“Kids,” he said abruptly. “I’m dead serious. I really do want kids. I’ve mentioned them plenty of times before.”
Not quite so furious as she’d been a few minutes ago, she laughed helplessly. “Really? When am I supposed to pop them out? Between cross-country flights? How about, when am I supposed to feed them and burp them and change diapers? When I’m racking up seventy-five-hour billing weeks? You’re being ridiculous.”
His jaw ticked with a popping tendon. “How about you, Sunny? Do you still burn for your job? Are you stoked to head back to DC next weekend?”
She shoved away from him, but the counter meant she wasn’t getting very far. “I’m not quitting to raise babies.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m not implying it at all. I promise. I’m wondering if you have the same fire you used to either.”
“I like knowing I’m helping people,” she said, but even she heard the mulish tone to her voice.
His hands curved around the back of her head and delved into her hair. “Are you really doing that in Washington? Didn’t you say you’re spending most of your time making sure Rueland can legally gather the most money possible for his district?”
“Great.
Now
you choose to listen to me, when you can use my own words against me.”
“Didn’t mean it like that. But like me…” He lowered his forehead back to hers. The sweet press worked all the way through her. Weakening her. Making her melt. “You have to know those answers for yourself. What was it you said? I can’t be the only one.”
Chapter Nineteen
Some things were unavoidable.
At present, Dash knew two things were absolutely set in stone. The first was that though he and Sunny had come to a certain agreement regarding their sleeping arrangements—he was slowly waking up in bed, after all—they remained separated by miles. Their new sex life existed on some other plane.
Animalistic.
Angry at times.
Despite grocery shopping and a rented horror flick, that sort of fucking felt like the only life raft they had left. He’d even gone so far as to nearly ruin that. With thirty more seconds last night, he would’ve raped her for real. That he was capable of such aggression was more than his mind could process. Her takedown had probably saved what was left of their marriage—and his self-respect. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself, let alone ever look her in the eye again. As if she’d let him.
Yet he missed holding her without wondering when she’d pull away. He missed lingering kisses that set him on fire all the way to his toes, with both longing and love. He missed the little, sweet noises she made in the back of her throat, and how they could touch each other for hours before finally striving, together, for a languorous orgasm that bound them, body and soul.
When was the last time that had happened?
He remembered it as a possibility, because it
had
happened. But the actual last time they’d been that connected?
Nada.
Had they really changed so much that he could take her, him,
them
for granted?
Yes.
And he didn’t know why. That change, that shift…it eluded him as surely as an answer to how the rest of the day would progress.
Because the other unavoidable event was Colonel Bandry’s big send-off party, complete with his dad’s illustrious cameo and a hearty round of dick-swinging. Charming, especially after a shitty, head-splitting night spent arguing with Sunny. Head-splitting in more ways than one.
That wasn’t even considering whether he was still assigned to the Maple Flag. He’d be in Canada on Friday.
The day, quite frankly, looked like a pile of dogshit.
“Hey,” came a soft voice.
Dash turned his head from the ceiling to Sunny. She was sleep-bleary and her hair was a tangled storm cloud, but at least she wasn’t glaring at him. That she’d spoken first felt like a goddamn miracle. One day, he hoped to feel like he wasn’t walking on a razor blade all the time. He couldn’t imagine that day.
“Hey, yourself.”
“How’s your head?” Her grin was a minxish combination of sweet and nasty playful.
“Hurts.”
“Alcohol or me?”
“Can’t tell the difference.” He turned onto his side and dared to brush a strand of hair off her cheek. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t deepen her smile either. “I, ah… Shit. Sunny. I’m sorry for last night. I really stepped over a line—more than, you know…”
“What we have been doing.”
He smeared his palm down his face. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad I knocked your stupid ass on the ground before that happened.”
There was her grin. Just a little more. He could cling to that.
“Me too,” he said. “About time someone put me in my place. I’m embarrassed as hell it was you, but who else has more right?”
She sat up and flipped her hair back. “No one.”
Perhaps as a means of putting up another barrier, she’d changed pajamas before coming to bed. No more peach silk. What she wore was dark blue and made of thick cotton. Nothing particularly erotic, if viewed with normal take-it-for-granted eyes. That wasn’t Dash, not right then. Because that dark blue was still a form-fitting camisole and boy shorts. The curve of her small breasts caught his attention. The golden skin revealed by spaghetti straps kept it. Christ, how could he not touch her?
Dash propped up on his elbow. Casually, trying like hell for it not to be a big deal, he kissed her shoulder. That time she did flinch, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. For taking advantage of her the night before? Sure. For absolutely needing to feel her skin beneath his lips? No way.
She looked up at him, her eyes like dark pools shimmering at the bottom of a deep, secret cave. “We should get ready. It’s the thing for Colonel Bandry today, right?”
“You…” Dash frowned and pushed fully upright. “You remembered?”
“Yes.”
“And you said
we
. You’re coming with me?”
She shrugged. “Appearances, right? The good military wife. The good daughter-in-law. If I’m not there when you meet your dad, he’ll give you a giant ration of shit. Make a scene.”
“Fuck it,” he said, more harshly than he’d intended.
With jerky movements, and not even knowing why he was suddenly so angry, he climbed off the mattress, shucked his T-shirt and boxer briefs, and tugged on his robe. At least she ate him up with her gaze when he faced the bed.
She swallowed. Blinked. Shook her head. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’d rather you not go at all if you’re doing it for appearances.”
“What, you want me to go because I actually really dig stiff, uncomfortable Air Force functions? I hate them. And to be honest, my skin color makes me the object of way too much attention.”
His anger flickered like a flame deprived of fuel, then it winked out completely. “You’ve never told me that.”
“Why would I? I don’t think you’d have been in the mind to listen. Not lately.” The set of her mouth actually caused him pain.
She
was in pain. “It was nice to get the job with Representative Rueland. I work in an office where eyes don’t follow me as if I carry an IED in my pocket. It’s refreshing.”
“Dad too?”
She looked away, chin lowered. She nodded. “Yes, your dad too.”
“Damn it, Sunny.”
He crossed to her side of the bed in three strides. Without asking, without any doubt, he gathered her into his arms. Her stiffness was nearly as bad as yet another flinch, but she…eased. Then she practically sank against his chest. Her delicate shoulders curled into what he hoped she’d regard as the protection of his body. Because, motherfucker, he’d never even considered it. He wasn’t exactly colorblind, but when it came to Sunny, love and desire and respect had sideswiped him so quickly that her heritage had only been a consideration when both sets of parents balked.
They’d gotten through that. Or so he’d thought.
A shudder overwhelmed her, so he held on tighter. Useless words filled his mind.
It’s unfair to you.
You should have told me.
I don’t know why I never noticed.
Platitudes.
Her slender arms wrapped around his waist, beneath the parted folds of his terrycloth robe. Not sexual. He loved her touch, but he sure as hell knew it wasn’t a prelude to making love as he’d been imagining. She nuzzled her face against his bare chest and inhaled deeply, then settled her cheek in the hollow between his pecs.
For long moments, they didn’t move other than to breathe. Dash could barely manage, while Sunny took long, gulping inhalations and long, ragged exhalations.
Soon holding wasn’t enough. He rubbed one hand between her shoulder blades, then up and down her spine. His fingers came to rest at her nape, threaded into her morning-tangled hair.
Still resting against his chest, she kissed him.
His heart stuttered.
She kissed him again. It was like being touched by a butterfly’s wings—that soft and fleeting.
Finally he could breathe, this time deep and strong. For courage. He lifted her chin until they were eye to eye.
“I’d like you to come with me,” he said quietly. They were in a bubble of closeness that might shatter at any minute, but he needed to be honest. “Only if you want to be with me. I’ll understand if you don’t.”
“Only understand?”
He leaned in to touch that same butterfly kiss against her lips. It was the most intimate gesture they’d shared in weeks. Maybe longer. “I’ll try to understand. Mostly I’ll be disappointed.”
“They’re your friends and colleagues. Even your dad. These
events
or whatever—they’re your domain. Why would you need me there?”
Dash had to frown. “Sunny… Jesus. Why wouldn’t I? I love you. Nothing, none of this, has changed that.”
Her dark eyes fluttered, then settled to close. She shivered again, and goose bumps flared beneath where he held one forearm.
With enough slowness to give her warning, he leaned closer—while shifting his hips to hide the erection that wouldn’t play by these tense new rules. Morning hangover breath aside, this was about connecting, not stripping her panties and pushing her back onto the mattress.
Their lips came together. Not him kissing her, and not her kissing him. More like little dots of contact. Brief touches. He fluttered his mouth up her cheek to her forehead, while she ducked low to kiss his neck, jaw and the hollow behind his ear.
There she whispered, “I’ll come with you. Don’t ask me why. I don’t think I even know.”
Dash nodded, rubbing his cheek against the thick silk of her hair. Unbound hair. Still just for him.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked.
She lifted her head, meeting him eye to eye once again. Her tiny, enigmatic smile was back. “It better be good after what I just promised.”
Promise. She was making him a promise. First it had been about their rape fantasies made real, that she wanted it as much as he did. He’d trusted her word. He’d trust her now.
If only the promises they’d made on their wedding day were as assured.
“I don’t know about good,” he said. “But I think you’ll appreciate it. These functions? All this stiff formality?” It was his turn to whisper, right against the shell of her tiny, almost elfin ear. “I hate them too.”
Colonel Bandry’s sprawling two-story mini mansion was huge. It made the little bungalow Dash shared with Sunny look like a dollhouse. The perks of being an O-6, with a husband who owned an oncology practice. Once upon a time, Dash and Sunny had planned such a future. He’d keep getting promoted, and she’d wind up a partner at a prestigious law firm. They would have…stuff, like his Evo. They’d never talked about how those plans would slowly rip at them, tearing them from each other’s arms. And they’d never talked about where kids would fit into all that ladder climbing.