Off Base(3)

Beck lassoed the groan trying to break free from his throat, yanking it back. The thought of her tossing around in tangled sheets...

Enough. This girl was doing him a kindness, and his mind could only muster inappropriate thoughts. Someone who looked, moved and spoke like her was probably on the receiving end of such thoughts on a regular basis. He wouldn’t repeat the pattern, although intuition told Beck she wanted him to. “I tend to agree, Kenna.” He nodded once. “You should always take the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Sleep is nature’s reset button.”

A laugh bubbled from her lips. “You aren’t going to fit in here, True Blue.”

The husky endearment made the wrench below his belt tighten. “It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be here long then.”

For some reason, his response seemed to remind her of something. She stepped toward the car, digging in her front pocket to pull out a jingling set of car keys. The action tugged the denim low—way too low—giving him a glimpse at the barbed wire tattoo circling her hips and the edge of sheer black panties. Beck’s mouth went dry as the desert he’d returned from. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she popped the trunk and lifted it. Her stomach muscles stretched, the shirt—was it even a shirt?—gliding up her taut stomach and tightening over her high breasts.

Beck swung the bag off his shoulder and held it over his lap before she could witness his reaction to her body. His hard-on was becoming a serious problem. It wouldn’t go away as long as Kenna was in the vicinity, and they still had the car ride to get through.

“Throw your bag in the trunk.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll hang on to it.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “The passenger side of my car will barely fit you, let alone all your earthly possessions.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll try and make do.”

With a shrug, she slammed the trunk and headed for the driver’s side door. Letting loose a relieved breath, he made his way to the opposite side. Keeping the bag in place with one arm, he opened the passenger door and immediately admitted she’d been right. Barely enough room for him and his bag. Not to mention the vicious wood he was sporting. Seeing no other choice, he dropped down into the seat, wedging the canvas bag between his thighs, the leather upholstery groaning beneath him as he did so.

He looked over at Kenna to find her battling a smile. “Seatbelt.”

“Heck.”

With considerable effort, he managed to wrap the strap around himself and the bag as Kenna watched with open amusement from the driver’s side. Once the belt clicked into place, she threw her right arm over his seat and started to back out of the parking spot. Beck caught a glimpse of her straining breasts and decided it best to stare up at the ceiling, but not before his erection grew swollen enough to steal oxygen from his lungs.

They exited the parking lot and turned onto the road. “So,” she said. “What did you miss most while you were gone, Major?”

Beck answered honestly, even though concentration was difficult. “My sister; she’s a nurse here on base. My dog, Moses. Buttered popcorn from the movie theater. My mother down in Georgia. Not in that exact order, mind you. My mother rates higher than popcorn.”

“I hope so.” She adjusted the air conditioner, not that he could feel it as his bag blocked the vent. Too bad, he could use cooling down. “You’re headed back to Georgia?”

“Yes, ma’am. Kenna,” he corrected himself. “Peach farming.”

“Huh-what?”

He smiled at her confused expression, relieved she’d given him something to think about besides his wayward anatomy. “My family has been in the peach farming business for six generations. I’ll be taking over operations from my grandfather. Soon as I make my way down south.”

“Peaches,” she murmured. “Peaches, a dog, mama and popcorn. If you tell me you don’t have a girl waiting for you back in Georgia, Major, I won’t believe you.”

His neck grew hot, an uncomfortable pit yawning wide in his stomach. “There’s no girl.” That wasn’t entirely true. There had been a girl at one time, but there wasn’t any longer. And while he didn’t feel the same regret he once had over it—heck, remembering her face got harder over time—discussing it in front of Kenna would only lead to pity. Embarrassment. Two things he didn’t want to feel from anyone, let alone this gorgeous, confident girl who’d probably never faced a single challenge in the romance department.

Beck could see her need to press battling with her nonchalance. “You sure about that?”

He started to say yes, he was sure, but he stopped himself. Since that day a year ago when he’d received the Dear John letter from back home, he’d unburdened himself to no one. Today marked a fresh start, away from the pressures he’d faced overseas and the tragedy he’d been living with on his conscience. Life after his service. While he might have mentally moved on in most aspects, the failure still sat heavily on his shoulders and he wanted to be free of it. Once Kenna dropped him off, she’d probably speed away, his name flying out the window of her muscle car along with his sob story. He eyed her. What was the worst that could happen? She pretended to be sympathetic and race back to her boyfriend?

Sweet Jesus, he didn’t like the idea of her crawling back into those sheets with a boyfriend.