Wilde Love (Forever Wilde 6)

“Not going to do it, Liam,” she’d said firmly. “I may not look like much these days with little sleep and half-covered in baby crud, but at least I have nice hair. I’m a Texas girl after all.”

I’d laughed but then had tried to talk her into letting him do the test, but she was stubborn as hell.

“It’s been there my whole life, hon. Ain’t gonna kill me now. Unlike this boy here.” The affection had been clear in her voice. “Billy, say hey to your daddy.”

And then the little voice of my four-year-old boy had washed over me like a spring breeze through a field of Texas bluebonnets. “Hey, Daddy, we miss you.”

“Hey, buddy. Daddy misses you too. So much.” I’d pressed the phone so hard against my ear it hurt.

He told me about riding on Grandpa’s tractor and helping Granny feed the chickens.

When it had been time to say goodbye, the thought had flashed through my head that I might never hear my family’s sweet voices again. I squeezed my eyes closed and told Betsy I loved her.

“You shut the hell up, William Wilde,” she’d snapped. “Don’t you dare talk to me like this is goodbye. You do not have my permission to get yourself blown up over there, do you hear me?”

I barked out a laugh, getting the attention of several soldiers walking past the bank of telephones in the R&R center.

“Yes, ma’am,” I’d replied with a smile. Little Brenda hadn’t gotten her wildcat tendencies from me. “Ten-four and roger that.”

Ending the call like that had left me in lifted spirits, which had made me appreciate her even more. But now here I was feeling sick and troubled in another country half a world away, and part of me wanted just to be home once and for all. I turned out the light and lay down on my bed in hopes of calming myself enough to at least go out for a meal.

I must have dozed off because after a while, the sound of a key in the door woke me.

It was dark in the room. The cheap brown curtains blocked out most of the light except for a sliver where they didn’t quite meet in the middle.

Major came into the room quietly and slipped his shoes off before coming around to sit on the bed next to mine. My eyes were only halfway open, but they probably looked closed in the dim light.

He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, laying it across the foot of the bed before reaching for his belt. I noticed how wide and strong his shoulders were, how big and capable he always seemed. His muscles flexed under his skin as he continued undressing.

I didn’t realize I was staring until the metal clink caused me to startle. He didn’t seem to notice because he continued as if nothing had happened, pulling the belt from the loops and setting it on top of the discarded shirt. Finally he stood to remove his trousers and socks, leaving him in plain boxers and an undershirt.

He sat and stared at me before letting out a deep sigh and stretching out on his side with his head on the pillow. The two of us were like mirror images of each other, me on my left side facing him and him on his right facing me.

A thousand questions tumbled through my head. How did one find male company in a city like this? Was it safe? Was it dangerous? Was it… satisfying? What was it like, being in bed with another man? I’d never had reason to think about it before, but if this man I looked up to so much found it satisfying, then there must be something to it. Right?

Was he attracted to big men? Small men? Did he like to… give or… receive? And why the hell was I thinking any of those things about someone I worked with?

“I couldn’t do it,” he said softly after a while.

“Why not?”

He continued to watch me, and my stomach flipped around as if the nap had done absolutely nothing for it.

Our eyes stayed locked on each other as the tension in the room thickened.

He finally sighed. “Go to bed, Liam.” And then he turned on his other side to face the wall.

I could feel my heart thumping in my rib cage, and it felt like it was going to lift right out of my chest. My eyes examined the width and breadth of his muscular upper body in the fitted T-shirt, trying to determine what another man would see when he looked at the major like that.

As my eyes slid down his back, I noticed a stretch of skin where the shirt had ridden up, exposing his lower back above the low elastic band of his shorts.

In all the times I’d thought about my gratitude to him for what he’d done for me that night in the jungle—for getting us out of the Huey after the crash, for keeping me sane after the disaster in the clearing, for distracting me through the night—I’d always come to the conclusion that if there was ever any way of repaying him, of providing any ounce of security or comfort to him the way he’d done to me, I’d do it.