Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(40)
These thoughts rolled around in my head until well after my plate was licked clean. Well after the lights turned off and a Harley roared away.
I was painfully aware that Ian was in the same house as me. I had wished for him to be this close, pleaded for it. Now I didn’t know how to handle it. I even had the evil thought of wishing he was still over fighting some unknown war so I didn’t have to face the grim reality that was staring at me through the darkness.
I was in love with two men.
“Fuck this,” I muttered, throwing my covers back and slipping out my door. I wasn’t intending on going anywhere near Ian’s room, not with Gwen in the house. My mission was to locate either vodka or chocolate and either drink or eat my problems away. Said mission was foiled when I reached the kitchen and came upon a shirtless Ian sitting at the breakfast bar.
His eyes flared as he took in my nightgown. I self-consciously yanked it down. I don’t know why, the man had seen me naked for Christ’ sake. Plus I should have felt a little satisfaction at the hungry gaze that flickered over my lace-clad body. Instead I felt panic.
“What are you doing?” I whispered at him accusingly.
“Waiting for you. It’s about time,” he replied casually but his voice was gruff.
I crossed my arms. “I didn’t come here to see you,” I said.
“Yeah, I can guess what you came down for.” He shifted slightly to reveal the bottle of beer he was drinking and a glass of vodka. “I know you, Abrams,” he declared.
I narrowed my eyes. “You used to know me. Then you left and chose an unwinnable war over me. I’ve changed,” I snapped at him, snatching the glass from his outstretched hand.
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Not from where I’m sitting. You’re still beautiful. You’re still fiercely protective over my sister and you’re still sarcastic as hell. You’re still my Amy,” he said hoarsely.
“I’m not yours,” I snapped, “You made sure to let me know that a year ago.”
Ian sighed, standing. “I wanted to protect you, Amy. I wasn’t ready to leave the army. My duty. I didn’t want you resigned to the life of a soldier’s wife. Waiting for sporadic phone calls, only half living your life because of the way I chose to live mine.” He stood, moving toward me. “I wanted you to be happy, to have a chance to move on—not be stuck in one place waiting for me.”
I stepped towards him, pointing my finger at myself. “No, you didn’t do it for me. You did it for you. So you didn’t have to feel guilty for going over and satisfying whatever it is that makes you leave and risk your life.” I glared at him. “You didn’t even give me a chance. Didn’t give us a chance. You didn’t believe I was strong enough to handle it. I was. I would have been. Or I would have tried my f*cking best. It might have worked. It might not have. But you took that choice away from me,” I finished on a whisper yell. “And then after Gwen was hurt you came back and those nights—” My voice broke slightly remembering the silent, desperate way we made love, trying to comfort each other. “Those nights that we shared, I thought it meant something to you. Made you realize it was something worth waiting for. But no. It was off to war you went again, without a f*cking backwards glance!”
“I know!” he shouted. His raised voice echoed through the quiet house. I winced, hoping Gwen didn’t wake.
He stepped into my space and I held my breath. “I f*cked up. When I was over there I knew it. The second I left the airport I knew it. I thought I was doing it for your own good.” He caressed my cheek.
I flinched away from his touch. “Oh yes. Chivalrous freaking martyr Ian. He knows what’s best for me because sweet delicate Amy couldn’t possibly have a brain between her ears. Don’t patronize me. I’m not some little flower that needs protecting.”
“I know that.” Ian kept his voice even, controlled.
It pissed me off. It was always like this. We never had arguments. He didn’t react. Didn’t fly off the handle. I would yell and scream and he would just stand there stoically with his iron clad control. That was it. The control. With Brock there was no control. It was pure, unbridled passion. He didn’t worry about hurting my feelings. He threw the anger right back, not caring whether I could handle it or not.
“What are you expecting from me, Ian?” I asked. My anger hadn’t lessened but I needed to know. I was tired. Tired of the pain I had been carrying in my heart. Exhausted from the weight of keeping this from my best friend. I wanted this finished.
“Everything,” he said quietly. “I want everything we had. I want you. I want to make love to you like the world is going to end. I want to feel you break apart in my arms. I want to have you. I want to go to sleep in whatever shithole I’m in knowing I’ve got you waiting for me at home.” He stepped forward again, his eyes intense, but I retreated.
They were the words I had been dying to hear. When my love for this man had torn away all my dignity and I had begged him to give us a chance, all I wanted to hear was this. But now...I didn’t know what I wanted. A part of me wanted to jump into his arms and be engulfed in the comfort and strength of his love.
“What am I supposed to say to that?” I hissed. “You are a year too late, Ian. Did you think you could shatter my heart, then expect me to be cradling the pieces waiting for you to put them back together once you finally decided you wanted a woman waiting for you on the other side of this war? Fuck you.” I shot a venomous gaze at him, downing my drink and storming off.