21. Alana
ALANA
A mos brings a hand to his eyes. "If anything happened to him..." He shakes his head, as if trying to shake away the thought.
I've never seen him like this. I've never seen him so vulnerable.
"Hey." I scoot over towards him on the couch, placing my arm on his shoulder. "It's okay. You did the right thing, Amos. He's going to be okay."
He lets out a long shaky breath. "I couldn't protect Jake.
" His voice is a low croak. "All I ever wanted to do was keep Jake safe.
I hated it when he followed me into the Navy.
And when I did the SEAL training, I should've known Jake would want to do it as well.
I tried to talk him out of it. I was hoping he wouldn't survive BUD/S, but he was a stubborn fucker. "
"What's buds?" I ask.
"Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL training. Every wannabe SEAL has to go through it, and it's fucking hard. Only around twenty percent of those who attempt it graduate. It's six months of pure hell.
"I was hoping Jake wouldn't make it. But that determined fucker did. And once you do, once you're part of the twenty percent who make it, you feel invincible. That's the feeling you get after you survive BUD/S. You feel like you can do anything.
"The missions we were sent on—you had to believe that.
If you thought about failing, if you thought you couldn't do it, or the man next to you couldn't do it, you could be dead.
I tried to get Jake on my team, but they thought it'd be a conflict of interest. That I might have sacrificed my team to save him. "
He sits back on the couch and sighs.
"The night he was killed, he went into a building wired with explosives. If he was on my team, I never would have let him go."
I place my hand on his shoulder.
"You weren't responsible for Jake. He made his own decisions. From what you said, he was a trained SEAL. He would have known what he was doing."
He's silent for a while.
"Sometimes I look at Sam and I wonder what kind of man I want him to grow up to be.
Just like Jake? Just like me? My dad always said how proud he was when we joined the Navy and then when we became SEALs.
We never really thought about the risk. I mean, you have your will made up and all that, but I still felt fucking invincible. Is that the life I want for Sam?"
I run a hand down his arm, wanting to ease his concern.
"Amos, you're a parent. You can't control everything. All you can do is bring Sam up the best way you know how. He'll make his own decisions in life."
"Fuck, this is hard."
"I know. You couldn't protect Jake. But you can take care of Sam."
"I couldn't bear it if anything happened to Sam."
The agony in his expression makes my chest squeeze.
"Sam's okay." My instinct is to comfort Amos, and I pull him into me. I can't get my arms around his large frame, but he leans his head on my shoulder.
"You're doing a great job with Sam. He's really lucky he found you."
I try to hold him as a friend would. But it's hard having his body this close to mine.
I catch the scent of his skin, feel his stubble scratch against my shoulder.
I press a kiss to the top of his head. It's supposed to be a friendly kiss, but he tilts his head up at the same time, and it lands on his forehead.
His skin is warm under my lips, and his eyes meet mine.
He doesn't say a word, but he sits up taller until his face is level with mine, his lips inches from mine. My breath hitches. I've avoided being this close to Amos because I can't trust myself.
His lips brush mine—so softly.
I close my eyes. I should pull away. But I don't.
His lips brush my cheek, my earlobe, and then back again. This time when they press against mine, they're more insistent. Hungry.
I kiss him back, and it feels like sweet relief. Weeks of denying myself come flooding out. The house is still around us; the only light comes from the flickering lamp in the corner. It feels magical and unreal at the same time, and I let myself get carried away in the kiss.
His lips explore mine, and I open myself to him. He brings a rough hand up to glide along my cheek, then cups my face in his palm.
"Alana." He breathes my name, and warm air tickles my cheek.
He doesn't say more than that, but my name on his lips sends a tremor through my body I can no longer ignore. His hand slides to the back of my neck and heat courses through every part of me where he touches, sending shivers down my spine.
Then his hand slides around my waist and under my baggy T-shirt, all the way up my back. I'm not wearing a bra, and the tingle of his fingertips against my bare skin makes me shiver.
The kids are asleep in the other room. I should stop this. And yet I don't want to.
He pushes me back onto the couch, and I sink into the cushions. His kiss becomes more insistent. His hand snakes around my belly, across the skin, and slides up to my breasts.
I gasp as he palms one breast and moans as his hand closes around me.
"Amos..." I pant his name. "We should stop." It comes out breathy. But even as I say it, I arch my chest into his hand.
He strokes my nipple. I practically purr.
"Fuck..."
My hips thrust upward, meeting his hard body, and he kisses me hard.
He needs this as much as I do.
But I can't stop thinking about the kids sleeping in the next room.
"We can't do this. Not here."
He pulls back and stands up. I almost cry out at the loss of his body against mine.
"You're right. We can't do this here."
Disappointment makes my body sag. But a moment later, Amos slides one arm under my legs and the other around my back and tilts me toward his chest. I'm a big girl, but he doesn't falter as he scoops me off the couch and into his arms. I stifle my surprise, not wanting to wake the kids.
"Which one is your bedroom?" he whispers.
"It's the only other door at the end of the hallway."
In a few strides, he pushes the door open and throws me down on the bed. I bounce on my bottom as my hair flies out behind me.
"Don't move." He holds up a finger. "I'm going to take Sam's temperature. Don't move, don't say anything, don't think too much, Alana. We both need this. Okay?"
Then he's gone. I hear him pad into the kid's bedroom, then the beep of the thermometer.
A moment later, he's back.
"Ninety-nine point five." His relief is palpable. "It's going down, and they're fast asleep." He pauses. "But if you tell me you don't want this, I'll leave."
He crouches in front of me and places a hand on either knee. I try to think of the reasons why we shouldn't do this, but all I can think about is the pressure of his hands on my legs.
His hand trails up my thigh, and even through my thick sweatpants, I feel it all the way to my core.
There are a hundred reasons why we shouldn't do this: the kids, the adoption board, the timing.
But as his fingers inch closer toward the top of my thighs, none of it matters.
I lean forward on the bed, cup his face in both hands, and kiss him hard. His lips are firm and sweet and the sensation crashes over me like a wave, making me wonder why I've denied myself this for so long.
"I have to tell you something."
Amos peers up at me with concern. "What is it?"
"I've never done this before."
His eyes widen and his hand stops, grasping the inside of my thigh. "Are you a virgin?"
I bit my lower lip and nod my head. How do I explain that I'm twenty-six and still a virgin?
"When you grow up in foster care, you don't have many things that are your own.
There were plenty of times I could've done it, when I was way too young to understand what it was all about.
But even then, I knew this was one part of myself I could keep.
So I pushed away all the boys who tried.
And then, as I got older, I got into this line of work.
The kids always came first. Always. I didn't want to be with a man when a child might need me. "
He takes my hands in his.
"It's okay to put yourself first sometimes, Alana. It's okay to give yourself pleasure."
I raise an eyebrow. "I know how to give myself pleasure. Don't worry about that."
His eyes darken, and he pushes me gently back on the bed. "I want you to lie back, Alana. You've put everyone else first for too long. Tonight, I'm putting you first."
He sits back on his heels between my thighs. I sit up on my elbows so I can watch him as he peels off my sweatpants.
"You're a fucking saint, Alana. You deserve to be worshipped. And tonight, I'm going to worship every part of your body like you deserve. Now lie the fuck down and enjoy it."
As he says it, he slides my sweatpants down my thighs. His fingers trail over my calves, then over my ankles.
The cool air makes the hairs on my legs stand on end. His mouth presses to my thigh, and the contrast of heat and cold makes me shiver.
His mouth moves up my leg, searing every part of my skin he touches. He pushes my legs apart as he gets to the top of my thigh. His lips press to my damp panties, and I suck a breath in between my teeth.
"Amos..." My hands reach for him, and I get a handful of hair.
"Let me take care of you, Alana."
No one's ever taken care of me before. I learned at a young age to take care of myself. My head comes up to watch this man between my thighs.
He peels my panties off, excruciatingly slow. Then kisses up my legs again, moving from my thighs to the most sensitive place between my legs. And then he's licking me in places I've never been licked.
I gasp at the contact—his rough tongue against my softest places. He slides a hand under me and lifts my leg and places it over his shoulder, opening me up like a flower. I've never been this vulnerable for anybody.
I sit up on my elbows, watching as this powerful man makes me feel so good. One hand slides between my legs, and his palm strokes me as his tongue flicks and kisses my sensitive bud.