Page 62 of The Soldier

I want it noted for the record that I don’t laugh and it’s one of the hardest things I have ever done. Goddamn, I want to smile.

I want to kiss her and laugh and swing her around.

Instead, I nod and ask an important question. “Who was in the military?”

“What?”

“Who. Was. In. The. Military? That you cared about? Orcareabout, little wolf.”

Present tense.

Damn, it suddenly occurs to me that she might still have this person in her life. Perhaps there’s a guy. An ex. Or someone that won’t let her go.

Is that why she’s not willing to date anyone else?

I don’t like that one little bit.

“A lot of people,” Trina replies as the traffic starts moving. It’s such a bullshit answer.

I release her fingers and decide to let her response hang in the air for the rest of the drive home. I give her directions, knowing she’s never been to my home in Hermosa Beach, and close my eyes.

“Wow. Nice digs,” Trina says, surprised, as she pulls into the driveway of my five-bedroom, two-story home.

It is nice.

It’s a place where I can rest after the craziness of my daily life. I can hear the waves of the ocean as it’s just a two-minute walk to the beach. I dreamed of this house for years while stomping through sand and crawling on my knees.

Much like I was the past few days, except this time it was the woman sitting beside me in my visions. I certainly didn’t think I’d have her in my home this quickly.

“Thanks for the ride home.” I remove my seat belt and go to move but flinch, remembering my injury.

“Stop.” Trina jumps out of the car before I can say anything, and by the time I’m out she has my bag out of the back seat.

“Think I proved I can carry that, little wolf.” I grumble as she marches up the steps to my home looking like she’s dragging a dead body.

“You’re so stubborn. Can’t you let anyone help you?” Then she drops it to the floor, clearly struggling with the weight.

I can’t help my smile as I punch the code into my door, and it clicks open. Then I plant my hand on the wall above her and lean in. Her breath hitches and my cock hardens as those baby blues of hers dilute.

“Yeah, I can. If you really want to help me, I have an itch, want to scratch it?”

“Ugh.” Trina shoves my chest, but I barely move an inch. Instead, the corner of my lips twitch as I watch her fight her arousal.

“Fine.” I shrug. “Please carry my bag inside for me. I am weak and injured.” I push off the wall and head inside, chuckling to myself while Trina grunts as she lifts my duffle and then drops it on the floor in the entrance with anoomph.

“Close door,” I say out loud and keep walking.

The door automatically clicks shut behind her.

“How did you—”

I walk into the kitchen hoping like fuck she’ll follow. I’m nowhere near done with her and the flicker in her eyes as I leaned in a moment ago told me she’s been thinking about last weekend as much as I have.

“Marshall, I have to go.”

I grab a glass and fill it with water. After being in the desert, I’m thirsty for what feels like weeks after.

“You said you wanted to help me.” I taunt as she bites her bottom lip. “Can you help me take my bag upstairs?”

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