Lauren watched until Trent disappeared into the party room, then collapsed against the wall. She closed her eyes, fighting tears that wouldn’t stop filling her eyes. Tonight had started out well and had gone straight to hell. The loneliness had settled deep inside the minute that handsy jackass finally walked away. Sadly, she couldn’t even remember his name. Not that it mattered. Once again, she’d failed to find a nice, respectful guy. To top it off, it was her birthday, but she was still going home alone. The knowledge was eating a hole in her chest.
With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes, willing away the self-pity, and straightened off the wall. She pushed into the bathroom. Never in her life had she drank this much. After Mary’s death, she’d made a firm rule—she’d allow herself the luxury of a drink. After all, she was a normal, healthy adult. But her limit was one.
Tonight, though, she’d intended to get drunk. And she’d succeeded, which was why she’d switched to “iced tea” when that jerk had asked her what she wanted to drink. She’d just wanted to enjoy her birthday and not worry for once. Now she remembered why she’d made that one-drink rule in the first place. Too much alcohol clearly made her out of control, not to mention sick to her stomach.
Well, that was one item she could officially cross off her “things she’d never done” list.
After relieving herself and washing her hands, she exited the restroom. Trent leaned against the wall outside the door. He had one hand tucked in the left pocket of his jacket, her coat dangling over his forearm. The sight of him there tugged at all those lonely places. The scared little girl inside the supposedly independent woman, who’d kill to have someone to wrap around her at the end of the night.
And now the man taking her home thought of her as little more than another sister.
Before she could gather her wits, Trent straightened off the wall and held her coat open for her. “All set. I managed to convince Mandy and Steph you were sick and wanted to go home. Mandy was fit to be tied when I wouldn’t let her come see you. I have strict orders to tell you that you’re to call them both first thing tomorrow morning.”
They walked in silence through the lobby, to where Will’s car was parked in the center of the hotel’s parking lot. Neither said anything during the twenty-minute ride across town to her place, either. She couldn’t muster the energy to make chitchat, and he didn’t push her. Trent seemed to retreat into his head, and for once, she was grateful.
After pulling up to the curb in front of her house and turning off the engine, he pulled out the keys and exited the car. He jogged around to her side, opened her door, and held out his palm before she’d even mustered the energy to sit upright.
He kept hold of her hand as he walked her to the door. He waited silently behind her while she dug in her purse for her keys, too, and after unlocking the door, of course he insisted on seeing her inside.
Standing in the foyer, she turned to him, but words wouldn’t come. She had no idea what to say to him. His chivalry was doing her head in. He was the kind of man she’d envisioned when she’d signed up with Military Match in the first place. He was the complete opposite of that jerk he’d chased off earlier.
Trent reached out, thumbing her chin. “Will you be okay?”
The thoughtful, tender gesture shivered all the way down her spine and filled her chest with an ache she didn’t know what to do with.
“I’m fine. Go home and get some sleep. I imagine you have to work tomorrow.” She touched his arm in gratitude and turned, making her way toward the bedroom at the back of the house.
Okay, so it was rude to walk away and leave him standing there, but if she said anything else, she’d cry. The tears were too close to the surface. Of all the men she could have ended up with tonight, she’d ended up with the one she wanted the most. The good guy.
But he didn’t want her. Trent considered her just a friend.
The one guy who had wanted her…had been a selfish jerk. Ironic, really. It seemed good men really did have no interest in her. It seemed her only hope was to settle for the jerks.
She waited until she heard the front door close before yanking off the top and skirt Steph had insisted she wear tonight. She’d managed to pull on her pajamas when the whole night caught up with her. She was totally and utterly alone in the world. And nothing proved that more than coming home to her empty house. Hell, maybe it was the alcohol. Wasn’t it a depressant? But of all nights, tonight she needed someone. If only so she didn’t have to sleep alone.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, flopped back, and gave in to the tears. Maybe if she cried it out, she’d get the hell over it. From the corner of her eye, she could see a large shadow filling the doorway. She rolled her eyes, her cheeks blazing, but didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. Of course Trent had followed her. That was just like him. The Navy SEAL who’d risked his life for the freedom of others. Who held open doors for women and who carried the tags of the dog he’d lost in honor of his memory.
And here she was, bawling like a baby. What an impression she must be making on him.
She let out a shuddering sigh, a single tear escaping to roll down her temple. Christ, she had to be a mess by now. She ought to tell him to leave, but he’d been kind to her tonight, and she just didn’t have it in her to put up walls against him. Ironically enough, of all nights, tonight she couldn’t resist his friendship. She just needed him, even if only a friend, so that she wouldn’t be so alone. “What’s wrong with me, Trent?”
The bed dipped as he took a seat beside her. He lay back, his hand slipping into hers where it rested on the bed between them. “There’s nothing wrong with you, doll. Some guys are just assholes.”
Another tear escaped, but she didn’t bother to wipe it away, either. “I seem to find an awful lot of them. Where are all the nice guys people are always talking about?”
He released her hand, lifting it instead to wipe the tears from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Where all the good women are. In hiding.”
The hint of humor in his tone had her smiling in spite of herself. If he was going to think of her as only a friend, at least he was a damn good one. “You know what I actually hoped?”
“What’s that?” He wiped more wetness from her cheek, then slipped his fingers through hers. He had big hands. Large and long fingered, they all but swamped hers. It was such simple contact, but his palm was warm and solid and right then it provided a lifeline.
“That I’d meet someone. Just one nice guy. Someone to curl up with me at the end of the night. I make wedding cakes for a living, yet I don’t even know what it feels like for a man to look at me the way Will looks at Skylar.”
He didn’t say anything for so long she feared he wouldn’t. She probably looked like a pathetic fool to him.
Finally, he squeezed her fingers and turned his head to look at her. “Want me to stay?”
She couldn’t stop the derisive snort that left her. Of all the things for him to ask.
“How many times have you showed up on my doorstep and sat with me, even when I was too stubborn to admit I needed it? I’ll take the couch.”
Another damn tear slid to her hairline, the ache crushing her chest. Did he have any idea how much she wanted to scream yes? But she couldn’t. She needed his friendship tonight, but she couldn’t handle him sleeping in the house. It would only remind her too much of what she could never have.
“That’s really sweet, Trent. It is. But you being on the couch would just be even more depressing, because it isn’t what I really want.” She hesitated. She shouldn’t tell him anymore, but hell, what else did she have left at this point? “What I want tonight is someone to hold me while I sleep.”
Trent went silent, simply staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he looked over at her.
“It’s your birthday, and I’m in a generous mood. I also don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. Gabe’s been giving me weekends off.” He shifted their combined hands, nudging her thigh. “Don’t go all shy on me now. Ask for what you want.”
The lack of pity in his eyes told her he meant what he’d said. She ought to tell him no, but the word wouldn’t leave her mouth. Maybe he was only a friend, but he provided more temptation than she had willpower to resist. “I’d like you to stay. To hold me while I was sleep.”
He winked. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
She let out a watery laugh and turned to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t promise I don’t snore.”
“That’s okay. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure I do.” Trent squeezed her hand, then pulled himself upright and stood. He hung his jacket off the bedroom doorknob, then returned to the bed. He pulled down the covers before moving back to her and scooping her into his arms. “Come on, doll. Let’s get you into bed. You’ll feel better after a little sleep.”
She couldn’t resist the warmth of his body or the pull of his familiar scent and rested her head on his shoulder. “Remind me never to drink again.”
A quiet laugh rumbled out of him. “Somehow, I don’t think I’ll have to. That hangover you’ll have tomorrow will do it for you.” He laid her carefully on the bed and pulled the covers over her. “Stay there. I’ll go get you some ibuprofen. Where do you keep it?”
She settled back on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Cabinet over the stove. Top right.”
“Be right back.” He was back a minute later, the bed sinking as he took a seat. “Here, doll. Sit up and take this.”
She pried her eyes open, took the tablet from his open palm and popped it into her mouth. She swallowed it with a sip from the glass of water he’d brought as well, then set the glass on the nightstand. Trent returned to the doorway. He bent to unlace his boots and toed them off before flicking off the overhead light. Immersed now in darkness, his tall, broad form was little more than a moving shadow as he returned to the bed. He climbed in beside her, covered them both, and lifted his arm in invitation.
The thought of lying against that big, hard body had her heart doing a jig in her chest. It was so stupid, but she’d never done this before, actually slept with a man. It didn’t help that her mind filled with his denial last week. That’s flattering, doll, but I’d have to turn you down. Not to mention he was only here because he was a nice guy. Because she’d gone and cried and told him way more than she should have.
Her cheeks heated, and despite knowing he couldn’t see her, she averted her gaze to the bed. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s kind of childish of me to ask this of you.”
“It’s not childish. Not even remotely.”
His intense gaze bored into her, but otherwise, long moments passed in tense silence. She didn’t have to see his face to know he’d retreated into his head. So she waited him out. He’d talk when he was ready.
After several moments, he released a heavy breath. “That feeling gets to me, too. My apartment is empty. There’s no life there. Not even in me. Believe me. I understand the need. If all you want for your birthday is to be held, I’m happy to provide the warm body.”
Knowing he understood made the decision easier. She scooted closer, tucked herself against his side, and rested her head on his shoulder, laying her hand on his stomach. His strong arm settled around her, drawing her tighter against him, and his hand settled over hers, clasping her fingers.
It was awful how right lying with him felt, knowing he didn’t feel the same way about her. In the morning he’d leave and they’d go back to normal. Just friends. But for tonight he was solid and comforting, and she needed it. She needed him. Never mind he was still fully clothed, or that she knew this didn’t have the same power for him as it did for her. His scent filled her lungs every time she drew a breath, and her whole body relaxed, the tension from earlier draining, lost in him.
“Trent?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
He turned his head, his lips warm and soft as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, doll. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
* * *
Trent bolted upright in the bed and scanned the darkened room around him. His heart hammered like a freight train, and his chest was tight. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath for the life of him. Images continued to pop through his mind, vivid and corporeal. The boom of the IED blast. The pain-filled screams of the team members who’d been out with him that day. Then total eerie silence before the blackness swallowed him.
Where the hell was he now? This wasn’t the hospital. In the hospital, there’d been the steady beeps of the machines they’d hooked him up to. This appeared to be someone’s house, but whose? His? Mom and Dad’s?
He threw the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed when the light in the attached bathroom caught his attention. His mind filled with the image of Lauren, of the soft vulnerability in her eyes as he lay beside her on the bed, and reality rushed over him.
Lauren’s. He was at Lauren’s. In her bed.
“Fuck.” He swore softly and released the breath pent up in his chest. Being in an unusual place had clearly triggered the nightmares. He’d never been in Lauren’s bedroom before, and it had been too damn long since he’d slept beside another person.
He braced his elbows on his knees and ducked his head into his hands. His hair was damp, and his T-shirt stuck to his chest with the sweat he’d worked up in his sleep. The warm air blowing through the apartment cooled his overheated skin, sending goose bumps shivering up and down his bare arms.
How long he sat there he didn’t know, but fatigue hung on him. The logical part of him told him to lie back down, but he couldn’t make himself do it. The images wouldn’t leave his mind. They swirled like buzzards around a dead carcass. He’d been here enough times to know. The instant he closed his eyes, they’d come again, and the thought had grief tightening like a steel band around his chest. Part of him didn’t want to ever forget. Those men deserved someone to remember them.
A larger part of him simply wanted peace. He wanted to sleep a single night for a full eight hours. Wanted to wake up fully rested and not in a panic. So far since he’d come home, he hadn’t been able to accomplish it even once.
The bed shifted behind him. “You okay?”
Lauren’s sleep-roughened voice drifted through the darkness, calling to him like a lighthouse beacon, and the last of the tension finally drained from his body.
For her sake, he shot a smile over his shoulder, but couldn’t bring himself to face her. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s okay. Was it the dreams again?”
He made a sound of acknowledgment, thought about feeding her a flimsy excuse. After all, he was supposed to be keeping his distance from her, and sleeping in her bed had him walking a fine, thin line. But neither could he resist her presence. He needed that special something about her that calmed the panic. “I woke up and couldn’t remember where I was for a second.”
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The memories continued to swirl, and the shaking wouldn’t stop. More than he ever had, he longed to lose himself in her. To bury his face in her neck and inhale her scent. To find her mouth in the darkness and lose every thought in his head in the lush softness of her body beneath him.
“I’m okay. I just need a few minutes to reorient myself.” If he touched her now, he didn’t know if he could stop himself from doing everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.
Lauren shifted in the bed behind him. It wasn’t until her soft perfume floated around him that he realized she’d scooted up behind him. Her body warmed his back, but she kept her hands to herself. “Okay if I touch you?”
He wanted to laugh. It wasn’t just okay. He needed that touch like he needed to draw his next breath. But he knew damn well he wasn’t anything she needed or deserved, and right then his nerves were all on edge. He flat out didn’t trust himself not to touch her. So he went for elusive and noncommittal. “I’ve passed the point where you need to tell me before you touch me. As long as you don’t startle me, it’s okay.”
Lauren shifted again, setting her legs on either side of his, and wrapped her body against his back. Her arms came around his rib cage, her soft, warm hands resting on his pecs. She then laid her cheek against his back and went still. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
The relief was so profound he couldn’t stop the full-body shudder that moved through him. He let his shoulders slump as a sense of bliss enveloped him. He released a serrated breath, reached up to close his fingers around hers, and gave in to the pull of her. “I can’t stop seeing him.”
“Cooper?”
Her reply came softly, no judgment, simply honest curiosity. She was doing what she did best. She tended to pull shit out of him he shouldn’t tell her. She didn’t need to know this crap. The ugly stuff. And he hated the feeling he was somehow tainting her world by sharing it. But like always, her very presence soothed the wound itself, and damned if he could he resist.
He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, using her solidity to keep him grounded. He didn’t have the words to tell her how grateful he was. “No. AJ. One of the guys I served with. He was only nineteen when he died. I have this image of his face, eyes frozen open in death. It was the last thing I saw before I passed out.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but a shiver ran through her, and he immediately regretted his harsh words.
“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t tell you the gruesome stuff.”
She stroked his chest, the action so damn soothing he gritted his teeth with the effort it took not to turn and wrap himself around her. “If you need to talk, Trent, I don’t mind. I was actually thinking how awful it must be for you to have that image to remember him by. I’m guessing one of those tags you wear is his?”
So was the carved cross sitting in his bedroom closet.
“Yes.” Vulnerability and grief moved over him. He closed his eyes, AJ’s image floating into his mind. “He didn’t have family, no one to mourn him. Didn’t seem right. I wanted someone to remember him.”
If at all possible, Lauren’s hold on his chest tightened. “So you decided it should be you. That’s very kind, but you have to forgive yourself. You’re human. You can do both, you know. Remember AJ and forgive yourself.”
He released a shuddering breath laden with too much regret. “That’s just it. I don’t think I can. He died because I screwed up.”
“No. He died because the Taliban planted bombs intent on killing people.” She leaned her head around his shoulder and took his chin in her hand, tilting his face to hers as much as their position would allow. “It’s not your fault.”
Whatever reply he had died on his tongue as her warm breath whispered over his lips. Inches, at most, separated them, and every breath she released teased his mouth, setting a fire bursting over his skin.
His train of thought skidded to a halt, then did an about-face. In two seconds flat he was hardening behind his fly, his heart once again hammering out an erratic staccato. More than he ever remembered, he ached to lean in and taste her. He couldn’t forget kissing her. Couldn’t forget the taste of her tongue or the softness of her lips or the quiet little whimper she’d let out.
It didn’t help that her breaths were as jagged as his own. If he leaned in and kissed her now, would she let him?
She would and he knew it. I realize that kiss probably meant nothing to you, but it was something to me. She’d said that to him earlier. And he’d shot her down.
He sighed, the realization rolling over him. He owed her the truth. Not a mouthful of lies. “You were wrong, you know. When you said that kiss meant nothing to me. But right now I can’t be anything you deserve. What I want at this point in my life is simple. I want to date for the first time in almost twelve years. I want to go out and have some fun, just because I can, and for the guys who don’t have that luxury anymore. I want sex, doll, and a lot of it. But I have no desire to be tied down. Hell. I’m not even sure I’m capable of a relationship yet.”
“Trent, I—”
“Let me finish.” He swallowed hard and drew a breath for courage. If he didn’t get the words out now, he’d never say them. “Don’t think for one moment that I don’t find you incredibly arousing. For the record, that kiss was phenomenal, and you set my world off its axis the night you propositioned me. I’ve thought of little else since. But I won’t use you that way. I have far too much respect for you.”
Then he waited, heart hammering in his ears. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she thought.
Lauren moved first. She disentangled herself from him, lay back, and patted the bed beside her. “Come back to bed, Trent.”
The light drifting in from the bathroom illuminated the room in a soft glow, allowing him to see her enough that she teased his senses. Her lean body and lithe curves. The longing in her gaze. Logic told him he needed to put some distance between them before he ended up hurting her. But the dreams and her selfless compassion had worn down his defenses. He didn’t know what the hell happened now. He didn’t want to think about it. But she offered comfort when he was attempting to shut her out, and he wasn’t strong enough to resist her anymore.
So he crawled up the bed and slid over her, holding his weight on his elbows as he settled between her thighs. Her eyes widened in surprise, but her hands came to rest on his back and her knees bent to cradle his hips. Two layers of clothing separated them, but her soft, moist heat settled against the erection throbbing to life in his jeans. Trent ground his teeth, fighting the urge to rock into her, to slide his aching cock against her softness.
Fuck. He was going to lose his damn mind.
He bent his head, brushing his mouth over hers. Sipping. Tasting. Taking a privilege he damn well shouldn’t, but one he couldn’t resist either. Clearly he’d caught her by surprise, but she moaned low in her throat, and her mouth opened on a shuddering sigh. Her body melted beneath him, her hands sliding up his back to gather him closer. Yeah. He’d never in a million years get used to that. Or enough of it.
He allowed himself a taste. A moment to get lost in the suppleness of her lithe body beneath him. Her hot tongue swirling into his mouth and the quiet little whimpers and sighs emanating from the back of her throat. Then he forced himself to pull back, because he didn’t think he could stop at a kiss.
He nipped at her bottom lip, then forced himself to slide off her. He lay on his back beside her, tried desperately to ignore the throbbing in his jeans—which were now too damn tight—and folded his hands over his stomach. If he didn’t, he’d be rolling back.
Just his luck, Lauren snuggled up to his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. Every time he dragged in a breath, his lungs filled with the delicate mix of her fruity shampoo and the sweet musk of her perfume. “Thank you for being honest with me, but, Trent?”
He stared at her popcorn ceiling, watching the play of shadows. “Yeah?”
“I want you to use me.”
His knuckles popped with the effort it took not to reach for her. Clearly he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. He’d be hard all fucking night.