Enemy Zone: Enemies-to-Lovers Standalone Healing-Love Military Romance (Trident Rescue)

by Alex Lidell

  Sky’s hips rose to meet Cullen’s assault, her channel clenching around him. Shifting her wrists until he could hold them with one hand, he dropped his other to her clit, savoring the sudden hint of anxiety crossing her features.

  “I can’t,” she breathed. “Not again, not—”

  Gripping her wrists more tightly, Cullen found that swollen clit he’d become intimately familiar with, and he stroked the sensitive flesh with merciless flicks. Right side. Left. Left again. Now.

  “Cullen!” Sky howled as her body cinched around him in uncontrolled pleasure, her second climax forcing her hips off the ground with its intensity.

  Dropping his lips atop Sky’s open mouth, Cullen swallowed her moans as he came, pouring everything he had inside her.

  26

  Sky

  Several ragged breaths later, Cullen pulls himself out of me, my body mourning the loss of him even as my mind tries to catch up to what’s just happened. I had sex with Cullen Hunt. Mind-blowing, panty-wetting sex. With my boss.

  Pushing himself up on an elbow, Cullen looms over me, his heart galloping as forcefully as mine is. His beautiful hard face watches me intently, a thin sheen of sweat making every ridge of his muscled abdomen sparkle in the sunlight.

  Reaching up, I run my finger along the small, jagged scar under his chin. “Well.” I puff, my breathing still too fast for propriety. “That was…”

  “Yeah,” he agrees.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence settles over us, shifting from companionable to uncomfortable as the chill seeps back into my skin. Beneath Cullen’s intent gaze, I feel as vulnerable as ever, his slow caresses along my hair making me long for him all over again. Clearing my throat, I reach for my clothes. Cullen takes the hint to get his own self dressed.

  “Do you mind if I…” I wave toward my car as we return to Liam’s gym, the thought of facing the other Tridents just now making my skin heat.

  Turning me toward him, Cullen takes my chin into his strong hand. “We’ll be here again Friday morning. Are you coming back?” he asks, his voice controlled despite the pulse beating hard against the side of his neck. “To train, I mean. Are you coming back Friday to train?”

  I bite my lip, willing myself to not look at his mouth. To not think about his large, large cock pounding through my channel. “Unless I learned everything today, I guess I’d better,” I whisper.

  “Good.” Releasing me with a suddenness that I don’t know how to interpret, Cullen opens my car door for me, staying still with his hands draped behind his back until he disappears from my rearview mirror.

  Blowing out a slow deliberate breath, I shake my head. How is it even possible for a man to make my body come alive one moment and shut me out a few breaths later, retreating completely into his stony self? More to the point, how much pain am I setting myself up for by letting any part of me want someone who I know I will never truly reach?

  I try and fail to get Cullen out of my head for the next two days and have just settled myself enough to do my work by Thursday morning when Jaz shows up with climbing gear and undoes all my righteous effort.

  “All right, spill,” she says, zipping a windbreaker over her climbing jacket. We’re doing a last gear check before shouldering our packs, the call of the Pikes Peak mountains already singing through me. I’m not surprised the WorldROCK, the nationwide climbing tournament that’s coming in shortly, has chosen this area for this year. Up above, the sun is out and the sky is an almost iridescent blue, but any time the wind picks up, it’s cutting. Jaz pulls her hair back into a ponytail, tucking it under a fleece cap. “All Kyan would tell me is that you came to training Tuesday, and Cullen worked with you. I want details.”

  My face heats despite the chill, and I turn away, quickly putting on my pack. I can’t help wondering exactly how much Kyan told her. Hell, I can’t help wondering how much he and the other Tridents know about what happened. The guys don’t seem to have secrets between them, but Cullen isn’t the talkative kind either and—

  “Sky?”

  Shit. Realizing I’ve been quiet too long to now veer off topic without raising suspicion, I clear my throat and start us into motion. “It was intense. Have you ever seen them train?”

  “Oh yeah. They are competitive as shit—have been since high school. Screaming into each other’s faces and pushing buttons. It’s like part of their toughness depends on who can be the biggest asshole, you know?” She frowns and suddenly gets in front of me, cutting off my path. With her fists planted on her hips and the mountain rising high behind her, Jaz looks like a girl on a postcard. “If the bastards hurt you, I’m going to put poison ivy in Kyan’s sheets.”

  “No. Nothing like that,” I assure her quickly. “Well, Cullen wasn’t exactly gentle putting me through my paces”—or through other things—“but—”

  “Oh. My. God.” Jaz’s face transforms into impish delight, the girl bouncing on her toes once before grabbing my arm and pulling me along on the trail. “Never play poker, Sky. I’ve seen sunsets dimmer than that blush. Spill. I love new developments.”

  I scowl, but Jaz has me pretty well nailed down. Plus, I’m so confused that I wouldn’t mind her bit of common sense given that I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all mine somewhere. “We had…a one-off. An intense and very pleasurable one-off. Which is going to make for some awkward-as-hell moments when I see him next, but it is what it is.”

  “So…you aren’t the least bit interested?” Jaz clarifies. “Beyond the mind-blowing exercise.”

  “It’s more that we don’t actually really know each other.”

  “Let’s see, what do we know of Cullen?” says Jaz, pulling a pair of granola bars out of her side pocket and handing one to me. “He’s gorgeous. Buff. A billionaire. A philanthropist. He saves lives on a daily basis. I mean, if you spot major drawbacks to any of that, let me know.”

  “The part about him being an overprotective jerk who thinks he has a say over how my life should go might be one.” I bite into the bar, the sweet and salty taste reminding me too much of the man we’re discussing. “Oh, and he’s my boss.”

  “And his eyes follow you everywhere you go. When we were at the barbecue, every time I peeked up, he was staring at you.” Jaz grins conspiratorially. “I’m telling you, he watches you like a starved man eyeing prime rib laid out on a plate for him.”

  Well, I’d definitely been laid out for him…

  I think of how his hands felt on me as we lay on that spongy forest ground, his groan reverberating through my body, and feel myself getting wet all over again. But… But there’s also the other side of the man. The Hyde to the Jekyll. “Looks aside, what do you know about Cullen?” I ask.

  “Not as much as you’d think. I’m six years younger, and Kyan was always devoted to keeping me out of the loop—but I know Cullen is from Denton Valley originally, just like Bar was. There was some issue at Cullen’s middle school, and his folks carted him off to military school as a punishment. Then he took to it, went to Annapolis with the guys, and then tried out for the SEALs. He didn’t wash out, obviously. None of them did. Then he got out after Bar died and came here.”

  “To his family?” I ask. He’s never mentioned them. Actually, Cullen has never mentioned anything about himself, which makes me unreasonably curious. Curious and discouraged. With how intensely closed off Cullen is, a relationship beyond sex might not be possible even if I wanted it. Not that I do.

  “Nope. His mom got remarried and moved away after his father died. He came back here because of Addie. Bar’s Addie. They all go way back. Anyway, none of the guys re-upped after that, and within a few months of the funeral, they were all here for good. And don’t ask what happened to Bar—none of them talk about it, though Kyan was nearby. He got hurt in the same op.”

  “Wait, seriously? You don’t even know what happened to Kyan?”

  “That’s right,” she confirms. “You know how closed-off Cullen is—well, they’re all like that. Don’t get me wr
ong, it drives me flipping crazy. But I’ve learned the hard way that maintaining any sort of relationship with my brother means letting that sort of thing go.”

  I chew on Jaz’s words as the ascent becomes too steep to continue the conversation. The small glimpse Cullen had given me into his nightmares is probably a great deal more than most people will ever learn about the man. I wonder what Jaz would say if she knew I’d found Cullen’s PTSD meds. That I’ve seen him flinch in the middle of the night. That instead of telling me to leave when he relived his horrors, he’d tucked me close and let my presence settle him to sleep.

  For the next ninety minutes, the cliff swallows all my concentration—which is what I’ve always loved about rock climbing. It requires all your physical and mental strength at once. No room for problems or outside worries when you’re on the side of a mountain. I find it incredibly freeing.

  For the first time since arriving in Colorado, hell, for the first time since the whole Fleet Week-and-Jaden debacle, one hundred percent of my focus is on my inhales, my exhales, my next handhold, the next bit of stone to which I entrust my weight. They’re the only things that exist. And it feels great.

  Pulling up onto our horizontal target, I clip myself into an anchor Jaz has set up and sit on the ledge, my legs dangling over the abyss. Below us, the Garden of the Gods spreads out like a bumpy tapestry, the sharp protrusions of sandy rock mixing with the adjacent reddish columns. Adding to the breathtaking texture, the pointed tops of the evergreens draw designs over the patches of white snowcaps, underscoring the whole awesomeness of nature.

  “It’s like looking at an alien planet,” Jaz says quietly.

  Nodding, I lean back on my outstretched arms and let the pine-scented wind kiss my face. Between Cullen’s training and now this, my body is going to be hating me the rest of the week. But it’s more than worth it. Plus, I need to increase my stamina.

  This thought, of course, makes my mind wander to Cullen’s level of stamina, and then I’m all tangled up in my thoughts again. Except it’s not Cullen’s stamina that worries me. Between first my father and then Jaden, I’ve brushed up against military types enough that I know what happens when tempers snap—and there’s nothing to suggest that Cullen is any different. There’s an aggression there, lurking behind those moss-green eyes. Couple that with ability and an internal compass that says that sometimes, hurting people is okay, and you get a not very good cocktail. What happens if a Lincoln Drive-type situation arises again, with Cullen believing I shouldn’t go after a story—except this time, he’s close enough to physically stop me? Would he? Would that fall under the military’s code of measured response and acceptable loss?

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Considering going for number three is insane.

  I run my gloved fingertips over the rough material of the stone we’re sitting on. “Hey, Jaz? Do you think it’s strange how none of the Tridents are in a relationship?”

  “Nah. I mean, they’ve always been like that. They’re basically just a pack of wolves on the prowl all the time. Although it sounds like Cullen may be trying to mend his ways.” She gazes out at the vastness surrounding us, her expression turning wistful, and we both fall quiet for a moment. “Give him a chance,” she says finally. “Don’t put up with any shit, but give him a chance.”

  “I don’t think Cullen wants to date me,” I say finally, picking up the threads of conversation. “Though I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed our other pursuits. Except… When I came to train with them Tuesday, Cullen and Liam were going after Eli. Hard. Whatever Eli said about not minding, what kind of assholes hurt someone they care about?”

  Jaz turns to me, her brows lifted. “You’re kidding me, right? Liam has a whole kink for hurting people.”

  I stare at her blankly. “What?”

  “You really don’t know?” She chuckles. “He likes to take charge…with a crop and shit. I mean, it’s consensual and all, and the women absolutely throw themselves at his feet to be walloped, but at the end of the day, it says a lot about him. Namely that any suspicions you may have about him being an asshole are well-founded.” The last comes out with more force than necessary, and Jaz screws her lips to one side in consternation. “You ready for the descent?”

  As we rappel back down—my favorite part—Jaz’s words mix with my own thoughts. While I don’t share my friend’s indignation over Liam’s sexual preferences, the fact that I had no idea of what’s apparently common knowledge shows how little the guys have shared with me. How little Cullen has shared with me. Hell, I learned more about the man in these few hours with Jaz than I had in our entire time knowing each other.

  If the two of us are going to be nothing but occasional sex buddies, that’s fine. But that’s the extent to which it could ever go. Jaz called him closed-off and private, but what that truly equates to is secretive. I know more than most about him, and that’s still near nothing.

  I’ve already been with someone I’d believed I could trust and had been dead wrong. Being with someone who actively hides everything? If that’s not a definition of foolishness, I don’t know what is.

  Cullen is closed-off. Controlling. Obstinate. He’s big enough to do damage and very possibly volatile enough to do it.

  Good thing I’m not looking for a relationship with anything but journalism, because digging too deeply into Cullen is a way to disaster.

  27

  Sky

  Friday morning, I stride back into Liam’s gym like a warrior wearing chain mail, determined not to let the naked time I shared with Cullen derail my learning plans. Unlike on my previous visit here, the guys are busy with calisthenics instead of beating the shit out of each other—though the sweat-soaked shirts and a fresh bruise on Kyan’s chin suggest that was done earlier this morning. Fortunate happenstance of schedule or a catering to my tender sensibilities? And is it bad that I’m glad for it?

  Before I can spiral down into a puddle of self-doubt, Liam waves me over for a tour of the training circuit setup today around the gym. Everything from jump ropes and push-ups, which the guys are doing upside down, to rope climbs.

  I listen with too much attention, the effort of not thinking about Liam’s North Vault activities taking up as much mental effort as ignoring the thump thump thump of Cullen’s knuckles against the leather punching bag. The man is shirtless today, his tattoos glistening with sweat as light and shadow sculpt every muscle. Even standing a few yards away, I can remember inhaling his male musk, which is not altogether different from the thick scent of testosterone that seems to saturate the air.

  “Reynolds.” Liam’s low command snatches my gaze back. Apparently, I wasn’t as successful at avoiding staring at Cullen as I thought.

  My face is hot as I pull my focus back to Liam, his stern, beautiful face making me wonder what he wears when he goes about his other activities. Which in turn makes me think about what Cullen looks like naked. Jesus Fucking Christ on a popsicle stick.

  Compared to the last session, the workout passes uneventfully, with Cullen mostly busy with his own work. The few times he walks over to coach me on proper form, the man remains an utter professional. Not to say he goes easy on me—he doesn’t—but he doesn’t push me beyond my limits. Not today. And I wish I knew why. Wish that I understood the puzzle that is Cullen Hunt a great deal better than I do.

  By the end of the morning, all perfectly aloofly professional, I’m starting to doubt whether our little interlude had truly happened. No, of course it happened. It just wasn’t anything more than it was. Which is good. After all, I don’t want it to be any more than it was. Not with a man like Cullen.

  “Do I have time for a quick shower?” I ask, seeing Liam pick up his vibrating phone and curse at the screen, his thumb scrolling violently.

  Cullen juts his chin toward the locker room, which I take for his usual gruff male uncommunicative acknowledgment. Right. Taking my duffel bag, I disappear behind the wooden door, exchanging the scent of sweat f
or a soft lavender fragrance Liam’s cleaning crew must have put here. Peeling off my purple crop top and yoga pants, I step into a nicely appointed stall and tip my face up to the hot stream.

  I’ve just soaped up my face, my eyes scrunched against the soap, when I hear the soft whisper of an opening door. A moment later, a cool breath invades my steamy stall, cutting across my skin. Snapping open my eyes, I see the flawless tattooed perfection of Cullen’s bare frame. Ink-covered biceps and triceps glisten shamelessly with sweat, his wide pectorals and the defined ridges of his obliques more fitting for a sculpture than a man. My gaze dips to the V of muscle below his navel, where a trail of light-blond curls runs to his thick thighs…and other things.

  The soap stings my eyes from staring for so long, and I thrust my head back under the spray. That was stupid of me, and it makes me pissy toward him. “Wait your turn.”

  He doesn’t respond. He just closes the distance.

  “Cullen—” Blinking through the water, I find myself trapped in his gaze, my body zinging awake to his clean, spicy scent. Despite the steam, my mouth dries, my breath catching as my pulse picks up speed as I crane my neck to look up at him.

  Instead of speaking, Cullen lowers his face, licking at the collection of droplets covering my naked shoulders. The lap of his tongue along my skin sends jolts of need through me, my sex clenching hungrily before my thoughts can catch up to reality.

  Pushing me backward until my knees bump into the bench here in the stall, he envelopes me in his arms, protecting my back and shoulder blades as he sits me down hard onto the smooth, high tile seat. Cullen’s green eyes, the same ones that barely acknowledged my existence for the whole morning, now flash with a possessiveness that sends arousal and indignation through my blood in equal, furious measure.

  “Who do you think you—” I start to protest, but his mouth takes mine before I can finish.