Say You're Mine Read online

  This newfound desire might throw him off, but one thing was unchangeable. No matter how much he wanted her, or how badly he ached to see how those bare hips felt in his hands, or how soft those pink lips of hers really were, he wouldn’t find out. Women like Lauren deserved all the happiness in the world.

  Love. A family. A dog. A cat. A house.

  A white motherfucking picket fence.

  All the things he could never give her—so he wouldn’t even try.

  Chapter Two

  The live orchestra played—she loved Mozart—and dancing couples swirled around them in fancy dresses and tuxedos, but all Lauren could see and hear was Steven Thomas. As he led her into the midst of the elegantly dancing crowd, his body hard and his arm even stiffer, she sensed an edginess in him that was stronger than ever before, and just as unattainable as he was.

  He’d always been a restless man, moving quickly from one thing to another, never satisfied with life. She’d watched him go from woman to woman ever since he came back from his first tour in Iraq. Nothing was ever good enough, and she had yet to see him be happy with what he had. It was that same unquenchable drive that had sent him to the Navy, and right into a spot as a highly sought-after Navy SEAL.

  Through it all, Lauren had been there.

  Worrying. Waiting. Worrying. Watching. Worrying.

  Yeah, worrying was mentioned three times. It should have been mentioned a thousand. Heck, a million. Through it all, no matter how far away he’d been, or what country he was in, she’d waited for him to call, write, or knock on her door.

  So. Much. Waiting.

  Sure, Lydia had been there, too. But she’d been young. Too young to understand what her brother was going through, and why he needed to disappear somewhere quiet whenever he came home. Lauren got it. She got him.

  Always had.

  He was slow to trust and even slower to care, but Lauren cared too much, too fast. Steven was heroic and brave and kind, while Lauren tended to hide in her shell when it came time to do something new. They were about as opposite as two people could possibly get…which made them awesome friends.

  But tonight, she couldn’t read him.

  It was weird. And a little bit scary.

  He was struggling to fit into society. To be normal, and a civilian, and all the things he hadn’t been for years. And he’d been drinking too much lately. Lydia asked her to help. But she had no idea how to do that.

  It wasn’t as if she could command him to stop. He was a free man, and he had every right to sleep around if he chose to. And he did. Constantly.

  Every girl he brought home was worse than the last one, and she hated them all. He was selling himself short, not letting himself get in a real relationship, and it hurt to watch him fall down the same hole, over and over again, and not be able to help him.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, flushing when she caught him watching her as if…as if…she was the next woman on his list. But that didn’t make any sense. He didn’t want her. Never had. If he’d shown any signs of being attracted to her over the last twenty years, she would’ve noticed, thank you very much.

  A girl didn’t miss a man like Steven’s attention.

  He was devastatingly hot, in so many ways.

  They reached the spot he picked out for them, and he turned to her, opening his arms. She slid into them, like she had a million times before. But tonight, when his hand closed around her waist, right above her hip, her breath caught in her throat. Not from the touch, but the darkness in his hazel eyes. That and his touch felt almost…possessive.

  Which was stupid, really. Steven didn’t think of her like that. “How’s Brian?” He tightened his grip on her hip, focusing on her mouth.

  “Uh…” She shrugged. “He’s gone.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since he slept with his secretary, like the cliché jerk he is,” she said lightly. “I figured that was kind of a deal breaker for me.”

  “Kind of?” he growled. “I will never, in a million years, figure out why you continue to fall for the wrong type of guy, over and over again.”

  Probably something to do with the fact that the right guy, the guy she really wanted to be with, was off-limits. No matter how hard she tried, no other man lived up to Steven. They all came up short, in the end. So she’d stopped trying to find the right guy, and had fun with the wrong ones instead. “You know me.”

  “Yeah.” Frowning down at her, he flexed his jaw. “I do.”

  They fell silent, and the air between them became charged. She couldn’t figure out why, or how, but something was different tonight. Something in him. “Are you okay?”

  His brows lowered, and his hand slid across her lower back. As it did so, he stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. Again, the touch felt as if he laid some sort of outdated claim over her. “Why would you ask me that?”

  “You’re acting…different.” And it was messing with her head. Making her see things she had no right to. “Are you drunk again?”

  “No.”

  “Okay…” She licked her lips. “Good.”

  “You’re not going to start in on me, too, are you?” He leaned over her, placing his lips a breath away from her ear. “If you are, your love life is fair game to me, too. And I got a hell of a lot to say about that.”

  She swallowed hard and breathed in. His cologne filled her senses, awakening things that had long since been asleep. “Like what?”

  Resting his chin on top of her head, he shrugged. “Like how you keep dating jerks, and how it’s time you realized your self-worth. You deserve better.”

  The way he said that, all conviction and passion, made her heart skip a beat. It always did. He’d always been her best advocate, which just might be the worst thing. It was why she had yet to find a man who could live up to the standards he’d set back in fourth grade when he’d given her his only pencil in math class, so she wouldn’t get in trouble for forgetting hers for the millionth time in a row.

  She’d been screwed from that moment on.

  “One could say the same of you,” she argued, holding his hand tightly. “You deserve more than a one-night stand, and a thank-you pat on the butt in the morning.”

  Pulling back, he grinned in that lighthearted manner he always did. But he wasn’t fooling her. She could see right through the bright veneer, and into the shadowy darkness he hid with jokes and charm. “I assure you that I deserve exactly what I’m getting.”

  His tone was joking, but his words weren’t. He had it in his head that he was this horrible, bad guy, when he was the furthest thing from that. He was loyal, brave, kind, and selfless, but he was too damn stubborn to see, or admit, that.

  She pressed her lips together. “Well, actually—”

  He spun her in a circle without warning, pulled her into his chest, and grinned down at her when she clung to him, letting out a yelp. “Watch yourself, Brixton. Life loves to throw you for loops like that.”

  She hung on to his arm. “Or your best friend does.”

  “Exactly.” He hugged her close, swaying to the music again. For the first time all night, he acted like himself. Like the “him” he was before he came home from war and took the position at Shillings Agency. “I’m a sick bastard like that.”

  “No kidding,” she muttered. The song ended, and she went to move out of his arms. When he didn’t let go of her, she looked at him in confusion. “What are you doing? Your boss saw you out here, so your obligatory dance is over.”

  His grin widened. “Let’s dance again. I don’t want to talk to anyone tonight, and I’m having fun.”

  “You’re talking to me.” She curled a hand behind his neck, the motion as natural as breathing or blinking. “Right now.”

  “Oh, cupcake.” He locked gazes with her. “You don’t count.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure whether to be insulted, or honored.”

  “Depends how you look at it, I suppose.” He ran his
thumb over the back of her hand. “Hey. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Brian.” He looked at her again, and this time, it was as if he saw right through her. “Are you upset?”

  She shook her head, not breaking contact. Brian was nothing. She didn’t care that he was gone, or that it was over. The only man who mattered to her was in her arms right now. “Of course. He was…he was just a distraction.”

  “From?”

  Biting down on her tongue, she lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Life?”

  “I get that. Life can be a real bitch sometimes.”

  “Yeah.” Lauren tightened her grip on his hand. “Are you okay?”

  He cocked his head. “I already answered that.”

  Sure he did. But the thing with Steven was that he thought he hid his struggle to rejoin society from her—from everyone. He checked his surroundings all the time and he couldn’t enter a crowded room without examining all corners for attack. And every time a loud bang surprised him, he instinctively reached for his gun…and then shortly after, a woman and a drink.

  But she noticed. And she was worried for him.

  “I think you lied.”

  “I’m not a liar,” he said stiffly. He spun her in a circle again, catching her easily when she stumbled. His strong arms around her, holding her tight and safe, made her even more aware of the small amount of distance between them. “Even if everyone else in this damn world is.”

  “Not me,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t lie to you.”

  “And I don’t lie to you. It’s what makes us—us. But we’re not fucking. If we were, it would be different. One of us would lie, and ruin things, and it would be over.”

  “That’s an awfully bleak outlook on life…and us.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It’s true, though. Everyone lies in relationships, which is why I avoid them. When you’re with someone, you have to pretend you’re happy, or in love, even when you’re not. Even if the only thing you’re thinking about is how to get away from your girlfriend or boyfriend, because there’s got to be more to life than this, you just keep smiling. Acting like you’re happy. You know it as well as I do. When was the last time you felt like you really belonged in someone’s arms?”

  Right here. Right now. With you. “With a guy I was dating? Probably never.”

  “But you’ve felt that way before?” he asked, his voice low.

  She bit her tongue, not sure how to answer. If she said yes, he’d ask who she felt that way about. And if he asked, she’d have to tell him the truth. But if she admitted out loud that he made her happy, and she felt complete in his arms…

  There would be no taking that back.

  And she had a feeling she wouldn’t like his reaction.

  “Does it matter? We’re not talking about that. We were talking about sex and lies—two things which I don’t associate with you,” she said, hoping that would be enough to satisfy his curiosity. “Like, ever.”

  He laughed, and he stepped a little closer. Despite his laughter, he looked anything but amused. He looked…determined. His tallness and hard muscles crowded her, making her feel miniscule in comparison, and the way he watched her—all domineering, and full of sexual power and an unspoken challenge—made her stumble over her own two feet.

  He, of course, caught her.

  Just like he always did.

  The heat of his touch burned her, and her stomach clenched tight. It filled her with an unanswered need that would never be satisfied by anyone but him.

  Leaning down, he spoke low. His breath fanned over her cheeks, and she stiffened. “Come on, Lauren. Let’s be honest. You’ve never, even once, thought about it? About what it would be like between us if we got stupid, naked, and sweaty? How good it might feel if I fucked you, hard and rough, against a wall, just for fun?”

  Oh, crap. Now that would be all she could think about, thank you very much. “I…uh…well…”

  Luckily, she was saved from answering. The song ended, and as soon as it did, Holt and Lydia came up, laughing and holding hands. “Can we switch partners?” Holt asked, nudging Lydia slightly. “She’s sick of me already.”

  Steven studied Lauren, jaw ticking, and for a second, she thought he might refuse. But instead he grinned and turned to the other man, the carefree mask he wore so well slipping right back into place. “Sure, man. I figured it was only a matter of time till you were back in my arms again.”

  Holt snorted. “I think I’ll take Lauren, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’re stuck with me, brother,” Lydia said, twisting her lips. “Holt’s mine now.”

  He let go of Lauren, squeezing her hand one last time. “I think that’s a deal I can gladly accept. Holt sweats too much anyway. Come here.”

  Laughing, Lydia went into his arms. “He doesn’t sweat.”

  Lauren watched them, smiling.

  That was something she had never had. A family. A brother that loved her. Her own father had run away when she was a baby, and her mother hadn’t had time for her as she grew up, since she’d been busy working three jobs to pay the bills. And then, when she was seventeen and a fresh graduate out of high school, her mother had committed suicide. Everyone who was supposed to love her had run away.

  It was one of the reasons she didn’t let people in.

  Steven gave her one last, long, scorching glance. “We’ll finish our conversation later.”

  She swallowed and watched him go, heart racing and palms sweating. What was up with him tonight? She glanced at Holt. He watched her skeptically. She shook her head. “Don’t ask.”

  “I have a feeling it’s none of my business, so I won’t,” he said, his voice soft. “He’s different around you, though. Like a completely different guy.”

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve known him a long time. A lot longer than I have.”

  “Yeah…” She moved into his arms and smiled up at him. He was attractive, in that hot, nerdy way. She had a feeling Lydia hadn’t stood a chance when they’d met. There was something about Holt that was irresistibly charming, and he had a way of making you like him with nothing more than a smile. “But he fought with you overseas. In some ways, you know him better than I ever will.”

  “We only crossed paths once or twice. Different branches.” He shrugged. “But it was enough to learn what kind of man he is. I only really see him relax around you. When he was dancing with you just now, and laughing, it was like looking at a completely different guy. It’s weird.”

  She sought out Steven. He chatted with Lydia, laughing, but Holt was right. He wasn’t relaxed. He was tense. Alert. Aware. He kept glancing around the room, his gaze falling on Lauren every so often, as if making sure she was still there.

  Holt cleared his throat. “He needs you. You make him happy.”

  “He has me,” she said quickly, focusing on Holt again. He watched her seriously, as if he thought she might not mean it. “Always has.”

  Across the room, Steven laughed and kissed the top of Lydia’s head, then walked toward the bar. Getting yet another drink. It’s all he did lately. Maybe she should try and come up with a way to help him. To get him to see why he wasn’t really making it better.

  Why he needed to focus on the good things in his life…

  And stop drowning himself in the bad.

  Chapter Three

  Three hours later, Steven walked down Main Street alone, passing the laundromat with a shiver, and cursed the cold Maine night air. Even in summer, once the sun went down, the cold took over and chased away all signs of warmth and brightness. Why he hadn’t moved to a tropical paradise by now, he had no fucking clue. But he remembered the three reasons he stayed in this godforsaken place.

  Lydia. Holt. And Lauren.

  Damn. He still couldn’t get Lauren out of his head. Had to be the booze.

  His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. He stumbled a bit, the drink he’d pounded
back before leaving hitting him. After that last one, he almost brought a brunette that slightly reminded him of Lauren home with him. Almost tried to pretend she was Lauren, so he could bang her out of his system, so to speak.

  But that inner voice hadn’t been quieted by booze yet, and he left before he uttered the words that would have him hating himself come morning.

  Catching himself before he hit the sidewalk, he squinted down at his phone. Recognizing the name immediately, he swiped his finger across the screen. A taxi had dropped Lauren off at her place an hour ago, before he’d had it leave him at another bar. What did she need, this late?

  “Long time, no see.”

  “It’s me.” She paused, and added, “Lauren.”

  “Yeah. I see that.” He glanced at his phone again. “It’s after midnight. Why the hell are you still awake?”

  She breathed heavily. “I just got out of the shower, and I hear something out in my living room. Footsteps.”

  He gripped the phone tightly. He couldn’t drive, but he had legs—and he could sure as hell haul ass to her place. “Lock the door. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Thanks.”

  The numbing effect of the whiskey was gone, and his stomach churned with fear he wouldn’t make it to her in time. That something would happen to her…and he’d fucking lose it. He hung up and glanced up at the street sign, then took off, full speed.

  As he ran, he tried to slip into a battle-like calm, a mask he wore all too well. It didn’t work. There was no calming down—not when Lauren was in danger. He’d fought insurgents, ISIS agents, and every kind of monster one could imagine.

  But someone hurting Lauren?

  It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It made him want to hurl, shoot someone, pound his chest, and scream in agony—all at the same time.

  It made him lose his motherfucking mind.

  He reached her road in record time, his breathing still even and labored, as he counted it off in his head. Brick exterior. Four concrete stairs. Wrought iron railing and window bars. Lauren’s red Mazda he’d helped her buy. To thank him, she’d made him his favorite cupcakes. Red velvet.