Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(50)

The light from the dash showed how his lips pressed together. After a long pause, he said, “I was a sniper and good at it. Killed a lot of the enemy. I caught a bullet, was on medical leave. After thinking about it, I didn’t re-up.”

Short and terse, yet the words seemed drawn from the bottom of his soul. Something in there still bothered him.

And why was he telling her? Because he disagreed with the limits she’d placed on their…whatever this was?

“Being out of the service doesn’t solve everything, or can even make things worse.” She left the comment without following up with a question. It was up to him if he wanted to tell her more.

Lord knew, she wouldn’t judge him weak. Although she hadn’t had problems afterward, others she’d served with had struggled.

“No shit.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “That’s how I met Z. Did you know he counsels vets now and then?”

Actually, she hadn’t known.

“The VA is improving, but then—and now—a lot of us needed more. I was drowning; Z pulled me out. And still keeps an eye on me. On all of us. The night Jessica went into labor was a group session night.”

“Ah.” Anne was grateful he couldn’t see her teary eyes. Z’d got him straightened out—and won himself the kind of loyalty that few men receive.

As she stroked her hand up and down Ben’s arm, his taut muscles loosened. Apparently, he’d worried what she might think.

She was thinking that he’d shared something he considered very personal. Why?

After a second, she chuckled.

“What?”

“I know you didn’t enjoy being outted by my brother, but I have to say that all by yourself, you made that slimeball Robert look bad. I appreciate it.”

His grin transformed his face from Rottweiler to magnetic. “Had a few in my squad who had no judgment or had no guts. Your cousin lacks both.” Then his smile faded. “Be careful, Anne. It’s not wise to have a f*ck-up at your back when you walk into danger.”

He was not only serious…but his concern for her showed all too well.

“I will.”

She was half-asleep when he pulled into her under-the-house carport.

With Bronx beside him, Ben helped her out of the car, then with a hand at her back, unlocked and opened the door…and waited.

Half-asleep she might be, but she knew that letting him stay the night would be a bad, bad idea, even if the thought of having his big body in her bed and those strong arms around her filled her with longing. They’d agreed on sex-only.

Sleeping together was more than that.

So she lifted up on tiptoes and gave him a brief, firm kiss. “Good night, Ben. Thank you for driving.”

She could see the desire in his eyes, the urge to grab her and take a longer kiss, to haul her upstairs.

Bending, she gave the retriever a quick head rub. “Good night, Bronx.”

“Can I talk you into a scene at the Shadowlands this weekend?” he asked.

She’d like nothing better, but he was as close to vanilla as a person could come. And he wanted to be more than a submissive, more than a slave—a real lover.

She only wanted a slave.

“No, Ben. But since you’re an expert at burning off calories, I hope to do that again sometime.”

“I see. Ma’am, I’m available whenever and however you desire.”

She had no answer to that.

To her relief, he only tilted his head, kissed her cheek lightly, and trotted down the steps to his vehicle. Bronx whined his doggy disappointment, then followed.

She closed the door and stood with her hand on it, listening as the sound of the Jeep faded away. Her sigh came from deep inside because all she felt was regret.

Maybe, maybe someday, she could allow herself to see Ben again. Depending on how he reacted in future encounters, she might even treat them both to a shallow, sex-only marathon. Nothing more intimate would be wise.

Especially since she was feeling the same attraction as he was, which meant it would be too easy to create a different kind of bond.

She mustn’t lead him on. He was an incredible man, one who deserved better than she could give him. One who had a lot of love to give.

But he wasn’t a slave.

She turned and picked up her saxophone and carried it out to the deck. The moon was setting, leaving the glittering stars in command of the dark sky.

She blew a few tentative notes and settled into the old “Funky Blues.”

Maybe she should have tried to explain to Ben. Tell him that just liking a person wasn’t always enough. She’d learned the hard way.

True, she hadn’t had very much experience with “love” relationships. She’d dated while in the Corp and been thoroughly unsatisfied…until a Domme had introduced her to the lifestyle. Her lips tilted up. The initial rush of discovery had been amazing.

Out of the service and in college, she’d fallen for a great guy—one who wasn’t submissive. But vanilla simply didn’t work for her, and as their relationship slowly failed, they’d both been hurt.

Lesson learned. To her, sex without being in control was like…like the desert. Dry and flat and barren. Sure, there were moments of beauty, but she was a tropics gal—she wanted the lush scenery and the changing violent weather of a D/s relationship.