Malta with My Best Friend’s Dad by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Nineteen

Kelly

I stand at the window and watch as the plain-looking car drives down the road, alongside the ocean and out of view. Nerves swirl around in my belly, but I can’t deny the shiver of excitement that shimmers beneath it all, as my body sends whelming contentment, heat, and passion surging through me.

We’re alone, completely alone, for the first time in a week.

I turn to find Kane standing on the other side of the living room, wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his forearms tense and throbbing like he’s ready to charge across the room at any second.

“Are you ready for our date?” he asks, stalking across the room, his movements measured as though he doesn’t trust himself to act too quickly or he’ll snap.

“Are you sure she’s safe?” I murmur.

“I wouldn’t dream of putting my daughter at risk,” he says quickly. “Jocko is one of the most highly-qualified SEALs I know. He’ll hole up and call me if it comes to that, but it won’t. He knows what he’s doing. All we have to worry about is…”

He trails off as he comes to a stop bare inches from me, so close I can feel the heat of his body radiating from him, sending warmth cascading through me.

“Us,” I finish in a whimper.

“Us,” he repeats in a growl.

Reaching up, I grab onto his chest and dig my fingernails in, feeling how his muscles bulge. I’ll never get tired of how solid my man is, how every part of him pushes against me like he’s carved of stone.

It’s hardly midday yet, so it’s too early for dinner. But Kane takes my hand and leads me over to the table which overlooks the small enclosed garden, the high walls blocking out the rest of the world. The flowers are fragrant and the creepers are wild, giving the garden a jungle look, as though mirroring the entanglement in my heart.

As we sit, Kane leans forward and strokes his fingers along my face. “Don’t worry, Kelly. Jocko’s going to text me every fifteen minutes to let me know everything’s okay.”

I reach up as the tingles dance through me, pushing his hand firmly against my face, savoring the feeling of his touch. “It’s not that.”

“I know.” He nods. “But the only other choice is to tell her, and you said you’re not ready for that.”

Fear flutters through me and I find myself smiling – smiling away the discomfort and the responsibility and the pain. I put everything into this moment, closing everything else away, not letting myself think about it lest it tear me to pieces.

“What I said was we need to try and get bored of each other,” I sass, reaching for some of the Maltese bread he’s laid out on the table. I begin to butter it as I arch an eyebrow at him. “So maybe we should get to work.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes alight.

It’s crazy how we can do this to each other, pluck us out of the anxiety of what we’re doing, of the line we’re crossing, so that we don’t have to think about how truly messed up this is.

When we’re together, nothing else exists, nothing else matters.

And even if that’s a traitor’s thought, this feels like destiny, a secret voice whispering that it’s so tantalizing that my dreams have come true.

I just hope my nightmares don’t come true as well when we tell Lena. If we tell Lena.

“Kelly?” Kane says, in a tone of voice that tells me it isn’t the first time.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “I was off in the clouds. What did you say?”

His eyes darken for a fraction of a second, as he reads me – as he reads where my mind drifted off to.

But then it’s my turn to read his expression, and I watch as he visibly decides to put that issue aside for now.

“I said I don’t think you could ever bore me,” he growls, as he butters a slice of Maltese bread.

“Oh really?” I banter. “What if I started talking about my favorite color, really droning on and on about it?”

“What is your favorite color?” he asks, leaning forward with a smirk touching the corners of his lips.

“You’re not really interested.” I giggle. “I was just purposefully trying to be boring.”

“It turns out I’m less interesting than you, then,” he says, with heavy irony in his voice. Nobody could ever call Kane Konstantinov uninteresting. “Because I want to hear every little thing about you, Kelly. I could listen to you talk about your favorite color for hours.”

“Maybe I’ll really test your patience then.”

“So?” He chuckles huskily, making me think of the way his breath picked up last night when I had his manhood in my mouth. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

“It’s red, because—”

“Because that was the color of your karaoke unit when you were a kid,” he interrupts.

My heart gives a flutter, dancing around inside of me, sending motes of joy surging through me.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he says, staring at me as though nobody and nothing else exists.

“Yes. You are. How did you know?”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head slowly. “There’s lots I don’t understand about the way I feel about you, Kelly. I’m done questioning it. You’re just… you’re perfect, and I need you, and if I can’t claim you I know I’ll never be able to stand it.”

“What about you?” I whimper, as my lips tingle and my heartbeat thunders at his words.

“My favorite color?”

I nod.

“Military-green,” he says. “That color will always be special to me. I wore that uniform for so many years. And I was proud of it, so damn proud. People think you have to be in Special Forces to really see some shit, but the men and women I served with were the best of the best. We worked alongside Special Forces, SEALs, you name it… But we were always Army when you got right down to it.”

My heart expands as I study his face, reading the passion there, the way his voice booms and fills the room.

“You should be proud,” I murmur. “Lena used to talk about how you got some of your medals. I remember she said how you carried two of your friends across an open road, under enemy fire, to get them to safety.”

His jaw tenses and for a moment look flashes across his intense eyes. “Yeah, that was one motherfucker of a run. But I had to do it. I couldn’t leave them out there, screaming for help. But luck was on my side that day.”

I reach over and grab onto his hand, unable to fight the emotion whirring around me, making it impossible for me to think about anything outside the preciousness of this moment, this breath, us.

“It wasn’t luck,” I whisper, squeezing tighter and hoping he can feel all the pride and affection surging through me. “It was you, Kane. You don’t have it in you to let anybody get hurt. You might be gruff and… and a freaking animal. But you’re kind too.”

Part of me screams to whip those words back, to tame the love surging through me.

That’s what this is, and I can’t deny it anymore.

Love, love, love.

Touching every part of me, flaring to life and moving around me so that I can’t fight it, can’t even try to fight it.

But I won’t allow myself to say it, to cross that line and possibly destroy what we have…

Even if destroying it might be the most responsible thing I could do.

For Lena.