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Nine
SAVAGE
Sleep won’t come.
I don’t try to force it any more. When I was on active duty, sleeping wasn’t a problem. I could’ve slept standing up if it was necessary to get the energy needed to complete the mission, but now? My thoughts aren’t as easily silenced.
And for once, they’re not torturing me with images of the past, the mistakes I’ve made, the people I’ve lost, and—the rest.
Tonight, it’s Hannah caught in my mind. She’s tiptoeing through it, in those pink PJs, talking too much, saying too little, and telling me everything I need to know without words. She wants me. But she doesn’t actually want me. She wants my body, she wants the thought of me, rather than the reality of what I am.
I check the time on my watch.
It’s past three in the morning, and it’s been hours since I got here.
Lying here isn’t achieving anything. So I push myself up and walk through to the kitchen, keeping quiet so as to not wake Hannah. I pour myself a glass of water and drink it, then make my way to the bathroom but stop.
A noise. Imagined?
No. I trust my instincts.
That was something, but what was it?
Soft and?—
A tiny, muffled moan penetrates the quiet.
My hands ball into fists. What the fuck?
Another moan. Coming from Hannah’s bedroom.
This can’t be happening, but it is. I’m inches away from the door to her room, which is right across from the bathroom, but I can’t move.
Because she is in there, and she is moaning. And I swear to fucking God, it is like every part of me is on high alert, like I’m living for the next sound.
I take a step toward the room and stop myself.
She wants you.
You can’t.
I won’t.
This could be anything. This could be her having an inappropriate dream, and she doesn’t need me hanging out around her bedroom listening in on her private?—
“Yes.” Her voice is laden with desire, muffled, so quiet, that I definitely wouldn’t have heard it if not for the fact that I had gotten up. “Savage, please.”
Fuck. Oh my God. Holy fuck.
I’m in front of her door, my hands at my sides, staring at it like I can see through the wood. Like I haven’t pictured her touching herself, touching me, a million fucking times in the last couple of years.
“Savage,” she whispers, and her moan is punctuated by the wet sounds of her playing with herself.
My cock is hard as rock, and I bite the back of my fist to keep myself from kicking that fucking door down and taking her.
Hannah’s breathy little moans, accompanied by those forbidden fucking sounds, are driving me to the brink. I press both my fists to the doorjamb, either side of her bedroom door and hang my head, staring directly at the wood.
You can’t. You won’t.
