The call clicks off, and I almost reach for Dax’s hand, but stop myself. “You’re upset. I shouldn’t have told her I needed your wifi code. I’m—”
Before I can apologize, Dax slides his arm around my back and he’s kissing me with such desperate need, I can barely think. He backs me up against the living room wall, caging me with his arms, and I let him take. Everything. Anything he wants, he can have, as long as he keeps kissing me.
But as my knees threaten to buckle, he breaks off the kiss, his chest heaving and his arousal pressing against my hip. “Stop. Apologizing,” he grits out.
“Well, if you’re going to do that every time I try…that’s not very good motivation for me, now is it?”
His brows furrow for a breath, and then he laughs. My God. When he leaves the dour, tortured look behind, he’s magnificent. I see the man he used to be—before the scars around his eyes, the slash across his forehead, his crooked eyebrow. But I also see the man he is now. Older. Wiser. Sadder. And a hell of a kisser.
“Tell me the plan. Why did we need thirty minutes?” I curl my fingers around his side, trying to keep him close to me as long as possible. If he’s planning sex, he’s got another thing coming. We’re going to need a lot more than thirty minutes.
“I don’t want Wren to see me…like this.” He holds out his arms, then drops them as he steps back a foot. “I need a shower. A cold one. The wi-fi code is on the counter. I’ll be out in ten minutes, and then the bathroom’s yours.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he strides down the hall and closes the door with a hearty thump. Even through the damage to his eyes, I know what I saw there. Fear. The broken, scared, terrified soldier is back, and I don’t know if he’ll let me in again.
Dax
The cold water does little for my hard-on. Unsurprising given how long it’s been. I skip shaving. My hands aren’t completely steady. Not after telling Evianna about Hell. And kissing her. Twice. But if we’re going to be in this apartment together another night—and there’s no way I want her staying anywhere else—there’s one very important thing I need to do.
Running a comb through my hair, I wonder what the hell she sees in me. I know pity when I hear it. And her voice carries none of it. Running a hand down my pecs, I feel the burns. The scars. As I towel off, my leg aches. Two surgeries, and there’s still an odd depression in my right quadricep from the infection that almost killed me.
I wish Ford weren’t halfway around the world. I could use a friend right about now. If for nothing else, to tell me what Evianna looks like. How far out of my league she is.
Cracking the door, I listen, hoping I can get into the bedroom and get dressed without her seeing me.
“Where are we on the authentication loop bug?” Evianna asks. “It’s number 32789. Barry, that was on your plate as priority zero.”
“Done,” the clipped male voice replies. “I checked in the hotfix this morning.”
“What about the perf mon issues? I still see spikes. Who’s got the bandwidth to take this on?”
I close the bedroom door quietly and head for my closet. Everything’s arranged in precise order. Jeans, black pants, khakis. White long-sleeved dress shirts, followed by blue and black, then the long-sleeved Henleys. I can discern some colors, but most are a muted blur. So I stick to the basics.
By the time I pull on my socks and head out to the living room, Evianna’s done with her conference call. “Mind if I shower?” she asks as I drop down onto the bench and pull on my shoes. “Are…you going somewhere?”
The uncertainty in her tone raises a lump in my throat. “Just down to the corner store, darlin’. This little Mom and Pop joint. They make damn good egg sandwiches, and you need to eat something. You want bacon, ham, or tofu?”
Standing, I hold out my hand, and when she wraps her arms around me, I press a kiss to the soft skin of her neck. “You’re safe here, Evianna. The building’s secured, and I’ll lock the apartment door. But if you want me to wait, I will.”
“Bacon,” she says quietly. “And some sort of sparkling water?”
“Anything you want, darlin’. Anything at all.”
The walk takes me less than five minutes, but once I duck inside the shop, I freeze. The reality of what I’m about to do hits me square in the chest, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Dax?” Mrs. McClary asks from the cash register a few feet away. “You okay, son?”
Great. Why couldn’t it have been her husband manning the store today? “Can I get two bacon and egg sandwiches? And a bottle of sparkling water?”
“Two? Sure. Anything else?” Mrs. McClary fiddles behind the counter, and bacon starts to sizzle in a pan. “You’re looking a little tired.”
“I…do need something else. I don’t suppose Ollie’s here, is he?” Running my fingers over the strap on my cane, I hold my breath.
“No, hon. He’s out picking up this week’s vegetable order.” With a little groan, Mrs. McClary shuffles out from behind the counter, and in the light from the window behind her, I think she might have her hands on her hips. “What do you need?”
Fuck. I can’t avoid this. And same-day delivery won’t be fast enough. Plus, there’s the whole problem of navigating online shopping. Some websites are compatible with my VoiceAssist software, but others… There’s a reason I pay my housekeeper to keep my fridge stocked.
“Condoms.”
