Slipping out of bed quickly, Ben made his way to the doorway. He stopped and turned, looked at Presley sleeping soundly, hesitated just a moment, then walked on. He wasn’t leaving the house, so there was no need to wake her. She needed her sleep. And he needed to run.
Run away from the fear that clawed deep inside of him when Presley walked up his front stairs last night. Her face had been ghostly white, hollow looking, almost translucent. Her eyes, bright red, filled with unshed tears, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to shield her from whatever hurt she felt, whatever pain was streaming through her.
When she had sobbed out Sarah’s name, he thought surely his knees were going to buckle. Fear, a monstrous fear he’d never experienced before overwhelmed him, threatening to pull him under to that abyss he was already struggling to climb out of.
Going into missions, he knew the stakes, so did his men. They knew what they signed up for, the dangers, and the risks. Fear for his men, fear for his body, even his own life, never seized him as much as the fear of hearing Sarah might have passed away last night.
Sarah. She reminded him of Kaitlin. Small, feisty and always willing to fight, never shrinking back from anything, tackling it full-on.
Sarah hadn’t signed up for the fight she was battling. She didn’t know what lay ahead of her, or the risks her body was taking trying to beat the starving demon inside of her. But she fought on anyway. Forced her way through it, because she knew no other way.
The similarities between Sarah and his sister forced a unique bond for Ben. A bond that had him promising Petty Officer Johnson he would send him tabs on his baby sister. Nothing major, nothing serious, just little notes that she was fighting with everything she had. That she smiled that day, or she ate some dessert and talked about going back to school. Happy things, things that would help Ethan through while he was so many miles away.
But when Ben had checked in on Sarah yesterday, he couldn’t bring himself to send a message to Ethan. Couldn’t bring himself to even walk forward and talk to her. She wouldn’t have wanted him to, anyway. So he had walked back out of her room without her the wiser. She had been resting with her eyes shut, and he let her sleep, knowing she needed to get some of her strength back.
Throwing shorts on, he made his way to his gym. Lacing up his sneakers, then jumping on the treadmill. Starting off at a slow pace, he thought of Presley. She was a fighter too. He often wondered how she did her job, how she made it through seeing what she saw day in and day out. Now he knew—she wasn’t as strong as she wanted everyone to believe, and he was glad he was the one to see that side of her.
His eyes itched, then burned, sweat dripping in them, or so he tried to convince himself. Running at a faster pace now, he needed to purge his body of the emotions building inside. He didn’t want to feel grief, and didn’t want to feel any type of sadness or sympathy for anyone. Not a child, not Presley, and least of all himself.
Because he wasn’t as strong as everyone thought he was either. Only there was no one he could let in on that secret.
***
“Legs apart,” Ben instructed, placing his hands on her hips and shifting her legs just right. “Arms taut, but not tense, aim straight ahead. Steady now.” But it didn’t matter—she was shaking and there seemed to be no help for it.
He had finished his run hours earlier, physically exhausted but still edgy. He needed to do more, needed to release the turmoil left inside of him that the run failed to purge.
And he needed to help Presley do the same. She needed another outlet for her fears. A fear she could conquer, not one she couldn’t. She had no control over Sarah right now, no control of that situation. He knew from personal experience that having no control over a fear only made matters worse, only let it build and build until it was all consuming. So he wanted her to redirect that fear to something else, something she
could
control.
When he suggested the firing range today, her face turned white, as white as it was when she walked to his front door last night. He was ready to take the offer back, but she beat him to the punch, agreeing. “Sure. If you think you have the patience for it.”
After a quick breakfast and shower, he drove her to the range. He had never once,
ever
, let another person touch his weapon. Not even Trent. But for the first time someone else was going to be firing one of his guns.
Maybe. Right now she was only holding it and showing no signs of being able to pull the trigger.
“I can’t stop the shaking. I’m sorry.” She lowered her hands and turned her head to look at him. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
He stepped behind her, raised her arms back up, reached around her and placed his hands over hers, holding her steady. “You can do it. You’ve got to control it, take charge of your fear.” He moved in closer with his chest against her back, trying to ease her. “I’m right here. Just do it. Pull the trigger. Don’t think, just react.” He removed one hand and replaced her headphones to block out the noise.
She was still shaking, he could feel the slight tremors in her arms, but she inhaled deeply, gripped the gun tighter under his own hands and pulled the trigger. Her body jerked back lightly against his, but he cushioned her, helping her keep her balance. Before he could congratulate her, she emptied the clip completely, clicking the only sound to be heard through his earplugs, her finger still pressing the trigger, trying to fire again and again.
He dropped his hands, took the gun out of her hand, pulled out the empty clip and placed it on the table next to them, along with the gun. Presley pulled off her own headphones and turned to look at him.
Tears filled her eyes, her face was whiter than it was moments earlier and her breath was panting out fast and furious. But she fought through it all and forced a smile. “I did it.”
“You did. You did great.” He didn’t know where her fear came from, but it obviously was deep, deeper than he could possibly understand right now. He was proud of her, and proud to call her his.
His. He closed his eyes briefly, getting a grip on the emotions traveling through him. Never, in all his life, had he had a woman—outside of family—that he could call his.
He wanted to fight it, and wanted to deny it, but part of him couldn’t. Instead he embraced it, all the while embracing her, holding her tight in his arms, running his hands up and down her back, soothing her as much as he was soothing himself.
Suddenly, the desire to balance the scales was overwhelming. She let go of a fear today, put her trust in his hands, and gave a part of herself he had a feeling she hadn’t given to anyone else before.
Stepping back, she placed a hand on his unshaven cheek. He leaned into her touch and watched her eyes soften, searching into the depth of his. The confession just rolled off his lips. “I can’t sleep. No more than snatches here and there. Not anymore, and not for a long time.” Her eyes widened, but he pushed on. “But when I’m with you at night, I can sleep.”
***
Later that night, Presley watched Ben sleeping. At least she thought he was. His breathing was nice and steady, his body so still and relaxed. For once,
she
couldn’t sleep.
Today had been an emotional rollercoaster. Not just today, but rather, the last twenty-four hours. Completely drained when her shift ended yesterday, she really had no thoughts other than seeking Ben out. She didn’t regret it, even though at the time she thought she might.
When he held her last night and soothed her, he didn’t try to get rid of her fears, not at all, and he didn’t try to tell her she was crazy, or that she needed to let go of things she couldn’t control. He didn’t speak to her at all, didn’t even try to convince her to feel something else, nothing. He just held her tight, comforting her. Nothing more than that. It was exactly what she needed.
She fell asleep with his arm around her, holding her tight, keeping her safe and secure. For a moment in time, her fears drifted away.
Unfortunately, all her fears and insecurities came rushing back when she woke the next morning. Alone. Not that she expected anything different. By now, she knew he was working out. Rather than getting dressed and trying to find him, she rolled back over, grabbed his pillow, held on tight, and let more tears fall.
Wrung dry, she crawled out of bed and made her way into the shower, then down to the kitchen to make breakfast for him. Perfect timing, she was placing eggs and bacon on the table when he walked down from his shower looking sexy, wearing only a pair of long athletic shorts hanging low on his hips, showcasing his magnificent abs.
The sight of him standing there started to give her ideas, ideas of grabbing his hand and pulling him back up the stairs and throwing him on the bed. Only before she could, he mentioned going to the firing range. It took everything she had not to shake her head frantically.
She held it together, sucked it up and agreed. And she was glad she did. Never in a million years did she think she would ever hold a gun. Not after what happened eleven years ago. Maybe today was meant to happen. Maybe now she could move on. She yearned to.
As if her emotions weren’t all over the place as it was, listening to his confession nearly tore her apart. That he trusted her with that and trusted her enough to admit what he did was huge. That he had weaknesses too and wasn’t hiding them.
They had come home afterward and stumbled into the bedroom, urgently groping each other, tearing each other’s clothes off. Then suddenly, something came over him, and he slowed down. Grabbing her hands, he held them above her and lowered her body on the bed, coming down on top of her.
His lips trailed from her chin, to her mouth, to her ear, whispering, “Slow and steady for once. Let me take you there, take you to another place.”
She melted, her body fluid, following his commands. His hands were all over her, everywhere. Where he touched, where he kissed and then touched and kissed some more. No part of her body was left alone. He found every nerve ending she had and made them stand up and beg for more.
Never thinking it was possible, she actually came within moments. So primed and worked up from the emotion in his eyes, the feel of his hands running over her, and the whispered words he was saying. It only took one brief touch of his tongue and she was arching off the bed, throbbing and crying out for more.
He didn’t leave her wanting but continued on and on, until she was lying there, overcome by the wonder of it all. Then he slid over her, slid inside her, and brought her right back to the peak again. Grabbing her hands, he laced his fingers through hers, held them over her head, and kissed her, tenderly, lovingly, and she was lost.
She had never felt anything like that before. Never experienced anything like that before. It was terrifying. Did she have enough to give him? She didn’t think so and didn’t think she even knew
what
to give him. But she wanted to, or at least wanted to try. Only she didn’t think he would let go enough and do the same.
Having never been first in anyone’s life before, she wanted to be for once. If she was going to let go, she had to know it would be returned. All or nothing. That was the way it had to be for her. And frankly she wasn’t sure she wanted to give it all to him right now, either.
Time to get things back to what she was comfortable with. Time to get back on carefree and fun ground.
Glancing over, she watched his chest rise and lower in sleep and remembered what he said to her earlier about not being able to sleep. It had to be tough for him to admit that, she knew. It was a step. One she had to decide if she wanted to take with him.
Back to safe ground, she reminded herself. Then she ran her hands over his cheek, barely touching him, just enough to feel. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Wednesday night after work, two weeks later, Ben walked into Presley’s kitchen, a huge smile filling his face. There she was, bent over, looking in the oven, her very fine rear end pointing in his direction. He couldn’t help it, not that he wanted to, because he had to do it—it was just begging for him to. Bringing his hand back, swinging it forward, then a loud,
Whomp
sounded throughout her kitchen.
She didn’t disappoint. She popped up fast, spun around even faster, and pinned him with a glare, fire blasting out of her eyes. “Why do you
do
that?”
Wanting to laugh but thinking better of it, he wisely gave her a half smile and teased, “I thought you liked it when I grabbed your ass.”
Fire gone, but mischief in its place, she stalked toward him then wound her arms around his neck. “Grab, yes. Smack, no. Besides,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the lips, then untangling herself and stepping back, “that isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“Why do you always sneak up on me?” she asked, then opened the oven again and looked inside.
The smell of roasting meat hit him hard. He was starving, but at the moment he wasn’t sure what he was hungrier for, Presley or the lovely dinner she was cooking for him. “I don’t sneak up on you.” How could she say that? She knew he was coming over. He even texted her to say he was on the way.
She pulled a meat thermometer out and stuck it in the oven, into whatever she was cooking—looked to be roast beef to him. “You never make a sound when you walk.” She looked down at his work boots, then back up to his face, which was now grinning at her. “I don’t understand it. It’s not like you’re a lightweight by any means. Your boots alone must weigh a few pounds. How do you walk so quietly?”
He chuckled. It was the only thing he could do to cover up the anxiety of the moment. He would have to try harder to hide that part of his life. But he would be damned if he would stomp into a room either. He would figure it out, but not today, not now. Instead he focused on what else she said. “Lightweight? Are you calling me fat?”
Grabbing the potholders, she pulled out what was indeed a roast beef and set it on the stove. “Not at all, just a figure of speech. Seriously, though, I’m sure you are used to moving quietly, doing whatever you did as a SEAL. Things I don’t think I want to know.” She stopped and gazed into his eyes.
“You’re right on both counts,” he admitted. No one had ever brought it up to him before. No one ever really wanted to know, and he never wanted to share. Not that he could. “I had to be quiet and you don’t want to know.”
She nodded her head. “Probably better that way. So I’ll cut you some slack, but maybe you could give me a little notice when you walk in a room if I don’t see you first.”
“Notice how?”
“I don’t know. Talk or something, maybe say hi?”
She was taking the roast out of the pan and setting it on the cutting board, then turned and grabbed the big sharp knife from the butcher block. “While I cut this, why don’t you go get my mail for me. It wasn’t there when I checked earlier.”
“Sure,” he said and walked out of the room, opened the front door, looked in the mailbox, pulled out a few envelopes and scanned them on his way back. “Hi, Presley,” he shouted, causing her to jump.
“What the hell?” she spun around, holding the knife tight.
He laughed. “You told me to say hi when I entered a room, so I was saying hi.” She looked so cute standing there all flustered. He couldn’t resist doing it, he had to lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek.
The last two weeks had been wonderful for him. Carefree, lighthearted. At first he thought she was taking a step back. It seemed it after the night he made the confession to her about only being able to sleep when they were together. He tried not to regret saying those words, hoping they wouldn’t scare her away. But he couldn’t regret it, not when it seemed to bring them closer.
She accepted what he said that night and never brought it up again. Instead, she turned it up a notch the next day, joking with him, having fun, and picking on him. She made him laugh, laugh in a way he hadn’t done since he was a kid. He needed that more than he realized.
Rifling through her mail while she finished getting dinner on the table, he burst out laughing and almost had to double over with the hilarity of it.
“What?” she asked, turning her head quickly.
He held one of her envelopes up and slowly read, “P B James.”
“Yeah, so? What is so funny?”
“What does the B stand for?”
“Blair.”
“I like that,” he said, sincerely.
“Then what’s so funny?” she repeated.
He laughed again. He couldn’t help it. “Your initials are PBJ?”
She glared at him… hard. More laser beams shooting out of her eyes this time. “You think you’re the first person to point that out?”
“No, probably not. Do you like it though? Peanut butter and jelly?” At her nod, and confused look, he continued on seriously. “I would have figured you more of a peanut butter and banana type of girl.”
“Huh?” she asked, obviously not getting the reference.
“Elvis. He liked peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I figured that would be your favorite,” he said, his lips twitching.
Flames, huge hot flames shot out of her eyes, closer to a torch. Picking up the knife and pointing it at him, she said, “I thought I warned you about the Elvis references.”
She wasn’t being serious, he knew, but he let her have her way. Damn she was gorgeous all worked up like that.
Lifting his hands in the air in surrender, he walked around her, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and the bowl holding her vegetables, asparagus this time. He really wished she wouldn’t bother with a vegetable, now he would have to choke a few pieces down. He better placate her, or she would guilt him into more than a few pieces. “You’re right, my bad. I give you permission to punish me,” he said.
***
“What’s the big deal, Presley? It’s just dinner.” He sent her one of his boyish grins, but she wasn’t falling for it, not this time. “You aren’t afraid, are you?” he asked, and she wanted to reach over and wipe that grin right off his handsome face.
Resisting, she stood up and reached for the plate holding the rest of the roast beef.
Every time she swore she made enough, he ate even more. She knew he didn’t cook, and really didn’t eat any meals unless she prepared them, or he went to his parents’ or Kaitlin’s. Which was why she always tried to make extra so he could have leftovers. But he seemed to think the more she made the more he had to eat at that moment.
Of course looking over at him, he did burn a lot of calories too. “Are you done with this?” she asked, holding the plate toward him.
“Sure.”
She turned her back and walked to the sink, then started to scrape the plates off, not looking back when she answered him. “I’m not afraid.” Turning around to finish clearing the table, she bumped smack dab into his chest and let out a yelp. “I thought I told you not to sneak up on me.”
He smiled again, placed his hand under her chin, brought his lips down tenderly and kissed her. “Sorry. But if you aren’t afraid, then what is it? I really want to know.”
She sighed. He wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand, and it was too hard to explain. So she kept it simple. “I just don’t do family things well. I told you that before.”
He moved aside to let her go back to the table, and helped her finish clearing the plates and loading the dishwasher. “You did tell me that over a month ago, but you’ve met my brothers and sister a few times now. So how is this different?”
“Because this is your parents.” They had been eating when he asked her to dinner on Saturday. Without a thought, she said sure, then found out it was at his parents’ house, with all his siblings, everyone… a big family affair. Quickly trying to back out had been hard, but she tried. He just wasn’t letting her get away with it.
“Yes, it’s my parents. They want to meet you. You have to work Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Otherwise they would want you there then, too. Don’t I get points for getting you out of that?”
Her jaw dropped. “Your parents wanted me to spend the holidays with them? Meet me for the first time and go there for Christmas?” she asked, astonished.
“I don’t see what the big deal is.”
He wouldn’t. He was a man, and it was familiar ground for him. But she kept that comment to herself.
“I let you talk me into shopping—the day after Black Friday, no less. There is no way this will be as bad as that day was.”
She wouldn’t count on it. But inspiration struck. Leaning back on the counter, she crossed her arms, tilted her head to the side and flashed him a sexy look. The one she knew he loved so much. “If I remember correctly I owed you for that. What are you going to do for me?”
“Anything you want if you go. It won’t be bad. I’ll protect you. My mom isn’t mean at all. Trust me, she’s harmless,” he said, grinning.
“Anything I want at all?”
“Anything,” he confirmed.
***
“Lie on the bed, up against the headboard,” Presley directed Ben. He told her anything, and she was going to do what she wanted tonight. Of course, she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to have a problem with it. Walking to her closet, she returned with a silk scarf.
“What is that for?” he asked, laughing. “You going to tie me up?”
“Yep.”
That got his attention, his eyes going wide and wary. Then she stopped. Maybe being tied up wasn’t a good thing, and maybe he had some bad memory of that when he was a SEAL. “Unless you prefer not,” she hedged.
“Oh no, go right ahead. Do your worst to me,” he said, his eyes shining bright, a fire starting to burn. “Don’t you want me to undress first, though?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.” She knelt next to him on the bed and instructed him, “Put your hands in front of you.” Then she looped the scarf around them a few times, tying them together. “Now bring them over your head and hold onto the headboard while I wrap it around the bar. I’m sure you can break free if you want to, ruining my scarf and my bed frame, but you’re not going to are you?”
“No worries. I’m all yours tonight,” he said, adding a grin for good measure.
That statement sent shivers down her spine, anticipation of what was to come, and how much she was looking forward to it. “Okay, try to get comfortable if you can.”
He scooted down, his arms above his head but still relaxed, his feet crossed at the ankles, wearing only his socks. She hadn’t wanted to bother with his boots, so she allowed him to remove them first, but nothing else.
Pulling her shirt over her head, left only in a white tank top and her jeans, she straddled his waist, sat back on her heels, and started to unbutton his shirt one button at a time. Trailing one long finger along his chest to the next button, teasing him like he had her so many times. “Just be glad I won’t rip it off you like you did my clothing that one night.”
“You can if you want. I won’t care.” His voice had taken on a husky quality, and her body trembled.
“Maybe your T-shirt. I’ll let your work shirt stay in one piece.” When the last button was undone, she parted the sides and let them fall away. Left only with a black T-shirt underneath, she ran her hands up and down, feeling the muscles ripple under her touch. She loved his chest, his abs, his entire body. He was the only person she ever knew firsthand who had six-pack abs. His body was like a walking calendar model, and only she got to play with it. What a feeling.
Bringing her hands to the collar of his shirt, she tugged hard, but it didn’t give. She really wanted to rip it, only it wasn’t happening. She reached into her drawer and pulled out a little utility knife, slid out the mini scissors and made a tiny cut, replaced the knife and then grabbed both sides of his shirt and ripped it right down the center. The sound echoed through the room, adding more intensity to his eyes.
Scooting down further, she ran her hands across his chest, his muscles twitching under her palms. “You’ve got the most amazing body,” she said, her voice low, the raspiness of it coming loud and clear. She watched goose bumps form under her hands, his body involuntarily trembling. “I could sit here all night and just run my hands over you. Nothing more than that and I would be a very happy girl.”
He cleared his throat. “I can make you happier.”
“Oh, you can. And you will. Don’t worry about that. But on my terms tonight. Remember, you said I could punish you. You aren’t regretting that, are you?”
“No,” he said, his eyes staring hard into hers. “Not at all.”
She was mesmerized by the heat in his eyes, taken up a degree higher than ever before. Sliding down, she unbuttoned his jeans, slowly pulled down the zipper, and parted them. “There are other parts of your body I love even more. Other parts I could run my hands over all day long and never grow tired, either.” Speaking of growing, she was having one heck of an effect on him, just as she hoped.