Chapter 16
SCOTTIE
For a second time, Mikey was going to be alone in the tent when I arrived—as I expected him to be. This time felt different. Uncertainty spun a tangled web between us. He’d flirted. Why he so obviously did, I wasn’t sure, and I hadn’t given him a chance to explain before immediately shutting things down.
Which was for the best, obviously. If anything were to happen between us, if we were to become more than just teammates and friends, I would lose my position with the team or worse—my career in the military would go to hell.
Ducking under the tent, the shriek that should have left my lips caught in my throat, escaping as a little squeak. Shock coursed through me like my first gin and tonic that sent me to a different world.
“Shit, Scotch!” Mikey exclaimed, spinning around toward the tent wall. The waistband to his compression boxers snapped against his hips, released from his fingers. I should have slapped my hand over my eyes.
But I couldn’t look away.
“Why are you…Where are your fucking pants?” I stuttered. Unable to move, every cell in my body refused to fuel my limbs, refused to give me an escape from something I slowly realized I wasn’t exactly wanting to disappear from. And part of me was extremely grateful that I’d returned when I had, or I would’ve missed the brief glimpse of the tattoos on his thighs.
“They were sweaty. I hand washed all my shit this morning and the clean ones were finally dry, so I’m changing into new stuff. What are you doing here?” The muscles in Mikey’s back tensed, rolling like smooth whiskey on a Saturday night. My eyes drank him in, and especially after my earlier shut down of his more obvious advance, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get drunk off him, but I was.
As I slid my gaze down every inch of his body carved from stone, that heat in my veins roared. Recognizing that he was the cause of all of that warmth had just made this increasingly harder to ignore.
Even more so, to deny.
He didn’t exactly move to cover more of himself, and I took that as permission. Permission to let myself ogle oh so briefly at him. How surface level I was being, I knew that, but I couldn’t really help it, especially with that ass of his. Here was the evidence that he most certainly did not skip leg day.
My skin flushed warm, soaking it all in.
Then my eyes caught sight of the letter resting on his bedroll, and claws of green jealousy scraped faintly against my heart. There was no stopping the word vomit bubbling in my throat. “Really? Your underwear was only sweaty? That letter on your bed with a picture of your naked ex-fiancée tells me differently.”
Mikey spun around, clearly forgetting he was still almost naked, and my eyes widened, straining to avoid darting down to everything I’d glimpsed he was packing. But it wasn’t anger that swirled in his eyes, catching my intrigue. He tipped his head, a milder version of his arrogant smirk curled his lips. “Are you jealous I might have taken some me time to her?”
I shook my head in obvious denial. “No.”
An absolute lie, but why the hell would the thought of him pleasuring himself to her piss me off so much? That I could continue to deny. Mostly…
“So, then why do you care if I was or wasn’t?” he asked, taking a few steps closer toward me.
“I don’t, but if you don’t put some pants on, someone else will wonder the same thing as me. Especially Bernie,” I answered, crossing my arms and holding on to every ounce of self-control left to keep my eyes from wandering lower. And I lost the battle. My eyes briefly darted down to what I’d already caught a glimpse of, and a shiver ran down my spine. It most certainly entered rooms before he ever did.
A low chuckle came from Mikey, and he didn’t turn away. “So,” he let the word roll slowly off his tongue as I peeled my eyes back up to his gaze. Every breath I drew in coated my throat like sandpaper. He winked, despite telling me earlier he wouldn’t, and I pulled my lips in between my teeth, biting back a smile.
Mikey inhaled deeply, his broad chest expanding, and he finally turned away. “You think that because I had to change my underwear, that I creamed in my pants?”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, physically trying to slip the sight of him into a box at the back of my mind, as he crouched by his rucksack and withdrew a pair of pants. “Obviously.”
“Scotch, why the fuck would I purposefully come in my underwear when I can use a sock or some other easily discardable clothing item?” he bluntly asked, and stuffed his legs into his pants, hoisting them up to his waist.
I pursed my lips; it sucked that he was right. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fair.” I grumbled.
His smirk widened to a crooked grin as he faced me, doing up the buttons. “You gonna just stand there in the doorway like that?”
“Oh, um, right.” Snapping out of the stupid ass stupor that was his damn fault, I quickly strode over to my bedroll and safely stored my sniper rifle for the time being. “If you don’t have feelings for her anymore, why did the letter…?” Swallowing my words, I remained facing away from him, hoping I hadn’t overstepped my bounds. But we were treading in such gray water already, I tossed all caution to the wind.
“Why did it bother you so much?” I stood up and faced him as he finished pulling the shirt over his head.
He exhaled slowly, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. “Honestly?” His eyes turned a little glassy. “I feel like a fucking fool.”
“You’re not a fool, Blondie.”
“Then I’m a damn idiot.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because her narcissism is so obvious. I noticed it in her first letter. Yet I stayed with her for three fucking years, and the entire time, never saw it.”
“That’s how abuse works,” I gently said and took a cautious step his way. “But you’re out of the relationship now.”
“Only because I caught her on all fours with some guy fucking her in our bed.” His jaw knotted as he brought his gaze back to me.
“You’re still out.” I stopped directly in front of him, so close to his chest that with every exhale, his warm breath washed over my face. Sharp tingles shivered across my neck as everything in me wanted to be even closer. Bare skin beneath a thin T-shirt waited for me, speckled with a history of pain that I wanted to hear about, but I refrained from reaching forward.
“Again, ’cause I caught her cheating.” He looked down at me, something gentler and more lighthearted crossing his face.
“And you swear you don’t have any feelings left for her?” I pushed. Why, I wasn’t entirely sure, but I had to know.
“The moment I saw her naked with him plowing her from behind, I know this sounds cruel, but any feelings I had for her were gone immediately. It was rather strange with how tangible the shift was after they were gone. I’m not even mad at her or hurt by her anymore.” He slowly raised a hand, his brows tightening, casting a shadow over his deep blue eyes.
“So, then why do you care so much?” I asked, tracking his fingers as they steered toward the bandaged wound on my cheek.
“I just told you I don’t?” His touch hovered over my skin.
“Yet I never asked what position they were in and you’ve mentioned it twice now.” I knew I shouldn’t dig, but those green tendrils of jealousy were still loosely wrapped around my stomach. Twisting and pressuring me to push at him.
“Yeah, well, I am a bit pissed at specifically that.”
“Why?” My eyes flickered to his fingers that still hovered over my cheek.
His shoulders drooped, and his hand fell away from my face. “Because I was nothing more to her than he is, and it just feels really shitty to have meant so little to someone I spent three years with.”
“Why the hell does the position that he was fucking her in make you think you meant nothing more to her?”
“You’re gonna never let me live this down if I tell you,” he cautiously said, sizing me up with a narrowed gaze.
“Depends, but I make no promises.”
A soft grin filled his face. “Because that was the only position we ever did.”
My mouth fell open as I stared at this hunk of a man in front of me. “Why the hell would she not want to look at you at least once? I mean, like damn, if I—” and my hand slapped over my mouth.
His eyes darkened, that cocky ass grin lifted on his lips. He opened his mouth, but I immediately spoke. “Don’t you say a fucking thing. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you’re…”
“Handsome? Dashing? Bad ass? Sexy?” he offered, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re…not ugly.” I threw my hands on my hips as that comforting chuckle rolled from his chest. He was all of those things, but I wasn’t going to admit that to his face. “I’m just saying, one position would get boring.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Sex is sex, Scotch.”
“At least you had access to two holes,” I muttered, and it was his turn for his mouth to fall open. My eyes widened with his. I may not believe in romance or love, but he wasn’t wrong when it came to his view on sex.
And then he sighed heavily. “Only one.”
“She spent three years offering up her ass, yet you didn’t get that too?”
“Knowing what I know now, she’s probably enjoyed some anal before, but while we were together, I never even bothered to approach that topic.”
“Why not?”
He chuckled, a grin of satisfaction slid across his face, and I immediately knew I walked into something dirty, and however serious of an answer that may have been available, he was certainly not going to stick to that route. “I may be an average man in length, but I shine in girth, Scotch. I would’ve split her at the seams.”
Swallowing stiffly, I steadied my breathing, ignoring the pounding of my heart. He should not have told me that. He should not have crossed that boundary. But hell was I enjoying this. The pulse between my legs fired up again, and I narrowed my gaze at him. “I don’t believe you.”
He cocked a brow. “Why not?”
“Men lie about that stuff.”
His breathing quickened. “I promise you I’m not. I’m a solid 6 and a half at least.”
“Prove it,” I said without thinking. The waves of heat rolling across the desert sand were nothing in comparison to the steam flushing my cheeks. His gaze intensified. His brows twitched. But he didn’t speak, not right away. I knew some fucking attitude was coming my way. I mean, I’d just asked the guy to show me his dick.
Mikey closed the space between us, pressing himself flush with my body. Bold move, but I didn’t shy away. The warmth that pulsed from his skin swallowed me whole, and I wasn’t going to fight it. Drowning in his sweet scent of sand and whatever else it was that I still couldn’t name, I prayed that the pounding against my chest was his heart and not mine.
“I cannot get a read on you,” he whispered. I cautiously lifted my gaze to meet his.
“In what way?” I replied quietly, enjoying whatever this was and ignoring what was his pressing lightly between my legs.
“Whether you talk about this shit from personal experience or to put on a face like you do with almost everything else?”
“I don’t do that with everything else.”
He shook his head. “Then tell me one thing, just one thing, about yourself that’s true and personal.”
Pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth, I glanced away from him, connecting with the tan canvas side of the tent. This time, without hesitation, he raised a hand and brushed a calloused thumb gently over the bandage resting on my cheek.
From such a simple touch of his, everything in me shifted. Everything around us shifted. This wasn’t something only sexual for him. He wanted more than that. Had he lied to simply keep me comfortable by telling me he believed sex is simply sex? But he’d been vulnerable with me, and the tenderness coating his expression softened the brick walls around my heart. “My biological parents died in a car crash taking me home from the hospital, so I was raised in a foster home with seven foster siblings. All boys.”
Mikey inhaled and threaded his fingers through my hair. “The crows…”
“They gave me hope that somehow my parents knew about my life and were watching over me.” I closed my eyes, leaning against his palm. This was wrong, and the moment that we left this tent, I would deny this happened. But the touch also felt quite nice. Maybe being open with Mikey, with one other person, wasn’t such a bad thing. I’d never been allowed to be soft around anyone else, to be even a fraction of feminine, I wasn’t even sure what that was like. But right at this moment, at least for a fleeting second, something bloomed faintly in my heart.
“Now, let’s talk about something else,” I quickly added, even though I wasn’t ready for him to remove the comfort of his touch; that was enough tender vulnerability for a day.
“You know, I do have a question concerning your reaction to walking in on me getting dressed,” he said, obliging my request.
“What’s that?” I narrowed my gaze suspiciously, gathering the strength to start rebuilding my walls.
“Why were you so surprised with what you saw earlier when you’re the one who has admitted you’ve seen me change before?”
“I only caught a glimpse as you took your shirt off. Normally when we have to change, I disappear to the showers, remember?” I explained.
He slowly nodded, letting his hand fall back to his side, and a chill swept across my skin where the ghost of his touch lingered as he stepped away. “Right, I guess I don’t pay too much attention to that when we’re gearing up. But I know you lied to me yesterday.”
“What? When?” I widened my eyes, feigning innocence.
“You were worried you’d see something you like.” His voice lowered, deepening with the sensations that he elicited in my body.
“I shouldn’t have been since there was nothing impressive to see,” I teased back, remaining somewhat in control.
A slow whistle left his lips. “That was low. Very low, Scotch. Good thing I’m quite confident in myself.”
“Borderline arrogant.”
“You like it.”
I rolled my eyes, despite the fact that he was right. “Let’s go, or the team’s gonna get suspicious.”
His brows furrowed. “Go where? Suspicious of what?”
“Oh right!” I lightly slapped my forehead. “I totally forgot to tell you. Colonel Duke is sending us out with a squad to go take care of a bomb that Karim al-Jabari is apparently transporting.”
Mikey’s grin widened. “Oh, fuck yes!”
“Why are you guys always so excited to go do something like that?” I asked.
“Because it’s something I’m good at. Something we’re all good at,” he answered, walking toward the tent flap. But then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at me. An intense seriousness coated features that normally were as mischievous as he was arrogant. “You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not just to prove you’re a good sniper.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
His hands fell to his sides as he tipped his head up and looked away. “You’re the first female sniper to graduate from sniper school. That means something. Stop trying so hard to fit in with the boys. Own that shit.”
And he left me alone. The smile faltered on my face. Did he mean any of the blatant flirting, or was it all a ploy to simply help me become more comfortable with the team?
Because whether he knew it or not, I had no idea how to own that shit.
But there was a spark in me actually wanting to try.