Keeping a Warrior

by Melanie Hansen

  Devon peppered his cheeks with kisses while he calmed.

  “Sweetheart.” He finally pulled out of her with a groan and collapsed at her side. “That was amazing.”

  Chest aching, a lump in her throat, Devon brushed her thumb over his nape. “So good.”

  “Let me get rid of this thing,” he whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  When he got back, she welcomed him with open arms. He gathered her close.

  “This okay?”

  “More than okay.”

  Rhys’s fingertips traced light circles over and around her bare back. Devon was quiet, listening to him think. Finally she brushed a kiss over his jaw. “How about you?” she asked gently. “Doing all right?”

  “I’m—” He broke off. “I’m—”

  Feeling both on top of the world and scared to death, huh?

  “I know.” Devon kissed him again. “Me, too.”

  Before the doubts could overwhelm her and spoil the moment, Devon stretched out on top of him. “This is my favorite spot, I think.”

  “Why?”

  “Duh.” She gave a little wiggle, loving how he let out a tiny gasp. “Because you’re warm, hard...safe.”

  The last word sort of slipped out, but she forced herself not to retreat from his steady gaze.

  “I’m glad,” he said softly, reaching up to wind a lock of her hair around his finger. “And just so you know, this is definitely not casual.”

  “No,” she agreed just as softly, her eyes holding his.

  He drifted a thumb across her cheek. “I’ve decided I can live with the temporary, I think, as long as it’s not casual.”

  “Never.”

  Determined not to think of the end, of how it was going to feel walking away, she leaned down to kiss him, pouring every ounce of her longing—and regret—into it. She concentrated on tasting him, memorizing the shape of his lips molded to hers, the feel of his gentle, seeking tongue, the way his arms held her close.

  “So,” Rhys whispered when she finally dropped her forehead to his shoulder, “we should probably cram as much loving as we can into the time we have left, shouldn’t we?”

  Devon fought to keep her voice from wobbling. “Guess so.”

  “Good.” Slowly, sensuously, he ran his palms down her back to cup her ass cheeks. “’Cause now that I know this—” a light squeeze “—is what’s under those sexy little running shorts, I’m gonna have a hard time keeping my hands to myself.”

  “Ha. How do you think I feel?” She dragged her open mouth along his jaw, then down his throat to his chest. “Knowing this...” Taking hold of his cock, she started a long, slow stroke. “...is what’s waiting for me under that uniform?”

  The condoms were at the end of the bed by his feet, so Devon mouthed her way down his body, taking her time, at last pressing his knees wide apart. She nibbled the length of one inner thigh, then the other, until his back was arched off the mattress, abs tight.

  “You like that?”

  “Fuck, yes. You want me to beg?” he gasped. “Because I’m so about to.”

  Snagging a packet and ripping it open, Devon nuzzled his balls with her lips, reveling in his sharp intake of breath. She dragged her tongue up his shaft and flicked it teasingly along and around the swollen tip.

  “Devon!”

  Finally taking pity on him, she engulfed him in her mouth and sucked, letting the saliva drip down to ease the way for her stroking hand. She worked him hard, until his legs were shaking and his hips were moving, and then she eased off to nuzzle his belly and roll on the condom.

  Rhys was propped up on his elbows, eyes wild, face flushed, watching. She crawled her way back up his body and kissed him, groaning when he devoured her lips with unabashed eagerness.

  “Can you taste yourself on me?” she murmured. “That’s so sexy.”

  She poised over him, teasing her clit with the head of his cock and rubbing herself along the shaft. His hands rested lightly on her waist, flexing but not gripping, and when she took him inside, he reached up over his head to dig his fingers into the pillow.

  Gritting his teeth, Rhys seemed determined to stay still and let her set the pace, but she leaned down and put her lips to his ear. “Fuck me.”

  The words galvanized him into action. With a grunt, he dug his fingers into her ass cheeks, planted his feet on the bed, and thrust up into her. Hard. Over and over, until she was writhing on top of him, stuffed so full of him she was about to lose her mind.

  “Tell me how—” He groaned when she bore down. “Tell me how to make you come.”

  That pesky tenderness sprouted to life again. Putting her heart, as well as her pleasure, into his hands would be so easy...

  Without a word, she brushed her nipple against his lips, and he opened to take it in.

  His grunts of enjoyment while he suckled her, the feel of him stretching her wide, the tugging of his lips and teeth soon overwhelmed Devon, and she convulsed around him with a cry. Rhys’s orgasm followed right behind. She collapsed on top of him, loving how he wrapped her up in his arms and held her close.

  “Devon,” he murmured. “Beautiful, amazing Devon.”

  Burying her face in his neck, she breathed him in, storing up the memories for when she’d eventually have to let him go.

  Because this was only temporary.

  Don’t forget that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Doc? Doc? You’d better get out here.”

  Rhys struggled up from a deep sleep, completely disoriented. It was very early morning, the sun just peeking through the cracks in the walls, and there was a warm weight lying against him.

  “Gotta get up, Lee-Lee,” he murmured, full awareness returning the moment the words left his mouth. He froze.

  “Hmm?” Devon peered up at him quizzically, her hair tousled about her face, a sweaty red mark on her cheek where it’d been pressed to his shoulder.

  Oh, my God.

  Rhys was searching frantically for some words—any words—when Devon quirked her lips. “It’s okay,” she said, stretching. “You said the right name when you came, so...”

  He could feel himself turn a fiery red. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—”

  “I’d guess habit.” Devon shrugged. “How many other women have you woken up with in the morning?”

  Rhys didn’t want to think about Lani, not when Devon was now sitting up, the sheet pooled around her waist. Her breasts were deliciously bare, nipples pebbled from the early morning chill.

  “Devon, I’m so—”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “I get it. It’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t okay. Rhys was reaching out to take her in his arms when the thump on the door came again.

  “Doc? Got some people out here to see you.”

  “What the hell...?” With an annoyed grunt, Rhys raised his voice and called, “Just a second,” before pulling on his uniform and a T-shirt. He closed the curtain dividing the clinic from his sleeping area to shield Devon from prying eyes, and then he yanked open the door.

  His irritable “What?” died in his throat when he saw the group of people milling about the courtyard. The young Marine who’d summoned him grinned. “They were all waiting at the checkpoint this morning, saying they wanted to see the doc. They’ve been searched and cleared, so I guess they’re all yours.”

  With a cocky wave, the Marine jogged back toward his post.

  Sayed stepped forward. “These villagers heard about you helping the boy with the land mine injury, and now they’re here for treatment.”

  Rhys gaped at the crowd, mostly men, who looked eagerly back at him.

  Shit.

  “Tell ’em I’ll be right with them, will ya?” Hurrying back inside, he called to Devon to get dressed. As she did, Rhys told her what was happening outside.

  “Can you help me?”

  She shook her head. “They won’t speak about private, personal matters in front of a woman. Sayed will have to help, bu
t if any women and children come in, call me.” Devon tucked her T-shirt into her pants and then stretched up to give him a kiss.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “For the comfort, and the amazing sex, and the good night’s sleep.”

  He hugged her tight, the weight of his blunder sitting heavily in his gut. “Come see me later?”

  “Maybe.” She winked, then pulled open the door. “Salaam aleikum, Sayed.”

  “Salaam aleikum,” Sayed mumbled back, his eyes wide as she strolled past him.

  Rhys resisted the urge to stare after her like a lovesick puppy—they already had one of those in the platoon—and he cleared his throat. “Okay, please have everyone line up, Sayed.”

  For the next several hours, Rhys cleaned and stitched up various wounds, splinted a couple of broken bones and diagnosed a few cases of the common cold. The men were grateful, and Rhys received more than one invitation to dine with them at their home.

  After he finally sent the last guy on his way, Rhys went outside, blinking in the bright afternoon sunlight, to stretch and guzzle a bottle of water.

  “How’d it go?”

  Rhys turned to face Bradley. “Pretty well. I’ve been invited over for goat stew about five times so far.”

  “Good work.” Bradley clapped him on the shoulder, then waved his hand at a small group sitting on the ground not far away. With a start of surprise, Rhys could see Devon, a soft scarf about her head, holding a toddler on her lap as she chatted with the women.

  “Has she been talking to them all day?”

  “All day.” Bradley smiled. “Winning hearts and minds. Counterinsurgency at its finest. Plus healing some old wounds.”

  Rhys didn’t think Bradley would tell him anything, but he asked anyway. “You mentioned trouble with a previous platoon. What happened?”

  “Bah.” Bradley spat on the ground. “Couple bad apples. Liked to rough up the locals, take potshots at goats and kittens for sport, that type of thing.”

  “Holy hell.” Rhys was appalled.

  “Yeah. They managed to destabilize this area pretty well with their bullshit. Unit finally got transferred out and an Army Special Forces team was brought in to try and repair relations. This outpost is of strategic importance, so...”

  Bradley’s face softened as he looked at Devon and her group. “Maybe if they’d had someone like Lowe with them, someone to engage with the local women, it wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand.” He snorted. “But then again, maybe not. Guys like that don’t listen to anything but their own egos.”

  With that, Bradley excused himself, saying he was going to grab some chow and a few hours’ sleep since he’d been up all the night before.

  Rhys watched him go, grateful as hell he didn’t have the weight of responsibility currently resting on the young lieutenant’s shoulders. Not only was he tasked with carrying out the missions and directives of the higher-ups, but also for keeping his men in line.

  The previous platoon’s leadership obviously hadn’t had any control. Boredom and aggression had taken root, and toxic personalities allowed to flourish. In a country as fragile as Afghanistan, that’d been a recipe for disaster.

  Rhys winced, wondering how many village men had turned to the insurgency because of it.

  Because an insurgency doesn’t have to be defeated; all it has to do is survive.

  “Hey, Halloran!”

  He was jolted out of his musings by Devon waving at him.

  “Come fly a kite!”

  Kite? What?

  Competitive kite flying was a popular sport in Afghanistan, so he walked over to watch. “What’s up?”

  She pointed at a giggling group of preteen boys. “They’re challenging you to a competition. What do you say?”

  “Me? I don’t know anything about flying a kite!”

  “They’ll help you. Just go with it.” Devon’s eyes were shining. “C’mon, Rhys.”

  He hesitated a moment, then nodded, and instantly he was swarmed by chattering boys brandishing colorful, tissue-paper kites.

  “How about boys versus girls?” he called to Devon over their heads. “Winner gets a kiss.”

  “Girls aren’t allowed to fly kites, only boys,” she called back, then winked. “But I’ll give you a kiss anyway.”

  Rhys couldn’t understand what the boys were saying, so he just stood there smiling and nodding, until Sayed took pity on him and wandered over. He was a short, wiry man with weathered brown skin and a full, bushy beard.

  “You’re not just going to fly the kite,” he said to Rhys, “you’re going to fight with it.” Sayed indicated the thin wires wrapped around spools that the boys held. “The wire is coated with a special paste that has ground glass in it.”

  “Shit.” Rhys stared at him. “How do you win?”

  “Cut the other guy’s wire.” With a grin, Sayed said, “Just watch this first one.”

  The boys licked their fingers and held them up to gauge the wind, and soon two kites were airborne. They dipped and swooped with breathtaking skill, and Rhys cheered every time they clashed.

  It wasn’t long before the commotion brought some of the SEALs and Marines over to watch, and then they were all getting kite fighting lessons. The boys wore delighted grins that stretched from ear to ear as the Americans gamely tried to duplicate their skill, and they patiently jogged to retrieve crashed kites over and over.

  At last Matt managed to sever the wire of Shane’s kite and it was whisked up into the sky by the wind. “Ha!” he crowed, pumping his fist, caught up in the excitement. Shane just rolled his eyes.

  It was funny, Rhys thought, how much he enjoyed watching the two of them together. They were stubborn, and fiercely competitive, traits that all SEALs had in spades. Neither one of them wore their hearts on their sleeves, yet there was a palpable current of affection that crackled between them during those rare times they were quiet enough to let it show.

  Most importantly, they were professional, focused, their relationship—of necessity—secondary to the needs of the team. Rhys trusted them both with his life.

  “Azadi! Azadi!”

  “That means free-flying kite,” Sayed explained, laughing as the boys took off running after it. “Chasing an azadi is almost as much fun as fighting with them, and it’s an honor if you catch one!”

  The confines of the outpost cut the fun short as the azadi soared over the Hesco barriers and fluttered away, but the boys were all smiles when they returned to start the next battle.

  When the last azadi was whisked away on the wind, a couple of the SEALs ran to get some cases of MREs, which they handed out to the eager children, along with some bottles of sports drink. Rhys bristled when a few of the boys took the girls’ away, snatching them right out of their hands.

  “What the hell?”

  Devon approached him, still wearing the soft scarf covering her hair. “In some Pashtun families, boys are prized more than girls,” she explained matter-of-factly. “This is probably how it is in their homes; they get to eat first and as much as they want before the girls get to eat.”

  “Fuck, Devon.” It broke Rhys’s heart to see the empty-handed girls sit quietly, used to the treatment. “Will you—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll see that they get their share.” Devon patted Rhys’s arm. “Otherwise, we can’t interfere.” She hesitated. “That woman on the end, she’s a widow who supports her family by making these kites. Can you get the guys to ante up?”

  Before the words had even left her mouth, Rhys was making the rounds of the dudes who’d participated in the fun, and soon he had a fistful of American dollars. He pressed them into Devon’s hands. “Is this enough?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Her voice was soft. “And I think I owe you a kiss.”

  Her cheeks were pink from the wind and the excitement, her lips chapped and lightly coated with dust, but to Rhys she’d never looked more beautiful. Gulping, he murmured, “I’d love to collect. Meet me at my place?”

&n
bsp; “Soon as I can.”

  Rhys pitched in to help clean up the trash from the impromptu kite-flying playdate, amazed at how carefully the kids gathered up every scrap of paper, every stick, so as not to waste a thing. He made sure they had all the broken-down cardboard they wanted, and soon the group of them trotted off, followed more slowly by the girls and women.

  Watching them go, Rhys couldn’t help but wonder—how many of those women would now go home to their families and speak positively of their time on the outpost? How many young fighting-age men would hear the words of their mothers, their sisters, their wives, and maybe resist the siren call of those calling for jihad?

  He glanced at Devon. And it’s all because of you. Your courage, and kindness, your heart.

  His own chest tight with pride, Rhys headed for his hooch to wait for her. He washed his hands and face as best he could, queued up some downloaded music on his laptop and then settled his hips against a table to wait.

  It seemed an eternity before there came a soft knock on the door, and Devon slipped inside, her hair free of its scarf and loose around her shoulders, her own face scrubbed clean. Without a word, she moved into his arms and they went into an impromptu slow dance, bodies swaying.

  “Hey,” she whispered at last. “Thanks for being such a good sport this afternoon.”

  He chuckled. “It was a blast, really. Good to see kids just being kids.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” With a sigh, Devon put her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. “This is nice.”

  After another few moments, Rhys gathered his courage and croaked, “I’m really sorry about this morning. Really sorry.”

  Devon stroked his nape with her thumb. “It’s okay. I told you I understood.”

  He groaned. “But I still feel like shit. It won’t happen again.”

  At that, Devon lifted her head and gazed up into his eyes. “If you could, would you get back together with her?”

  Taken aback, but knowing Devon wouldn’t want an immediate, flippant answer, Rhys thought about his words carefully before he said, “If you’d asked me that even a month ago, I would’ve said yeah, I’d be open to it. But now—”