Page 24 of Light on Love
Laurel wakes with a start, surprised by the darkness that has filled the room. She checks her phone on the nightstand to find that she’s slept through dinner and her heart stutters. She needs to find Brett. Laurel jumps from bed, the pain in her ankle screaming as she moves.Okay, I also need to find more ice.
As she limps down the stairs, she notices no lights on in the house. What had he thought when she wasn’t there for dinner? Laurel turns into the living room and stops in her tracks.
Before her, in complete darkness save for the fire he’s absently staring into, is Brett. With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he’s sitting sprawled out on the couch. Her heart stutters again as he looks up and notices her, a dark look in his eyes.
“I accidentally took a long nap,” she offers lamely, limping into the room.
Registering the limp, he bolts up. “I hurt you again.” His voice is strained as he comes to help her to the couch.
“No, this was my inability to walk up a hill. I swear it wasn’t you,” she says quickly, remembering the promise to tell him if anything hurt in training.
Brett sits her down and comes to sit beside her, taking her legs and swinging them onto his lap. When he looks up at her,his eyes are filled with hurt and worry. “You promise I didn’t do this?” Brett’s voice comes out in a whisper.
She nods, laying back as he examines her injury. “What are you doing sitting in the dark?” she asks.
“I thought you were avoiding me after...” he trails off, his hands dropping from her leg. “After earlier today. I’m sorry it shouldn’t have happened.”
“The kiss,” Laurel says. She doesn’t need to ask what he’s referencing. Brett nods as she sits up, pulling her legs in and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Is it me?”
He lets out a hollow laugh. “Is it you?Yeah. Actually, it is, Laurel. That’s the thing. You are devastating!” He takes an unsteady breath, and when he speaks again his voice is slower and more controlled.
“You are devastating, honey. And since you arrived here, all I do is worry about you and want you. I want you so bad it’s killing me. But you came here for protection, you didn’t come here for me.” He drags his fingers through his hair and scowls into the fire.
“You might not be what I came for,” she says gently, “but since I arrived, it’s only you that I want.” Laurel sits forward on her knees and takes his face in her hands. Brett looks at her with relief and warmth in his eyes, making her stomach somersault. This strong, selfless man is relieved that he could be wanted. It’s enough to make her heart break.
Brett wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her up to straddle his lap. The feeling of him between her legs makes her flush with anticipation. Still cradling his face, she leans forward and brings her lips to his jaw, planting soft kisses up it.
When she reaches his ear she whispers, “you are just as devastating, cowboy.” Laurel can feel him tremble beneath her. He grips her hips as she pulls her face back to look into his eyes.She only glimpses the look of need for a second before he brings his lips to hers, a low moan deep in his throat when they connect.
Capturing his lip in her mouth, Laurel can taste the whiskey on him. She licks and savors him as his hand comes up to tangle in her hair. She gives in to her need, rocking her hips against him. Brett’s other hand, still on her hip slides easily under the satin shorts and she shudders at the feel of his strong, rough hand on her skin, his thumb making circles against the front of her hip bone.
Laurel leans into his touch, needing more. A whimper escapes her when he presses his thumb against her hip bone and trails it downward along her groin. “There’s my favorite sound,” he growls. “All I could think about all day was the different ways I want to make you utter it for me.”
“Do I get to hear some of these ideas?” she breathes.
“I was thinking I’d surprise you,” he murmurs against her collarbone.Brett frees his hand from her hair and begins unbuttoning the flannel when suddenly, the house tremors. The sound of a boom fills the silence of the valley. Brett freezes, listening and calculating as another reverberation rings out through the night.
“Listen to me, honey. Go upstairs to my room. Not yours, mine locks. I want you to go in and lock the door and wait for me in there. You do not come out or open that door until I say. Understand?” His voice is filled with urgency and all she can manage is a nod in return.
His lips are on hers once more, the kiss frantic. Then he lifts her from his lap and heads for the door. Laurel doesn’t wait, she moves as fast as her injured ankle will allow her up to his room as instructed.
Once inside, she locks the door and leans against it. Sliding to the floor, Laurel allows the fear to wash over her. Now all she can do is wait.
14
Breathe, she tells herself. Her heart pounds with such ferocity, Laurel believes it may rip right out of her chest. She hasn’t heard another explosion since the two before Brett left, and she tells herself that’s a good sign.
Still sitting on the floor, Laurel takes in his room for the first time, as much as she can without daring to turn the light on. A king size wood canopy bed sits in front of her with grey bedding and flanked by black nightstands. Beside her is a wood dresser that matches the bed frame and, in the corner sits a leather armchair.
On the wall beside the chair, something glistens in the moon light. She squints at it, realizing it is a row of medals highlighting his valor in service. Laurel stands to approach them for a closer look.
She counts eight Silver Stars, two Navy Crosses, and a Medal of Honor. Gaping at the awards, she tries to imagine what Brett has endured to earn this many stars and crosses. The Medal of Honor, she knows, is near impossible to receive. If she recalls correctly, less than ten Navy SEALs have ever earned one in history. If he can survive all these operations, what’s happening outside will be nothing for him, she reasons to her anxiety.
Unable to bring herself to lay in his bed without him, she instead curls up in the leather chair. Trying to settle in, Laurel listens frantically for any sound that could clue her in on what might be happening. She tries to quiet her breathing to better hear, but she’s still met with nothing but deafening silence outside, and her racing pulse thrumming in her ears.
—
She’s lost track of time staring out into the night sky, waiting. Then there’s movement below. Someone is outside the house moving in an unsteady gait. Her lungs seize, knowing that’s not Brett’s casual, confident stride.