Lust in Translation (Harbour Point SEAL Series Book 1) Page 16

  “Maybe that we’re both here,” I growl. And we are now and we were then, and it had to be for a reason, even if it was only that I saved her life.

  She signs, “Together.” Tears fall down her face as she rises from the bed and faces the wall. I hate that I can’t see her face. It’s a blindness that I never minded before, but now it’s too much. I get out of bed, keeping a hand on my bed to make sure I’m steady. The acoustic nerve damage also fucks with my balance sometimes.

  “Turn around,” I say. Her shoulders jump. I spoke louder than I should have. I try again at a lower tone, but Kendall folds her arms across her chest and doesn’t move.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  She whirls around and jabs a finger in my chest. “You.”

  Maybe it’s the fury at the situation that clouds my restraint, or maybe because I’m a man who has nothing left to lose, but I make a rash decision. Stepping once, I close the distance between us. My hands slide down the sides of her body to end on her hips. Everything inside and outside of me responds to Kendall in my arms. My dick hardens, the air charges, her breaths cascade across my face, taunting me—teasing the beast that has lain dormant for years.

  My lips crash into hers because she closes the distance first. I close my eyes and find I’m not afraid of the darkness here. Not while her tongue slides against mine or when my lips own hers. I press my hard-on against her stomach and let the fuck go. I remember all of the times I wish I could have touched her, kissed her, claimed her as my own when she was my friend to cherish instead of my body to fuck. So much of myself was boxed and stored on a shelf in the name of being a good guy. For her. For her marriage. For what I thought would help her heal. She didn’t need another swinging cock trying to bed her. She needed a friendship. Now, though? Kendall. Is. Mine.

  “I fucking want you so bad it hurts,” I say, pulling away from the kiss to read her eyes. The second her lashes flutter open, I see the condemnation of my soul. I vowed to never touch another man’s woman, and she is no longer a wife. Maybe I’ve always felt that she’s never been a wife because of how she reacted around me, but there aren’t any strings tethering her elsewhere. “I love you,” I whisper, or what I believe is a whisper into the side of her sweet-smelling neck. Her perfume assaults me, driving my need further—making the ache unbearable. I let my hands glide down to cup her ass and pull her against me as I kiss and lick the hammering pulse in her neck. I feel it. I taste it. I can almost hear it.

  Kendall pushes me back, her shirt askew and her jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, the top of her panties waving hello. “Are you sure?” she signs slowly, licking her lips, eyes a deadly hue of fuck-me-now. I swallow hard. Fuck. Wildest dreams meet reality.

  “I’ve always been sure, but you need to know you’re not my biggest mistake.” Through the hazy lust beating between our bodies, she manages a smile. “Not making you mine all those years ago was my biggest mistake.” The smile transforming her face widens.

  Neck working as she swallows, she takes a step into my arms. I take both of her hands in my own. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. It’s unfamiliar, a welcome change. She looks up at me. I’d give anything to hear her breaths right now. To be close to her with every sense, but maybe I can get used to this. She signs okay with her hands still inside mine.

  If she’s determined to self-destruct alongside me, I should let her. I can be selfish if it makes her happy. Can’t I? It feels as if my life has been composed of work, filling my free time, and waiting for Kendall. Those three things. When I lived in Bronze Bay I was waiting for her to be of legal age. Transferring home and losing all connection with her shattered my soul to pieces, pieces I was willing to live with because of my love for her. Reconnecting with her and finding out she was married was torture. Waiting for her to leave Adam and to finalize her divorce seemed like it took ages. I’m looking at her right now and it feels like my moment. Our moment. Something monumental.

  I remember the day I found out she was expecting. A man pining might hear that news and write off a woman for good. End of story, right? I remember sitting there in that fucking Bronze Bay diner everyone goes to listening to someone tell me about Kendall’s pregnancy and impending wedding thinking ‘Well, I have always wanted children.’ That’s how bad I’ve had it for the woman. Accepting her in any form was always my only option. Even when I dated other women, there was never moments of comparison because I knew, deep down, my heart would always belong to her. Before I met her, if you had told me I would love a woman I had never kissed, let alone made love to, I would have called you a liar. Whoever is playing chess with human life has a sense of humor, we’ve made it here and I’m deaf. My hearing was the price I had to pay for her. That’s what I’ve reckoned.

  Kendall sees me. Knows what I want. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she presses her lips against mine. A thousand, vapid thoughts course my mind as the kiss deepens. How long it’s been since I’ve fucked. How badly I want to see her naked. When was the last time I washed my sheets? Her hands wander my chest, my abs, back up to the sides of my face as she requests more of me. We back up to my bed and I pull her down on top of me. She straddles my waist and breaks away from the kiss at the same time. Her eyes are lazy, her lips rosy and plump from my teeth…my kiss. Kendall signs something.

  “What? Say it so I can watch your lips,” I reply, dragging my hands over her thighs.

  She talks slowly, and signs the same thing again.

  I shake my head. “Kendall, I have condoms in my nightstand and lube in the kitchen cabinet next to my pots and pans. Anything else is a moot fucking point right now.” I run my hand over her high thigh and glide my fingers on the edge of her panties.

  She scowls and says, “Kitchen?” Then she signs, “Why?”

  I laugh. “Let’s get back to the point here. I’ve been waiting for a long time to have you. I have no clue what you said. I could pretend you said fuck me now, make sweet love to me, or take me to the promise land. Which one is right? One, two, or three?”

  Kendall licks her lips and holds up four fingers. Sighing heavily, I fold my arms behind my head. “What’s option four?”

  She signs something, her lips moving slowly as she goes. “As much as I hate to have your body off my dick, you need to go get the marker board because I have no fucking clue what you’re saying.” Frustrating deafness is tainting my wildest dreams at the moment. Kendall moves off me and grabs the fucking board. She buttons her pants before she writes, and my stomach turns.

  “Please, God, do not get dressed,” I say as she writes. Kendall doesn’t look up. She bites her cheek and tries to ignore my pestering as I harp on her for taking too long. I decide not to move a muscle in hopes we resume where we left off before so I can’t see what she’s writing.

  The board slides onto my lap and I catch it before it hits my deflating dick. “I want you to learn sign language and I’m not above using sex to get what I want. You need to learn. It’s been four months. The odds are not in your favor. The longer you wait, the longer you stay disconnected. Let me teach you. Please.” Her words ring of truth, yet my first thought is denial.

  I sit up, quirking one brow. “You’re not going to have sex with me until I learn sign language?”

  She looks coy as she shrugs and signs, “Maybe.” I know that one. Then she writes more on the board. I read as she goes this time. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Mostly when I shouldn’t have wanted you. Do I want to have sex with you right now?” Kendall meets my eyes and I see her answer. She nods furiously, and writes, “More than anything in the entire world, but I want to be able to communicate with you all of the time. That includes during sex. Please.” Fuck. When she puts it that way it makes me seem like a huge asshole.

  “If I say no, what then?”

  Her gaze skirts away—to the window. She erases slowly and writes, “I’ll leave. If you can’t do this for me. For yourself, then there’s no way we can build something together.”

  I r
aise both brows. “Ultimatums, huh? Anyone ever tell you people don’t respond well to ultimatums?” The ship is sinking. Fast. I could lose her.

  “You’ve forced my hand. I’ve tried everything. You’re learning. You recognize stuff already. It won’t be hard for you. Is that what you’re worried about? That it will be hard?” she writes quickly.

  “No,” I say, standing from my bed. Pacing to the bedroom window I stand, hands perched on my hips. “If I learn sign language I’m giving up a part of myself, Kendall. How can you not understand? It’s like waving the white flag. I’m giving up the whole hearing world. I’m assuming the label of deaf man. It’s admitting defeat!” I lose my breath. Screaming the truth out loud forces me to reconcile what I feel with what I need. “Losing my whole identity is not attractive. It’s. It’s...horrifying. Everyone will stare at me trying to use my hands to talk. I’m used to holding weapons to protect our nation. Our freedom. It’s not a kind of normal I’m used to. It’s as if I’ll belong to a whole different world. One I never signed up for. That’s why I don’t want to learn.”

  I can tell my words are upsetting Kendall. Her chest rises and falls as she fastens her hair back into a ponytail. She signs quickly, and like any foreign language, I pick up parts and pieces. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips form delicate shapes around her teeth as she lays into me. “I can only guess at what you’re saying right now,” I announce, cutting her off.

  Kendall throws up her arms and takes residence in front of the marker board. Her hand shakes as she writes. “I can’t even fight with you properly. Don’t you get it? You need to join the world. I’m done writing notes on this stupid board. No one is judging you except yourself. And me, because of what a stubborn asshole you’re being. I’m going in to work. Do you want to come with me?”

  That’s where she has the curriculum to teach me. If I say no, I’m another step closer to losing her. I hate that she’s right. I hate the bright sun beating down on her tear-filled eyes. I hate that I’m the reason she’s crying. Yes is on the tip of my tongue, but my pride speaks instead, “No. Just get out of here.”

  Because there’s no curtains on my window, I get to watch Kendall tear out of my driveway. She doesn’t look back. I close my eyes and sink back into my mattress and pull the covers up to my chin.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LEO

  IT’S BEEN A MONTH since I last saw Kendall. I know I’m going to see her today because I’m heading into the administration building to work through some of my medical discharge paperwork. I started driving regularly again, and I despise the fact that I’m learning to handle life after hearing quite well. As I park in a spot in the parking lot, I’m hit with a bout of déjà vu. I’m taken back to the day when this lot was covered by a blanket of white snow and terrorists lurked around hoping to kill anything that breathed. I shove the sense of dread down and close my car door. I’ve only been on base a few other times since that day, and my Dad drove me those other times. Today is different. Today I face the future head on.

  I am a deaf man. I have no future as a Navy SEAL. They cannot use me for anything. Even if they could, I wouldn’t want the half-baked tasks they might come up with to keep me on the payroll. I want to feel the rush of adrenaline as I stand shoulder to shoulder with my brothers as an equal. I’m a has-been. A washed-up special operator with nothing substantial to offer. There is no symbiotic relationship anymore. I would be a hazard to not only my own safety, but those around me. I’m an asshole, but I’m not selfish with regard to life, and I want my teammates to live long lives.

  Carrying my medical file, I enter the building and am immediately on alert. I peer down the hallway to the right—where Kendall’s office is—and see that her door is open. Someone taps me on the shoulder and I spin. It’s Margaret. She’s wearing a neon pink sweater and her lips match. I smile.

  “Hey, Margaret, you ready for me?” My heart rate ratchets up and my palms sweat. She nods, and takes the file from my hands. She extends an arm to her office and I walk in the opposite direction of where my heart is leading me.

  When I sit in front of her desk, she hands me a tablet and begins typing.

  A message pops up. “How are you doing? How are you feeling? I’m going to go make copies of everything and we should be in and out of here rather quick. Type a message in this program if you have any questions, okay?” It’s in the same program Kendall used to teach foreign language.

  “Sounds good. Is Kendall in today?”

  Margaret gets uncomfortable, the ligaments in her neck straining, and her lips purse. “I don’t know if she’s in her office,” she types to me.

  “Come on. Give me a little bit more than that. I haven’t seen her in weeks. Is she doing okay?”

  “I have to make copies,” Margaret sends back, standing from her computer to stride to the back of her office where the copy machine is. It’s a thick document. Copying is going to take a while. She has a tablet with her so she can type back if I speak.

  I clear my throat as she rocks back and forth on her low, sensible heels. “Margaret, I don’t think I ever thanked you.” I close my eyes and rub my temples. “For hiring Kendall. I knew she would be a good fit here, and well, she’s better off now.” Without me, I think.

  Margaret looks even more prickly, leaning against the machine as she types. “You knew Spanish, Callaway. The whole thing was wrong. You’re just lucky she turned out to be a hard worker. A wonderful addition to our team here. Don’t thank me for anything. She’s qualified. Over-qualified. A wonderful employee who always goes the distance. I should be thanking you.”

  “It was a favor, though, at the core. I appreciate you giving Kendall a chance.”

  Margaret startles and looks to her cracked office door. I glance over my shoulder. Kendall is standing in the doorway, a towering, furious woman who looks like she wants to star in a Slaughterhouse movie. Fuck. Kendall is seething. She heard what I said.

  I stand, putting my palms up. “Kendall, you didn’t see what Margaret wrote me. You only heard a one-sided conversation. Here,” I shove the tablet toward her. “Read it.” And if she didn’t hear, now she knows. I’m such a dumbass. The loss of my sound forces me to overcompensate. Before, I would have waited to see what she said before asserting myself. I don’t have that luxury anymore. All in, all up front.

  She shakes her head, and clasps her hands in front of her. “You hired me because he told you to?” Kendall tosses her head my way, but doesn’t meet my eyes. I’m better at reading lips now. I’m also better at sign language. I began a course online and have been studying nonstop after Kendall left me. I’d never admit I made a mistake by turning her down. Not yet, anyway. Not now that I can see she’s doing fine without me in her life.

  Margaret says, “No, he merely suggested you as a potential candidate. That’s all.”

  I try shoving the tablet into Kendall’s hands once again. She takes it and her eyes fly over the words. I see the hurt in her eyes. My betrayal. Because I wanted to be closer to her. I needed her in my life every day. Even in a friend capacity.

  “You knew Spanish?” Kendall says, her accusing, blue eyes meeting my gaze.

  Sighing, I say, “Si, Senorita. Well enough. Listen, they brought you on for Spanish and I knew you were looking for a job because…your mom called in secret and asked me to put in a good word for you. It was innocent, I promise you.” I lay a hand on my chest. “I promise you.” I sign. Her gaze flits down to my hands and her eyes narrow.

  “You sign now?”

  I sign. “A little.”

  Kendall shakes her head and responds to something Margaret has said.

  I interrupt. “Kendall.” I stand from the chair.

  “What?” she says, while signing. “I’m so angry with you. With all of this. I am never good enough. Not in any area of my life. I should have known this was too good to be true.”

  It’s hard to keep up with her because she’s signing quicker than she used to, but YouTube
has been my friend and I’ve watched so many signing videos I’m able to discern what she’s said. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I say, and sign at the same time. I sign much slower than I talk, though, so I finish speaking first. “She said you were over-qualified. Read the message again. I merely asked if she had received your resume for the position and told her you’d be a good fit. That happens all the time in the civilian world. People hire people on other’s recommendations. That’s how the world works. I lied about knowing Spanish only because, well, because Magnolia also said you needed a friend and I missed you. I’m not sure if she meant me. Actually, I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean me, but figured I was more qualified for the friend position than anyone else might be.”

  “Awful vain of you,” Kendall signs. “As usual, right?” Turning to Margaret, she speaks to her. I don’t need a translator to know that Margaret is backing me up, giving Kendall reassurance. She closes the door and sits in the seat next to me while she bombards her boss with questions. She has purposely moved her face so I can’t read her lips, and she’s not signing.

  Finally, she heaves a sigh and shakes her head. Her blue gaze finds mine. “You don’t know how to do anything normal, do you?” she signs.

  “Oh, so I’m allowed to be in this conversation now,” I deadpan, raising a brow.

  She scowls, her hands shake as she signs, “You think I care about manners right now? I’ve been lied to.”

  “You are successful at your career here and you have me as a friend. Or, had me as a friend. You stopped coming by so I’m not sure where we stand on that front.”

  “You are impossible to be around, Leo!” Kendall breathes furiously. Margaret leaves the office, her eyes wide and her shoulders slouched. She closes the door behind her. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. I thought whatever there is between us might be enough to knock some sense in you. It was my last good hand to play. You told me to get out.” Thankfully, she’s slowed down her hands a bit. Probably because she sees me staring at them so hard they might fall off. “And because you’re such an asshole, you decided to teach yourself. You don’t want me. Now it’s blatantly clear.”