Page 36 of Wild Card

Chapter Ten

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“Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.”

At first, Sam only gave her the continued thumps of his heart, still beneath her ear, as response to her poetic whisper. The scrape of his hand through her hair soughed in time with the wind against the window, accented by the lusty coos of the roadrunners and the sharp barks of the coyotes.

At last, he emitted a sleepy hum. “John Muir before six, now? You really are the geekiest sex fiend I’ve ever met.”

She flashed him a scowl. “And how many sex fiends have you met?”

A smile tugged his lips. Just as swiftly, it sobered. He lifted his hand to her hair again, letting the strands trail from his fingers, over her shoulder. “Only one who’s taken much more from me than that.”

Less than ten seconds. Less than twelve words. He had her blood tingling, her chest flipping, and her heart breaking all over again—especially as he drew her down for a long, wet, lingering kiss. But as soon as he parted her lips and swept his tongue out for more, Jen forced herself away. Two more seconds of feeling his tongue like that, and she’d be getting hot and stupid with him again.

“We—we need to think about getting back.” Her hair and makeup appointment was at eight. That had to be less than two hours away by now. “Time for real life, my laird-lord on high.” Despite the fact that he’d never appeared more like a perfect dream, the peach and gold dawn making his chiseled nudity glow.

“I should roll you over and spank you black and blue for that nonsense,” he cracked. “But you’re right.”

“If you want the last word here, that feels like a damn good place for it.”

He sat up, leaned over, and reached a hand to L-frame her face. With the other, he guided one of her hands to the center of his chest. “My ‘last word’ to you comes only when this stops beatin’.”

Jen struggled to laugh. It was ironic, right? That by staking his devotion on the beats of his heart, he’d stopped hers from working?

From possibly ever beating the same way again.

In just a night, he’d changed her. Moved her. Made her breathe, hurt, soar, seethe, laugh, cry, and live as she never had before.

In just a night, she’d learned what it was to be in love.

Why had she deluded herself that the truth of it would just…fade? That real life would be the magical blowtorch, razing everything back to the way it was?

Even after Tess and Dan’s wedding—which was beautiful, perfect, and tumble-free for her, thanks to Sam bowing out at the last minute due to a “buddy” at the base pleading for a roster switch—she couldn’t seem to find the right target lock on her life. She made all the right motions. Did all the right things. Her radar was spinning, her tracking instruments fired-up and ready, but every day was like flying through muck, only to loop and land exactly the same place she’d been before.

With no Sam in sight.

One day after the wedding, she secretly thanked him for being polite and granting her some space.

Two days after, she was sick of “space”. And pissed at him.

Three days after, the fury whittled into despair.

At three that afternoon, she planted her elbows on her desk and parked her head in her hands, forming a teepee over her phone’s text screen. Sam’s face and name taunted her from it. They hadn’t traded texts since last week, when he’d messaged to ask her if he could pick up something gooey for her from their favorite Mexican joint just outside base. She’d texted back a decline:

::I’m having a green smoothie. Need to watch the waistline.::

She’d swallowed hard, fighting the heat behind her eyes, while reading his response.

::Why? You’re a perfect little mouse already.::

She’d purposely ignored him—now realizing, in hindsight, that it was actually her bait. She knew he’d come in to rib her some more about it, and he had. And she’d gotten the dorky, cheap little thrill of basking in his presence for a few minutes, fawning over him like a desperate fangirl.

Pathetic.

Transparent.

But no different than what she was about to do.

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