New Title 1

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  We walked back up the grand staircase, hand in hand, and my gentleman escorted me to our room. I was waiting for him to revert to my sensuous and very physical lover, but there was one more surprise to come.

  He led me out onto the balcony, where two glasses of Galliano liqueur blazed in the light of a single candle. And next to that, in a crystal vase, was a perfect pink rose.

  In silence, he handed me the drink and took the second for himself. His gaze was heated, and his eyes never left mine.

  The golden liquid burned as it trickled down my throat, but the burn was not as fierce as the way my fiancé looked at me.

  He finished his drink and placed the glass back on the table, and took mine. With a look that made my body tingle and dried my throat, he held out his hand and led me towards the bed.

  In silence, he cupped my face with his hands and kissed me until I was breathless and dizzy.

  Then he turned me around, and rested his hands on my waist, gently unzipping my dress, stroking my bare flesh as the material shivered to the floor. I stepped away from it, and regarded him intently as his gaze flowed up and down my body.

  My turn.

  I moved towards him, and slid his jacket over his shoulders, tossing it onto the chair. I pulled loose one end of his bowtie and undid the top button, while he gazed down into my eyes.

  He kissed my neck, his warm lips sending ripples of desire through me, then he dipped down, scooping me into his arms, and carried me to the bed.

  I lay, looking up at him as he undid his cufflinks, then slowly he unfastened each button on his shirt, never taking his eyes off me.

  He shrugged the shirt off and my gentleman became a soldier again, his dog tags glinting in the candlelight, his tattoo a dark shape on his golden skin.

  He bent down to untie his shoes and peel off his socks, then he stood up, watching me silently, with wonder on his face.

  I sat up and hooked my finger into the waistband of his pants, and pulled him towards me. I held his eyes as I slid the button free and lowered the zipper.

  He pushed the material over his hips and threw the black pants onto the chair with his jacket.

  As he stood in front of me, I could see the defined muscles of his stomach, diaphragm and chest moving with each breath.

  I let my fingers drift over his bare skin and felt a shiver run through him; his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes fluttered closed.

  I pushed his briefs down his long legs and he stepped free.

  The way he looked at me took my breath away. Desire, need, love and lust: the emotions chased each other across his beautiful face, the candlelight throwing shadows that emphasized the perfect symmetry of his cheekbones.

  I sat up, wrapping my arms around his waist, and placed soft kisses across his chest and stomach, before dipping down to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of his erection. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes.

  I kissed him again, then reached over to find a condom, tore the packet open and slowly rolled it down the length of his erection. He sat down next to me on the bed and carefully pulled out my hairpins, one by one, until my hair fell down my back and shoulders. Then he tangled his long fingers in my hair, and tipped my head back to kiss my throat.

  His hands traveled across my body, and I felt him unhook my bra, sliding the straps over my shoulders, before leaning down to kiss my breasts. I stroked his short, soft hair as he continued to run his tongue over and around my nipples, teasing them into rigid points.

  I lay back on the bed, my arms stretched above my head, and he hovered over me, his erection probing softly at the entrance to my sex, before he kissed his way down my chest and belly, running his tongue along the edge of my silk panties and rubbing his chin over my mound.

  He hooked his fingers under the delicate material and threw the panties somewhere behind him.

  He kissed me softly and sweetly, then nuzzled his way back up my body.

  I lifted my knees, ready for him, running my hands over his strong forearms and biceps, tracing his tattoo with one finger.

  His dog tags jingled softly as they fell onto my chest, and Sebastian’s body loomed over me, his eyes locked on mine.

  He pushed inside me slowly and I groaned, feeling his body filling me. I lifted my hips, taking that extra length, and I heard his breath exhale sharply.

  He gazed into my eyes, his hands stroking my face, as his hips moved and flexed rhythmically. My body trembled in response and he lowered his face to kiss me deeply, his tongue twining with mine.

  He pulled back slightly, nuzzling my throat, and rolling his hips so every part of me felt him inside. I clenched around him and I heard a responding growl deep in his throat.

  A quiet moan escaped me and his body recognized the sound, moving one degree faster. I lifted my hips again and I heard the breath hiss through his teeth. I cried out, on the edge of all sensation; then he buried his head in my neck and started thrusting rapidly until he reached his climax, and his body went rigid.

  For a moment, his full, crushing weight pinned me to the bed, then, with a soft sigh, he pulled out of me and rolled onto his back, one hand resting across my stomach.

  No words had been spoken; there was nothing that needed to be said.

  For the rest of that night, we slept, woke briefly, made love and slept again, until dawn turned the sky gold and purple, with flames of orange reflected in the sea. We had spoken quietly, describing our love, and expressing our need for each other with our bodies.

  We slept late, and Sebastian insisted on ordering a decadent breakfast of a dozen fresh fruits, a range of olive breads and light pastries, freshly squeezed orange juice with Sorrento lemons, and a large pot of coffee.

  We sat on the balcony in our bathrobes to enjoy the feast, but our carefree happiness had slipped away with the night. Today we had to return to Geneva. And this time tomorrow, Sebastian would be headed out to one of the most dangerous countries on earth. I would follow when I could.

  I sighed, staring out at the sea, and Sebastian held my hand, lifting it to his lips at intervals.

  “As much as I hate to say it, tesoro, but I think we should get going. We’ve got a hell of a long drive ahead of us, or rather you have, and you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  He smiled at the memory. “Yeah, but it was worth it. Anyway, don’t worry, Caro, we’re not taking the bike; we’re flying back from Naples. Our flight is at 4 pm; we’ve plenty of time.”

  “Flying? But what about your bike?”

  “Sold it, baby. I can’t take it with me, and they won’t send me back to Geneva after this tour.”

  I was astonished. “When did you organize all this?”

  “When we were in Salerno; I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I don’t: it’s your bike, but I wish you’d told me – it would have been one less thing to worry about.”

  He smiled at me. “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m just used to doing stuff on my own.”

  I frowned. “Yes. Me, too. I suppose we’ll just have to practice the whole sharing and communicating thing. I’ll write to you every day, tesoro.”

  “Really?” he said, looking both pleased and surprised. “That would be cool. I never get mail. Well, Shirley always sends me a birthday card, but that’s about it. Ches is shit at staying in touch. So am I.”

  “Well, I will expect an effort from you, Sebastian. Will you be able to email me?”

  He pulled a face. “Maybe, I’m not sure. For a few days, but then… I’ll be out of range. Caro, don’t worry if you don’t hear from me regularly.” He paused, watching my expression. “The places they send me, I can be away from the main Base for days, sometimes weeks, in shithole little villages, trying to persuade the locals to work with us. Nonmilitary comms is limited. Your letters will catch up with me – eventually, but emails – probably not that often.”

  “I understand,” I said, a chill creeping across my heart. “But in an emergency, what’s the procedure for contactin
g you?”

  I could see he was toying with an answer.

  “I’ll give you a number you can call but only in a real, fucking emergency, Caro: I’m not supposed to give it out.”

  “Okay,” I said softly, then steeled my nerve to ask my next question. “If… if anything happens that I need to know about, how will anyone know to contact me?”

  He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Same as you, Caro. We have to do a call-list – the Emergency Contact Form – of who to contact. I’ve been wondering how, I mean, I can’t put you down as ‘Lee Venzi’ or even ‘Caro Venzi’ because they’ll recognize the name, they’ll start in asking questions, and you could be in deep shit.”

  “What about Carolina Hunter?” I suggested, looking across at him. “They’ll just assume I’m a cousin or something; in fact, why don’t you do that? Put me down as a relative.”

  I could tell by the look on his face that he’d been hoping I’d make that suggestion.

  He smiled. “Yeah, that would work.”

  I hated having to talk about these things, but it was important, very important.

  “Hey, baby, nothing’s going to happen to me: I can take care of myself. I’m more worried about you. Reporters get… hurt all the time.”

  “I know, Sebastian, but I’ll be embedded with a Marine unit from Leatherneck; safest place to be. I heard US Marines are tough, and I know for a fact they’re hot. In fact the word ‘embedded’ has me thinking all sorts of interesting things.”

  I could tell he didn’t know whether to smile or scowl.

  “You stay away from those bootnecks, Caro. They’re a bunch of horny bastards.”

  “I’ve noticed! But really, don’t worry about that. I’ve learned to say ‘no’ in even more languages than you.”

  He took my hand, fiddling with my ring.

  “Well, at least they’ll know you’re taken when they see this.”

  I didn’t answer. He’d be hurt if he knew I wasn’t planning on wearing it; I couldn’t tell him that it would draw too much attention. I could either cover it up with a band-aid, or wear it around my neck on a chain – my own, unique dog tag.

  “How long do you think you’ll be in Afghan?” he said, still running his finger over the diamond.

  “Assuming my papers arrive,” I said, giving him a look which he wisely ignored, “maybe a month, six weeks. Certainly no more. I’ll have a couple of days in Kabul, maybe in Kandahar, too – meeting some of your top brass. Then I’m hoping I’ll be able to hitch a ride out to Leatherneck. I’ll just have to see how it goes. Maybe I’ll see you out there?”

  He frowned. “I want you home, safe, Caro.”

  “Likewise, Sebastian.”

  We stared at each other, aware we’d reached an impasse.

  He shook his head and changed the subject.

  “Do you want to take a swim?” he said, suddenly. “I’ll be God knows how many miles from the nearest pool out there, and hundreds of fucking miles from the ocean.”

  “Sure,” I said, relieved at the new topic. “And I get to see you in those ridiculously loud board shorts again.”

  “And you’ll wear the bikini?”

  “Only if you promise not to punch anyone who looks at me.”

  “Can’t promise that, baby,” he said, with a smirk.

  The time passed too quickly, and it seemed just moments later that we were sitting in the back of a taxi taking us to the airport at Naples, a short drive away.

  It felt strange to be traveling in a car again and, much as Sebastian’s driving had scared the living daylights out of me, I missed the mean machine – it had been so darned sexy feeling his hard body through the leather jacket, my thighs clamped around him. I wondered if he’d get his other bike shipped over from Ches’s garage. I hoped so. I wanted him to feel that his home was in Long Beach, not a bunch of boxes in San Diego.

  I decided to broach the subject.

  “Sebastian, when do you think you’ll tell Ches about us?”

  He turned to look at me, a slight frown on his face.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Well, I just thought I could get all your belongings sent over from the west coast, but it’s going to make it tricky to organize if Ches doesn’t know about me.”

  He blinked at me in surprise.

  “And there are some beautiful places in upstate New York that we could ride out to on your other bike… if you want.”

  A happy smile spread over his face. “You’d do that?”

  I was confused by his question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You’ll need your things when you come home.”

  I couldn’t understand Sebastian’s surprise; he was shaking his head and smiling at me.

  “Okay. I’ll email him tonight,” he said with a grin. “He’ll be pretty fucking surprised.”

  I laughed darkly. “Yes, that probably about sums it up – to say the least.”

  He pulled my face towards his, and kissed me hungrily, ignoring the fact that our driver had a grandstand view in the mirror.

  The airport was a small, modern, glass and steel structure with a single runway.

  We got separated by security, and I watched anxiously from a distance as Sebastian was questioned and patted down. It wasn’t until he was able to persuade them to look at his US Marine ID card, that they finally let him go.

  He smiled as he walked over to me. “Guess I’ve got a criminal face or something.”

  “I could have told you that,” I laughed. “I’m just glad they didn’t get one of the female security guards or you’d never have got away.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  The flight was short, less than two hours and we were back in Geneva, carless, bikeless and sunless.

  The city was much cooler than the southern Mediterranean, but I felt colder inside, too. Our time together could now be counted in hours.

  We took a taxi to Sebastian’s attic-like room; I hovered by the door as he threw back the shutters, letting the thin, gray, northern light of dusk into the room.

  He saw the stricken expression on my face.

  “We can check into a hotel, Caro.”

  “No, this is fine. It’s not the room…”

  “Don’t say it, Caro,” he said, softly. “Please, baby. I can’t bear it when you look at me like that.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered. I made an effort to pull myself together, for his sake. “So, single bed, huh? That’s going to be cozy. We’ll have to improvise.”

  He smiled at me gratefully.

  “I just gotta pack up my shit, baby, then we’ll go find somewhere to eat, okay?”

  “Sure, go ahead. I’ll write up my notes and check my messages.”

  Predictably, I had long emails from both Jenna and Alice begging me to tell them if it was true that: a) I’d met a man; b) I’d actually had sex with him; and c) could it possibly be the hottie in the photograph. Nicole’s email was much shorter and so explicit in her demand for information, that I angled my laptop’s screen away from Sebastian, should he happen to glance over.

  There was also an email from my editor saying that my credentials were on their way and I had a flight booked to Kabul 12 hours after Sebastian. I decided not to tell him, knowing it would give him something else to worry about – or possibly try to delay again, no matter what he said to the contrary. Although I did wonder if he’d perhaps put a word in for me after all, to expedite my papers.

  It didn’t take Sebastian long to pack, he owned so little. He wouldn’t need his civvy clothes or the majority of his books, which were boxed up to be sent back to the US; everything else went in his duffel bag.

  “You can stay here if you like,” he offered, rather apologetically. “It’s paid up till the end of the month. The owner is Madame Dubois. Just leave the key with her when you go: she’s cool.”

  “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

  He smiled, glad to be able to do something for me.

  “Any interestin
g emails?”

  “All my girlfriends are drooling over your photograph,” I said, skating over the news that my editor had been in touch. “They can’t quite believe you’re real: neither can I sometimes.”

  He smirked and pulled me into a hug. “I could prove it to you now if you like,” he said, pushing himself lightly into my body.