No, there was no if about it. He had. Or at least he’d managed to shift something mountain-like inside her in a mere ten minutes. What was she supposed to do with these sucky, yucky feelings? Just watch him disappear into the barracks, effectively letting him get away with it? People—men, especially—usually took one look at her storm-trooper-meets-Cyndi Lauper look and wasted no time lobbing innuendoes at her head like mud-covered softballs. She never cared because those dudes all blurred together in a rippling sea of douchebags. This guy wouldn’t blend. He’d confided in her, and she was heavy with that responsibility. She…liked being heavy with that responsibility, which made no damn sense.

At the top step, Beck turned his head, catching her gaze through the windshield. She would go to her grave thankful that no one was in the car to hear the noise that left her mouth. It went something like ohhhnooowhuu. If he’d managed to keep the entreaty from those intense blue eyes, she might have driven off and endeavored to forget about Major Beck Collier, virgin extraordinaire. But it was there, even if he didn’t realize it. He needed someone. Someone kind and compassionate. That someone definitely wasn’t her, but he sure as shit needed someone, and there was no one else around.

She watched him tug a single key from his canvas bag and open the door. He ducked beneath the doorframe and vanished a second later. Kenna didn’t realize her fingers were digging into the steering wheel until they started to hurt. A sense of urgency danced in her ribcage, fluttering rapidly, slowly climbing into her throat.

“Goddammit.” She swiped a hand through her dark, messy hair before pushing open the driver’s side door and stepping out.

The morning chill had begun to dissipate, the ground soaking up the minimal heat and reflecting it onto her denim-clad legs. This parking lot was usually buzzing by now, but the Sunday silence amplified the sound of her boots clomping along the asphalt, echoing the nervous knocking inside her ribcage. On the second floor, she could see Beck had left the door slightly ajar, almost as if he’d hoped she’d follow. Please let that be the case. Otherwise this move was a smidge on the creepy side. She’d only signed on to be his transport, not his kick-it buddy.

Decision is already made, Kenna. Too bad she didn’t have a clue what she would do once they were in the apartment together. She had no game plan. Or exit strategy. But she knew driving away would feel awful if she didn’t do something, so she followed in his footsteps up the stairs, like one of those cartoon characters floating along on the aroma of fresh-baked apple pie. Or peach pie, as it were.

“Hardy har,” Kenna muttered, stopping outside the door. Since when did she hesitate to do anything? To celebrate her eighteenth birthday, she’d gone streaking at the annual Army/Navy football game. Scaled the local water tower, spray-painting Kenna was here…with beer on the side. As a welder, she worked with fire, for fuck sake. Being nervous around a virgin was flat-out unacceptable. Even if he was Bigfoot-sized. After a full-body shake to loosen her nerves, she pushed the door open. When she saw Beck, her chest squeezed so tight, she swore it was wringing itself dry.

He stood still in the center of the dim, dull, undecorated apartment, bag at his feet. His hands were propped on his hips, head tipped forward. Lonely. He looked so lonely. The wrongness of that rose like an angry tide over her and immediately, she had a game plan.

Although, it felt nothing like a game.

Kenna squared her shoulders and breezed into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen. If someone hadn’t stocked the place with basic food staples for this man, she was going to raise hell next time she saw her father. “I decided to hang out for a while, Major. You’re welcome.” She tugged open the refrigerator door, pleased to see a loaf of bread, butter, cheese. A six-pack. “You hungry?”

She didn’t wait for his answer, but started piling ingredients onto the counter. Thank God she had something to do with her hands because after a full minute, Beck still hadn’t answered. Bad move. This had been a bad move. For all she knew, he had plans. Or—

“Kenna.”

His gruff voice came from right behind her and the fluttering in her ribcage moved lower, so she didn’t turn around in case it showed in her expression. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to do this. I can make myself a sandwich.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” She threw a pack of Kraft singles hard onto the counter and crossed her arms. “Someone should be here to welcome you back. It’s not right.”

The stretch of silence was driving her crazy, so she turned to face him…and forgot how to inhale. Starved. He looked starved for something other than food. His pupils had swallowed the blue of his eyes, throat working up and down, even as he kept his gaze determinedly above her neck. Who was this man?

“It was my choice,” he said. “My choice not to burden anyone. Not just yet.”

Kenna took a step closer, and he sucked in a breath. God, the effect she was having on him…it thrilled her, made her legs go weak, but at the same time she felt his acute pain. Frustration. “You don’t seem like the type to be a burden,” she muttered. “The exact opposite, actually.”

“I appreciate you saying so.” There it was. He slipped. His attention falling to her breasts for the barest of seconds before racing back up. When he spoke again, his jaw was so tight, she could hardly understand him. “But it ain’t true. What I came back with, what I failed to do…it’ll be a burden on everyone soon enough.”

Curiosity demanded she question him, but his words stopped her. She was the queen of avoidance and understood his need to delay the inevitable. Whatever it was. She also knew exactly how to distract him from thoughts of being a burden. It was why she’d followed him upstairs, wasn’t it? Yes, she could admit that now. Admit to this irrefutable need to smooth his frayed edges, to make up for the betrayal he’d experienced. It was this man inspiring the need to provide solace. No one else could have done it.

Kenna reached down and took his hand, leading him from the kitchen. As they passed through the brown-on-gray living room, she scowled, hating the dust motes in the air. The lack of character. She knew the moment Beck realized she was leading him to the bedroom because his breath began rattling in and out behind her. His hand tightened around hers as if he wanted to pull her to a stop, but couldn’t find the will. When they cleared the threshold, Kenna let go of his hand and kicked the door shut.

He shook his head as she toed off her boots and slowly approached. “W-what are you doing?”

She pushed him into a sitting position on the bed, raked her fingers up his massive thighs. “I’m welcoming you home, Major.”

* * *

Beck reached deep inside himself, searching for the extra slack in his rope. Can’t find it. Can’t. He’d reached the end. Resisting her might have been possible before she’d touched his legs, but no one had ever touched him there on purpose. Not so close to his dick. Christ above, was she going to touch him there? He held his breath, head falling back on his shoulders as her touch inched higher, higher. Please touch me. Grab me hard.

Just before she reached his lap, her hands detoured up the front of his uniform jacket. Beck released a shaky exhale and she laughed softly. Knowingly? When she reached the top, he tipped his head forward again to watch her undo the buttons. One by one, she popped them open, green eyes steady on him as she worked. His severe disappointment that she hadn’t touched his throbbing erection gave way to awe. What was this gorgeous, electric girl doing here with him? Her face was mere inches from his, her mouth so ripe. So delicious looking, while at the same time a little…bad. The kind of mouth he dreamed about at night, alone in his bunk as he stroked himself off. He shouldn’t be thinking of her—parts of her—as an object. What was wrong with him?