Page 60 of Gorgeous

It occurs to me then that I don’t even know her last name. Around here, and in the military, we refer to each other by last name more often than first name.

“What’s your last name?” I ask her, never taking my eyes off the screen as my guy weaves through her safeties.

Breck pauses the game, and I whine.

“Why?” She looks oddly nervous about answering the question. It’s just her last name, not her social security number.

“Uh, because I don’t know it. I think most employers know their employees’ last names. The bank prefers both names, usually.”

Breck lets out a fake laugh and fiddles with her controller. “It’s Bennett.”

Bennett.

The name pierces my chest as if she had just stabbed me.

His name still haunts my dreams. Right alongside Drew, Parker, Lewis, and Kyle.

“Are you giving up?” she taunts me, shoving her elbow into my side, pulling me from thoughts of the past.

I swallow down the memory of the nineteen-year-old kid I once knew and shove her back. “No one is quitting, Bennett. Let’s finish this.”

It’s Breck’s turn to be quiet as she studies her controller, digesting my comment. Is it from calling her by her last name or from being too candid? I’m so off and on with her she probably has whiplash trying to keep up with my mood swings.

Ignoring her has proven difficult. Each day she draws me in and chips away at the wall I’ve worked on building for the past five and a half years. I try so hard to keep her out but she keeps at me with her soft curves and smiles that could literally join warring nations.

This woman is my kryptonite.

The jelly to my peanut butter.

And I’m fucked.

Because as often as I deny myself of her presence, I still feel her. When she’s in bed at night, typing away on her laptop, I fantasize about what those fingers would feel like drifting under my sweats, across the swell of my boxers. I want to know what she tastes likes when she dances to some ridiculous song while she cooks, dipping her finger in the food when she thinks no one is looking. When she gazes at me like she knows all my secrets and still stands beside me, I want to take it all.

Everything.

I want everything she’s willing to give and everything she’s going to make me work for.

For the first time in years, I want to be greedy and take what I’ve been denying myself.

“Better move that ass, Jameson. Your guy is going down in three, two …”

Breck takes a cheap shot and un-pauses the game, immediately intercepting my guy from the ten-yard line and wins the fucking game with a touchdown of her own.

She springs from the sofa and tosses her controller beside me like she made the touchdown instead of the animated character on the screen. Like a siren, she sways in front of me, grinning.

“Looks like I’m the winner, Major Jameson.”

The air conditioner must be out because it’s hot in this living room. And it gets even hotter when she laughs and pokes my chest with her pink-coated fingernail.

“Are you going to congratulate—”

I blame it on the heat and her scent. Thick and sweet, it invaded my senses and I couldn’t take it. I launch myself from the sofa, clutching that taunting finger in my hand, and yank her flush against my chest.

I’m fucking panting, she’s got me so worked up.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I’m going to hell on the express train.

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