DISARM (DISARM Series #1) (4 page)

He had his
back to me so I was able to leisurely look over his muscular back, from his
wide shoulders that tapered down a lower back sporting two dimples that dipped
below the waistband of his jeans.

He turned
around, wiping his chest with a balled-up shirt. “Hey, what do you want to do
tonight?”

Hmm, what
did
I want to do tonight, apart from the obvious? “I was just going to eat a peanut
butter sandwich and read a book,” I said as casually as I could.

He raised
his eyebrows. “You sure? I was going to order a pizza.”

My eyes
flicked down to his torso—he had the nicest six-pack abs of anyone I knew
in real life—before I looked away. “I’m sure.”

He cocked
his head. “Come on. I’m leaving next Friday. Spend some time with me.”

Well crap,
why did he have to put it that way? Still, his words helped because the
impending deployment was the sexual damper that I really needed. The fact was,
he was leaving and I should be spending time with him. “Okay, fine,” I said
with an exaggerated sigh. “But please put a shirt on.”

He grinned
and lobbed me the phone. “Call the pizza place, will you? I’m just going to
jump in the shower.”

Henry and I
ate sitting on the carpet, leaning against the suede couch. The couch had been
Jason’s first major purchase and had ordered a five-foot no-food radius around
it when it was still brand new. After his death, it became a ritual we observed
to preserve Jason’s memory.

I put on a
movie about superheroes as we ate, glad to have some distraction for a while.

“If you had
any super power,” I asked. “What would it be?”

“What would
I choose, or what would I be born with?” he asked, balancing a beer bottle
between his legs. “Because if I was born with a superpower, I’d say it’s being
really, really ridiculously good looking.”

I threw a
crumpled napkin at him. “No, I meant what would you choose?”

He took a
large bite of his third slice of pizza and chewed a moment before saying, “I
would choose the ability to fly.”

“Huh, I
would have chosen invincibility for you.”
So you could come out of the war
unscathed
, I wanted to add, but didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“So I can
sneak into your shower and see you naked?”

I smacked
his arm. “No,
invincibility.
”

“Oh,
that
invincibility,” he said with a laugh, looking happier than I had seen him in
months. He took a swig of beer then said, “So hey, are we going to talk about
what happened this morning?”

The
question caught me by surprise and my brain struggled to come up with an
elegant response. “I, uh…”

“Because I
think the elephant in the room needs to be addressed,” he said. “And I’m not
referring to my colossal size.”

I burst out
laughing, finally finding my voice. “You’re not that large, my friend.”

“How large
would you say then?” He held his hands two feet apart. “So about this big,
right?”

“Riiight.”
I chuckled, feeling the embarrassment melting away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know
what
that
was about.”

“I think
that was about your hand on my dick.” He laughed at my shocked reaction and
continued, “Would you rather I call it my phallus? My Hammerjack? How about my
porksword
?”

I spit out
my drink, having never heard the last one before.

Henry’s
eyes glinted with mischief. “For the record, you are more than welcome to churn
my butter any time. Seriously, morning, noon, night, whenever.”

My laugh
caught in my throat as his words painted a very vivid picture in my overactive
imagination. I took a large drink from my glass of water, torn between changing
the subject and pressing him for more details about what I could do with his
penis.

I started
when he pressed the cold bottle of beer to my cheek. “You’re all red,” he said,
his face suddenly closer than I remembered. He touched his thumb to my cheek
and traced along my jawline. “Have I ever told you that I love your complexion?
It’s like milk, so creamy but always quick to take on color.”

I couldn’t
breathe. I didn’t know what the hell had happened to me, but somewhere between
finding out his secret and waking up with my hands in his pants, I had devolved
into someone who could barely form a coherent sentence. I didn’t want to be
that girl who got all googly-eyed when an attractive guy paid attention to me,
but I couldn’t react to his nearness any other way. Henry had me stupefied.

When his
thumb traced my lower lip, I lost it. Or rather, I let that thin wire of
control snap. I spanned the space between us and kissed him, and he,
thankfully, didn’t pull away. Instead he grasped the back of my head and
deepened the kiss, our tongues a slippery, tangled mess. He gently bit down on
my lower lip then pulled away, giving me that dark, heated look I’d fantasized
about. “Elsie, I…”

I waited
for the rest of the words, but he said nothing else. He just ran a hand through
his hair then rubbed his forehead.

“What is
it?” I asked, ready for him to get it out so we could get back to kissing
already.

“This can
get complicated,” he finally said.

“It doesn’t
have to.”

He looked at
my lips for a long time then, with a sigh, finally met my eyes. “We’d better
not,” he said, leaning his head against the couch and closing his eyes. “I’m
sorry.”

4
 
|
 
DETONATION

I couldn’t
sleep that night, my brain on overdrive from the porksword fondling and the
kiss and what Henry said about complications. He was leaving in eleven days and
would not be back for half a year; it wouldn’t do us any good to start anything
now, especially something as tricky as sleeping together.

But a small
part of me wanted it anyway, wanted to push through the barrier that had held
us back all these years and find out what the hell was on the other side. All
of these years I’d held my crush at bay, thinking that nothing could ever
happen between us, that we were forever banished to the friendship wasteland.

What if
there was somewhere else, a terminal in between where we could be together in
body and keep our hearts separate to not endanger the friendship? Did such a
place even exist?

I finally
fell asleep when I came to the only logical conclusion, the possibilities
filling me with a sense of hope.

The next
day I came home from work with a plan and a bag of take-out from Chili’s. I
pulled out plates and started setting the food when Henry came walking out of
my bedroom wearing camo pants and a tan undershirt that hugged his muscles.

“What were
you doing in my room?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He held up
a pistol leg holster that I’d used last Halloween when I’d dressed up as Lara
Croft. “I was getting my stuff together and couldn’t find my other holster. And
lo and behold, it was in your room.”

“Sorry,” I
said. “I guess I forgot to return it.”

“Ah yes,”
he said with that sexy, sliding look again. “You can have this one if you would
just wear that costume everyday.”

I was
thinking up of a suitable retort when the food caught his attention. “What’s
all this?” he asked, standing in front of the counter.

“Just
wanted to remind you of what you’d miss out on while you’re gone.”

He dipped
his finger in the barbecue sauce and sucked it into his mouth. “You are not
playing fair.”

I leaned
over the counter and pressed my arms together, just like I’d done at the bar,
the v-neck of my wraparound dress the perfect frame for my assets. “Hey, when
you’ve got ‘em, use ‘em.”

Henry’s
eyes tried their damndest to stay out of my cleavage, but in the end, the
gravitational pull was too much. He swallowed, frowned, then tore his eyes away
from my chest. “What are you doing?”

I held his
eyes, trying to convey my message. “Reminding you of what you’d miss out on.”
My heart pounded wildly as he studied me, his expression changing from doubt to
desire.

After what
seemed like forever, he pushed away from the counter and stalked over to my
side, placing his hands on the edge of the counter, essentially trapping me in
place. With his face mere inches from mine, he asked in a pained voice, “Do you
have any clue what you do to me?”

I shook my
head, but I really did.

He took a
half step closer, pressing his erection into my stomach. “You drive me insane,”
he said in that gravelly voice. He lowered his head and I felt his breath on my
neck, on my ear. “You make me want something I can never have.”

My breath
came out in ragged gasps when I said, “I’m all yours, Henry.”

His hands
grasped at the skirt of my dress, balling them up in his fists. “I’ve wanted
you for the longest time, Elsie,” he said. “If you’re unsure about this, tell
me now and I’ll step away and we can go back to pretending that everything’s
the same.”

The hem of
my dress rose a few more inches up my thigh as he gathered more fabric in his
hands. I was transfixed by the curve in his upper lip, the way they offset his
thick lower lip.

“Elsie,
tell me,” he ground out.

I pulled on
his dog tags and brought his face to mine. “I want you just as much as you want
me,” I whispered against his lips.

His hands
gripped my butt and lifted me up on the counter at the same time his head
dipped down for a kiss. He slid my dress up my thighs, his palms warm on my
skin, and suddenly, his hands were inside my lace panties. I gasped when his
fingers found my entrance. He pushed one long finger inside, and I squeezed him
as I moaned.

“You really
want this?” he asked, uncertainty still evident in his voice. Or maybe he just
liked hearing me beg. He pushed another finger inside and started a slow and
slippery stroke. “Or this?”

“What do
you think?” I asked, knowing I was soaked.

“I think,”
he began, flicking his fingers upwards in an exquisite way that made me gasp,
hitting just the right spot.

“That—”
Another flick.

“You—”
I gasped.

“Are—”
I squeezed him hard, intensifying the sensations.

“Sexy—”
So close.

“As fuck.”
With that, he began to move his fingers rapidly, and after only several
seconds, I threw my head back and came around him, my legs and my insides
trembling as he kept up the assault.

I grabbed
his head and kissed him, moaning into his mouth. “I want to feel you inside
me.”

He
hesitated, glancing at his bedroom, when I grabbed his head and kissed him
again. “I’m on the pill,” I said. “And I’m clean. Are you?”

“Oh yeah,”
he said and swept me up in more kisses. I unbuttoned his pants and slipped a
hand into his boxer shorts, wrapping my fingers around his hard shaft. He
gripped my wrist, preventing me from stroking him.

“No. I want
something else.” He pulled down his pants and boxer shorts, his large cock
flying free.

I looked
down at it properly for the first time, impressed not only with its length but
its girth. Henry was a big boy with a big toy to match.

“You
ready?”

When I
nodded, he pressed the head to the entrance and then slid inside in one clean
stroke. I gasped, feeling so full I could burst. I squeezed him as he pulled
almost all the way out, then slid back inch by delicious inch.

I pressed
my mouth to his neck to keep from screaming out loud, my body a jittery bundle
of raw nerves.

“Elsie,” he
said between his teeth, his hands on my butt as he began to increase the pace.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and he sunk in even deeper. “You feel so
fucking good,” he groaned against my hair.

I came
again, the orgasm bursting through my body like a white-hot tidal wave. Henry
gave a little grunt and pumped faster, gripping me so tight against him he was
very nearly lifting me off the counter. With one final thrust his body went
rigid and he pressed his face into my neck, trying to catch his breath. I
grasped the back of his head and held him tight, never wanting to let him go,
wanting to keep him inside me forever.

After a
moment, he looked up, his eyes an ocean of emotions. He looked grave when he
said, “There’s something else I haven’t told you.”

My heart
stopped. It couldn’t possibly take more bad news, not now.

“I’m in
love with you, Els,” he whispered, as if afraid of being heard. “I’ve loved you
since that day you first cut my hair.”

Instead of
dealing with the startling confession, I jumped right into the memory, when I
was just fifteen and Jason and Henry were about to head off to college. Henry
had always sported longer hair that sometimes got so long it brushed his
shoulders, but he needed to have short hair for ROTC. Since our mother wasn’t
home, I was the only one qualified to use the shears, so I had performed the
difficult and heartbreaking task of buzzing off all of that beautiful dark,
wavy hair. I had felt his eyes on me through the mirror but kept my focus,
careful not to send Henry off to college with a wonky buzz cut. Sabotage did
occur to me in a moment of pure selfishness—thinking that the college
hussies might leave him alone if he had a bald spot on the side of his
head—but ultimately I could not do it. I was already defacing something
beautiful, cutting off the thing that bound us together, and couldn’t possibly
mar him even more.