by test
“Nothing, honey—just a bad dream.” She tried to steady her voice. It wasn’t easy. The nightmare had been so real, so vivid.
“About those bad people?” Stacy asked anxiously, snuggling close.
Smothering a tired yawn, Laurie nodded and hugged her daughter tight. “It’s okay now.
It’s just a bad dream.”
“I wish Damien was here,” Stacy said sleepily. “He got them before. If he was here they’d never come back.”
“They won’t come back,” Laurie asserted as she settled Stacy under the covers with her.
“We’re safe, sweetheart.”
“I wish Damien was here.” Stacy yawned widely and fell silent, asleep again.
So do I, Laurie thought tiredly, so do I.
* * * *
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Monday morning, just a few days later, Laurie sent Stacy to kindergarten on the bus. In an effort to make things normal again, she retreated to her office upstairs. She needed to finish the final draft of her current manuscript, started before terrorists and Damien interrupted her routine. The cursor blinked at her form the middle of the page depicted on her computer screen but, her heart heavy with longing, she could not concentrate.
The shrill peal of the doorbell pierced the haze of her mind. Her heart lurched and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The hated surge of adrenaline sent shudders through her. Not expecting anyone, she stared at the open door of her office. Clamping down on unexpected, irrational panic, she cursed herself for over reacting like a scared ninny. When the bell rang again, she forced her body to move.
Everything Damien taught her rolled through her mind as she went down the stairs.
Prepared to do bodily harm to anyone she did not know, she grasped the doorknob with a shaking hand. She turned the knob, slowly pulled the door open—and reeled as shock drained the blood from her head. Damien stood on her door step, dressed to kill in a dark blue Navy uniform. Gleaming metals hung on his chest. His pistol rested in a gleaming white holster.
Her jaw dropped. Her heart stopped then lurched into a panicked beat. Her breath caught in her throat. She blinked but he still stood in front of her. He was not a figment of her heart’s yearning.
“Damien?” Afraid to break whatever spell held her, she hardly dared to breathe.
In a blur of movement, he had her in his arms and his mouth fastened on hers. Abruptly lightheaded in a rapid surge of desire, she staggered and clutched at his shoulders for support.
Her lips parted automatically to the invasion of his prowling tongue. Pure shocking sensation swamped her. Her head spun feverishly until, oxygen starved, she dragged her mouth from his to suck air.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded breathlessly as she stumbled out of his arms.
Only her hand curled around the door knob kept her on her shaky feet.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
As though stalking prey, he came after her and closed the door behind him. Caught in his burning gaze, Laurie gulped hard and stumbled. Her back hit the wall and she simply stared at him. He planted both hands on the wall by her shoulders and leaned into her, his mouth just a breath from hers.
Anticipation sparked a different kind of adrenaline into her overloaded system. He shifted position and pressed the length of his body against hers. That physical contact scorched her senses. She looked deep into his hungry eyes and lost herself in him.
“I told myself to stay away,” he growled and stared at her mouth. “I couldn’t. Where’s Stacy?”
“School.” It was a low husky murmur.
At the feral gleam in his eyes, her mouth went dry. She swiped her tongue over her lips.
He growled again, low and deep, then closed the distance and kissed her with drugging intensity.
His fingers interlaced with hers, he used his body to pin her to the wall. Need clawed into her gut, sharp and edgy.
Streaks of fire branded her skin as his mouth raced over her jaw and down her neck. His lips cruised. His tongue licked. His teeth nibbled. And her body burned.
Feverish, delirious, she groaned and squirmed, rubbing herself across the bulge in his trousers. His arousal inflamed her senses. He released her hands, grabbed her hips, and held her still against his aroused body. He lifted his mouth from her, rested his forehead against hers.
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“Keep that up and we won’t leave this spot,” he murmured huskily.
His warm breath drifted over her face, raising goose bumps on her sensitized skin. Lost in passion, lost in him, she grinned wickedly at him and rubbed her breasts on his chest. Her nipples tingled, pebbled, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. On tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his and traced her tongue over his lips. Changing angles, he slanted his mouth over hers and took charge. Sharp claws of pleasure, intense and almost unbearable, dug into her heart as his tongue dug in and prowled her mouth at will.
Devouring her with hungry, mind-stealing kisses, he swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs. He found her bedroom unerringly, absently kicked the door shut behind him, and lowered her to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared greedily at him. He looked good enough to eat in great big, delicious bites. Anticipating the taste of him, she licked her lips and moaned softly as she reached for him.
With slightly unsteady fingers, she unfastened the holster belt, slipped it off, and laid the belt and gun on the nightstand. Her eyes steady on his, she deftly unbuttoned the uniform jacket as he stood over her. He shrugged it off, flung it over the back of a nearby chair. Laurie fumbled with his belt but the buckle defeated her. Grinning, an amused sparkle in his eyes, he unfastened the belt.
She grabbed the waistband of his trousers and pulled him down. He sprawled across the bed and reached for her. Eluding his seeking hands, Laurie bounced off the bed. Floating on her power to make him want her, she took in his puzzled expression and gave him a sultry smile.
Swaying gently to a pagan beat that existed only in her head, she raised her T-shirt inch by slow inch to the firm swell of her breasts. His eyes wide with surprise, he linked his hands under his head and watched her. Before sheer nervousness could stop her, she slipped first one arm then the other from the short sleeves of her shirt. Pure feminine triumph swelled at the dark hunger in his eyes. Holding the shirt over her breasts, she turned her back on him then dragged the shirt over her head.
His low ragged groan of impatient need sent a surge of power through her. She reveled in it. He wanted her. He needed her. She wanted to make him crazy with lust. Ignoring the rustle of movement and fabric behind her, she hooked her thumbs into her waistband and, wriggling her hips seductively, slid her jeans and panties over her hips. She bent over, offering him a perfect view, and removed her clothes.
His sharp inhalation of air in the quiet room pleased her immensely. Completely naked, she turned and deliberately tortured him with her generous curves. His starving gaze raked over her and the wicked, teasing streak vanished. As her eyes roamed over his naked, fully aroused form, she only wanted to take and be taken—now!
He moved so fast she was stunned to find herself pinned beneath him on the bed. Barely leashed passion blazed in his dark eyes. Desire exploded anew in her whole system and she writhed restlessly under him. She wanted him. She would take him for whatever small time he spared her. She had no pride in this passionate onslaught.
With eager hands and mouths, they relearned all the erotic secrets they had shared just days earlier. Completely lost in a violent sea of sensation, she touched, wriggled, and stroked.
Reality faded until she was aware only of Damien. He found her mouth again as he teased her nipples with agile fingers. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and she sucked on it, dragging a harsh groan from him.
His fingers tangled in her hair, he held her still and ravished with lips, teeth, and tongue.
His thig
h rubbed her already moist center until she quivered in need. Lips and tongue slid over ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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her skin, blazing a hot moist path to her breast. She arched involuntarily, offering herself to his raging hunger.
“Now, Damien. Please,” she begged her voice raw with her violent needs.
“Oh no. Not yet,” he replied, his voice rough with the effort of control. “My turn.”
Fast and lethal, his hands streaked over her. Lips and tongue followed, searing her senses, until his mouth closed over her turgid nipple. An answering tug of pure heat flashed into her. He drove her to the edge and held her there. She’d die if he didn’t take her now.
Tears of frustrated raw need spilled over her lashes. She writhed mindlessly in the storm he created. His mouth raced over her until she felt his breath on her inner thighs. Her neck arched. Her hips lifted in acute demand. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as his tongue slid over her. He grunted but only teased and tormented her. He gave her everything but what she so desperately needed.
Leaving her hanging on the sharp edge of ecstasy, he slid up and over her, his mouth covering hers with devastating carnality. Desperate, she slipped her hand between their sweat slick bodies and stroked him. He groaned into her mouth. She swallowed the sound, the very breath that uttered it, and sensed the thin thread of his control snap. He thrust, hard and deep, into her, filling her completely. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. Caught up in a savage rhythm of razor sharp need, they climbed the peak and tumbled over it together.
Laurie blinked and struggled to drag air into her lungs. Damien lay beside her, his chest heaving with every harsh breath. Lost in the afterglow of love, she snuggled close to him, her head on his shoulder. Drowsy and sated, content, she glided her fingers through the sprinkle of hair on his chest. His arm curved around her, his fingers tracing idle circles on her arm. With a contented sigh, she slid her leg over his.
“I love you,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.
He froze. His hand stilled its gentle caress. Laurie abruptly realized she had said the words aloud. With a ragged groan at her stupidity, she jerked away from him. For whatever reason, he didn’t want love. At least, he didn’t want to hear the word. She bolted off the bed and, keeping her eyes averted, gathered up her clothes. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked furiously to hold them back. Oh, it hurt—not just that he obviously did not return her love but that he did not even want it.
Damien did not move an inch. He merely watched her through narrowed eyes as she hastily yanked her clothes on and fled. She loved him! His heart swelled but his mind panicked.
But it should not have been such a shock. He had suspected—no, he had known she loved him.
But he never expected to hear the words. He did not want to hear the words.
Staring through the open bedroom door, he mulled over the situation. He did not dare give the words back. It changed everything. He could not remember the last time he had heard those three words. Why did it shake him up so much? Was it because she loved him or because he loved her? He didn’t want changes. He liked his life the way it was. Being a Navy SEAL
suited him perfectly.
“Shit.” He grimaced in self-disgust and confusion. He sat up and rubbed a weary hand over his face. Standing, directing mental curses at himself, he pulled on his underwear and trousers.
Bare-chested, he roamed the house until he found her in her office. He glanced over the computer system and inexpensive but comfortable furniture. Bookshelves, filled with a variety of fiction and on-fiction books, covered two inner walls. Framed book covers lined the wall above ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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her desk. He noted all the details of the room in a single lightening glance but his gaze riveted on her.
She leaned a shoulder on the window frame and stared into the back yard. Sunlight streamed through the window, framing her in a golden glow. She moved and the image faded but remained imprinted on his brain. He blinked and focused on her again as she crossed the room and sat at her desk.
“Sorry,” she said, a trace of self-deprecation in her tone. “Got caught up in the moment, I guess.” She smiled brightly.
Too brightly, he thought, watching her intently. He stared at her for so long she looked away. Her smile faltered slightly and didn’t reach her eyes.
“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted. “It was just a slip of the tongue. People say things they don’t mean in the midst of passion.”
“I don’t think so, Laurie.” Damien shook his head as he crossed the room and stood next to her. “I think you meant every word.”
Part of him, deep down, wanted it to be true—needed her to love him, even if he didn’t want such a messy emotion in his life.
“Forget I said anything,” she said flatly. “A lot has happened in the past couple of weeks—romance novels, adrenaline, and hero worship.”
Dismissing the subject as inconsequential, she moved the electronic mouse and looked at her computer screen. The cursor blinked in the middle of the page.
“You probably don’t have much time but I need to get some work done before Stacy gets home.” She flashed a genuine, warm smile. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
Uncertain how to pursue the subject, or if he even wanted to, Damien settled onto the old leather sofa. A comfortably worn recliner sat diagonally to the end of the sofa. Tired from the long drive on his motorcycle, he stretched out. His head lay on the arm of the couch. His feet stuck past the other end. With a weary sigh he relaxed more than he had in a month.
Sleep, however, eluded him. Did Laurie really love him? Or were her rationalizations nearer the mark? It made perfectly logical sense. He didn’t doubt the powerful sexual attraction that drew him to her like a magnet. Passion exploded like a volcano every time he touched her.
But there was no future for them. Their relationship, their needs, was based on the tension and adrenaline of danger. It would never last. They had nothing else to hold them to each other.
And he was a Navy SEAL. He took risks no one else wanted to think about. He did jobs no one else could or would do. Love and family—those parts of the American Dream did not fit into the simple equation of his life. So why had he returned to her? To exorcise a ghost? Unable to find the answers, he slipped into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
“Mommy!” Stacy called excitedly as she ran through the house. “Whose motorcycle is that?”
Abruptly jerked out of sleep, Damien rolled off the sofa. He was wide-awake and alert as he rolled over the floor. Heart pounding fiercely, he quickly scanned the room for danger. He turned his puzzled gaze on Laurie. She didn’t look upset or concerned.
She chuckled. “It’s just Stacy. She saw your bike.”
“Where are you, Mommy?”
“In the office, honey.” Mischief and pleasure sparkled in her emerald eyes.
Damien shook his head. That brief surge of adrenaline had his pulse thundering in his ears. He closed his eyes, counted to ten as he listened to small pounding footsteps. Calmer, he ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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opened his eyes and waited. Stacy ran up the stairs, down the hall, and stopped abruptly in the doorway. Her eyes widened in shock then sparkled with pure delight.
“Damien!” She launched herself at him.
He caught her and fell backward on the fall. Stacy wriggled excitedly on his stomach, planting wet sloppy kisses over his face. Looking up at her, Damien swallowed hard. He didn’t remember the last time anyone had been glad to see him.
“Hi, Shortstuff.” He grinned at her and sat up. Stacy stayed in his lap and smiled broadly at him, her arms tight around his neck.
“Are you going to stay?” she demanded with a child’s bluntness. Eager delight gleamed in her eyes.
Damien blinked, swallowed again to rid his throat of the sudden emotional ache.
“For a few days
,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet Laurie’s.
“Okay.” Stacy jumped off his lap and raced into her bedroom across the hall.
Caught in Laurie’s speculative gaze, he arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“She likes you,” Laurie said softly, seriously.
“That worries you?” He studied her, curious and oddly uncomfortable.
“Not at the moment.”
“I shouldn’t have come back,” he stated gruffly. He had not been able to stay away from her. He wanted a few hours, a few days, before he disappeared from her life for good. It would be harder to leave every time he came back. So he had to make sure this was the last time.
“Maybe not,” Laurie agreed huskily. “But I’m glad you did.”
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Chapter Nine
Six months later, Damien McAllister lay almost half buried on top of a sand dune overlooking the Khash River in Afghanistan. Even his tan and brown desert camouflage uniform did not do anything to stop the blistering sun blazing over his head. Though hot and uncomfortable, he didn’t move a muscle as he scanned the riverbank through state of the art range finding binoculars. Tents and various jeeps and trucks dotted the sand under camouflage nets. He studied the largest tent. One whole side remained open. Several shabbily uniformed men sat around a large rectangular table.