Chapter 10 - Wes
She’s so fucking sweet. Her mouth so perfect, every gentle caress of her tongue following my lead, the way she fits against me, small and delicate, but sure and soft at the same time.
I’m losing my mind, desperate to push for more.
She’s here, she’s safe. I made her safe.
She’s not afraid. She’s mine. And I desperately want to be hers.
That thought makes me pull away.
I try to put space between us, even though she’s holding onto me and her knees keep knocking as she leans against the door.
Her dilated eyes focus on mine in the near darkness broken only by her porch light.
I try to catch my breath even though each swallow reminds me of her taste, better than the honey mead, more potent than straight whiskey.
She licks her bottom lip as she watches me pant and I have to dig my nails into my palms to make myself step back again.
“I shouldn’t have,” I say decisively.
“You should have!” She argues. “I wanted you to. Wes, please don’t … please ...” she strokes along my arm, peering up at me with needy, hopeful eyes that nearly pull me right back in.
“Wes … I want you just like this,” she whispers.
Trusting my tongue would be a mistake. Saying anything would lead to another kiss, which would mean walking inside. She deserves more than a moment driven by adrenaline and heat, and I need to prove—to both of us—that I can still choose control.
I put her keys in her hand and walk away. It’ll be a solid hour of walking, but clearly I need it to cool off. I’m hard from a kiss, just kissed a woman fifteen years younger than me, the colonel’s daughter – the man who was my superior for years.
When did wanting stop feeling manageable? And how did I let myself forget, even for a moment, the lines I’ve spent a lifetime holding?
One man raising his voice at her and I have to remind myself to restrain rather than break him?
I have to grit my teeth against every urge to fracture his wrist so his fingers are numb and he won’t remember how she felt because of the pain?
And after managing that, I surrender to a fucking ‘please?’
I still feel the heat of her breath, can still feel her soft tongue teasing mine. Her silky hair, the way she melted against me like she belongs in my arms and it’s the only place she can let go of everything else … no. She’s not mine to have. There’s too much that won’t work.
It’s not logical. It’s all emotion and lust and curiosity.
So why isn’t my curiosity sated? Why can’t I think about anything but her?
The exposure technique I’ve been trying – spending time with her in small doses to erase my feelings – is clearly not working considering it took one ‘please.’ God, it was the best sound I’d ever heard.
Her needy, hopeful eyes lit from within, more beautiful than any gemstone and more captivating than any spell. That one whispered word, the way her lips wrapped around it, the way the word fell off her tongue and onto my lips. How perfectly she fits against me.
It’s like she was made to ruin me.
The loudest part of me wants to let her.
I want to turn around and sprint back to her.
I want to knock on her door, sweep her up into my arms and tell her I’m the only one that should be touching her, that I can give her everything she wanted from that kiss and more.
I’ll capitalize on all those fantasies I’ve seen in her eyes.
But I can’t. Not until I have a clear head.
The logistics matter, not just emotions. Having her for a night isn’t an option. She’s too gentle, too sweet, and looking for directions in life. How can I give her that without bulldozing her? How can I let down every wall I’ve built and let myself be with her?
I don’t even remember how to date. It’s been too long. I’ve always kept things clear with the women I’ve been with—short flings while on leave, clean boundaries, no expectations. Fun without depth.
Hailey is the opposite of all of that.
Everything about her has weight. Our conversations skim the surface at times, but there’s always something deeper underneath, something she’s holding back. And the more I sense it, the more I realize I don’t know how to approach her without wanting more than I’m supposed to.
Rubbing my forehead, I shake my head of every thought and run.
It’s not to put more space between us, not really.
It’s to clear my head. One foot in front of the other, a time to beat, a destination, everything clearly cut.
It’s straight forward, direct, no gray area.
There’s not magic in the gray area right now, only doubt.
I can either wallow in it, or run, clear it all away, then focus on what to do next.
By the time I get home, I feel lighter. Not because the pull is gone, but because I didn’t cross another line. I let myself feel something—and then I stopped.
I can still taste Hailey, still hear the soft hitch in her breath, still feel the way she pressed into me like she trusted me not to take more than she offered. That doesn’t fade just because I walked away.
If I went back now, she wouldn’t understand. And I wouldn’t have the words. How do I explain that it isn’t her that gives me pause, but everything around her? The age gap. Who her father is. The fact that she’s still figuring out whether this place—this life—is even what she wants.
It’s not her fault I kissed her. It’s mine. I took the step. I didn’t stay away.
Now I have to figure out how we can work – if we can work at all.
Maybe it’s a fluke. Maybe it’s just a rush of having contact with someone who understands me, who doesn’t shy away from my life but doesn’t hold on a pedestal because of it.
There’s too much to sort out in my head to try to manage it while with her beside me.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I muse my hair and pace in front of my bunk again. Thinking is harder than any obstacle course, round of paperwork, or scheduling.
It’s also my only option.