Page 46 of Burn for Me

“I know, but you got your time to shine tonight.”

Seventeen

9-1-2024

Would he tell me if I asked?

-Jasmine

Up. Down. Up. Down.

I can’t tear my gaze away from the motion of Sam’s chest.

It rises and falls steadily, never faltering. Each inhale stretches the bare skin, revealing his tattoos and highlighting yet another scar I long to reach out and touch—to trace and memorize every spot they mark. It’s tempting. I lift my hand to hover over a deep, ragged scar on his chest. My whole life has been aboutmemorizing other people’s stories, so I can only imagine the horrors that this one mark holds.

Would he tell me if I asked?

I’m sure he would, which is why I can’t despite my little red-horned companion on my shoulder saying otherwise. I direct my attention toward the bathroom and carefully lower my hand to the covers, allowing me to scoot to the edge of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

It takes a tremendous amount of willpower not to search every nook and cranny of the room for the cameras we know are monitoring the area as I tiptoe across the floor. I'm accustomed to being watched—the big, intimidating guard dog rolling to his stomach, tucking his arm under his head has done it for years, so I’m used to it.

But this feels different.

I don't get that giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach when exiting the workout room, peeling my tank top off so that only my sweat-soaked sports bra covers my torso. I’m not desperately searching for the closest banana in the mess hall just to enjoy it slowly, knowing it would provoke a reaction.

I’ve never felt so on edge, knowing Sam is watching my every move. It almost feels natural and, oddly enough, makes me feel safe. However, this situation has my stomach churning and my skin crawling, as if the eyes behind the cameras are just inches from my body, analyzing every freckle and dimple. I shudder at the uncomfortable sensation this thought brings.

The closet creaks open loudly, causing me to scrunch my nose in annoyance. I glance over at Sam to ensure he is still asleep. I vaguely remember him mentioning a meeting with Jonathan and Delilah tonight. It’s still hours away, but I look over my outfits and debate what to wear. I never realized how accustomed I was to the military routine until now.

Something is soothing about knowing what to wear and what to expect from the day. Yet, I find myself in a familiar position—unsure which blouse would be appropriate for brunch or if I should opt for a sundress for a stroll.

A smile spreads across my face as I realize that Sam and I now have something in common. I close the closet door and grab a fluffy robe hanging on the bathroom door as I step inside. Despite the feeling that creepers might be watching my every move, I go through my usual routine: stripping down and turning the water to scalding hot, letting steam fill the room until it's nearly impossible to see.

In situations like this, you can't act any differently when using a cover like we are–a perfect example is Sam's behavior last night. During most of our time together, I was convinced it was merely a hallucination; there was no way a man with his power would kneel and remove my heels from my feet as if he were worshiping a goddess. That was until his lips left mine, and he pleaded for me to go to sleep.

God, that was embarrassing.

I step out of the shower, gently drying the droplets from my skin, and I put on my robe. Standing in front of the mirror, I run the brush through my hair, feeling completely dazed. I'm trying to remind myself that, even though I'm pretending this is real, it’s nothing but part of a mission to him.

Suddenly, the door slams open, rattling the mirror on the wall. The brush slips from my fingers as I gasp in shock. Taking a steadying breath, I quickly adjust the mirror back into place and look at my reflection, only to see a pair of eyes burning through the glass, searching for mine. He always looks angry—that's nothing unusual—but the way his gaze travels down my back and then flicks to the mirror to examine my front isdefinitelynew.

Typically, by now, he would have muttered some curses under his breath and turned away, but instead, his focus zeros in on the loose fit of my robe at my chest, exposing the curve of my breasts. I clear my throat nervously.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, Darlin’. I just didn’t know where you went,” Sam murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep as he steps closer, pressing his chest against my back.

“Yeah, I figured. You always get this way after a night out.” I smile, and a hint of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. My heart lodges in my throat when he leans over my shoulder and gently kisses my cheek.

Since when have I found raspiness and morning breath attractive?

“I can’t help it; seeing other men gawk at you puts me on edge.” His fingers brush my neck as he pulls my damp hair down my back, allowing his mouth to travel to the column of my throat. I’m left speechless, not from his actions but from the fact that I’mlookingin the mirror. It's not just a glance to check if I look decent; I’mstaring—taking in the image of a man larger than life, gently admiring my skin while whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

His eyes meet mine, and the soothing motion stops at my pulse point. He raises an eyebrow, nudging me back into action.

“Shouldn't you be proud to show me off?”

“If I could, I’d put a spotlight on you everywhere just so you can shine, but...” He pauses, brushing his fingers up my throat until his hand covers my mouth with the artwork of a skull tattooed on the dorsal side.

My head tilts against his shoulder, and he pulls back to admire his makeshift mask. This time, it’s not a grin but a smile revealing how his tongue traces his canine as he adds, “That doesn’t mean I can’t be a little territorial.”

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