Step Stalker

“I was surprised when your father said you used to be quiet and introverted,” I breathe for his ears alone, barely checking the urge to touch his chest beneath the blanket. “I mean, you came across thoughtful in your letters. But the media has portrayed you as kind of…”

“A confident man’s man with the perfect answer for every question?” He chuckles quietly, but the sound holds no humor. “The press has given me this persona to make everyone comfortable with celebrating the kill. I’ve been coached by the Navy on how to respond. No one wants to hear it was a low-down and nasty business. They want to think it was something like they might see in a movie. Now the hero just has to look pretty and wave for the cameras.”

My heart gives a long tug. “How are you feeling on the inside?”

He blows out a breath. “Isolated. Displaced.” That muscular arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, his brow knit in thought. “I don’t feel that way right now, Lula. With you.”

Pleasure washes over me, warm and potent. I can’t let the confession go to my head, however. He’s been on US soil for a matter of hours and I’m the only person who is willing to show him some comfort. Even among his own family and friends. At least, that’s what I seem to be telling myself so I don’t get far-fetched ideas in my head about this hunky, heroic man developing an interest in me. “What about the other men on your team?”

A line hops in his cheek and he looks down at his lap. “They’re good guys. The best. We were closer before all of this happened, though. I’m getting credit for something that was a joint effort. They say they’re fine with it, that they don’t want the notoriety, but it’s hard to stay happy for someone when the president is thanking them in a speech without a single mention of anyone else. And now that I’m injured and my identity has been leaked…”

“There’s was just no time to make any of it right,” I finish for him in a whisper. “I’m sure that’s unsettling. Not even having that foundation of your friends.”

He gives me a dazzling half-smile, his white teeth flashing in the darkness. “Are you sure meditation is your jam and not psychology?”

I bite my lip to contain a laugh. “I’ve always been great at recognizing issues in other people and knowing how to correct them. But when it comes to my own, it’s a different story.”

A wrinkle of concern forms between his brows. “Anyone would have issues growing up in this house, but I don’t like knowing you have them. Talk to me.”

I’ve always tried to minimize my problems. It’s just a knee-jerk reaction. Logically, I know they are just as valid as anyone else’s. But when I start to talk about them out loud, I find myself rushing through the details and saying it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine a lot. “Nothing, really…”

He tips my chin up and gives me a stern look. “Lula...”

God, he is so handsome. No wonder good-looking people always seem to be in positions of power. Telling them no when they want something is extra hard. Not to mention, his worry is genuine. I can feel it radiating from him in waves.

“Well, our parents have everything figured out, at least on the surface. They always have a plan and a goal, whether it’s organizing a charity or rallying people around a political cause. And they seem kind of bewildered that I need to think and meditate before making most decisions. It’s not just my career choice they think is frivolous and silly…it’s me.” I struggle through a swallow. “I’m an outsider in my own house.” Somehow I find the courage to echo his earlier words. “I don’t feel that way right now, Vale. With you.”

I’ve just seriously put myself out there by admitting that. It’s so unlike me to take risks, especially with the opposite sex. But Vale doesn’t give me a chance to dangle on the line or feel self-conscious. No. He dips his mouth to mine and takes a long, slow pull of my lips. “To think my original plan was to go directly to Coronado from the airport. What if I’d missed out on you, princess?” In one smooth move, he lifts the blanket and drags me onto his lap. Effortlessly. I’m facing the television, my bottom wedged tightly against that bulge, the bare backs of my thighs resting on his clothed legs. My feet aren’t even close to touching the ground.

We’re in a room with our parents and I’m sitting on his lap.

If they woke up, there would be no mistaking what’s happening or explaining it away.

Especially when Vale winds my hair in a fist and gently tugs, bringing my back flush to his broad chest, his heart pounding against my spine, his breath feathering my neck. “There is nothing frivolous or silly about you. The way you help reach below someone’s surface just makes them uncomfortable, because they’re afraid what they’d find under their own.”