Page 44 of What I Should Have Done

Chapter 16

SCOTTIE

For a second time, Mikey was going to be alone in the tent when I arrived—as I expected him to be. This time felt different. Uncertainty spun a tangled web between us. He’d flirted. Why he so obviously did, I wasn’t sure, and I hadn’t given him a chance to explain before immediately shutting things down.

Which was for the best, obviously. If anything were to happen between us, if we were to become more than just teammates and friends, I would lose my position with the team or worse—my career in the military would go to hell.

Ducking under the tent, the shriek that should have left my lips caught in my throat, escaping as a little squeak. Shock coursed through me like my first gin and tonic that sent me to a different world.

“Shit, Scotch!” Mikey exclaimed, spinning around toward the tent wall. The waistband to his compression boxers snapped against his hips, released from his fingers. I should have slapped my hand over my eyes.

But I couldn’t look away.

“Why are you…Where are your fucking pants?” I stuttered. Unable to move, every cell in my body refused to fuel my limbs, refused to give me an escape from something I slowly realized I wasn’t exactly wanting to disappear from. And part of me was extremely grateful that I’d returned when I had, or I would’ve missed the brief glimpse of the tattoos on his thighs.

“They were sweaty. I hand washed all my shit this morning and the clean ones were finally dry, so I’m changing into new stuff. What are you doing here?” The muscles in Mikey’s back tensed, rolling like smooth whiskey on a Saturday night. My eyes drank him in, and especially after my earlier shut down of his more obvious advance, I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get drunk off him, but I was.

As I slid my gaze down every inch of his body carved from stone, that heat in my veins roared. Recognizing that he was the cause of all of that warmth had just made this increasingly harder to ignore.

Even more so, to deny.

He didn’t exactly move to cover more of himself, and I took that as permission. Permission to let myself ogle oh so briefly at him. How surface level I was being, I knew that, but I couldn’t really help it, especially with that ass of his. Here was the evidence that he most certainly did not skip leg day.

My skin flushed warm, soaking it all in.

Then my eyes caught sight of the letter resting on his bedroll, and claws of green jealousy scraped faintly against my heart. There was no stopping the word vomit bubbling in my throat. “Really? Your underwear was only sweaty? That letter on your bed with a picture of your naked ex-fiancée tells me differently.”

Mikey spun around, clearly forgetting he was still almost naked, and my eyes widened, straining to avoid darting down to everything I’d glimpsed he was packing. But it wasn’t anger that swirled in his eyes, catching my intrigue. He tipped his head, a milder version of his arrogant smirk curled his lips. “Are you jealous I might have taken some me time to her?”

I shook my head in obvious denial. “No.”

An absolute lie, but why the hell would the thought of him pleasuring himself to her piss me off so much? That I could continue to deny. Mostly…

“So, then why do you care if I was or wasn’t?” he asked, taking a few steps closer toward me.

“I don’t, but if you don’t put some pants on, someone else will wonder the same thing as me. Especially Bernie,” I answered, crossing my arms and holding on to every ounce of self-control left to keep my eyes from wandering lower. And I lost the battle. My eyes briefly darted down to what I’d already caught a glimpse of, and a shiver ran down my spine. It most certainly entered rooms before he ever did.

A low chuckle came from Mikey, and he didn’t turn away. “So,” he let the word roll slowly off his tongue as I peeled my eyes back up to his gaze. Every breath I drew in coated my throat like sandpaper. He winked, despite telling me earlier he wouldn’t, and I pulled my lips in between my teeth, biting back a smile.

Mikey inhaled deeply, his broad chest expanding, and he finally turned away. “You think that because I had to change my underwear, that I creamed in my pants?”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, physically trying to slip the sight of him into a box at the back of my mind, as he crouched by his rucksack and withdrew a pair of pants. “Obviously.”

“Scotch, why the fuck would I purposefully come in my underwear when I can use a sock or some other easily discardable clothing item?” he bluntly asked, and stuffed his legs into his pants, hoisting them up to his waist.

I pursed my lips; it sucked that he was right. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fair.” I grumbled.

His smirk widened to a crooked grin as he faced me, doing up the buttons. “You gonna just stand there in the doorway like that?”

“Oh, um, right.” Snapping out of the stupid ass stupor that was his damn fault, I quickly strode over to my bedroll and safely stored my sniper rifle for the time being. “If you don’t have feelings for her anymore, why did the letter…?” Swallowing my words, I remained facing away from him, hoping I hadn’t overstepped my bounds. But we were treading in such gray water already, I tossed all caution to the wind.

“Why did it bother you so much?” I stood up and faced him as he finished pulling the shirt over his head.

He exhaled slowly, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. “Honestly?” His eyes turned a little glassy. “I feel like a fucking fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Blondie.”

“Then I’m a damn idiot.”

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