He looked like he wanted to run for the door, but instead he shuffled his feet. “There isn’t much to talk about. Men died.Goodmen died by the luck of the draw. I didn’t.” He forced a laugh. “It pays to be a winner.”
She’d heard the saying a few times when they were together in San Diego. It was usually meant motivationally in a competitive situation—work hard to be a winner—but he was using it more ironically.
Brittany suspected there was a lot more in what he’d said than he realized. She wasn’t a psychiatrist or a therapist, but it sounded as if he was experiencing not just the loss but also a good old-fashioned case of survivor’s guilt.
“Could you have done anything to change what happened?”
He shook his head. “Not unless I figured out how to see the future.”
“Did you do everything you could to help them?”
He seemed taken aback even by the question. “There was nothing anyone could have done.”
She feigned shock. “Not even you? You mean you aren’t Superman?”
He realized what she was doing and got the point. “I hate to disappoint you—I know how superhero big I loom in your mind—but unfortunately, no leotards and phone booths for me.”
She wrinkled her nose. Even John Donovan might have a hard time pulling off a leotard. But a leather Thor suit? She may have shuddered a little. He could definitely pull that off. Big-time. Move over, Chris Hemsworth. And for her that was saying a lot.
“You aren’t to blame for not dying, John.”
“I know that.”
“What if the draw had come out another way? Would you want Brandon to be feeling guilty because you were the one to die?”
He looked at her as if she were crazy. “Of course not. That’s not how it works.”
She gave a sharp nod. “Good. Then remember that.”
Somehow her head was back on his chest and his hand was caressing her back. She could feel him chuckle when he responded, “Aye-aye, Captain.”
She looked at him sideways. “I like the sound of that.”
“Well, don’t get used to it. We’ve already establishedthe command structure around here, and I’m not always so accommodating.”
She snorted at the command-structure comment. Right. “You are never accommodating. You pretty much do what you want.”
“Not always.”
It took her a moment to figure out what he meant. But when she felt something hard jutting against her stomach just as he let her go, she understood. He wanted her, but he still wasn’t going to act on it.
And she’d be willing to wager everything she had in the bank—which admittedly was about a hundred dollars—that it was more than wanting. Which brought her back to their earlier subject.
He’d taken a step away from her, but she closed the distance quickly. The bed was behind him, so there was no place for him to move. He might not like to be cornered, but too bad. She wasn’t going to let this go. “Why didn’t it feel right at the bar tonight?”
He had that pained look on his face again. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”
“I never said that.” She leaned into him a little so their bodies were barely touching. “Does it feel wrong with me?”
He definitely wasn’t liking the turn the conversation was taking because he bit back a curse before he responded. “It should.”
“But it doesn’t because you care about me, don’t you?”
“You already know that.”
“And you know that’s not the kind of caring I meant.” She slid her hand between them until her palm was lying flat on his chest. Pretty much right over his heart, where she could feel the heavy beating. “You feel something for me.”
He shot her an angry glare. “I think that’s obvious. Ifeel like I’m going to explode, I want to fuck you so badly.”
