Morningstar Quickies

Tagged by the soldier

The drilling beneath my feet almost makes me scream. I can't hear my own thoughts, let alone the people that call the office with questions.

"Hey." Uh-oh, I haven't heard that voice in a long time. In fact, probably about a year ago has been the last time.

I swivel in my chair, looking at the beautiful, dark-haired soldier before me. He looks haunted, less happy than I remember him. Not being able to help myself, I jump up and throw my arms around his neck. He squeezes me tightly, holding onto me longer than I would've held onto him.

"Damn, I haven't realized how much I missed you," I admit honestly and he cups my cheek

"I saw that you were busy ... and that the competition is quite..." He's searching for the right word and I think of Mason and Blake.

"Handsome?" I offer.

"Not ugly," he grins and I finally move back to my chair while he stands across from me, leaning against the wall. He looks thinner, too, than I remember.

"People have been asking about you since the moment your story was over," I remark and his eyes skip to the window, focusing somewhere far off.

"What did you tell them?"

"That you left me for good," I joke. It's what I have been thinking for a while. I was sure Jazz and I were done.

"What will you tell them now?"

"That you left me for good and came back to give me a peck on my cheek and prove that you're alive?" It's not a statement, but a question instead.

"So you expect me to just leave again?" He comes over and bends to look over my shoulder at the screen. "I've so much to tell," he murmurs, and I hold my breath. He smells so good and his nearness is clouding my senses.

"I know," I breathe, sounding much more turned on than I feel. I clear my throat, trying for some professionalism. I mean, I can't fall in love with all my boys, and...

Jazz rubs his nose gently up and down my cheek before brushing his lips across the same spots.

"Come on, you know you want to," he begs, his voice down to a soft growl. I'm sitting frozen in my chair, wishing for so much more than just a few words from him.

"Jazz..." My body trembles as he nips on my shoulder.

"Give in," he coaxes.

"No." My protest is weak, barely there.

He peppers little kisses along my neck, making goose bumps spread.

"Give in, Sammy," he reinforces.

No... This time it's not a word, it's just a breath...