CHAPTER 36
Frankie
I couldn’t control my rage.
I’m doing my best not to let my emotions show on my face. It’s a skill I perfected at Lynx. Anyone who works in “customer service” has no choice but to learn this skill. If they don’t, holding onto a job gets mighty difficult.
Sure, that confession makes me nervous, but I have to remind myself that Special K isn’t my boyfriend. I’m not in a relationship with him. He’s not auditioning for the role of the love of my life and father of my children.
So, whatever story he’s about to share, if it gives me the “ick” in a major way, it’s not the end of the world.
I’m leaving. I can just nod and say, “Wow, that’s wild!” and then throw my shit in my SUV and go. He doesn’t even know my full name. Technically, I can just put the whole thing behind me.
It’s not that simple, though, and I know it. I want to hear what happened because I want to know him. Because leaving or not, I’m already developing feelings for this man.
From the very start, I’ve felt nothing but positive, warm vibes from Special K. And every moment since has been one surprise after another, and all of them good. So, I need to know if my instincts are wrong.
Again.
“Let’s change places,” I say, swimming up to him.
He gives me a lopsided smile. For a brief moment, I see the mischievous boy he used to be. Carefree and innocent. He’s such a cutie.
Which is at odds with the total picture I’m seeing.
His massive chest, arms, and shoulders are visible above the water line, marked with the scars of battle.
He glistens golden in the sunlight. I love the swirls of dark blond hair on his chest and how they narrow into the thin line that travels down the center of his body, the one that leads to where the party’s at.
He’s a golden boy. I wish he was my golden boy.
For the hundredth time today, I wish things were different.
“Not sure how I’ll fit between your legs, Boots.”
“Hop up and I’ll show you.”
He doesn’t budge.
I reach out to trace a long scar that wraps over his shoulder and down his chest. His body is proof positive that he was a warrior. And I’ve noticed that he still carries himself like he’s on patrol, armed and ready.
He’s broad as a football player and tall as a basketball player. But not a boy scout. I’m beginning to see why he wanted to make that clear to me.
“Not a boy scout,” I say aloud.
He chuckles. “Not a boy scout.”
“But you look the part. An All-American SEAL. A good son. A devoted brother. A sweet brother-in-law and uncle. You’re a hard worker. Damn, Special K—you’re a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. You’re a hero.”
He stands and floats on his back away from me. “I’m no hero,” he says staring at the blue sky.
“But SEALs are as honorable and self-sacrificing as men can get, right?”
“They are. I wasn’t.”
I reach out and grab one of his hands and pull him toward me. Then I take his spot on the ledge, spread my knees wide enough to accommodate his body, and clasp my hands on his shoulders to pull him into place. I lift my legs and hook my ankles so that he’s locked in.
I give him a squeeze.
“You’re pretty bossy today,” he says.
I giggle. “You love it.”
“True. I think I do.”
I squirt a dollop of shampoo in my hand and massage the suds into his hair. It’s thick and heavy when wet. I smile to myself, aware that I’m already accustomed to how his cowlick parts his hair slightly off-center and to the left. Like his nose.
Special K leans back into my touch, letting me support his head. He groans with pleasure. And I feel something break loose in my chest.
What are we doing?
What am I feeling?
How is it so good and so right—and how is it happening so fast?
He places his hands on my ankles and opens my legs, pushing free and swimming out into the center of the spring pool to rinse his hair. I watch him drop down and disappear under the roiling surface.
He’s under for a long moment—a very long moment. I’m wondering how long I should wait before I dive under for him. Then I shake my head at my own ridiculousness. He’s a SEAL. He can probably hold his breath for ten minutes if circumstances require it.
Without warning, he shoots high out of the water, facing me, and I gasp involuntarily at his beauty. His perfect masculine body sparkles as water rushes in rivulets down powerful shoulders, cut arms, the swell of his chest, and the rippling muscles of his flat stomach.
He raises his palms to the top of his head, flicks the water from his hair, and then opens his eyes as he grins at me.
Be still my heart.
Even if I were standing on dry land, I’d be as wet as a beaver’s handbag.
He does the breaststroke over to me, his smile softening and his eyes glistening, and I don’t know what I expect him to do next, but it isn’t this.
He raises up long enough to give me a tender kiss, then goes right back where he was, his body between my legs, his back to me, and he reaches around to bring my legs around his waist again.
Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his big body and hug him close. When I feel him relax against me, I turn my cheek and press it to the flat of his broad, powerful back.
And I just hold him.
“Where was I?” he asks. “Did I mention the attempted murder thing?”
“Uh…”
“That’s what I was charged with, and why I ended up in the brig.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know. I want to tell you, though.” He reaches up to place one of his large hands on top of mine.
“Then I’m listening.”
He sighs. “So, on one of my first nights in country, I happened upon a crime in progress. An Army Ranger I’d never met was raping a civilian—an innocent girl no more than sixteen. She was crushed under him, crying, and once I understood what I was seeing, something in me snapped.”
I nod, my cheek brushing against his skin. I say nothing.
“This… this evil asshole was supposed to be a protector, you know? But here he was, harming a child, basically ruining whatever future she might have had in that culture. I mean, our world is already collapsing under the weight of all the suffering and injustice, and here he was, tossing more on the pile.”
“What happened?” My question is so soft I’m surprised he hears it.
“I lost my shit, Boots. I pulled him off the girl. She ran screaming and he came up swinging, but I took him down. The next thing I knew, four guys were pulling me off, the Ranger was lying face-up in the dirt while someone tried to resuscitate him, and I was dragged off in handcuffs. Eventually, they flew me stateside, and I sat in a military jail in Florida while the Ranger was in a coma at Bethesda Naval Hospital.”
I don’t know what to say.
“He lived. He recovered.”
“And… they let you out of jail?”
“Yeah, they did. But not because I was innocent.”
Special K pulls my arms tighter to his chest. I think he prefers not facing me as he tells me the rest. He’s ashamed. Regretful. But I can already see the truth—that no matter what he did, his intentions were honorable.
But, like he said, he snapped.
He tells me the rest. I listen without saying a word. I barely breathe. I stay as still as I can, my arms and legs holding him in place and my cheek pressed to his back. The deep vibration of his words run through my body.
Special K speaks slowly, laying all the pieces out in chronological order.
How it turned out that the rapist was the son of a powerful U.S.
senator, chair of the Armed Services Committee.
How the rapist was from an old-money, New England family of immense influence, and the next generation’s chosen one.
That was the man who raped a poor, innocent girl in a tiny village. That was the man Special K beat to within an inch of his life. An evil asshole, just as described.
I sniff back tears as Special K continues, holding him as tight as I can.
He tells me that the senator wanted his head, wanted him to endure a public humiliation. He pledged to ruin every MacLaine serving as a Navy SEAL. Eye for an eye and all that.
And then one day, after the rapist recovered, one of the senator’s advisers explained that if he insisted on raking Kevin MacLaine over the coals, his own son’s war crimes would have to become public knowledge.
And that’s when the whole thing got swept under the rug. Poof—it all disappeared in the wind.
Special K would be released and given an honorable discharge, but only under one condition—that all the MacLaines leave their Navy careers behind. His big brother Cal made it happen.
When it seems like Special K’s done with the story, I loosen my grip and wait for him to face me.
He swims away and turns, staring at me. I stare at him, too. Then he tips his head to the side and gives me a sad smile, like he expects me to drop the bomb on him. He’s waiting to find out if I no longer want anything to do with him.
I float right into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist again, and reach up to encircle his neck.
I kiss him.
His lips tremble beneath mine but I stay with him. I don’t know what I’m doing, or why I’m doing it, but I think I understand what he needs from me at this moment. He needs me to be strong, to stay with him. So, that’s what I do.
Eventually, I pull back, stroking my fingers through his damp curls, studying his gorgeous face. It’s etched with self-doubt. I see intense shame.
“Special K,” I say. “That’s a heavy burden for one man to carry. Maybe it’s time to let it go.”
“I’ve tried, Boots. Never been able to do it. Not sure I ever will.”
“I understand,” I say. Because I absolutely do.
Special K’s talking to the Queen of Regrets. And I’m carrying a burden I couldn't share even if I wanted to. Because whomever I shared it with would automatically be on a kill list.
His cock is rock-hard. I feel it bobbing in the water and tapping against the underside of my ass. I’m not a therapist and I’m not his lifelong friend, but I’m here, with him, and I care about him. Too much. And I have something that I know can bring him comfort and release.
I offer it to him.
“Fuck me, cowboy,” I whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me. Make me cum all over you.”
I feel his hands lift me just a bit, enough that he can enter me. And he slides home, all the way in, in one long, slow push. And I feel claimed.
His.
MacLaine’s mouth meets mine, hot and demanding. My hands are in his hair as he lifts me up and down in the water. I feel weightless, totally in his control, and I close my eyes to enjoy the sensation of being split in two.
Taken.
It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand how it could be. But that doesn’t change what’s happening. I’m already his.
Despite everything, I want him to make me his own, and then keep me that way.
Which is crazy talk.
“Boots,” he says into my lips as he spins me around in the water, fucking up into me, pushing all the way up inside.
This is more than I’ve ever had, more than I knew could be possible. So deep. Pain mixed with pleasure because he’s taking everything I can give him and then taking more.
“Hold on, baby,” he says, going deeper still.
I’m cumming all over him. Shaking and clutching at him, cumming so hard I think might black out.