Page 51 of Operation Rescue
He pulled out the brochure from the very bottom of the drawer.
The USMC recruiting brochure. And inside that one he found the flyer on becoming a Marine Corps pilot.
He didn’t know what to think. Was Ethan just curious, because of him? Or was he thinking about…joining?
Maybe he had been. And maybe he’d gotten over it, and that was why the stuff was buried at the bottom of this bottom drawer.
Or maybe he’d been hiding it from his mother.
The thought of how Erin might have reacted if she’d found this made that a more distinct possibility.
He put the things back in the drawer and shoved it closed. No real clues there, except a peek into who his son was. A kid capable of excellent grades, a gamer, and one who, thankfully, hadn’t forgotten his father.
He stood up again, yawned widely and stretched. Then he walked to the foot of the bed, grabbed up the clothes he’d set out for today, and headed for the bathroom down the hall for a shower.
He managed not to look toward her bedroom door at the far end this time, unlike the first two nights he’d spent here. It did not, he found, help much. His imagination was still quite capable of filling in the blanks. Remembering how she used to like to sleep, that some part of her had to be touching him, even if it was only a toe to his calf. How when she woke she would turn to snuggle up to him, often whispering her recommendation for an effective wake-up call into his ear. He used to tease her by saying he needed a fuller description to decide. And she gave him one, although they usually only got halfway through before he was so hot for her he had to start on her suggested path.
Hell, he was getting hot now, just remembering.
He had his hand on the doorknob when the slight sound from his right made him snap his head to that side.
She was there, standing in her doorway, staring at him. Her hair was tousled, and she was wearing a pair of clingy shorts—damn, her legs really were that long—and a T-shirt cropped enough that it showed her trim abdomen.
And you’re standing here practically buck-ass naked, already hard from just thinking about her.
Yet he couldn’t seem to move. He told himself he was imagining the desire he thought he saw in her gaze, but those words she’d said kept coming back to him.
That I don’t talk to you isn’t because I’m done with you. It’s because I’m not.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to run down that hall to her, sweep her up in his arms like he used to do, and carry her to bed. And when she suddenly looked away and darted back into her bedroom, he wanted to call out to her, stop her, somehow put them back the way they’d been, together, whole, and meant for each other.
He remembered the urge that had driven him to kiss her, and how futile it had been to fight it. How he’d had to count on them being out in public to rein himself in, since he was apparently incapable of doing it himself. And the feel of her mouth beneath his, even that slight, short brush of lips, had nearly done him in out there on the street.
The sight of her now, disheveled from sleep—or had her night been as restless as his own?—had been like that punch to the gut all over again. And he faced the truth he’d managed to mask for a long time now, that wherever he went, whoever he met, nobody affected him like Erin did.
When he hit the shower he never even touched the hot water faucet. And thought that even in November California wouldn’t produce water cold enough to cool him down.
Chapter 26
Erin closed the bedroom door behind her and sagged against it, trying to slow her heart, her breathing.
She knew if she’d been closer she’d have seen the various scars, one of the things that had enabled her to leave. Not because they repelled her but because they reminded her of how easily she could have been looking at them as they prepped him for a coffin.
But she hadn’t been closer. And that was a good thing, because she’d seen enough even from twenty feet away to kick up her pulse and make her suddenly feel as if it were midsummer and she was baking in the sun. Her heart was still pumping madly, and closing her eyes to block out what she’d seen did no good. The image of that fit, taut, gorgeous body she’d made love to so many times seemed etched into her eyelids.
She wanted nothing more than to race down there and join him in the shower. She even knew he’d likely be interested, judging by his semi-aroused state, as she’d seen too well through those clingy, knit boxers, while she stood there gaping at the beautiful sight of him. And he had kissed her, after all. True, it had been barely a kiss, the lightest of touches, but all things considered she could hardly expect more.
You’re my center, Erin. Without you I’d be spinning around out of control, crazy, damaged…
He’d said that long before he’d been hurt. And she’d treasured it, tucked it away in that special corner of her heart dedicated to only him.
And when he had been hurt, it had become her mantra, what told her she had to stay until the damage was repaired. Judging by the look of him, all of him, it definitely was. He was as beautiful as ever.
I think you’ll regret it, Erin. I understand, I truly do, but I think you’ll one day regret it. A lot.
Her mother’s words, spoken the day she’d told her parents what she’d done, that she’d filed for divorce, echoed in her head now.
I already regret it, Mom. But I’ll regret it even more if I stay and next time he dies. I don’t want him to be the center of my entire life when that happens.
