Bears of Burden: STERLING

by Candace Ayers

  Connor was just finishing his fourth shot when a breathtaking woman walked through the door. He usually reacted to women the way he did everything else in his life. He enjoyed them, of course, but they didn’t matter. Work was the only thing that really did. Women loved him, and he never had any trouble finding a companion even on base, were the men outnumbered the women by quite a bit.

  This woman, though…damn. She was beautiful, though not in a classic sense. Her bold eyes and high cheekbones would do any model proud. From there on though, she was no model. She was more. Her lips were full and just imagining what she could do with them had Connor shifting uncomfortably, his pants a little more constricting than they had been just a moment before. And her body…that wasn’t the body of some half-starved child model. Her ebony skin looked impossibly smooth. He could tell without touching that it would be soft and firm beneath his hands.

  The woman had full curves. Breasts that bounced slightly with every step she took, and hips that swayed in time with her path across the room. From the smirk perched on that pretty mouth as she took the stool next to him, she knew exactly what Connor had been thinking, too. He turned back to his drink, determined not to act like a lovesick teenager.

  Her voice, when she spoke, was sultry and Connor tried not to imagine what it would sound like when it was laden with passion.

  “I’ll take a shot of Jack Daniels, please.” Hell, she even drank his drink.

  Connor spoke before he was even fully aware that he’d changed his mind about his earlier resolve to let her drink in peace.

  “Make it two, Jake,” he said to the bartender, “Her drinks are on me.”

  Chapter Two

  Everly had noticed the man sitting on the corner bar stool the moment she’d walked through the door. Sexy, confident...but she didn’t date military men as a rule, and she definitely wasn’t quite as sensitive to their charms as the average woman. She was a military brat herself, and being born and raised around them had made her somewhat immune to their appeal. Not to say that she found young, attractive men in uniform unappealing…it was more that she’d learned to look beyond the uniform to what was underneath.

  So, she noticed him…it was hard not to when he was sitting there, all brooding and dangerous. She would still be going home alone tonight, but a little eye candy while she had a drink or two to unwind from a day spent unpacking her belongings in her new apartment couldn’t hurt. Her new job at the mental health clinic would start tomorrow, a job that she knew would fulfill her on so many levels.

  Her drive to become a counselor began back when Everly had been in high school. Months after returning from the Middle East, her older brother had committed suicide. While logic told her that there was nothing she could have done—she’d still been a child at the time, and he hadn’t been stationed close enough to home for his family to realize how much pain he was in—there was still a part of her that felt like she should have done something, that somehow she should have known.

  While she couldn’t rewrite that tragic chapter in her family’s history, it was the driving force behind her decision to help men and women with PTSD. In providing them therapy, she found comfort. Thinking of her brother still hurt, but she comforted herself with the thought that every day on the job, she might be sparing someone else from the pain she’d felt at losing him.

  So here she was, checking out a new bar in a new home. She’d just have a drink or two with the hot sailor sitting beside her and then go home to turn in early before her first day on the job. She hadn’t expected to be so attracted to him, hadn’t expected his rough, deep voice to send a shivers of up her spine.

  Before she knew what was happening, she’d had more than a few shots, though she insisted on paying for her own when he offered. She found herself staring into his eyes just a little too long, leaning toward him suggestively as they talked about everything and nothing. All too soon though, it was that time. She needed to head home before she ended up hung over on her first day of work…not to mention before she made a bad decision and ended up in bed with the hottie whose name, she’d learned, was Connor.

  “Well Connor, it’s been…interesting, but I’m going to have to get going. Take care of yourself, okay?”

  But when she reached for her purse to pay the bill, she was dismayed to realize that she’d left it in the saddle bag of her bike. Connor’s sharp eyes watched her motions.

  “I’ve got your drinks; the offer still stands.”

  “No, no, I’ve got it. I just need to run out and grab my purse.”

  “Well, at least let me walk you out,” he said with an easy smile. “I’d hate for you to be harassed by drunken sailors in the parking lot.”

  She couldn’t help chuckling. “Not likely.”

  “Have you seen yourself? I would say that it’s entirely likely. Besides, I need to grab something from my bike anyway, and the company can’t hurt.”

  Everly shrugged and followed Connor out the door. She wasn’t surprised to find that he rode a Harley. He seemed like the type who wanted to feel that power beneath him, who liked the edge of danger that traveling on a powerful machine could give you. She could hardly fault him when she rode one herself.

  Connor paused as they passed her bike, which was parked right next to his own. He eyed it with obvious appreciation.

  “Da-yum, that’s nice.”

  “Why thank you.” She couldn’t help smiling with pride. Her bike was a beauty.

  “No…that’s yours?”

  She nodded with a smile.

  “You are my kind of woman. I may not be able to let you go after all.”

  The tone was light and teasing, so Everly thought nothing of it. When she opened her saddle bag, though, she bent over a little farther than necessary, vain enough to assume that he would enjoy the view. She wasn’t expecting him to be standing so close when she turned around.

  “Connor? What are you—“

  His lips closed on hers, and she opened for him before she could remember that she was supposed to be heading home. He tasted of man laced with the sweet tang of whiskey, and she felt her nipples tighten in response.

  “Just wanted a taste,” he murmured as he broke the kiss, “Just a one-time thing. I don’t do strings. I’m not wired right for a lasting relationship.”

  “Connor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who said anything about a relationship? Just shut up and kiss me again.”

  Then his mouth was on her lips, trailing down her throat, nipping and teasing. She shivered in response and drew instinctively closer. When he lifted her by her hips and placed her on the seat of his bike she vaguely realized that if she was going to stop this, now would be the time.

  Instead, she found herself guiding his mouth back to her own. She tentatively reached out to touch him through his jeans, unsure how far he might be willing to go in the darkened parking lot. He was big, hard and ready for her. Just touching him through the thick denim was making her wet, sending liquid heat straight to her core.

  She pushed him back lightly and dropped gently to her knees before him. It seemed like a stranger surely must be the one kissing the head of his dick through his pants while she deftly unfastened his belt and pants. She wasn’t a prude, but parking lot quickies weren’t really her style either.

  She wasn’t about to stop though. She needed to taste him, craved it. He let her take him in her mouth, let her rock forward and back, up and down his length with her lips and tongue. Then he raised her again, turned her so she was facing his bike.

  “God that felt amazing baby, but I just might die if I don’t get inside you.”

  She let him bend her over, lift her skirt and shove her panties to the side. He didn’t enter her as she’d thought he would though. Instead his warm, wet tongue found her slit from behind while nimble fingers pulsed quickly against her clit.

  He brought her to the brink, then held back. She writhed with need, and when he stood and slipped inside her, with one h
and working her sensitized nipples, she came fast and hard. Then both hands were on her hips, pulling her back onto his cock again and again, with a slapping sound, as he demanded that she meet him thrust for thrust.

  When he found his release, his cock pulsed inside her, and pushed her over the edge again. She couldn’t stop the needy cries that escaped her throat.

  It wasn’t until after, that reality came crashing back down around her. She almost couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Still, she couldn’t resist one last hot, lingering kiss.

  “Tell me your name.” His voice was sex roughened. She didn’t reply, instead choosing to hop on her bike and ride off into the night. It looked like he’d be paying her tab after all.

  Chapter Three

  Connor found his way to consciousness slowly, the blaring of his alarm clock an unwelcome guide back to the land of the living. The first thing he was aware of was a pounding in his head, a familiar remnant of a night spent in the bottle. As he reached over to stop the offensive resounding blare of his alarm, the memory of the night before came crashing over him, bringing a smile to his lips and a shot of remembered lust straight to his groin. He took a deep breath, thinking of the vivacious curves of her body, the feel of her hot, soft lips around his cock. Damn, the woman knew how to use those lips, and that tongue…just the memory had him hot and ready for her again. He reached down, stroking the enlarged shaft of his erection until he brought himself quickly to release, but it was a poor substitute for the warm grip of her sweet pussy.

  He rolled out of bed and quickly showered. The hot water and a strong cup of coffee soon had him set to rights, though he had drunk quite a bit the night before. Most military men were no stranger to a hangover. He’d learned long ago to shrug them off and carry on. He would make it through the day, running on willpower through the dehydration and sleep deprivation. Then tonight he would crash out early, and tomorrow he would be good as new.

  He quickly put on his uniform. He could have worn civilian clothes, as he was going to get cleared by mental health today, but putting on the uniform seemed like a promise to himself that he would be back to work by the end of the day. Any shrink worth his salt would be able to see that there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with his head. Yes, that was how it would go. A quick meeting and then he could get back to work.

  On the drive to the clinic, his thoughts kept straying back to his mystery woman, and each time it brought a small smile to his lips. He didn’t have a single regret from last night. He’d seldom had a partner who so readily agreed to his no strings, no commitment lifestyle.

  A lot of women said they did, but inevitably he would catch them staring at him with the wistful look of someone gazing upon something they would never truly own. Not her though. She’d met him on his own ground and then some. He almost wished he’d gotten her phone number. Not because he wanted anything more permanent, he assured himself. He just would have liked to keep the option of seeing her again open.

  He almost considered going back the 6 D’s tonight, just to see if she showed up again. No. He wouldn’t do that. There wasn’t much of a chance of seeing her there again. He hadn’t before last night, after all. He was sure he would have noticed a woman that looked as delectable as she did.

  Soon the mental health clinic loomed before him and he set aside his musings to face this small obstacle. In and out, he reminded himself. No problem. The wait was blessedly brief—a rare occurrence in military health facilities of any kind in his experience—and Connor found himself quickly questioned before he was sent back into the waiting room until the counselor he’d been assigned to see was free.

  “Petty Officer Mitchell?”

  For a split second Connor thought he must still be a tad drunk, or maybe hearing things. The damn shrink sounded just like the woman from last night. She had evidently consumed his thoughts more than he realized. He didn’t catch more than a glimpse as the shrink moved back into her office, confident that he would follow.

  He did, but what he saw once he entered the office left him rooted to the floor. His gaze met that of the woman he’d been fantasizing about all morning. Pure lust shot through his startled system, quickly followed by alarm and a bit of anger.

  He didn’t do emotional entanglements, but here stood the woman he’d been with last night. He would be expected to tell her all the details of the most horrible moments of his life? Just the thought made him feel vulnerable. Nothing brought him to anger faster than vulnerability.

  He tamped down on the emotions. No way would he let her know that she’d unsettled him. He felt the expression drain from his face to be replaced with the cocky grin that she’d found so appealing the night before. Somehow it felt wrong, like a stiff mask. He didn’t let the smile fade though. His arrogant smirk was armor every bit as much as the flak vest and Kevlar he’d worn in enemy territory, and Connor Mitchell didn’t let anyone slip inside his defenses.

  Chapter Four

  Everly felt a pang of sympathy as she read through the file of her first patient in her new clinic. She always hurt right along with the service men and women she counseled. She had many colleagues who distanced themselves. Earlier in her career they’d advised her to do the same, had told her that if she couldn’t turn it off to some degree then she’d never hold up. Their criticism hadn’t made her quit caring, though. It had merely made her more reluctant to admit that she hurt, to varying degrees, right along with all of the service members she treated who’d been diagnosed with PTSD.

  After she’d called in Petty Officer Mitchell, she turned back into her office and had a seat behind her desk. Mentally, she recalled the details of this case. Petty Officer Mitchell had been on multiple deployments as a Navy Seal, all of them covert ops. Because of the nature of his missions, she didn’t have access to a lot of the details. She knew enough of what he’d been through, though, to be quite concerned. Petty Officer Mitchell was a man who had been constantly surrounded by death.

  Deaths had a way of piling up, one upon another, until they formed a burden heavier than any man should have to bear. Really, she felt that this man should have been evaluated more closely years ago. On his last mission, things had been even worse. He’d led his squad on this operation, and the entire squad had been killed. One of the casualties was his own best friend, a man by the name of Jonathan Mills.

  An investigation had been subsequently launched. While she was to provide her opinion on Mitchell’s mental fitness, Petty Officer Mitchell’s commander had been concerned because, according to him, Mitchell didn’t have any family and had very few friends. The CO had been worried about what the loss of the only person on Earth that Mitchell seemed to be close to would do to his mental health.

  Truth be told, Everly was worried too, and she hadn’t even evaluated him yet. Support systems were a crucial part of working through PTSD, even more than most people realized. She glanced up expectantly as the door to her office closed, a polite, professional smile on her face.

  Her smile froze, along with the greeting that had been waiting on the tip of her tongue. There was Connor, looking at her with a maelstrom of expressions sweeping across his face. She watched as lust, hurt, and anger quickly rolled over his eyes before he covered it with a cocky grin. This could not be happening. It just couldn’t. What were the chances that the first one night stand she’d had in years would be with her very first patient? Devil take it, please tell me I’m hallucinating.

  “Oh, you’re not, Beautiful.” She could almost feel his eyes raking up and down her body. She couldn’t help remembering how it had felt last night to have his hands and lips tracing molten trails across her skin. An unwelcome ribbon of desire unfurled low in her belly, quickly followed by a blush that she was certain must be visible even against her dark skin.

  “So, I guess I know your name now, don’t I, Doctor Willis?”

  She took a deep breath. Don’t stare at his mouth when he talks. Be professional. You can do this. She opened her mouth, intent on
asking him to keep their encounters professional.

  “Everly, not Doctor Willis.” She cringed at the breathy, flirtatious tone the innocent words had taken on. Hell’s bells…she did not need this man calling her by her first name.

  “Okay, Everly.” Somehow those two words seemed like they were a caress against her skin. Damn, this man was smooth…He was around the desk and standing before her in seconds. To her horror, she couldn’t stop her eyes from trailing across him hungrily as she looked up to meet his gaze.

  It was obvious from his smile, and from the gleam of barely contained lust in his eyes, that he hadn’t missed her perusal. He crouched slowly before her until his lips were a breath away from hers.

  “I thought I wasn’t going to feel any better after this visit, but I think you might be just what the doctor ordered.” He closed the distance between them then, and Everly didn’t stop his soft questioning kiss. She couldn’t begin to fight the passion welling up in her at the memory of last night.

  Her nipples became hardened pebbles at the memory of how his lips had felt against them last night. As if he could read her mind, he gently stroked them, teasing them to harder peaks still before he twisted them gently between his fingers.

  The sound of her own breathless groan, torn from her throat against her will, broke through the haze of lust that clouded her mind. She jumped up abruptly, tearing her mouth from his even as her body cried out at the loss of his touch.

  “Connor…Petty Officer…Oh, just please have a seat!”

  His questioning gaze searched her until he saw something that made him smile tightly and, thank goodness, take a seat in one of the padded leather chairs opposite her desk.

  “Okay, Everly. How about, if you don’t want a repeat of last night—” A pointed look at her hardened nipples, still showing clearly through the fabric of her silk shirt, told her that he knew as well as she did what she really wanted. “Then at least clear me to get back to work.”