26. Millie
Millie
Even with their conversation about eating after swimming, Strike still made her wait an hour after food.
“A night swim is the right way,” she insisted when he hung up his phone.
“I’m not happy.” He huffed, pacing the rough patch of grass in front of the tent. “Bear said we shouldn’t swim this late.”
“And what did Liss say? Because I know he put her on speaker.”
Strike hesitated, rolled his eyes, and returned to pacing, all while grumbling, “She said she slipped a bikini in your bag. She thought you might need it if you visited Cornwall.”
“She thinks of everything, doesn’t she?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” He smiled wryly before adding, “I’ll meet you in the water. I don’t have anything to swim in.”
Millie pressed her lips together and nodded before slipping into the tent to change, desperately pushing away images of Strike naked with water rolling down his abs to his…
We’ll only be in there long enough to sort his hair out.
Her gut sparked with anticipation, and she growled it away. This was just washing the blood from Strike’s hair. Nothing more.
She threw on her hoodie to ward off the night chill before grabbing a towel and shampoo and running the short distance to the water.
Strike yelped and splashed before grunting about how cold it was. Millie sneaked behind a tree. Leaves crackled beneath her feet, and she dodged fallen twigs, eyeing Strike’s broad shoulders as they rose from beneath the water.
He swam in short strokes like he was pacing. Water droplets collected on his chest, dripping down his pecs to join the rest of the lake. Her mouth dried at his defined chest and his blue eyes dark in the moonlight.
He was beautiful, like a Greek god visiting Earth for one night to show mortals how perfect a man could look when power and beauty threaded together.
Millie cursed herself for romanticising the moment, but still, she stared in awe at Strike’s tanned muscle and fierce brows. He dipped his head in the lake and threw it back. Drops of water flew into the air.
She needed to get in, wash his hair, and get out. The less time with a naked Strike, the better, and at least a cold lake would obliterate her desire.
Her emotions were switching. Hate had ebbed after seeing his softness and his control. She couldn’t forget the past, but this was the one man she’d let touch her, and after the risks they’d faced, her body craved closeness.
The chill hit her skin as soon as she removed her hoodie, yet heat collected between her thighs as he dived under.
She stepped closer, panicked he might not reappear.
Suddenly, he broke the surface, powering through it. Each ab glistened as water rushed from his rolling shoulders. He locked eyes with her.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as his stare slowly travelled down her body and back to her face.
With one look, he made her feel more sexual than any man online. Where she sent filthy words to strangers to make her feel something, Strike seduced her with his brazen gaze, and her core throbbed in response.
This was a stupid idea. She should have listened to him. But she couldn’t run away now.
“Look away, then,” she shouted, her voice thick and affected. Her stomach tangled with need.
He dropped his head and mumbled, “Sorry.”
As she stepped to the water’s edge, he glanced at her from beneath his lashes. His desperation to see her gave her back the power he’d taken when he’d left years earlier.
“Sorry,” he said again as he turned around.
“Actually, can you catch the shampoo? Then I can dive in.” She wanted him to desire her. Talk about mixed signals.
He stared at where her breasts tested the seams of the bikini and immediately averted his gaze. “Strike, you need to see to catch. I don’t want to hit you in the head with it.”
“Oh yeah, of course.” He stumbled over his words.
Millie tossed the shampoo. Stike jumped up to catch it. His arms stretched in the air, revealing more of his torso, including the perfect V where his lower abs met his obliques.
She sucked her lower lip.
With the shampoo in hand, he stared back at her. A fire burned from his eyes straight to her cheeks. She licked her lips slowly, and his mouth quirked. “Are you getting in, Doc? The sooner you’re in, the sooner we can wash my hair and get out.”
“It looks cold.” She shivered, as much from the temperature as her desire.
“It is, which is why you need to get in.”
“You’ve got the shampoo now. You can wash your hair yourself. I’ll go back to the tent.”
“This was your idea, and I’ll need your help to ensure all the blood is out.
I can’t see if I’ve got it all, can I?” he drawled, making her skin tingle as if threads of electricity ran beneath its surface.
“Either you get in by yourself or I’m coming for you.
” The depth of his voice as he teased her hit straight between her thighs.
“But you’re naked. If you get out, I’ll see… everything”
“So you best get in before I drag you in myself. Unless you’re desperate to see everything.”
He lifted his brows as he walked through the water toward the edge.
Don’t look down.
But her betraying eyes did just that. The ripples covered him, but one more step and the water pooling around his waist would be at thigh level.
She needed that, wanted that.
On the one hand, she desired touch, but on the other, she was terrified she’d never be enough because of her lack of experience and fear of rejection.
She dived in, screaming as she surfaced. “It’s fucking freezing. You should have warned me.” She shoved him away as he stood before her.
“I did. Let’s hurry this up.” His voice was stern, but his stare was pure desire.
She grabbed the shampoo and filled her palm. “Turn, then.”
He turned one-eighty degrees. She gasped as the silver lines embedded in his back shone under the moonlight. “You’re scarred.”
“I should have warned you. I saw a lot in the SAS. Things I don’t need to talk about.”
“Please tell me.”
“So you can heal me, Doc?”
“So I can care for my friend,” she replied softly.
He stilled. Goose pimples covered his skin, and she ran her fingers across his scars, making him gasp. “Not now. I’m tired and cold. But later.”
“Do you promise?”
“Of course. I can’t deny you anything.”
Millie heart stuttered at the statement. “Okay. It’s not good to force you to open up when you’re not in the right emotional space.” As much as she wanted to push Strike to find out more about his past, to help him, she couldn’t betray her ethics as a counsellor.
“Thank you. The way you care for me means a lot.”
There was more honesty in his words than in any interaction she’d had online.
She worked shampoo into his hair, her fingers caressing him. She kicked her feet, attempting to tread water, but sank each time she tried to focus on him.
“You don’t need to struggle. I can help. Climb onto me. I’ll hold you against my chest.”
“Wh—what?”
“The lake isn’t that deep, and I don’t need to tread water. Trust me.”
She squeezed her eyes tightly, willing calm. “Okay,” she consented.
He turned to face her, and she tucked the bottle of shampoo into her bandeau style bikini top. His eyes widened as she inadvertently drew attention to her nipples pebbling her top.
She brushed against his dick as he lifted her out of the water. He was hard in this freezing water!
“Wrap your legs around me to make it easier.”
She stared into his big blue eyes.
His jaw flexed, and his hands gripped her thighs.
She shivered against his chest. As she wrapped her legs tightly around his torso, she accidentally ground her hips. His dick bobbed against her.
“Millie, please wash my hair.” His voice strained as he begged.
She rubbed the shampoo gently into his hair before dipping her hands in the lake. She repeated the action of caressing and dipping. Her nails dug into his scalp, massaging as he hummed, his chest vibrating against her.
“That feels so good,” he said gruffly, clasping her tighter. “Don’t stop.”
She reapplied more shampoo before tucking the bottle back to where she kept it safe. His stare followed her hands.
“Does it need more shampoo?” he croaked, as if every drop of moisture had left his mouth.
“Yes,” she replied to his pulsating neck muscle.
Every time she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and caressing him, a bloom of need grew in her belly. She’d missed these sensations for the last ten years. She pressed her chest harder against him.
“Millie,” he whimpered as she lifted slightly to rub against his dick.
She’d made her soldier whimper.
His face creased as he stared at her. Uncertainty collided with hope, bolstered by her resounding desire. Strike tracked her tongue as it swept across her lips. His fingers dug into her thighs. “Please.”
Her breath came out in slow murmurs that made her chest rise and fall as her breasts pressed harder against her top, her nipples grazing his pecs through the thin material.
He scraped his teeth against his lower lip before ducking his head and running his mouth against her neck.
She swallowed the cry teetering on the edge of her throat.
He pressed his forehead against hers.
The anguish in the lines across his face moulded into her skin. Their mouths were close enough to kiss, yet he still wouldn’t cross the line and claim her lips. He ran the tip of his nose against hers.
“I’ve thought about this moment for years. I wanted to know what it’s like to feel your touch again for one brief second,” he whispered.
“Then fucking kiss me. This doesn’t have to mean anything except two scared people using each other to feel better just for one night. Do you want that?”
“More than anything,” he groaned, his breath ghosting her lips.
“Please. Stop thinking or planning and kiss me.”
His lips crashed into hers.
Their tongues tangled with years of repressed emotion. One hand slid to her back, and he pulled her tighter to his chest. She cupped his face, her hands splayed against his cheeks, as he moaned into her mouth.
They kissed like two broken people finally feeling something. Desperation scratched at her skin as he eased back.
She cried out for more.
He smirked before pressing his mouth to hers, moving one of her arms to around his neck.
He gripped her arse. She needed more, yet fear built, pushing away desire and replacing it with memories of rejection. She held on, squeezing her eyes tight, hoping to drown in what he offered. His hand slipped underneath her bikini bottoms.
She leaned back. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m not ready.”
He held her as he panted. “Who hurt you, Sunset?”
Her face fell. “You did.”
“I’m sorry. I hurt myself that day and every day since, too.” His voice strained.
“Then what happened? Why did you leave me? What was wrong with me?”
“I can’t. You don’t want to know right now.”
He pressed his forehead against hers, but she pulled away. “Just tell me. Did you really hate me that much? Liss said you did it for love, but if you loved me, you wouldn’t have left. What did I do wrong? Was one night with me really that awful that you couldn’t bear to see me again?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like,” she shouted. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m falling for you again, and I know you’re going to hurt me, so just tell me.”
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, holding her tears at bay. The back of her throat burned and combined with the sense of shame that always accompanied her tears.
Her lips quivered as she attempted to push the pain away. “What is wrong with me, Strike?”
He cupped her face as she shook against him. “Your parents said that if I stayed, they’d ruin our lives. I ran to save you and give you a future. I ran because I had no other options.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” she protested. “You’re lying.”
But as Strike cradled her cheek, pain etched in the lines across his face, she knew this was why he’d been so reticent to tell her the truth. “I wish I were.”
“And the letter you mentioned?”
“I popped it through your letterbox the day I left. Your brother returned it ripped, saying you never wanted to speak to me again.”
At her gasp, Strike added, “I’m sorry. I thought you knew and just hated me.”
He carried her out of the water and lifted her away, turning her at the edge to hide his body.
When he reached for her, she walked out of his grasp. “I’ll meet you in the tent. I need a moment to think.”
“I wish I could change the past,” he called out as she stumbled from the water, grabbing her hoodie and towel.
Her body sagged as she meandered back to the tent, letting her tears fall when she was out of his eyeline.