“So being okay means drinking?” There was no accusation in her voice.
“Considering I did not start drinking at breakfast, this is an improvement,” he said dryly. He almost told her about his problems with alcohol. About the accident in Colorado. About trying to stay sober and failing. Other than through deployments, this was the longest he’d ever gone without drinking and he was rapidly reaching his breaking point.
“Bad day?”
“’Bout normal.” He picked up the pint. Twisted the cap. On. Off. “What are you running this far out for?”
“I got my hand slapped for taking too long on the medical board files.” She sniffed. “Apparently they found Sloban’s file today.”
“That’s bad?”
“It is when we’re backlogged six months and every day I take trying to make sure the cases are evaluated properly is a day my boss has to hear about it from the commanders here on post.”
“Considering your boss called my boss and I got my ass chewed because of it, I’m not exactly sympathetic. You could take longer. You know, be a pal?”
“I’ll do my best.” Emily grinned and pushed her hair out of her face. She sighed quietly, then shifted to lean against the side of the truck, her gaze dropping to the flask in Reza’s hand. “You know what my parents said when I told them I’d joined the army, Reza?”
“You’re an adult. Why did they even get a vote?”
She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “You don’t understand the life I come from. My parents aren’t used to being defied. By anyone, let alone their daughter.”
“So what—you were supposed to marry some idiot banker’s son and instead ran off and joined the circus?”
“Bentley was a senator’s son, actually.”
“Really? Wow, you’re slumming pretty hard with me, huh?”
She frowned slightly. “I’m not slumming with you. You have more honor in your little finger than Bentley has in his entire body.”
Reza looked down at the pint, uncomfortable with that look in her eye. She looked at him like he was some kind of hero—and he was nothing of the sort.
“So you caught your best friend with your fiancé’s dick in her mouth and decided to join the army?” he asked, changing the subject away from his alleged honor. His honor was nothing but a bad joke. A convenient lie that people used to overlook the worst of his sins.
“It was more than that but yes; that was part of it.” She rested her forehead in her palm. “I visited the VA hospital in Boston once with my friend. It was such a somber place. And I remember this woman there. She was sitting in the lobby. Off to one side, by herself. She looked so lonely. So sad. My friend just wanted to leave but I couldn’t…I couldn’t not talk to her.” She swallowed hard a couple of times. “She was trying to get her husband an appointment but was told there was a five-month wait.” She paused. “I’ll never forget the desperate sadness in her voice. Like she’d just given up.”
“What did you do?”
“I tried to send him to my father’s clinic.” She lifted her gaze to his. “His name was Mike Richards.”
“Was.”
“He killed himself while his wife was at the VA, fighting for him.” Her voice broke and she blinked, looking away.
“So then why aren’t you there?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Boyfriend, right?”
“Ex.” She met his gaze. “I wanted to make a difference and all I feel like I’m doing is putting out fires.”
Reza shifted. “Welcome to the army. That’s all we ever do.” He twisted the cap back on. Set the pint down by his hip. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who managed to get ahead of everything.”
“That’s so cynical,” she whispered.
He shrugged and let his gaze drift down her exposed legs. “I suppose cynical is just a way we get through this stuff,” he said.
“There are other ways to cope with stressors in life.”
“You sound like a shrink,” he murmured. But then he glanced up. Surprised to find her watching him, her eyes dark, her cheeks flushed. What would she do if he touched her? He reached out, cupping her calf, still slick with sweat.
She stilled, her eyes going wide as he slid his hand down her smooth skin. She was slick and soft and hot beneath his touch. Her lips parted.
But she didn’t pull away.
* * *
“You can’t be serious?” she whispered. “We’re outside. In broad daylight.” And chasing those words was arousal, hot and pulsing through her veins, settling between her thighs.
“You’ve never gotten naked outside before?” His voice was thick.
“Not next to an army airfield,” she whispered. She felt foolish. There wasn’t anyone around for miles.
“Trees overhead.” He inched his hand higher up the back of her leg. “I hear it’s great stress relief.”
“Getting naked or getting caught?” She gasped as his thumb stroked the inside of her knee. Such a simple touch. Electric and erotic. “I have to go back to work.”
He shifted then to crawl between her thighs. He captured her between his body and the truck. “You don’t need anyone’s permission for this,” he whispered against her mouth. “Be wild for once.”
She expected he’d kiss her but instead, he simply shifted and pulled her onto his lap. Her shins banged against the bed of the truck but none of that mattered when he pulled her flush against him. “This is your idea of wild?”
“It’s a start,” he said, his hands sliding up the back of her jersey. She shivered at his light caress against her skin.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I’m always serious when it comes to sex,” he whispered against her mouth. “And it’s a great alternative to what I had planned for stress relief.”
“Would that involve crawling into that pint?” she asked, threading her fingers behind his neck. “I thought you didn’t drink anymore.”
“I don’t.” He kissed her. “But that’s a long story and I much prefer this technique if you’re up for it.”
His fingers wandered over her back, slipping beneath the wet shirt. Was she seriously considering this? The thought of getting naked in the back of his truck was…it was forbidden. Something she’d never dreamt of trying when she’d been younger. The fear of getting caught added a delicious spice to the arousal coursing through her veins.
It stunned her how much she wanted this. Wanted to feel the kiss of the air against her bare skin. How much she wanted to feel the wild abandonment he brought to life inside her.
“I’ve never done it in the backseat before,” she whispered against his mouth.
He grinned and it was feral and hungry. He urged her into his lap to straddle him. His big hands found her hips then he slid off the back of the truck and climbed into the backseat. “I’m sure we can figure it out.” He lifted his lips toward hers, his gaze on her mouth.
There was something powerful about her position. She slid her arms around his neck, threading her fingers into his soft, short hair. She brushed her top lip against his, a tentative gesture. His mouth opened but still, he let her retain control.
She flicked her tongue out, tracing the line of his lips. A shudder ran through him and his fingers tightened on her hips. His tongue met hers, a gentle caress between their lips, and excitement purred through her. She swallowed and eased back, enjoying the way he watched her. His wide full lips were parted.
Patient.
Waiting.
Letting her take control.
She licked her lips then leaned in to press them against his. Felt him shudder beneath her touch. Cradling his cheeks, she angled her mouth over his. His lips parted beneath hers, opening beneath her touch. A click of teeth and his tongue slid along hers, a sensual dance.
He was dying. A thousand slow deaths as she kissed him. He fought the primitive urge to drag her out of those sexy running shorts and slide into her. She was driving him insane with her sexy kisses and sensua
l sounds. He gripped her hips and she winced, a gasp that was not pleasure against his mouth. “Sorry. Hip still sore?” he whispered.
“It’s better than it was,” she murmured.
“I’ll be more careful.” He leaned up, capturing her mouth before she could get too far away. “But we’ve got to get you out of those shorts.”
“I’d much rather get you out of those pants.” She reached between them, fumbling with his uniform belt until it slid free. She flicked open the buttons on his pants and paused, her eyes widening. “No underwear?”
He shrugged, his lips parted, his eyes heavy with the anticipation of her touch. “Laundry day.” His voice was hoarse. “Touch me,” he whispered when she hesitated.
He guided her hand to his aching cock and almost died of pleasure from her gentle grip. He squeezed her hand tight around him and showed her the rhythm. He started to release her hand and let her stroke him.
“Don’t let go,” she said. He looked up to find her watching their hands intently. She lifted her gaze and their eyes collided. He’d never seen anything so fucking sexy as he guided her hand over his erection. The way she watched him, like this was the first time she’d ever done anything illicit. Anything without permission.
“Honey, if I don’t let go, we’re going to have a hell of a mess on our hands,” he murmured against her mouth. “Pun intended.”
“Oh.” A gasp, filled with arousal and heat and longing.
He kissed her then, pulling her close so that he could feel her heat against him.
He thanked the new truck fairies that he’d had the foresight to get a full-sized pickup, one with a backseat that had room in spades. He pushed the front seat forward as Emily shucked out of her shorts, then pushed his pants down as she crawled back into his lap.
“Condom?” she whispered. Her body was taut against his. He reached between their bodies to find her soaked. Swollen, so swollen.
He shifted and urged her to rub against him. Her heat surrounded him, caressing his cock until he thought this was going to have a disappointing ending for them both. Instead, she shifted unexpectedly and slid down his length with an audible gasp.
“Fuck, did I hurt you?”
Her breath came in short quick bursts. “No. I need…I…” She pressed against him, her body shuddering around him. “This. I need this.”
He shifted then and arched his hips into hers. She cried out then started to move. Slow and deep, she took him, clenching around his cock until he thought he’d die from the simple pleasure of watching her move.
He leaned his head back and half-closed his eyes, letting her move, letting her find what felt good. And when he reached between them to stroke her softly, she whimpered but kept moving, riding him deeper. And then a little harder.
He stroked her until that first shudder broke over them both. She lost the rhythm and he found it, gripping her hips and holding her as he slid deeper, deeper into her. The cascade of emotion started with the tiniest wave of her shuddering pleasure. It continued, stronger and stronger until he clutched her to him and surrendered a piece of his soul.
Chapter Eleven
How much trouble are you in at work,” he asked as he parked behind the clinic.
“Nothing drastic,” she said. “I just have slight perfectionist tendencies and I don’t like screwing up.”
He leaned toward her then, threading his fingers into her hair. He urged her to look at him. “You’re not screwing up. You’re trying to do a good job,” he whispered against her lips.
“I’m not being very successful at it,” she said, blinking rapidly.
“Yes, you are.” It was weighing on her, more than she’d admitted at the lake. He brushed his lips against hers. “What are you doing later?”
“Working.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then nodded. She was dodging him. And normally it wouldn’t bother him except that now he wanted to know what she was hiding. Why had she gone for a six-mile run in the middle of the workday if she was just blowing off steam?
Reza looked longingly at the glove box as he drove back toward his company operations area. After-lunch traffic on Fort Hood sucked balls on a good day and today was not a good day. He’d already inched past three fender benders and at least two civilian cops handing out tickets.
Why couldn’t people just put the phone down and drive? Hell, he couldn’t fathom not paying attention to the roads as he drove. He clenched the steering wheel with his left hand as he flipped through the radio stations. A tight band squeezed around his chest until he realized he was holding his breath.
A single hard breath and the band released. “Stairway to Heaven” came on the radio at the same time as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and put it on speakerphone. “Sarn’t Ike.”
“Sarn’t Ike, it’s Foster. We’ve got a small problem.”
“What’s that?” Lovely. He was stuck in traffic and they had a small problem. The day was shaping up to be a real winner at the rate it was going.
“Sloban is missing. And his roommate says he may or may not be riding around with a pint of Patrón and a nine mil.”
“Tell me this is some kind of joke.” The tension around his heart was back and it brought friends, stabbing his heart with a thousand tiny nails. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, gearing up for action.
Because if Sloban had a gun, there was going to be high adventure somewhere on post.
“Apparently, he got the notification that his medical evaluation board results denied he has PTSD. He’s getting thrown out of the army with nothing.” Foster’s voice held a hard edge, the kind of edge Reza was used to hearing when the shit and the fan were making babies. “Are you near the R&R Center? You might want to head back there. His roommate said he was going off about the psych docs.”
Reza glanced around him at the traffic. He was pinned in on three sides but if he went over the median and busted a U-turn, he could get back there easily.
To hell with it. He’d deal with the cops later.
“All right. Have you called the MPs?” Reza swore under his breath. “Never mind. Just get some guards posted on the building so he can’t get in if he shows up. I’m heading back to R&R.”
“Don’t get shot. I’m going to be pissed if I have to deal with Marshall and friends by myself.”
Reza grinned. “I’ll do my best, honey.” Reza dropped the phone into the center console of his truck and waited for the car in front of him to inch forward a little bit more. Scanning his surroundings, he offered up a prayer to the traffic gods that there were no cops around. Flipping on his four-way flashers, he eased the truck over the median and then gunned it once he was in the opposite lane, cutting off a Humvee.
The Humvee’s horn blared but he ignored it. His blood pounded in his veins as he mentally started running through the various scenarios. Sloban could already be inside. He could have a gun.
Reza really didn’t want to get shot. Not today, anyway, and for damn sure not by one of his guys.
At the R&R Center he pulled into one of the handicap spots. Screw it; the cops could ticket him if he didn’t get blown halfway to hell. He scanned the parking lot quickly, looking for Sloban’s shitty white Bronco, and didn’t see it.
Wishing for his body armor, he walked through the front door of the clinic. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The receptionist had the same blank stare that she’d had earlier when Reza had tried to get information from her about Wisniak. At least, that was until she looked up. Her eyes widened once she recognized Reza. “Sergeant—”
“Ms. Walters, I’m not here to argue with you. I need you to clear the lobby of folks.”
She stood, canting one eyebrow, hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Iaconelli, but you don’t get to give orders here.”
He slammed his palm against the counter. “Listen, lady. Someone in this clinic just told one of my joes he’s not getting a medical discharge from the army. We suspect he’s go
t a weapon. So you can stand here and argue with me or you can clear the fucking area. Your choice.”
Her dark skin paled. She grabbed her purse, her movements jerky. “Don’t forget your ID card,” he reminded her.
She scuttled out the back door silently. She hadn’t breathed a word to any of the troops in the waiting room. Coward.
“All right, listen up. I need all of you to grab your gear and head out of here.” He reached out, stopping a young female private who looked like she was about twelve from walking out the front door. “Head out the back.” He had no idea if Sloban was going to come in the front door or the back but Reza figured it was a better idea to ship people away from the front door. Sloban wasn’t smart enough to conduct an actual assault on the building if he was coming here.
Reza waited until the last soldier had departed the waiting area, then started back toward the front door.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Reza glanced over his shoulder to see one highly pissed-off Emily. If they didn’t get shot, dear Lord was he in trouble.
* * *
Reza’s features were stretched tight, his breathing quick. She was close enough to see that his nostrils flared with each breath. He looked tense and alert.
Just like he had at the shoot house.
“You need to clear the area.”
She raised both eyebrows. “What’s going on?”
His fists clenched at his sides. The movement drew her gaze and she noticed how big his hands were. Hands that had been on her body less than an hour ago. Veins crisscrossed the dark skin. Her mouth went dry and she told herself it was from the fierce anger looking back at her.
“Someone in your clinic decided that Sloban’s PTSD was caused by the drugs he was smoking instead of his time in the combat zone, and now he’s pissed. He could be heading anywhere but I’d bet my life he’s coming here.” There was censure in his voice and Emily flinched. “Someone should have probably broken the news to him a little more gently. Now we’ve just got to keep him from blowing the place up and we’ll be good to go.”
All for You Page 15