But now he was touching her, her bra unhooked, his hands everywhere. Gliding over her rib cage, gently brushing the curve beneath her breast. She moaned, arching into him, moaned as his hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples. She was wet, achy, ready to say to heck with a blanket.
For a few minutes, she didn’t fight the drugging kisses or the enticement of his hands on her body. Jennifer was lost. Lost to kissing Bobby. Lost to his touch. Lost to the need to touch. Her hand slid over his crotch, over the bulge of his cock. She wanted him inside her. Oh, yes, inside her. Here, now.
A low, feral growl escaped his lips as she stroked his cock with her hand, spearing his tongue into her mouth. And it was the kiss—the wild, dark quality of Bobby’s kiss that pierced the passion, bled into her soul. Called out to her in warning. She was losing him again. He was going to hurt her. Again. Hurt her again. Somehow, her palms steadied on his arms, and she shoved away, tearing her mouth from his.
“No,” she gasped. “Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut against the scream of her body telling her to “go,” not “stop.” She forced her eyes open. “What is it, Bobby?” she rasped, her throat thick with desire, barely recognizable as her own. “What’s wrong?”
The twinkling stars were barely seeping through the tree limbs, casting a reflection on his face.
“Nothing,” he said, his hand sliding along her hip and tempting her to forget her objections. “The idea of taking you in the wilderness turns me on, is all.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, the edge about him beginning to fade. “Let’s go see my father, so I can properly satisfy my craving—in your bed for now. We’ll come back to the wilderness.”
Nothing was wrong. But something was wrong. He knew it and so did she. They’d marked the tree with their names, but not with a guarantee of happiness.
***
CARVING THEIR NAMES in that tree with Jennifer had been the moment he’d made the incontrovertible decision—he was not going to reenlist. He was going to spend the rest of his life finding places like this one to share with Jennifer. No more traveling to a different country at the blink of an eye, barely remembering his real name, forgetting a holiday, forgetting his birthday. Missing Jennifer’s. No more blood all the damn time. He was ready to be done with the blood. Especially that of men he considered friends. But Jennifer wasn’t convinced. He could see it in her eyes. She didn’t believe he was staying. She wasn’t ready to give him her trust. Which brought to the surface the bitter reality of seeing his father, refusing to let him forget why he’d enlisted in the first place. And so he’d wanted to find a way to forget, to bury himself inside Jennifer under that tree—their tree—and forget visiting his father. Forget the past. Instead, Bobby was remembering all too well. He had to remember, he had to embrace what was, to find what could be. To prove to Jennifer he was worth the risk of opening her heart again.
He parked at the side of Joey’s Garage, not about to announce his arrival. Streetlights and exterior lighting illuminated the area, but not the darkness of dread. He’d face his father on his own terms. And considering he preferred a “never” time frame to the apparent immediate one, that wasn’t going so well.
Only yesterday he’d believed Jennifer had a right to see what he might become. Now, it was all he could do not to turn to Jennifer and remind her he wasn’t his father, that he had simply let a toxic relationship press his buttons, or maybe he needed to remind himself.
“I’ve met him before,” Jennifer said softly, as if she’d read his mind.
“You met him, yes,” Bobby said, turning to her, “but it was brief and you got lucky. He was half sober and in a good mood.”
Jennifer squeezed his hand. “I’ve dealt with Marcie’s prewedding mood swings for weeks now. I can take your father for a short visit.”
“All right,” Bobby said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She reached for her door. “Ready?”
He reached for her, his fingers around her neck, kissing her. He drank in the flavor of her, the sweetness that was so her, the sweetness that gave him a reason to face the bitterness of his father.
Long moments later, he forced himself to draw back, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, his voice firm with resolve. “Now I’m ready.” Bobby had every intention of proving that to Jennifer. And to himself.
17
JENNIFER ROUNDED THE front of the car to meet Bobby at the hood and stopped dead in her tracks as the sound of a low growl met her ears. She grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Stop.”