Always a Warrior

by Patricia Bruening

  "Lust, Damien?” She mentally cursed her weak breathless voice. “I told you. I can't do that again. I don't want to make another mistake."

  You already did, her inner voice snidely reminded her. You fell in love with him.

  She clutched his upper arms, just above his elbows, and pushed. He loosened his hold but did not release her.

  "Please, Damien,” she continued weakly. “Don't...."

  "Shhh,” he murmured as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. He kept his other arm firmly around her waist, holding her against him.

  "The jerk left you pregnant,” he deduced, his expression grim. But his eyes carried only compassion as his gentle fingers stroked the curve of her jaw.

  Reluctant to admit her gullibility, she sighed but lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. “It was a one night stand, Damien—what he intended from the start. I was stupid enough to want more but he was gone the next morning. I never saw him again. I found out later I was pregnant. He never knew."

  "I'm not him,” Damien stated firmly. Those dark eyes glittered and drew her in. He paused, his expression thoughtful. “You never told him? You could have made him take responsibility."

  She tried for an indifferent shrug but only shuddered. “No. I took responsibility. He wanted sex. He didn't want me. And in the end, I didn't want him. He had no right to my daughter.” She lifted her chin to a stubborn angle. “He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve me."

  "I don't want a one night stand,” Damien told her sternly then lowered his voice to a slow persuasive drawl. “But one night might be all we ever have."

  He stroked her lips with his thumb, building a fire in her gut until her lips parted on a shaky breath.

  "I've missed you in my bed,” he continued in a husky whisper. “Missed waking up with you."

  He let out a slow breath and stepped back from her. A cold shiver rippled through her and she felt inexplicably bereft and abandoned. Missing his warmth, she followed him to the sofa bed without conscious thought. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees. That dejected posture had her joining him. She sat beside him but kept her hands to herself despite the almost overwhelming urge to hold him and the fierce need to be held by him.

  Though she didn't look at him, every fiber of her being, heart and soul, was very aware of him. That awareness hit her like a hammer blow. Rational thought scattered. The bed creaked as he shifted position. His knee brushed hers and she jolted. Her breath stopped. Even the storm seemed to take a back seat to Damien's dynamic presence.

  She jumped off the bed, stared at the flickering flame of the kerosene lamp on the table. There was something she needed to remember to protect herself. Dragging her gaze from the lamp, she moved to the window and stared into the raging inky blackness. The back of her neck prickled and she knew he watched her, gazed at her. No, it wasn't just a gaze. It was an intense stare. She almost felt him willing her to speak. She considered ignoring him but could not. He was too entrenched in her heart.

  "Laurie.” His voice was low and tender, and wrapped her in warmth.

  She inhaled deeply, slowly, and then exhaled just as slowly. Her breath fogged the window, a smoky circle against the noisy dark. Lightening split the dark into jagged black and white shards. The clearing, the surrounding trees, all glared in stark black and white for a split instant then vanished. Her reflection wavered under driving sheets of angry rain. Tension once again crackled around her.

  "Honey.” His voice again drew her to him.

  That low husky drawl of his seduced her but she did not turn from the window, did not give in to the tremendous urge to go to him.

  "It was hard,” she finally said, making no effort to talk over the storm.

  He heard her anyway. “What was hard?"

  Though quiet, the question cut through the rain hammering on the window. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision. Memories streamed through her mind—one room kitchenettes, a crying infant, working two sometimes three jobs to pay bills and babysitters. And she had bitter memories of her mother's scathing refusal to help.

  "Putting my life back together.” She turned and finally looked at him. She leaned on the wall and the cold seeped through the wood. She shivered but the memories were more chilling than the weather.

  "Getting pregnant was not in the cards,” she told him, averting her gaze to the kerosene lamp on the table. “My own stupidity nearly destroyed me. It took a long time to build a life, a secure place for my little girl. I can't afford to shatter that on a passionate whim.” She paused, stared straight into his eyes. “What do you want from me, Damien?"

  That penetrating dark gaze held hers as he stood and moved slowly across the room to stand directly in front of her. He studied her for a long moment, his eyes full of needs and hungers beyond the physical.

  "Whatever you have to give.” He lifted his hand, smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “Give me one more night, Laurie."

  That simple answer touched her heart. She nearly groaned at her weakness, her staggering needs. He didn't want to be alone. It was there, in his eyes, his expression. Did he know, she wondered, that he made it so easy to read him? And, it was almost impossible to resist his inadvertent non-verbal plea. But there was something she needed to know.

  She hesitated then forced the question through trembling lips. “Are you married?"

  He froze and stared at her. Shock and bitter pain warred in his eyes. He blinked and his eyes cleared. But his fingers trembled just slightly against her cheek.

  "Does it matter?” he demanded roughly.

  "To me, it does,” she whispered then covered his fingers with her hand.

  His touch warmed her, tempted her. She stared steadily into his eyes, seeking truth or lie in whatever he said next. A ragged breath shuddered from him, drifting over her face like the sun's rays in summer. His expression softened.

  "I'm not married,” he murmured though pain still lurked in his eyes.

  Against all logic she believed him. Oh, he might have lied just to get her in his bed but Laurie didn't think so. Too much pain and loss lingered in his eyes. And she would not pry into such a deep wound. It served no purpose other than to cause unnecessary pain. Quite simply, for whatever reason, he did not want to be alone. And he wanted her.

  The storm still raged around the cabin but all her senses, her whole being, concentrated on the man before her. Only dimly aware of thunder, lightening, and the pounding rain, she lay her trembling hand on his shadowed jaw. Flames flickered in his eyes. Don't hurt me, she pleaded silently. Don't make me regret this.

  As though understanding her fears, he kissed her. His lips moved softly, gently over hers. Her lips tingled. Pleasant warmth spread over her. Cupping her face in both hands, he delicately traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his tongue. Delicious tremors rippled through her and her heart quivered. Tears gathered in her eyes. She would not have thought this hardened soldier capable of such tenderness after the violence of his life. Tears spilled over her lashes, rolled down her cheeks, and mingled with the unique taste of him.

  Frowning slightly, he drew back and anxiously caught her gaze. His eyes went dark with concern.

  "What?” he murmured, wiping the tears with the caress of his thumbs.

  She shook her head, unable to speak past the emotional lump in her throat. This was so different from the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am that was her one and only experience with a man. She realized, now, that her heart had not been involved. Damien stole her heart and melted the very last shreds of resistance.

  "Don't stop,” she finally whispered huskily.

  His hands slid down her arms. Then his arms went around her and drew her against him.

  "Are you frightened?” he asked quietly.

  "Only of tomorrow,” she replied honestly, tilting her head to look up at him. Heat surrounded her, pulsing like the flames casting a romantic glow around them. His heat or hers, she did
n't know which but she never wanted to be cold again.

  He lowered his lips to hers but kept his kisses butterfly light. Her heart skipped a beat. On a flood of delicious anticipation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into his solid strength. Her nipples tingled, tightened, and shot sparks clear to her womb. His mouth moved over hers, deep and slow. His tongue slid between her lips, pulling her even deeper into his kisses.

  Blood rushed and roared in her veins. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Every breath was a short choppy gasp against his lips. A low deep groan left her as she clung to him. He dragged his mouth from hers on a harsh breath. His eyes glittered when she looked into them. Fisting her hands in his hair, Laurie yanked him back and fused her mouth to his. He staggered, pressed her to the wall, then pulled back sharply and flattened his hands on the wall by her shoulders.

  "Slow down,” he rasped. But the fire in his eyes and the tension of his body gave away his urgency.

  "Slow?” she squeaked over the pounding of her pulse in her ears as she clutched at his arms.

  He leaned closer and brushed his lips lightly over hers. “Yes, there's a bed over there—and we have all night."

  The room spun as he swung her into his arms.

  "Oh!” The half strangled cry escaped her as she clung to his neck. He covered the distance to the bed in just a few long strides. Blood surged hot and heavy in her veins as he lowered her to the mattress. His mouth lingered on hers, soft, gentle kisses that put a flutter in her heart. Then he pulled slowly out of her arms to sit beside her, his hips snuggled up to hers. Gripping her wrists loosely, he urged her to sit up facing him. The hungry gleam in his eyes sent dark thrills spiraling through her.

  The flickering glow from the candles and the lamp covered them in a golden glow and threw shadows around the room. Electric sensuality crackled around them. Damien plowed his fingers into her hair and tugged her the last scant distance. His mouth captured hers, his lips rubbing frantically over hers. Her breath caught in her throat and she drowned in him. Her lips parted to the conquering thrusts of his tongue and their mouths melded in kisses of devastating carnality.

  His hands roamed over her back, fiery circles that inflamed her already raging passions. She could not get close enough, fast enough. He dragged his mouth from hers, licking and nibbling along her jaw. Sweeping her hair aside, he nibbled delicately on her sensitive earlobe. Pleasure, intense and dangerous, swirled inside her.

  She squirmed in his arms, creating a delicate friction between her breasts and his chest that drew a moan from him. His tongue forged a path down her neck, setting her skin aflame. He pressed her even closer until every point of contact sizzled. She wanted more. Plastered to his broad chest, she tangled her fingers in his black hair, the silky texture tantalizing her with yet another combination of sensations. She loved his hair, thick and springy yet silky to her touch.

  "I want you,” she whispered huskily in his ear as his mouth moved along the curve of her neck and shoulder. His teeth scraped lightly over her skin and a shudder of delight shook her.

  She shifted her hold, her trembling hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders, broad enough to carry any load. She nipped at his earlobe, swirled her tongue around, and felt his shudder of response. Pure feminine triumph had her smiling, her lips curved against his skin.

  Stroking, caressing, her hands explored his chest despite the fabric separating them. Just touching thrilled her. Her fingernails raked lightly over his nipples, her hand trapped between their heaving bodies. He sucked in a ragged breath and lifted his head.

  His hungry gaze clashed with hers. She stared into the dark, flickering pools of his eyes and dropped her hand to the button of his jeans. After hesitating only a fraction of a second, she moved lower to cup her hand over the bulge behind his zipper. He flinched under her touch, straining denim. Delirious, she relished his instant response and pushed her other hand under his sweatshirt, felt the quiver of his stomach as her fingers walked up all that glorious male flesh. She flicked a nipple with her fingernail. Both of her hands moved and maneuvered at the same time. A harsh groan erupted from deep in his throat.

  He dropped his hands to the hem of her sweatshirt and shoved the fabric above her breasts. He groaned his delight at finding her braless. Laurie snatched her hands from him, yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. She reached for him but he caught her hands and simply stared at her, his gaze riveted to her breasts.

  "Witch,” he muttered and quickly shed his shirt.

  She caught only a brief glimpse of all that gleaming skin, the contrast of wavering shadows and flickering firelight, before he lowered her onto the mattress.

  His eyes gleamed dark, dangerous, and exciting as he leaned over her. Turgid and straining, her nipples brushed his chest. Oh, God, was her only thought as he captured her mouth and ravished it with lips and teeth and tongue. She no longer heard the thunderstorm over the rush and roar of blood in her ears. Her pulse pounded erratically. Was that her heart pounding or his? His hand was rough, calloused as it swept over her ribcage and covered her breast.

  She arched automatically, filling his large but somehow gentle hand with her aching flesh. He molded, kneaded, and tweaked her already hard nipple between finger and thumb. Erotic pulses hummed along her frazzled nerves, sent jets of fire straight to her loins.

  Writhing, she clamped her hands on his arms, dug her fingers into hard muscle. Her heart raced even faster and she closed her eyes, swamped in erotic sensations. He dragged his mouth from hers, replacing his fingers on her breast. His tongue laved, stroked, and drew strangled moans from her. His lips closed around her and he suckled, tugging on her nipple as though it was the sweetest nectar.

  "Jesus.” The word was a long, drawn out groan of aching pleasure. Her hands fisted in his hair and she clutched him to her. Volcanic heat wrapped around her, swept her away like a river of molten lava.

  Propping himself on one elbow, he switched breasts and sent the same shocking sensations slamming into her. Her hands lost their grip on his hair, slid limply to her side, and then clenched the sheet in tight fists.

  "Please, Damien,” she begged breathlessly, unable to stop herself.

  His hands streaked, hot and lethal, over her quivering stomach to the button of her jeans and lingered there. She writhed frantically as his fingers teased her skin, dipping beneath her waistband in soft strokes. He lifted his head, speared her with the raging unleashed passion in his eyes. She could not look away, did not want to look away. Pleasure, bordering on pain, spread through her in shocking waves. His knuckles brushed her skin as he unbuttoned her jeans. Anticipation, sharp and edgy, knifed into her again.

  Frantic for him, she shoved her hands between them and fumbled with his jeans. She slid the zipper over his erection so fast he sucked in a startled breath. She dipped her hand under his briefs to find him. He was hot, hard, and huge in her hand. Staring deep into those swirling dark eyes, she stroked and fondled every glorious inch of him. He blinked and stared down at her. His eyes blazed into hers. He growled, low and deep and urgent, and then abruptly jerked back. Lacking all finesse, he stripped off jeans and underwear. Just as quickly, he removed her remaining clothes.

  Fascinated by all of his naked masculinity, she reached out and wrapped her hand firmly around his pulsing shaft. It only took a slight tug to tumble him on top of her. Pressing her deeper into the mattress, he was neither heavy nor uncomfortable. She shifted restlessly until he settled between her legs with his erection nestled against her. She clutched his shoulders, clinging mindlessly to his sheer strength, and lifted her hips, urging him to give her what she demanded.

  "I'm trying to be gentle,” he croaked, his eyes as wild as she felt. “But you're making me crazy!"

  Something fragile deep inside her snapped. In silent demand, she wrapped her legs around him, arching to meet him. He fastened his mouth to hers, his tongue plunging deep in desperate conquest as he drove himself deep and hard into her.
<
br />   At that instant of invasion, everything coiled tight inside her erupted. Every contraction of her inner body pulled him deeper. Wanting more, she met each thrust, each tug on her raw senses, with spiraling passion until everything exploded around and inside them.

  Stunned by the sheer force of their passion, Laurie lay under him, trying to force air into her burning lungs. Her hands slid limply from him as aftershocks rippled through her.

  Damien rolled clumsily off her and pulled her to his side, his arm curved around her shoulders. In the aftermath of wild sex, she rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers twirling through the dark hair sprinkled across his chest. She tilted her head sluggishly and looked into those wonderful dark brown eyes, amazed. She had never dreamed making love—she simply could not call it sex—was so absolutely wonderful.

  "I...” she began breathlessly, wanting to tell him everything in her heart.

  He shushed her with a firm finger across her lips. That enigmatic glitter in his eyes unsettled her.

  "No, don't say it now,” he said gruffly. “It's enough that you're here."

  Uncertain, she bit her lip and stared at him for a moment, then let out a deep sigh and snuggled into his arms. With his heart beating steadily in her ear, she slid into sleep not caring what tomorrow held in store for her. She only wanted the night to last forever.

  * * * *

  Holding her close, one arm curved around her, Damien stared at the shadows flickering over the ceiling. The storm had faded until thunder echoed in the distance. Rain fell softly on the windows, a subtle background music that did nothing to soothe his turbulent thoughts. He wanted her. He had her. And suddenly it was not enough. He did not want to need her for more than sex. He had stopped her from verbalizing the love in her eyes. He did not want to hear a declaration of love that would certainly turn to hate in a few short days.