8. The Calm to Her Chaos
Chapter eight
The Calm to Her Chaos
Matt
I should let her leave—open the door, make some half-hearted joke about her finally being trainable, and send her on her way.
But instead, I stand there, watching her. The silence stretches until she shifts her weight and extends her hand.
“Here,” she says, flashing a folded hundred.
“What the hell is that?”
“What does it look like?” She rolls her eyes and plants one palm on her hip. “For the session, Matty. I told you I would pay for it.”
Matty.
I’ve never heard her say that before. It’s familiar. Innocent. But right now, all I can think about is hearing her moan it in my ear while I’m pressing her into my mattress, grinding deeper until she’s clawing at me, desperate for more.
I clear my throat, pushing the thought aside. “And I told you, not a chance.”
Her chin lifts. “We’ll see about that.”
The corner of my mouth pulls. “What are you gonna do? Tuck it in my waistband like a stripper?”
She smirks. “A hundred bucks for a stripper? Please. For that price, you’d better be getting a blowjob in the parking lot.”
I snort. “I prefer mine free of charge.”
Her eyes narrow. “I bet you do.”
My grin widens. “Is that a hint of jealousy in your tone, Melina?”
She gives me a quick, defensive look. “No.” Then she adds, “Besides, I’m much stealthier than that. I’ll just slip it into your pocket when you aren’t looking.”
I stalk toward her, narrowing the space until her back nearly touches the wall. She stiffens, caught between standing her ground and backing down.
“You really think you could get this close without me noticing, Melina?” My voice drops, low and confident. “I’ve been trained to spot a threat before it breathes in my direction.”
I lean down, lips grazing her ear. “And if you’re trying to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask.”
She doesn’t flinch. Instead, her hand slides up my chest, slow enough to make my pulse thrum, then she shoves my shoulder and spins me into the wall. My palms hit hard behind me, a chuckle catching in my throat at the audacity.
She steps in close, pinning me this time, her breath hot against my ear. “Two can play this game.”
Her nails drag down my side as she eases off, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“Check your pocket, Matty.”
I reach inside and pull out the folded bill, staring at it in disbelief. Shock flashes through me before I huff out a laugh.
“Well played.”
She meets my eyes. “Told you. Stealthy.”
I hold it between my fingers, then press it back into her palm. “Still not taking your money.”
She gives a quick smile. “I know. I was proving a point.”
“And what point was that?”
She leans in, voice soft. “That I could get close enough.” Just as quickly, she pulls away. “If you won’t take cash, at least let me make you dinner.”
I smirk. “That depends.”
“On?”
“What’s on the menu?”
She crosses her arms and answers with a glare.
I shrug. “If you’re bribing me with food, I want to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“It’ll be edible.”
“Not really a high bar you’ve set there, babe.”
She smacks my arm, and I laugh, shaking my head. “Teasing. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I hear how they sound—like a date. That’s not what she meant. But the way her eyes soften as she bites back a smile tells me she wants it to be.
Then, without warning, she steps forward and pulls me into a hug. It’s not the same as last night, but it still stirs something low in my gut. She quickly retreats, already reaching for Arrow’s leash.
“Six o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me standing here like a fucking idiot. What the hell is she doing to me? I’ve never felt this, never wanted more.
I push off the counter and head for my room, replaying the feel of her in my arms, the flush in her cheeks when I caught her staring. Now I’m here, glaring at these damn joggers, wondering if I should change.
I need to get a grip. Hit pause. Too much is at stake—her safety, the kids. I know I want more. But am I ready for it? Is she?
***
I knock at 5:55 p.m. She opens the door moments later, and I stop breathing. Soft pink dress, curves for days, hair pinned up to bare the long line of her neck. I want to trace the hollow of her collarbone with my tongue. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when she looks like that?
“Now who’s staring?” she teases.
“Melina, you look… fuck. I’ve got nothing.”
Color warms her face. “Thank you. Please, come in.” She steps aside, and I brush past her.
The smell hits me first—garlic, butter, smoky spice, seared chicken, all wrapped in something creamy and rich. My mouth waters.
“Dinner smells amazing.”
“Good,” she replies as I follow her into the kitchen.
“What are we having?”
She glances over her shoulder, pulling a dish from the oven, smiling. “Cajun chicken pasta and homemade garlic bread. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished,” I say, the double meaning clear.
She falters for half a second, then shakes it off and gestures for me to sit. I do, forcing myself to focus on the food instead of how badly I want to touch her.
Then I hear the music. Slow, quiet guitar chords drift through the speakers. “‘Simple Man.’ Skynyrd. Classic.”
She looks over. “You sound surprised.”
“Figured you for more of a pop-radio girl.”
She scoffs, pressing a hand to her heart. “You wound me.”
In the next breath, she’s moving through the kitchen, pulling plates from the cabinet and filling them with food. One lands in front of me, the other at her place across the table, silverware added with an ease that feels almost domestic. Like I’ve sat here a hundred times before.
“Wine?” she asks.
“Please.”
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
She brings over a bottle, two glasses, and a corkscrew.“Here, let me.” I take it from her, twist the cork free with a pop, and pour.
She lifts her glass and smiles. “Dig in.”
I don’t need to be told twice. The first bite—holy shit. A low groan slips out as my eyes shut. Spicy, buttery, perfect.
“Jesus, Melina.” I shake my head. “This is incredible.”
Her lips curve. “Oh, right, did I forget to mention I’m amazing in the kitchen?”
I nod, a smile tugging at my mouth. “I can tell.”
We fall into easy conversation, the kind that flows without effort. Somewhere between bites, her gaze drifts to my ribs. “How’s it healing?”
I shrug. “It’s fine. No contact sports anytime soon, but I’ll live.”
Her expression shifts, like she wants to ask me something but isn’t sure she should. After a pause, she says, “How many times have you been shot?”
“Twice. Three, if you count that graze.”
Her eyes widen. “Where?”
I sip my drink. “Shoulder and thigh.”
Her brows draw together. “Is that… bad?”
“Depends where the bullet lands.” My tone is flat, factual. “Mine were clean. In and out.”
She doesn’t look relieved. I take another bite and glance at her. “You ever had any major injuries?”
A shadow crosses her face. Fear. It hits me low and hard. Fuck. Someone hurt her. Before I can push, she shrugs it off. “I’ve broken my arm twice.”
I exhale through my nose and let it go—for now. “How?”
She laughs, amused by the memory. “First time was playing capture the flag. Second time, I was literally walking.”
I snort. “Impressive.”
“In fairness, it’s my footing. Years of ballet keep my feet turned out.”
“That’s right. You said you wanted to be a professional dancer when you were young.”
“That was the plan. Then I got pregnant with Declan, and my life went in a different direction.”
“I’m sorry, Mel.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t be. I’m not. That kid saved me. More than once.”
I want to ask what she means. But I refrain. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
Instead, I switch gears. “Speaking of, where are the kids tonight?”
“Shit, who knows.” She catches my look and grins. “Kidding. Both are at friends’ houses for the weekend.”
“When’s the last time you saw Declan?”
She lights up. “I flew out in September for his show. He got one of the leads in Spring Awakening —as a sophomore. Huge deal. I was so proud.”
I nod, genuinely impressed. “I can only imagine.”
She smiles, taking another bite. “When do you deploy again?”
“I’m usually home a week or two between missions.”
“You go into the office much?”
“Here and there. We do a lot of—” The doorbell rings, cutting me off.
We both freeze. I set my fork down, instincts spiking. “Expecting someone?”
She frowns, pushing back her chair. “No.”
“Wait.” I say, already on my feet.
She glances at me. “I doubt my stalker would ring the bell, Matty.”
“Still.” I close the gap between us, voice low. “I’d feel better going with you.”
She chuckles but lets me follow. She pulls the door open as a dark sedan glides away. Then she screams.
Every muscle in me tenses. In a flash, I’m beside her, reacting before I even understand the threat. “What? What is—”
Then I see it. Right there on the welcome mat. A dead rat. Neck broken. Body stiff.
Melina’s breath catches. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide and frozen. My pulse hammers, but I force it steady as I scan the porch, the yard, the street beyond.
I step in, my touch gentle on her shoulder. “Go inside, Melina.”
She doesn’t move.
“Mel,” I say, firmer now. “Go.”
She starts to protest, then nods and disappears into the house. I grab the old newspaper from the side table and scoop up the rat before dumping it in the outside bin.
I sweep the perimeter, then head back in. Melina is standing in the center of the living room, arms wrapped tight around herself, trying to hold it together.
I approach her, my voice soft. “It’s gone. So is he.”
“You think it was him.”
I nod, stepping beside her. She grabs her cell without a word, opens the Ring app, and rewinds to the last motion alert. A sedan slows and someone gets out—hoodie, ball cap low. Too dark to see more.
I pull out my phone and text Steele. Maybe he’ll catch something on traffic cams.
Melina kills the video and throws the device onto the coffee table, her frustration apparent. Then she rolls her shoulders and shakes off the tension.
“Fuck this. I will not let some creep ruin my night,” she says with fire in her eyes.
“That’s my girl. Come on. Let’s finish eating.”
With that, she turns on her heel, putting the last ten minutes firmly in the rearview.
***
After dinner, I help with the dishes. We move around the kitchen in perfect sync—effortless, domestic. The familiarity grows, and I catch myself thinking that I could get used to this. Being with her feels right.
When the kitchen’s clean, I turn to her. “Alright, you fed me. Time to collect the rest of my payment.”
Her eyes widen at the innuendo. “That so?”
“Yep. You’re picking something for us to watch. And if it sucks, I’m leaving.”
“Bold of you to assume you have taste, soldier.”
I chuckle. “Guess we’ll see.”
She grabs the remote and drops onto the couch. “Ever watched Yellowstone ?”
I arch a brow. “The cowboy show?”
Her lips purse. “That show was the number one series on television two years running. Maybe put some respect on its name.”
“Okay, sell me.”
She curls her legs under her, facing me. “Powerful ranching family, land disputes, political corruption, violent takeovers, drama—”
I lift my hand. “You had me at violent takeovers.”
She grins. “Told you.”
I nod toward the screen. “So what’s the deal with Rip? Women won’t shut up about him.”
She sighs. “Let me guess, you already hate him?”
“Didn’t say that. Just don’t get the hype.”
Her smirk deepens. “It’s not just the looks—though let’s be real, that doesn’t hurt.”
“Not winning me over,” I say, feigning annoyance.
“Now who’s jealous?” She laughs and nudges me with her leg. “Honestly… it’s the way he loves Beth.”
“How so?”
“He gives her the space to be exactly who she is—flaws and all. He grounds her. Loves her unconditionally. Loyal and protective to his core. He calls her out when he has to, but never in front of others. He shows up every time and never lets her face life alone. The calm to her chaos.”
Something pulls at my chest. I wonder if she’s ever known love like that.
“Alright, fine. Press play.”
We start casually. A safe distance between us, nothing dangerous. But as the show goes on, the air shifts. Her arm brushes mine. A knee bump lingers. When she reaches over me for her drink, her breast skims my cheek.
Fuck.
A groan rumbles deep in my chest. My body locks, cock straining against my jeans, fists balled at my side to keep from touching her.
She sets her glass down and leans back, brushing against me again. That’s it. I grab her waist, locking her in place, claiming her before she can escape.
Hesitation flickers across her face. So does hunger. She wants this too. My hand drags up, threading into her hair as I angle her face toward mine. Her breath stutters, lips parting, and the sound wrecks me.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I rasp.
Color surges into her cheeks and she turns away, like she’s not sure what to do with the words.
“Look at me, Melina.”
Her eyes lift, full of need, my control slipping. My thumb skims along her jaw, needing more.
“How many near misses are we gonna have, sweetheart?”
She swallows, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, Matty.”
The last thread of my restraint breaks. “Then maybe we stop missing.”
My mouth crashes against hers, quick and all-consuming. Heat floods through me, a growl tearing free as my tongue pushes past, claiming the taste I’ve craved too damn long.
She gasps, clutching my shoulders, fingers digging in like she needs something solid to hold on to.
She’s soft. Warm. Fucking addictive.
I drag her into my lap, pressing her against me, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. She whimpers—and that sound? It undoes me.
My grip tightens on her thighs. My mouth slants harder over hers, desperate, greedy—until she tears away.
She stumbles to her feet, chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen and trembling. I drag a palm down my face, breathing hard, still burning for her.
“Melina—”
She holds up a hand, pacing. “I—God, Matt, I’m not sure we should be doing this.”
I push up from the couch, shoving both hands through my hair as I narrow the space between us. “Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispers. “But I… I’m scared.”
I take another step, close enough to feel the heat coming off her. “I know. So am I.”
She blinks at me, startled. “You are?”
I nod once, exhaling. “I don’t do this, Melina. Get involved. Attached. But you…” My voice rough, stripped bare. “You’re different.”
She stares at me, eyes shining. “So are you.”
I have no idea what comes next. But one thing’s certain—this isn’t over. Not even close.