Page 97 of Peace Under Fire

And she couldn’t help noticing that he’d never mentioned love. His offer was obviously for a strings-free physical relationship. Could she handle making love with a man she had feelings for, but who didn’t return those sentiments? Because she did love him. She always had. She probably always would. She might have fought it, tried to convince herself otherwise, but she’d been in love with him for years. Could she handle a physical relationship without the emotional connection?

In the end, it was an easy decision to make. She’d take whatever she could have of him. With or without love. One day or a year. She’d accept what she could get and be happy for it, fill herself with memories to sustain her when she was alone again. At least she’d know what it felt like to lie beneath him, to feel his touch against her skin and his mouth on hers, and to feel him stroking her from inside.

That alone would be enough. It was far more than she’d expected.

“Mandy?” There was a question in his voice, and she realized she’d been quiet for too long. It was time to seal this deal.

“Okay. Say we do this, we jump into bed together. Who handles protection?” she asked. It seemed like a question an experienced woman would ask.

A frown flitted across his face. “You’re not on birth control?” He sounded surprised.

Oh, right… An experienced woman would already be on some form of birth control. She should never have thrown that foolish lie at him. He was obviously expecting someone who knew what she was doing. Would he be able to tell she was a virgin? If so, would he be disappointed? Would he take a step back and start avoiding her again?

She forced herself to hold his gaze while ignoring the heat climbing her face. Would an experienced woman flush during a discussion about contraception? Probably not.

“I ran out of my birth control pills while I was hiding out in Dolly’s condo,” she lied. Probably best to keep the lie short and easy to remember. “I didn’t want to chance running into someone at the pharmacy. And the pharmacy was way across town. Besides, since you were out of the picture, and there wasn’t anyone currently in the building I wanted to use them on, it seemed kind of useless to refill the prescription.”

Way to go, Mandy. Way to keep the excuse short and to the point. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes.

At least he seemed to accept the rambling explanation and simply shrugged. “I’ve got enough condoms to get us through a couple of days. We can reevaluate after they’re gone.”

How many condoms did he have? That would tell her how many times they’d be making love. And what did he mean by reevaluate? As in whether they wanted to continue having a relationship after the condoms were gone? Was that what he meant? Would an experienced woman ask how long he thought their liaison would last?

Yeah, probably not. She forced the question back.

“One last thing.” He caught and held her gaze, his eyes flat and steely. He looked serious as hell and borderline pissed. His fists were even clenched. He frowned at whatever he saw on her face and followed her gaze down to his hands. Slowly his fingers uncurled. “I know you’ve been with a lot of guys. But that’s in the past. While we’re together, we’re exclusive. Got it?”

Since she couldn’t find her voice, she simply nodded. Exclusivity went both ways, right? Would a seasoned woman ask? And what if he realized that not only was she not knowledgeable about sex, but that she was a complete newbie at this? Would he call the deal off?

Maybe she should stall until she had a chance to do some reading on the internet. There must be a website somewhere that would give her pointers on how to fake sexual experience.

CHAPTER 25

They were three days into their new sexual relationship and no sensual activities were happening. Fucking none. No cuddling on the couch. No getting to second base. No kissing whatsoever. Nope, she was hiding in her bedroom and endlessly doom scrolling on the laptop she’d borrowed from Alaska.

Something was obviously wrong, yet she vehemently denied it.

He'd tried to talk to her, but she’d warped into hyper-anxious and disappeared into her bedroom. He’d tried to be patient. Tried to give her time and space. But hell, they were headed into their third day of this drought with no end in sight. No explanations, either.

At first, he’d thought she was worried about her sisters. And hell, maybe that was part of the problem. But his instincts whispered something else was going on with her too.

Squish filled his lungs with the cold, crisp air, hoping it would chill the building frustration and aid him in keeping his trap shut. The huffing and puffing and gasping to his left continued unabated, even though they’d stopped walking five minutes ago.

With another deep breath, he scowled down at his boots and the scuff of dirt dusting the leather. Turned out Mandy was not suited for afternoon hikes. Or, apparently, exercise of any kind. He'd picked up a packed lunch from the Refuge’s kitchen and hauled Mandy out the cabin door. He’d hoped—yeah, he’d been an optimist—that by escaping the minefield nicknamed their cabin, they could reset the forward progression of their new relationship.

Now, twenty minutes into their hike, it looked like they might be spending the night out here and enjoying their lunch for breakfast, if—that was—he still intended to hike to the place Brick had told him about. He grimaced, discarding that plan. From the looks of her, he’d kill her if he pushed her to continue for much longer. Hell, she still stood hunched over, her palms braced against her knees, her face tomato red, tendrils of wet hair plastered to her sweating face.

He'd never heard so much gasping and groaning in his life. And not the good kind, either; not the orgasmic kind.

“Sorry,” she wheezed. “I’m not used to running straight uphill.”

Squish wanted to roll his eyes but refrained. Running? They’d barely broken a stroll. Straight uphill? The grade was so gradual you could barely see it with the naked eye.

“Are we almost there?” She straightened with a huff of exertion and stood there on wobbly legs. “We must have walked at least a couple of miles.”

Miles? Try a quarter of a mile, at best. He could still see the roof of their cabin through the treetops. It was weird. She hadn’t been this exhausted on that hike through the compound grounds a week ago. And she’d trudged through those woods with a bloody bump on her head and a foot of snow on the ground.

Either way, he needed to adjust his plans. They didn’t have to picnic at the summit. Any old clearing would work. Besides, he’d already accomplished his goal. He’d pried her away from the cabin and that damn laptop.

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