Chapter Six

James

Bacon, eggs, waffles, and fresh berries sit on the table waiting for Kenzie's arrival. I want everything to be perfect. All night long, I thought over how the morning would go. I hadn't expected last night to be so… productive. I imagine, though, this morning she has had a chance to cool, and the reality of what's happened will surely be on her mind.

Maybe breakfast is a bad idea. Maybe we should be doing something. Feeding chickens, throwing hay, keeping our hands busy. God knows if my hands sit idle for too long, they're going to be all over her, and I'm not sure I can get away with it so freely this time.

Last night was a dream, a fantasy I replayed in my head while I jerked off in bed. It's pathetic, but I barely made it home. Her scent was all over me. I could still feel her touch on my skin. I could still hear her soft moans in my ear.

Fucking hell.

Stones pop in the driveway as a breeze rustles through the spring leaves on the trees. My chest tightens and my throat goes dry. I'm not expecting her to rush in with exclamations of love, but I don't want the opposite either. And right now, I'm not sure which I'll get. She was definitely turned up last night against the truck, that was obvious, but she's had all night to think over how terrible that decision was.

I watch out the window as Kenzie climbs out of her truck and makes her way up the porch steps to the front door. She's wearing a white spring dress with puffed sleeves and tiny pink flowers dotted all over the fabric. Her hair is curled and lying on her shoulder. She's beautiful.

The screen swings open and she twists the doorknob. She's been coming here long enough that she doesn't feel the need to knock. I like that. I want this to be hers too. I want her to be comfortable here, always.

"Oh." She lifts her head and stares toward me as though she doesn't expect me to be sitting at the kitchen table. It's now that I see she's spent extra time on her make up this morning. She's put on eyeliner and mascara. Usually, she doesn't. Is she trying harder for me? Should I tell her she looks beautiful without it? I don't want to hamper her efforts to be more beautiful, but she's gorgeous without all that fuss. "You cooked. I thought I was doing that."

"No, I invited you to breakfast. Why would you cook?"

"Because I work for you."

"So, you still work for me? I was afraid you'd quit."

She redirects her gaze to the table and pulls out a chair, settling gently with a sigh. Something is on her mind. Something heavy.

Here it comes. The inevitable washing of me. The part where she tells me the job isn't worth it and I've scared her. I can't say I blame her. There are a few things I could've been less… intense about.

"What's wrong?" I turn toward her, my hand over my beard as she talks.

"I'm confused." Tears stream down her face. "You're confusing."

I hate that I've complicated her life. My emotions never come out like they should. "I'm sorry if last night was chaotic. That wasn't my intention, or how I pictured any of this. I care about you, genuinely. I want you to be happy and safe. That's all."

"That's the thing. Last night was the realest part of all this. I've been feeling this bizarre pull to you since I started working here, and while last night I was out of my element, I don't regret it." Her eyes widen. "Believe me… I really thought that one over. Letting my boss finger me in a parking lot wasn't my highest point."

Relief washes over me. "Okay…what do you regret then?"

"It's not about regret. It's that I don't know who you are. You don't open up to me. It's like this physical connection is there, but… there are parts of you I can't reach."

I knew this would come. The part where I had to tell her my past. The part where I give her the opportunity to judge me and let her decide if she can handle it. The part where I trust in another person.

I'd rather do anything else, but I know what I need to do if I'm going to have any chance of keeping her.

I drag in a harsh breath and settle in next to her. "What do you want to know?"

Her eyes meet mine. "What happened to you in the military? Is that where you got that scar tissue? I looked up your tattoo. Were you in the Marines?"

I glance away and back again, rolling my neck in a small circle before I speak. This part of my life is the hardest to talk about. The military changed me, I'd gather to say for the worst. "Yes, the scar tissue is from an injury."

She stays silent, watching me as I speak. Her pretty pink lips part slightly, her bright blue eyes intently listening. She doesn't know what's coming and I don't want to tell her. I don't want to ruin whatever this could be.

Her hand lands on mine, soft and sweet as though she sees that struggle and wants to support me. I don't deserve her. I really don't fucking deserve her.

I sigh. "I was a sniper for the Marines. I traveled with a man named Colin. Colin Fisher. The nature of our missions required us to be in sync with each other. He was the spotter, and I was the sniper. We traveled with little gear, and we relied on each other for everything we needed out in the field. We put our lives in each other's hands."

My throat is dry. "We'd been out on dozens of high-risk missions. Most of them set on confirmed kills. But this one mission we were working on was simple, low risk. We were to take out a transmission station that had minimal guarding."

I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat as Kenzie squeezes my hand with comfort.

"We took the same path we always took, following the map exactly. We checked wind speeds and direction, barometric pressure, and we were in overwatch position, which means we were locked on to our target from a higher vantage point when it happened."

"What?" she whispers. "What happened?"

"It was my job to see that shooter. I was in charge. I should've seen the guard turn. I should've…" I choke back the words and try to suck in air, but it's stuck in my lungs. "He shot my spotter, and then me. For some reason, I'm here but that man, the one with the wife, the kids, the fucking life… he died. He died and I'm here to live this… whatever this is." My heart rate is so high, I feel my blood boiling.

She doesn't speak. Her hand stays steady.

Kenzie leans in and strokes her soft hand over my arm.

"How does a person move on after that? I don't deserve to be married, to have kids. Not when he lost his life and his family on my watch."

She stands from the chair and moves around the table, landing on my lap. Her arms wrap around me softly until her small hand is brushing the back of my neck and her warm breath lands on the lobe of my ear. Again, no words are said, but she's there, on my body, against me, holding me close.

I wrap my arms around her and lose myself in tears for the first time in twenty years. At first, the humiliation of crying wrecks me a little more than it should, but the tighter Kenzie holds me, the more therapeutic the tears become.

"You know he would want you to be happy, right? He'd want you to live the life he couldn't… for him."

"I know. Deep down, I know that, but… it's not fair. He shouldn't have been cheated out of watching his kids grow, out of holding his wife because of my mistake."

"It's not fair." She holds me tight. "You're right. It's never going to be fair, but you have to know this wasn't your fault. You were both there. You were in charge, but you were a team. You said so yourself."

Reasoning tells me she's right, but the emotion of it all clogs in my arteries and renders me immobile every time. I can't figure how I deserve anything good. Even now, my entire being aches for Kenzie, but I feel guilt for that too. What did I do to deserve such a bright spot in the sun?

Nothing. So… I stole it.

I coerced her into working for me. I followed her around. I took what pieces I could get, because I figured that's all I could have. But now that I've had it, I want more. I need more.

She brushes the side of my face. "You have to live for him. That's how you honor his life." These are words I've heard therapists say, friends say, my brother say. But until now, I couldn't hear them. They held no meaning.

She balls up in my arms and rubs her hand over my chest, stroking the tight spot at the base of my neck. A scar, the first place I was shot. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

"I haven't been able to let this go for years. It's so hard to deal with all the ‘what ifs' and to feel his loss every day." A heavy sigh leaves my chest as I say, "I've never been sure what to do with any of this. Every time I try to analyze my feelings, I always come back to my guilt."

She smiles gently. "James, you've cared so much about another person that you've tortured yourself with their death for years. You've suffered a great loss, but it's not all your fault. Nothing is ever that simple."

Beneath my skin, I'm vibrating. I want to believe her, but I should be punished, right? "But look at what I've done with the life I was given. I've pushed everyone away. Most people think I'm a piece of shit."

"I don't think you're a bad guy, James. I think you're human. I think you need love and someone who won't leave, even if you make mistakes." Her lips land on my forehead gently.

"Could you love a man like me?"

Her smile is sweet. "I think I already do."

My heart falls to the floor and heat covers my cheeks. I don't know what to say, how to act, what to do. I'm not even sure if I'm hearing her right. A second ago I wondered if she'd ever want to see me again. Now, we're being vulnerable, opening up. It scares the hell out of me.

"I can't love you and lose you." It's not the right thing to say, but it's what comes out.

"Why will you lose me?"

I shrug. "I don't know. You'll get bored. You'll realize I'm annoying as fuck, controlling, overbearing, possessive."

She sighs. "Well, what's wrong with me that I kind of like it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know… I've never had a guy who was so into me that he'd show up and threaten to drive through a building before." She grins. "It's exciting."

"Well, that's what I mean. You'll get bored of that. Whatever happened at war has made me a different person. I realized that when I met you. The second I saw your sunshine, I knew it needed to be protected. I can't stop being that guy. It's a gnawing inside of me. If you're mine, you're mine."

She lands both hands on either side of my face and kisses the tip of my nose. "You're cute!"

I laugh, knowing how psychotic I sound, yet she's still her happy-go-lucky, cheerful self. "None of this is cute, sunshine. I'm fucked up. I'm telling you that. If you're going to be with me, I need you to tell me that you won't leave and I need you to mean it. Oh, and this massage stuff, I don't know if I can handle it. Seriously… I was going to burst watching you touch other men."

She drags in a deep breath and stares toward me. "I see your pain, and all the hurt you've been through. I see it and I want to heal you. I want to take all the bad you've ever felt and make you good again, but that doesn't mean you get to control me. I will keep working, I'll keep massaging, and you need to know that it's professional. That's all."

My heart squeezes and I hate it. I hate everything about it. I don't want her hands on other men. I don't want other men getting off to the thought of her touch. I don't want her skin touching anyone else's. That said, I understand what she's saying, and I want her to know how much I respect her and all the hard work she's doing. "What if you wear something a little less… revealing when you do it then."

She grins and leans into my forehead for a kiss. "I can work with that."

The sweet scent of berries linger in the air as I run my hand over the smooth edges of her skin. She's perfection. This moment is perfection.

I lift her into my arms and hold her close to my chest as I carry her toward the bedroom.

"Where are we going?" she whispers gently against the lobe of my ear.

"I thought we could make this official, if you're interested."

She swallows hard. "I am, but I have one thing to tell you that I haven't said yet."

My brows narrow. I hadn't thought of how she could be holding back too. "What is it?"

She pinches her lips together. "I'm a virgin. Like… what we did next to the truck last night is the most I've ever done with anyone."

My heart swallows itself and begins to sputter, but my cock is rock hard. Of course, my sweet little sunshine is a virgin. This fact shouldn't get me off. In fact, it should probably stop me in my tracks. I don't deserve her. She's innocent, sweet, untouched… and I'm a heathen.

"Are you okay? Does that freak you out?"

"No. I… a little. You're so perfect, I don't want to ruin you."

She smiles brightly and wiggles out of my arms. "You're not going to ruin me. I want you to do all the things to me. At night, last night especially, after I went home… I thought about how you'd fuck me."

My cock struggles against my zipper. "Yeah, what did you think about?"

"Like… I wondered if you'd spank me for touching all those men. Or if you'd punish me somehow…" She tosses me a playful grin. "I like how aggressive you are."

I swallow hard. What the fuck did I do to deserve this sweet, little, innocent angel?

"I can't hurt you, sunshine. Not ever."

"You're not hurting me. I think I'd like to be spanked… by you." She smiles again. "Besides, I need you to teach me right from wrong."

A shiver rolls down my spine as I stare toward Kenzie, taking in her curved waist, her heavy breasts, her sweet blue eyes. "I don't have a condom."

"Do we need one?"

My jaw slacks. "Aren't you worried you'll—"

She steps toward me, her eyes on mine, her hand on my chest. "I want you to do dirty, filthy things to me, James. I want you to do them over and over again, and I don't want anything between us."

There's a thin line of civility for a man like me, and with that comment, she's just given me permission to cross over it.

I lift her up over my shoulder and spank her round ass. "If you want to be naughty, you're going to get punished."

She giggles and I carry her toward the bedroom with a warm heart like maybe I've got a life worth something after all.