Page 6 of Forbidden Passions

“If you say so. No one to answer to, no one to worry about, no one to care if you come home at night. Sounds lonely to me.” She followed me. The sitting was limited—one oversized armchair. I started to go back to grab a kitchen chair when she sat down on the floor. Max immediately got up and padded over to her, resting his head on her knee.

“Sounds like freedom,” I countered. “No drama, no expectations, no disappointments.”

No chance of letting anyone down. No risk of someone getting close only to realize they can’t handle the baggage I carry. No false hope of being understood when I barely understand myself some days.

Her eyes met mine, too perceptive by half. “Sounds like someone hurt you.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’d rather be alone in the middle of nowhere than deal with people. I know you took in a stray dog even though you’re pretending to be annoyed about it. And I know you’re letting me stay even though you clearly don’t want to.” She tilted her head. “That tells me something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“That your bark is worse than your bite.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my bite,” I growled.

The words came out harsher than I intended, layered with memories of times when my bite had been necessary for survival—when aggression and quick action had kept me and others alive.

Thunder crashed directly overhead before she could make some sassy comeback. It made her jump slightly. Max whined and pressed closer to her leg.

“It’s okay, buddy,” she murmured, stroking his head. “So, where am I sleeping tonight? Since apparently we’re having an extended sleepover.”

I swallowed hard, confronting the reality I’d been avoiding. “There’s just the one bedroom.”

“And you don’t have a couch.”

I knew it was odd, but the cabin only had the bare minimum of furniture. I did not want or need company.

She glanced around, as if hoping another bed might materialize out of thin air. “Floor?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.” My shoulder twinged just thinking about sleeping on the hard surface, but I wasn’t going to let her.

The doctors said I’d never regain full range of motion after the shrapnel tore through it. But I’d made it my personal mission to prove those white-coated bastards wrong. Every day, a little more wood chopped. Every day, pushing through the ache until it screamed. I had refused to be less than what I was before, at least in this one way.

Why? Because I was lucky enough to have the pain. I’d seen too many soldiers sent home in a wooden box. That was a harsh statement, but too true.

“Neither are you,” she countered. “It’s your cabin.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

Desert sand that worked its way into every crevice. Hospital beds with tubes and wires. Transport planes with the constant drone of engines. Compared to those, a wooden floor was practically a luxury.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t go all stoic soldier on me. It’s not impressive.” At my startled look, she added, “The military posture, the almost regulation haircut, dog tags you think I didn’t notice under your shirt. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

I wasn’t used to being read so easily. It was unsettling.

“Look,” she continued when I didn’t respond, “this is silly. Your bed is probably big enough for both of us, and Max can sleep between us.” She patted the dog’s head. “He’ll keep us honest, won’t you, boy?”

The suggestion hit me like a physical blow. Sleep in the same bed as this woman who had given me the first hard-on I’d had in years? With her scent surrounding me, her body just inches away?

“No,” I said flatly.

Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—I’m not propositioning you. It’s just practical.”

“I’ll take the floor,” I repeated. “End of discussion.”

She threw up her hands. “Fine. Be uncomfortable to preserve your precious boundaries. I don’t care.”

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