Page 16 of A Veteran's Desire

And if she was made for me, then I was made for this: to protect her, to keep her safe, to be the man who makes her happy.

The thought hits too deep, too hard. My chest aches, and I force myself to pull back.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her softness or her trust. I don’t deserve to hold a beautiful woman in my arms at midnight in the soft glow of a kitchen lamp.

“What’s wrong?”

Hannah’s gaze rakes over my face, and I can’t explain why I don’t deserve this. This isn’t the time. Besides, she needs something from me. I can deliver that, guilt free. I can hold myself back with military discipline and give her the one thing she needs from me.

“I don’t want to wake the boys.”

“Oh.” She nods, accepting my excuse.

“And I don’t want Pops coming in here with his shotgun.”

She giggles and takes my hand and leads me to the pantry. “In here.”

She pulls me inside and closes the door. The smell of herbs and spices mixes with chocolate and coffee. The only light breaks through the slats in the door, making lines of shadow across her face. I keep my back against the door, in shadow, so she can’t read my expression.

I press Hannah against the back pantry shelf and my hands run down her top and into her pajama bottoms.

“Is this what you need?”

Her breath hitches and I pause with my fingers curled in her tight curly hair, needing a response before I continue.

“Yes.” Her voice is breathy, and she squirms as I move my hand lower.

Her need leaks onto my fingers, and the scent of her arousal mingles with the spices. I press my palm against her core, watching and listening to how she responds to every movement.

“Grant…” She whines my name, and her hands grab my forearms.

“Hold on, honey. I’ll give you the release you need.”

I roll my palm and that sets her off in a series of short, sharp cries that will be etched into my memory forever. I move slowly, making it good for her, paying attention to how her body shifts when I change pressure. With my other hand I explore her body, sliding my hand up her pajama top and stopping when her back arches as I tweak a nipple. My lips kiss her throat and the soft spot behind her ear that she seems to like.

I slide a thick finger inside her, and her cries become urgent. Hannah bucks and bites her lip, trying not to cry out as she peaks.

Her head tips back, and hair sticks to the perspiration on her forehead. She’s beautiful, stunning, and for a moment I can’t breathe. If she opened her eyes now, she’d see the truth in my gaze. That I love her, that I’ve loved her since I first laid eyes on her three months ago.

And maybe, she might learn to love me too.

But I don’t deserve that kind of happiness. And the truth of it hits me.

I have to let Hannah go. She deserves to be with someone who can give her a happy life. Marriage and kids and a happy home.

I’m not going to be that man. I don’t deserve those things, and it’s unfair to string Hannah along. I have to leave. After this has blown over, and the threat has passed, I’ll leave. I’ll leave to give her a chance at happiness.

Her eyes flicker open, and I duck my head so she can’t read the turmoil inside of me.

Instead, I press my palm against her engorged core, and her eyes flutter shut as she moans. My palm moves, and I deliver her another orgasm, then another and another, until she sags against me, spent. I’ve given Hannah what she needs tonight, and soon, I’ll give her the chance at happiness and leave.

8

HANNAH

Sunlight filters through the curtains, and I roll over lazily and burrow into the pillow. It’s unusual for me to sleep past sunrise, but my body is heavy in the nicest way, as if I had a hard workout, and all I want to do is sink into the mattress.

My mind turns over last night; the desire reflected back at me from Grant. The frantic move to the pantry and the way he made my body hum until I was putty in his hands.