Step Stalker

His sex would be waiting. Long. Thick. Neglected.

“Oh my God, would you stop?” I whisper, shaking myself.

The cops should come arrest me for having these thoughts about someone I’m related to by marriage. I can’t even imagine what my mother and stepfather would say. They are all about image. All about maintaining the perfect reputation of a four star general and his doting wife. She never makes a misstep. She would be mortified if she knew I was changing my panties right now because my stepbrother turns me on. How am I going to make it through the next three days without totally embarrassing myself?

At least I have that camping trip tomorrow.

A break from whatever is happening to me.

I finish tugging on the white bikini-style underwear and smooth my dress down over them, flopping down on my bed and looking around at my room. Speaking of my mother, she could not hate my vibe any more than she already does, so maybe there is no point in trying to keep her pleased with me? Just this morning she came in filing her nails and eye rolled the multi-colored hanging tapestries and strings of mini lanterns. But I love my space. I love the rich scent of incense and the invitation to stretch out in the cool darkness. And okay, I’m seriously trying to distract myself from the fact that Vale is fifteen yards away, naked, in the shower.

Although…he has been in there a long time.

That shower basin usually creaks, too. Under a man his size, it should definitely be making some noise, right? Is he okay in there?

When steam begins to curl out from beneath my door, I rise from the bed and cross to the bathroom, knocking tentatively, concern curling in my breast. “Vale?” I call. “Is everything all right in there?”

A long pause. Then a muffled, “Yeah.”

His tone of voice tells me he’s not fine.

“Do you need something? A towel?”

There’s no response this time.

My fingers tap on the door handle. Do I dare go inside? There’s a churning in my chest telling me there’s something wrong. After the haunted look I saw in his eyes at the airport, I’m even more worried. “You are studying mediation. The human body is a temple. Nothing more,” I whisper to myself, shifting side to side on my bare feet. “It’s just a body.”

I open the door and step into the steam, waiting for it to clear and yeah…

It’s not just a body.

Vale sits in the basin of the shower with his legs bent and raised, forearms resting on his knees, back pressed to the tile. He’s soaked and glorious and muscular in the extreme, wearing nothing but dog tags and a far-off expression on his face. Which is what prompts me to set aside my admiration of his form, allowing my concern to come rushing back in.

“Vale,” I say, opening the glass shower door and stepping inside, hesitating only a few seconds before kneeling down in front of him, staunchly keeping my eyes averted from the flesh between his legs. The warm shower spray rains down on top of me, soaking my dress instantly. “What’s wrong?”

He snaps out of his trance and shakes his head. “I’m fine. I just…” His throat works in a rough pattern. “Everything is so fucking quiet, you know? I’m not used to it. Where I’ve been for the last four years, quiet means something bad is about to happen. Logically, I know there’s nothing happening outside on the street. No tanks or landmines, but I can hear them in my head. It’s like I’m still there, Lula, but I have none of what I need to protect you.”

Before I register what’s happening, he wraps me in a bear hug and pulls me onto his lap, pushing my face into his wet, corded neck.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, princess,” he rasps, stroking my hair.

Oh my God.

I knew Vale was tortured by the things he’d experienced, but I had no idea his trauma was so severe. Heat presses to the backs on my eyelids. There’s nothing I can do to stop myself from snuggling closer, wrapping around him and holding tight. I sense he needs it, needs the contact from another human being. Badly. “Nothing is going to happen to either of us.”

“Don’t say that, Lula.” He’s crushing me to his chest now, his mouth moving against my ear. “Those are famous last words.”

My heart lurches. How many friends and fellow soldiers has he lost? “Vale, you’re home now in California. Look at me.” I press my forehead to his, waiting for his blue eyes to meet mine, almost sobbing over the torture in them. “Focus on your breathing. Do you feel it in your stomach and chest?”

After a moment, he exhales, take a long pull of oxygen and nods. Just a subtle tip of his head. “Yeah.”