New Title 1

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “The ocean always reminds me of you, tesoro. It’s the same color as your eyes today.”

  He looked at me in surprise, then lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Caro.”

  He breathed my name softly, like a prayer.

  As we sat in the sunshine, a light breeze ruffling my hair, I felt life flowing back into his body. He closed his eyes, relaxing in the summer warmth, his face held up towards the light like a young plant that had been kept in the dark.

  “Thank you for this, Caro,” he whispered.

  I leaned against him and he wrapped his good arm around my shoulder, pulling me in.

  “Ready to go home, tesoro?”

  He nodded, and we stood up to walk back to our home.

  I led us back by a different route to the bungalow, and we strolled past a café that I’d not seen before: it must have opened while we were living as hermits. Three men with black hair, olive skin and dark eyes, seemed to be arguing loudly. I wanted to take the long way around in case they reminded him of Afghanistan, but something about them intrigued Sebastian. He looked up, and I could tell he was listening to what they were saying. I realized they must be speaking a language he recognized, which could mean they were Afghans.

  I was really worried, wondering what to do for the best. I glanced around, seeing if there were any taxis nearby. And then I was astonished to see a small smile lift Sebastian’s lips.

  My heart soared. I hadn’t seen him smile like that since he’d come home.

  As we walked past, Sebastian threw in a comment. The men stared at him in amazement. One called out something else and Sebastian replied. Suddenly all the men started shouting at once. They came towards him, and I was worried it might be too much, but soon they were deep in conversation and I could tell they were asking him questions. Then Sebastian grinned at them. It was like seeing the sun after a month of rain, and I dared to feel hope.

  They talked a little longer and then Sebastian introduced me. The men greeted me respectfully but with little interest, and eventually, after several more minutes where I didn’t understand a single word, but stood happily as Sebastian stroked my hand, watching him chat away, he said goodbye and we carried on walking.

  “What on earth were you talking about for so long?”

  “Baseball,” he said.

  I stared at him doubtfully.

  “You’re kidding me?”

  He smiled again, “Universal language, Caro.”

  And just like that, the world began to turn again.

  The first change was that Sebastian started doing the exercises that the therapist had given him: exercises to help build up dexterity in the fingers of his left hand, and leg stretches to help the damaged muscles of his right thigh, and he even used the exercise bike that I’d ordered for him – although he’d shouted at me the day it had been delivered. He also began doing sit-ups and push-ups with a vengeance.

  The second change came a week after meeting the Afghan men. It was evening, and I was standing in the kitchen, cooking pasta arrabiata for our supper, when Sebastian poked his head around the door, a quizzical expression on his face.

  I stared at him for a moment before I realized what was different.

  “You’ve shaved!”

  “Well, you didn’t like the beard, did you?”

  “That’s putting it mildly, Sebastian.”

  He looked so beautiful, my heart gave another, small, hopeful lurch.

  The third, and most startling change, was that he slipped his hands around my waist and nuzzled my neck. I was so shocked, I froze. His smile fell away and he let go.

  “No, tesoro, no!” and I pulled his arms back around my waist, laying my head on his chest. I couldn’t help the tears spilling down my cheeks, soaking into his T-shirt.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he said, stroking my hair.

  “Oh, God, I’ve missed you, Sebastian.”

  “I know, baby,” he said, gently, “but I’m here now.”

  It felt so good to have his arms around me after months of his numb coldness and distance.

  I lifted my head to look at him, and he wiped my tears away with his thumbs.

  “I’m sorry I made you cry, baby,” he said, softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I know that I did.”

  I locked my arms around his neck and pulled his head down, kissing his lips, gently at first, and then with increasing hunger and need.

  He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then his lips parted and I felt his tongue sweep into my mouth, and sudden, hot, unexpected arousal flooded through me.

  I moaned into his mouth, the intensity of my desire taking me by surprise. Sebastian gasped and stepped back half a pace, gazing down at me.

  Inside, I was begging him not to reject me again, but I felt strongly that the next step needed to come from him.

  “I want to make love to you, Caro.”

  His voice was so quiet I could hardly hear him.

  “You do?” I breathed.

  “God, yes, baby. Only if you want to.”

  I stared at his face, and found the love in his eyes that seemed to have been hidden for so long.

  “I’ve waited and waited to hear you say that, tesoro.”

  I turned off the gas stove, abandoning the pasta.

  He held my hand, gazing into my eyes as we walked into the bedroom.

  Chapter 18

  The last time we’d made love it had been in a small, stinking mud-built room, in a former police compound in Nowzad; now it was very different.

  He stood hesitantly next to the bed, and it reminded me so much of our very first time together. He’d been broken then, too.

  I pulled the curtains, but the sun was still high in the sky and the room was filled with a soft, muted light.

  I walked back over to him and reached up to stroke his face. He leaned into my hand and his eyes closed.

  “I don’t know if I can…”

  “Shh, tesoro. I just want to feel your skin next to mine. Anything else, well, that’s a bonus.”

  I kissed him slowly and tenderly, remembering, relearning, starting again. He returned my kisses, carefully to begin with, and I felt the first small flames of passion heat his blood. He swept my hair off my neck and ran his tongue up to my jaw. His hands massaged my waist, kneading my flesh. Then his right hand crept up my body and I felt his touch hover over my bra strap, before his left hand slowly descended to cup my behind.

  It felt so good to have his hands on me again and, despite what I’d said to him, I was desperate for him to know me as a man could know a woman, but I also knew I couldn’t rush this.

  I pushed my hands up under his T-shirt and stroked his warm, silky skin. Carefully, I traced my finger across the small, round scar, where the bullet that punctured his lung had exited his body. I needed him to know that it didn’t make any difference to me, that I loved him regardless.

  He tensed slightly, so I moved my hand away, instead letting my fingers drift down his spine, stroking his back and shoulders.

  He continued to kiss me, his touch slowly becoming more assured. He wove his fingers into my hair, tightening his grip.

  I could taste his desire and need, but I could feel his anxiety, too. It had been so long since we’d touched each other that there was an additional pressure and weight of expectation.

  Gently, I reached for his T-shirt, feeling his slight resistance before he let me pull it over his head.

  I could see his ribs plainly, but his muscle tone was beginning to recover. Plenty of love and home-cooking: that’s what he needed. And time – a whole lifetime of love.

  I wondered, briefly, where he’d put his dog tags; they’d disappeared shortly after he’d come home. I hoped he hadn’t done anything hasty, like destroying them or throwing them away, because I knew he’d regret that one day.

  I reached for his belt, cinched in two more holes because of his weight loss, but he caught my hands and shook his head.

  �
��I don’t think I’m ready for this, Caro. What if…?”

  My frustration was ready to boil over, but then I was struck with sudden inspiration.

  “Want me to show you how I reminded myself of you when you were in the hospital?” I said, looking directly into his eyes.

  He nodded, his pupils dilating in a way that filled me with confidence, because it showed that he still desired me.

  “I will, if you take off your pants.”

  “Caro…”

  “That’s the deal, Sebastian. Non-negotiable.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans to the floor. He angled his right leg away from me, and I knew it was because he was trying to hide the ugly scar that ran the length of his thigh. But it didn’t hide the slight bulge in his briefs: it wasn’t a full erection by any means, but it was a start.

  “Sit in the chair: make yourself comfortable – I could be some time.”

  I was rewarded with a slight smile.

  “First, I’d make sure the curtains were drawn,” I said, pointing towards the windows like a flight attendant. “Then, I’d pull back the duvet and arrange the pillows.”

  As I spoke, I flicked back the sheets and piled up the pillows near the headboard.

  “Then I’d put on a little mood music…”

  I pointed the remote control at my CD player, and the sounds of Martha’s Harbour swirled softly from the speakers.

  You are an ocean wave, my love

  Crashing at my bow…

  “I’d kick off my sneakers, because I’m really not a Manolo sort of girl… that’s high heels to you, Hunter.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I lived in Paris for six months, Caro. I have heard of Manolo Blahnik.”

  “Yes, well, he’s from Spain, so there’s no need to look so superior, Sebastian.”

  Secretly, I was thrilled he was playing along and had relaxed enough to be able to tease me.

  “Besides,” I went on, “I can’t walk in high-heels unless I’ve got you to hang onto… but I’m not averse to wearing them in the bedroom.”

  His breath caught in his throat, and his hands gripped the edge of his chair. I tried not to stare at his briefs, but that was the area I really wanted to affect. I hoped our banter would help him to relax, because I longed to feel his body – next to mine, inside mine.

  I kept the smile plastered on my face and tried to sound natural and cheerful – maybe even a little bit sensual, if I could remember how.

  “So, after I’ve kicked off my sneakers, I’d peel off my socks, because leaving them on just isn’t sexy, and if you ever do that, Hunter, I’ll be justified in filing for divorce – after we’re married, of course, which you keep putting off.”

  He frowned slightly, so I decided to concentrate on the mission in hand, so to speak.

  “I’d imagine your fingers teasing me around my waistband,” I said, mimicking my words. “And then I’d think about you unzipping my jeans and standing back while I shimmy out of them.”

  His eyes followed my pants, as I slid them down my legs to the floor.

  “And I’d pull off my T-shirt because I’d be feeling hot, just thinking about you touching me.”

  My T-shirt followed my jeans, making a small pile.

  “And then I’d touch my breasts like this, Sebastian,” I said, squeezing my breasts together and throwing my head back, “like you asked me to once before, and I’d imagine you running your hands over me and unhooking my bra, and you’d torment my nipples with your hands and your hot, sweet mouth, your tongue moving around and around me like this.”

  I glanced at him, and saw that his eyes were transfixed by my breasts and – yes! There was a significant bulge in his briefs – my plan was working.

  I unhooked my bra, dropped it to the floor, and then turned my back on him.

  “And I’d have to climb onto the bed, just like this, Sebastian,” I said, provocatively wiggling my ass at him, as I slunk up towards the pillows.

  Then I knelt up and turned around to face him. “And I’d think about how you’d toy with the lace on my panties, just like this, and how your fingers would tease me, sliding inside me, finding me all hot and wet and wanting.”

  I rubbed myself inside my panties, and closed my eyes as sensation began to pulse through me, making me moan softly.

  “And I’d think what it was like to feel your mouth on me, and your tongue inside me, tantalizing and torturing me, bringing on an orgasm with a flick of your tongue.”

  “Fuck!” I heard him hiss.

  “And I’d lie back on the bed and imagine your long, hard cock, sliding inside me, thrusting fast – really fast – and bringing on another orgasm, just like this.”

  I lay back on the bed and shimmied out of my panties, then propped myself up on the pillows, pulled my knees up slightly and opened my legs.

  I gazed up at him from beneath my eyelashes as I continued to touch myself. I saw him lick his lips and shift on the chair.

  “And I’d wish you were with me, Sebastian, because although I’ve got a damn good imagination, I’d rather have the real thing any day.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked up to meet his.

  “I’m so wet for you, Sebastian. Do you want to touch me?”

  He swallowed and I saw some of his anxiety return, so I closed my eyes and rubbed myself harder.

  Then I heard the floorboards creak as he stood up, and felt the mattress shift as he climbed onto the bed. He hesitated for a second, and then I felt him nudge my hand out of the way, as he circled his fingers around, then pushed two inside me.

  I groaned loudly when he fastened his mouth over my breast and started to tease the nipple out, sucking hard. I ran my hands over his shoulders and felt a slight tremor ripple through him. He moved over to my other breast, swirling his tongue around and over me, pulling lightly with his teeth, filling me with need.

  Then his kisses trailed down my body, and I held my breath as I felt his tongue sliding inside me.

  I called out his name, and he pushed my legs further apart, really working me, and I orgasmed loudly, watching as he moved up to kiss my thigh.

  “Much, much better than my imagination, Sebastian!” I gasped.

  He chuckled quietly.

  I brushed my hands over his briefs, unable to help myself.

  “Oh, you’re so hard, tesoro… I want you inside me.”

  “Where are the fucking condoms, Caro,” he said, in a tight voice.

  “Don’t need them: I’ve been taking the pill. Just you, Sebastian, now.”

  I pushed his briefs over his hips, and fastened both hands over his erection and guided him inside me.

  He groaned, a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure.

  It felt so good, stretching and filling, deep inside me. I clenched around him.

  “Fuck, Caro!” he gasped.

  “Don’t try and control it,” I begged him, “Just love me. Love me, Sebastian.”

  He flexed his hips and began to thrust into me.

  It felt so intense; we were so intimately connected, joined together, man and woman, moving as one body, one soul, one purpose.

  He cried out and shuddered, pouring himself inside me, filling me with his love and trust, bringing us together again.

  When he’d finished, he rested between my thighs, his face buried in my neck, his breath still coming in gasps. I stroked his back and told him I loved him.

  Eventually he pulled out and curled up next to me: I could feel his cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Are you okay?” I said, quietly.

  He nodded without speaking, and then he opened his eyes and smiled at me.

  “Very okay, Caro. I’m very okay.”

  And we held each other without the need to speak again.

  After that, the dam holding back our intimacy had been breached, and Sebastian’s mind started to heal as well as his body.

  There was something I had to ask him, and I didn’t kno
w if it was going to be a good idea or not.

  We were slumped together on the sofa, drinking herbal tea just before going to bed. I didn’t really enjoy the thin, bitter liquid, but caffeine made Sebastian jumpy.