Man of Honor (Battle Scars) Read Online Free PDF Page A

alcohol begins to send signals of pleasant numbness throughout my arms and legs, I lean back against the cushion and pull my legs up to my chest, facing Drake. I study his profile, noting again just how attractive he is right before he turns his head and meets my gaze.
    “Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me.”
    I squirm, discomfort settling hard in the bottom of my stomach. My tongue is looser now after three shots of tequila, and I speak without my usual guard. “I don’t hate you. I just…” My voice, already set in a whisper, fades away into nothingness.
    Drake leans toward me. His forehead wrinkles and his eyes go all soft in concern. He reaches out, but when I flinch away his hand drops down beside him. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression, and I close my eyes so he doesn’t see any more of what I’m trying so desperately to keep behind my high stone walls.
    “Mea…I didn’t hurt you that night, did I?” His voice is heavy, like he’s already carrying the weight of my past pain. His gaze burns into mine, like he needs the answer to this question more than he needs his next breath.
    I shake my head, wanting to reassure him. “No, Drake. It was…me. It’s always me.”
    He just keeps staring, and I need to ramble on. “I have rules, you know? When it comes to being with men. I don’t do anything more than a one-night stand. So seeing you again, after…it surprised me. I didn’t expect to ever see you again, much less have you so embedded in my life.”
    He nods slowly. But his expression stays soft as he scrutinizes my face. “Rules…about sex. Why would you need those, Mea?”
    The energy that constantly keeps me moving buoys me and I pop up from the couch and begin to pace. Drake’s eyes follow me, burning into my skin and burrowing deep inside me where I don’t want him to go.
    “I just do. Okay?” My face is defiant as I halt and face him once more. Silently, I dare him to ask me more so I can either fly out the door or completely shut down.
    Instead of pushing, Drake nods and pats the couch beside him. “You promised me a drinking partner.” He picks up the bottle and lines up two shots. Grabbing his, he glances at me, as if waiting.
    With just another moment of hesitation, I return to the couch and grab the shot. Drake holds his up toward mine and we clink. Then we both down the liquid courage in one gulp.
      
    An hour and two shots later, Drake’s big body is sprawled out on the floor beside the couch and I’m giggling uncontrollably at his imitation of my old roommate Greta’s fiancé.
    “All those Navy SEALs are the same.” Drake laughs, low and throaty. The sound of it does something chemical to my insides, making them melt in reaction to the sound of his voice. His forehead wrinkles as he adopts a comically stern expression, eyebrows pulling together. “I can swim three hundred miles in a hurricane! I’m a SEAL!” He punctuates his statement with a wild fist pump, and I dissolve into a fit of laughter. In my inebriated state, I roll right off the couch and onto the floor, landing directly on top of Drake. His hard, muscly form breaks my fall, strong arms instantly wrapping around me securely.
    For a moment, neither of us moves. His caramel-colored eyes turn molten. My eyes drink in every detail: his full lips, jagged scar, imperfect nose. Impossible male beauty up close and personal. My insides turn to Jell-O as my limbs betray me, beginning to tremble as all of his hard places line up with my soft ones in what seems like a dream. His eyes hood as a storm begins to brew within them.
    Jerking into action like a rubber band snapping back, I half-crawl, half-walk backward on my hands and feet. Kneeling a few feet away, I attempt to take a deep breath. But the alcohol working in my system prevents my head from clearing the way I need it to. I can’t be taken in by all of Drake’s gorgeousness and the pure sexual energy that exists between us. I’m in