Soraya Lane - The Returning Hero

His expression changed, his face sad. “Is it better with Bear here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

“You still want me to stay tonight, don’t you?”

Jamie nodded again. Relief took away the tightness in her shoulders as she realized she was actually going to have someone in the house. That Brett, one of the people she trusted most in the world, was going to be sleeping under her roof, protecting her, letting her have a good night’s sleep without her worrying about every creak or rustle outside the window. Without her thinking someone might find their way into her home.

Brett smiled when she stepped back, and he walked into the house and locked the door behind him.

“I’ll just bunk on the sofa,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

“I can make up the spare bed,” she told him, flicking on a light and fumbling in the pantry for coffee. “I don’t want you being uncomfortable.”

“Hey,” Brett said, coming up behind her and taking the coffee. “You go sit down, I’ll make us both a cup. I’m sure your head could do without all the movement, might help the pounding stop.”

His hand over hers made her freeze, and she resisted the urge to push back into him, to rock her body back into his like she was so desperate to do. She craved his touch like a desperate woman who’d never had the pleasure of a man before.

“Go sit on the sofa,” he ordered, voice low.

Jamie reluctantly did as she was told, listening to Brett as he moved around the kitchen. She flopped onto the big sofa, tucked up against a cushion, eyes back on him as he stirred two cups and then carried them over. He placed them down and went to sit on the armchair.

“It’s way more comfy over here,” she told him.

He hesitated before coming over to sit beside her. Jamie tucked her feet up and changed position, her body against Brett’s instead of the oversized cushion. Now she had an oversized, warm, muscled man to lean into.

“Thanks for tonight,” she told him.

“My pleasure,” he responded, staying still but looking down at her.

Jamie knew she was still a little drunk, that she needed to just sleep it off and not do anything stupid, but ever since she’d kissed Brett at the bar, on the cheek, she’d thought of nothing other than his lips; his full, kissable lips.

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached up to touch his face, tracing her fingers over his mouth before leaning on him and putting her lips there. It was a sweet kiss, a warm kiss, a kiss that made her skin tingle. And it wasn’t easy to pull back from. Brett didn’t resist, didn’t push her away, but he didn’t move closer, either. He just moved his lips enough for her to know that he was kissing her back, that he wanted it, too. Or at least that’s what she wanted to think.

He didn’t say anything when she pulled away, and neither did she. Brett reached for a cushion, put it at the end of the sofa and leaned back into it, letting her fall down against him. She put her head against his chest, tucked up beside him, like a cat purring into his hold as he put his arm around her.

She should have gone and found a blanket to keep them warm, but she didn’t want to move and Brett was warm and snuggly even without anything covering them. Instead she shut her eyes and let sleep catch her and wrap her in its equally warm embrace. She couldn’t have fought it if she tried, and Jamie had a feeling that for once she might actually sleep through the entire night without waking, terrified, like she usually did.

* * *

Brett stared down at Jamie. She was asleep, he could hear the change in her breathing, but it didn’t make him even close to being sleepy himself.

Jamie, Sam’s wife, had just kissed him. And he’d done nothing to stop it and everything to encourage it.

Granted, he’d had a lot to drink, but not enough to make him drunk or to make him forget that she was forbidden. Even Logan had reminded him, just in case he’d managed to forget himself, that she was the one woman he wasn’t supposed to think about, like that. And yet she’d come on to him and he’d willingly accepted her advances.

But then he’d known he was a goner tonight from the moment she’d traced her fingers down his inner arm, along the words of his tattoo, and he’d known he was incapable of doing the right thing when she’d kissed his cheek in the bar. The heat of her breath against his skin, her warm lips, the look in her eyes...like she wanted him, trusted him and needed him, all rolled into one stare. Into one gentle touch that he found one hundred percent irresistible.

Brett groaned, but there was no getting away from her, not now that she was clutching his shirt between her fingers and her head was tucked against his chest like it was her own personal pillow to snuggle up into.

The light in the kitchen was still on, but unless he could teach the dog how to turn it off, he was just going to have to shut his eyes and do his best to ignore it.

He caught sight of Bear watching him, head between his paws, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Brett told him, scowling.

He didn’t need a damn dog to make him feel even more guilty than he already felt.

“And don’t you be forgetting that I saved your life,” he muttered, before shutting his eyes.

The truth was that Bear had saved all of them that day. He’d stopped after Sam had sent him out, body dead-still, tail quivering, head cocked to the side. It had been Bear who’d alerted them to the bomb—only trouble was that it wasn’t a standard improvised explosive device. This IED had been remote-detonated, most likely from a local hiding where they hadn’t been able to find him. Someone watching, in wait, to explode an entire 4x4 full of SAS soldiers, wanting to blow them all into pieces.

Sam and Brett’s dog had been the casualties that day, so maybe he should be showing Bear some respect and thanking him for saving his life.

He shut his eyes, knowing sleep wouldn’t come easily, because it never did these days. If he managed to fall asleep, he’d wake up in a sweat and twisted in his sheets, mind full of the darkness of that day he was trying so hard to forget. And then he’d lie awake, scared of shutting his eyes again because of the memories that flashed like scenes from a movie beneath his eyelids.

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