The Major's Welcome Home

He stood still in the center of the dim, dull, undecorated apartment, bag at his feet. His hands were propped on his hips, head tipped forward. Lonely. He looked so lonely. The wrongness of that rose like an angry tide over her and immediately, she had a game plan.

Although, it felt nothing like a game.

Kenna squared her shoulders and breezed into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen. If someone hadn’t stocked the place with basic food staples for this man, she was going to raise hell next time she saw her father. “I decided to hang out for a while, Major. You’re welcome.” She tugged open the refrigerator door, pleased to see a loaf of bread, butter, cheese. A six-pack. “You hungry?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but started piling ingredients onto the counter. Thank God she had something to do with her hands because after a full minute, Beck still hadn’t answered. Bad move. This had been a bad move. For all she knew, he had plans. Or—

“Kenna.”

His gruff voice came from right behind her and the fluttering in her ribcage moved lower, so she didn’t turn around in case it showed in her expression. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this. I can make myself a sandwich.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” She threw a pack of Kraft singles hard onto the counter and crossed her arms. “Someone should be here to welcome you back. It’s not right.”

The stretch of silence was driving her crazy, so she turned to face him…and forgot how to inhale. Starved. He looked starved for something other than food. His pupils had swallowed the blue of his eyes, throat working up and down, even as he kept his gaze determinedly above her neck. Who was this man?

“It was my choice,” he said. “My choice not to burden anyone. Not just yet.”

Kenna took a step closer, and he sucked in a breath. God, the effect she was having on him…it thrilled her, made her legs go weak, but at the same time she felt his acute pain. Frustration. “You don’t seem like the type to be a burden,” she muttered. “The exact opposite, actually.”

“I appreciate you saying so.” There it was. He slipped. His attention falling to her breasts for the barest of seconds before racing back up. When he spoke again, his jaw was so tight, she could hardly understand him. “But it ain’t true. What I came back with, what I failed to do…it’ll be a burden on everyone soon enough.”

Curiosity demanded she question him, but his words stopped her. She was the queen of avoidance and understood his need to delay the inevitable. Whatever it was. She also knew exactly how to distract him from thoughts of being a burden. It was why she’d followed him upstairs, wasn’t it? Yes, she could admit that now. Admit to this irrefutable need to smooth his frayed edges, to make up for the betrayal he’d experienced. It was this man inspiring the need to provide solace. No one else could have done it.

Kenna reached down and took his hand, leading him from the kitchen. As they passed through the brown-on-gray living room, she scowled, hating the dust motes in the air. The lack of character. She knew the moment Beck realized she was leading him to the bedroom because his breath began rattling in and out behind her. His hand tightened around hers as if he wanted to pull her to a stop, but couldn’t find the will. When they cleared the threshold, Kenna let go of his hand and kicked the door shut.

He shook his head as she toed off her boots and slowly approached. “W-what are you doing?”

She pushed him into a sitting position on the bed, raked her fingers up his massive thighs. “I’m welcoming you home, Major.”

Beck reached deep inside himself, searching for the extra slack in his rope. Can’t find it. Can’t. He’d reached the end. Resisting her might have been possible before she’d touched his legs, but no one had ever touched him there on purpose. Not so close to his dick. Christ above, was she going to touch him there? He held his breath, head falling back on his shoulders as her touch inched higher, higher. Please touch me. Grab me hard.

Just before she reached his lap, her hands detoured up the front of his uniform jacket. Beck released a shaky exhale and she laughed softly. Knowingly? When she reached the top, he tipped his head forward again to watch her undo the buttons. One by one, she popped them open, green eyes steady on him as she worked. His severe disappointment that she hadn’t touched his throbbing erection gave way to awe. What was this gorgeous, electric girl doing here with him? Her face was mere inches from his, her mouth so ripe. So delicious looking, while at the same time a little…bad. The kind of mouth he dreamed about at night, alone in his bunk as he stroked himself off. He shouldn’t be thinking of her—parts of her—as an object. What was wrong with him?