Chapter Nine
When Holden woke up, he found his arm lying protectively on an all-too-familiar figure. Blond hair brushed against his chest as he slowly registered where each of his body parts had arranged themselves while he’d been sleeping.
His hand was wrapped around the swell of Avery’s chest, his leg was wrapped around her thigh, and his cock was pressed against the seam of Avery’s pretty little ass, poised and hoping for an extra-special morning.
It was seven. Normally, he would have worked out and had breakfast by now. But he looked down again, saw those lashes pressed against Avery’s peaceful cheeks, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Five more minutes, he told himself. Just five more minutes. And he nuzzled his neck against her head before drifting back to sleep.
Avery woke him again at ten, half yawning and already midway through a speech.
“I’ll never understand how men just accept that they wake up every morning with their flags at full mast. It makes no sense to me.” She ground into him as she said the words, as if in an effort to emphasize her point. “What if you woke up every morning to someone punching you in the face? Do you think people would get used to it?”
The move was a particularly clever one, even for her, but he saw past the veneer. Her voice was too rough. Her action was too forced. There was only one explanation for what had happened the other night—Avery had wanted him. No, not wanted him. She’d needed him.
Not that she’d ever say as much when she was in her right mind.
Her talent for making these sorts of situations seem like they didn’t affect her was legendary. After one short-lived stepfather left town, she threw a rave in the town grocery store. She just didn’t have it in her to cry. Or maybe that was only what she wanted everyone to think. Regardless, she was crazy if she thought it would work on him.
“It’s more like having someone bring you coffee in the morning. Or kiss you awake. Down there,” he said, sitting up beside her.
“Either way, it’s weird.”
“That doesn’t sound good to you?”
“I don’t want to wake up with someone spelunking my lady cave. I like to wake up with a clear mind. No tongues in any unusual openings. That’s the dream, and so far, I’ve been living it.” She nodded her resolution, and the look of it made him feel that much more determined to prove her wrong.
“I think it’s the most useless bodily function. How could waking up that way possibly help you in the wild?” she asked.
He pounced on top of her and pinned her wrists to the bedpost above her head. “I think I could show you.”
Her breath caught, and her pupils dilated instantly. Jackpot.
“I can’t say I’m interested in finding out.” She fought to break free from him, but not nearly as hard as she was capable of. It was all yet another charade to throw him off her scent. This time, he wouldn’t let her get away with the show as easily.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he said.
“You’re a terrible—terrible—” With every word she huffed and pushed against his hold, but her muscles didn’t tense as she “struggled.” Despite her protesting, she sank deeper into her pillows with every push.
“Terrible what?” He closed his mouth on hers, finally secure in his victory. She took his bottom lip between her own, sucking on it gently as his groin groaned for release with every lick. It was sweet, and sexy… And then stinging.
She’d bitten him.
He pulled back, releasing her wrists as his hands shot to his fresh wound. And just like that, she wriggled free, launching herself off the bed and jumping up as she shouted, “Who’s the terrible liar now?” Then she darted from the room.
The next couple of days followed in much the same way. He’d try to get her alone, spend some time in the apartment, and then she’d find a reason for them to leave—some special thing he absolutely had to see before he went back to Maryland. They were parasailing, surfing, cliff diving, everything she could possibly think of. When it rained, they did a bar crawl long enough to span all of California. And still, if ever they found a quiet moment to themselves, she would slip away and run in the other direction.
The sex, too, had changed. Ever since that night when she’d given herself to him, when she’d needed him, she’d been extra careful to ensure it never happened again. He’d try to slip into the shower with her, and she’d find a reason to do it on the counter instead. He’d try to make love to her, and she’d beg for him to ride her faster, harder, to flip her over so they weren’t face-to-face.
He knew what she was doing, and every time, it made his resolution falter. After all, if she couldn’t handle something as intimate as sleeping together, how would she manage only seeing him when he was on leave?
But she was getting to him. He’d get glimpses of her life now and then, the way she slept curled in a little ball, then twitched and jerked in her sleep until he pulled her into his arms again and made everything okay.
She never told him that she needed him there. He just knew.
It was impossible for her to hide the remnants of what he’d suspected her life was like when he wasn’t around. It was little things, really. Details he might never have noticed, except they were punctuated by the downturn of her full lips or the too-quick subject change when mentioned. Her dinner plates were dusty. Her phone almost never rang.
Whether she told him so or not, she wasn’t just alone.
She was lonely.
And so, his decision became that much harder.
The idea of leaving her by herself for months on end, thrashing in her sleep with nobody to comfort her, sharing the end of her day with nobody, was too much for him to bear.
So, the scales tipped ever closer toward another deployment. If he was out of her life entirely, then maybe she’d be able to find someone who could stay for good and care for her the way she deserved. It was what he’d always wanted for her.
But every time he was absolutely resolute in his decision, Avery would do something to surprise him. She’d get them thrown out of a bar, and then she’d run out and get them breakfast in bed the next morning. She’d start a riot, and then give the coat off her back to a homeless person.
She was a study in contrasts.
And it was driving him fucking insane.
On their fifth night together, Holden settled underneath the covers and prepared for Avery’s return to bed. She always took forever in the shower, so he knew he was in for a wait.
He reached for his smartphone. He hadn’t even glanced at it since he’d landed in California, and a part of him recoiled at the idea of all the missed calls from his family. No doubt there were already six calls from his mother and at least four appointments for blind dates with “suitable young women” when he got home.
Wincing, he opened his phone and resolved to listen to the latest message only—just in case there had been some emergency. After that, he wasn’t looking at the thing again until he was in the airport, ready to head home.
He pressed play, then held the phone to his ear.
His mother’s clipped, even tone filled the speaker. “Well, I suppose since you insist on spending all your time in California and you refuse to answer your phone, I’ll simply have to come there myself. Your father and I have booked a flight. If this is what it takes to see my son, then I suppose it’s what I’ll have to do. The plane arrives tomorrow morning. I would hope you’d be there to pick us up, but considering the circumstances, I’m guessing we’ll have to take a cab. And another thing—”
The message suddenly ended, and Holden stared at it as if it had done something to him personally.
His mother was coming here…fully knowing that he was with Avery? A knot settled in his stomach as he remembered the last time the two women had been in the same room together.
It had been his going-away party before his first tour in Iraq, and his father had just toasted his superior skill and his upholding of the family tradition.
Afterward, his mother had said, “Why don’t we all give a little toast for Holden?”
His brothers had looked at each other briefly, but then all gazes had focused on Avery, whose cheeks had gone bright red.
“Maybe not. I didn’t bring my joke book.” Avery had desperately tried to get out of it, but his mother had insisted.
“Oh no, we have to. It’s a very special day. I’m sure Tom would have appreciated it if we’d done this for him.” She had stared down at the eldest Morris boy, who had exchanged weary glances with his then-girlfriend.
“Avery, why don’t you go first?” his mother had asked.
Avery had glanced around the table, then stood, making the American flag stretched across her T-shirt even more apparent to the table at large. She had cleared her throat, then had looked down at Holden. “Go get ’em, sport.”
Then, without pause, she had settled back into her chair. His mother had looked at Avery for a long moment, appraising her with her usual air of cool displeasure, then had stood and launched into the most heartfelt pledge he’d ever heard.
And Holden knew why. She’d prepared it. In fact, she’d arranged this very moment to show him—and Avery—who belonged at the table and who didn’t. And by the end of that night? It had been obvious that Avery had gotten the message loud and clear.
So, what could he do now? Sneak off and pretend they weren’t coming? Make excuses for Avery to avoid them?
No, if his plan was going to work, he was going to have to go all in.
And Avery would, too.