by Seton, Cora
“Welcome to my life.” Seth’s wife Miranda strode into the living room, catching the tail end of Cash’s confession.
The slender brunette plopped onto her husband’s lap, and Cash didn’t bother pointing out that she had an entire couch to sit on. He and Jen were like that, too. They couldn’t go a second without touching each other, either.
Miranda eyed him knowingly. “What do you think Jen and I do when you guys are deployed?”
The frank remark brought a rush of shame. He knew it was hard on Jen and the other wives and girlfriends when the team was OCONUS, but he’d always relied on the comforting fact that he’d found a woman strong enough to handle the long absences and constant worrying.
But obviously he couldn’t say the same for himself. Every bone in his body ached with fear right now. The woman he loved might be in danger, and he didn’t feel strong at all. He’d almost tried to request leave earlier so he could fly down there and back her up, but he’d known Jen would be furious if he pulled a stunt like that.
“It’s tough,” Miranda added when she noticed his expression. “But Jen will be fine, hon.”
“What if she’s not? What if she gets hurt?”
Sophie gasped. “Auntie Jen is hurt?”
“No,” Cash said quickly. “She’s just fine, kiddo.”
“You promise?” the little girl demanded.
“I promise.” He spoke past the lump obstructing his throat. “She just had to go out of town for work, and I miss her.”
“I miss her, too,” Sophie announced.
He had to smile. Up until a second ago, she hadn’t even known Jen was gone.
Sophie sat up with a pout. “I want her to come over so we can play with makeup again.”
“When were you and Aunt Jen putting on makeup?” Miranda inquired, narrowing her eyes.
Her daughter instantly went shamefaced. “Um. Never. I lied. We didn’t do that.” When Miranda arched a brow, Sophie caved like a cheap tent. “We just put on lipstick, I swear! It was pink and pretty and I loved it. I made Aunt Jen promise not to tell you.”
Miranda didn’t look too upset, and when Cash shot her an apologetic look, she flashed a wink, and he realized that Jen had indeed told her about the makeup and Miranda was just teasing her daughter.
Seth, on the other hand, wasn’t pleased in the slightest. “Why the fu—fudge are you putting on lipstick, young lady? I thought we agreed you were going to be a tomboy. We don’t want any boys to drool over you, remember?”
“Boys are gross,” Sophie said matter-of-factly.
“Hey,” Jason protested. “Girls are gross.”
As the siblings started bickering about who was grosser, the adults grinned at each other, and then Miranda quickly intervened.
“Quit arguing and finish your homework. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
His cue to go. Cash knew he’d overstayed his welcome—he’d been forcing his presence on the Mastersons all afternoon—and he felt bad intruding on their family time.
“I should take off,” he said, rising from the couch.
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Miranda said.
He shook his head. “Naah. I’m not much company tonight. I want to go home and wait for Jen’s call.”
If she called.
He banished the cynical thought, forcing himself to focus on the positives—he and Jen loved each other, and they always kept their promises. She’d said she’d call the second she got back from the village, and he had to trust that she’d keep her word, even though she hadn’t exactly left him on the best terms.
He bumped his fist against Seth’s, kissed Miranda goodbye and ruffled the twins’ heads, then left the townhouse and drove across the Coronado Bridge into San Diego. Twenty minutes later he parked in the underground of his and Jen’s low-rise building.
The two of them had been talking about finding a bigger place, and as he rode the elevator upstairs he entertained the idea again. If they got married, then chances were they’d want to start a family soon, and they’d definitely need more room if that happened.
That is, if Jen even wanted to start a family with him. Despite their tender goodbye that morning, he knew she was still upset with him. Hell, he was upset, too. Maybe he shouldn’t have responded to her news by barking orders at her, but she hadn’t even put it up for discussion, damn it. She’d decided that she was going, and to hell with what he thought.
What if her next assignment was in the Middle East? In the middle of a war zone? Would she constantly disregard his opinion and do whatever the hell she wanted with no concern for her own safety or what it would do to their relationship?
Shit. He couldn’t think about that now. He already had enough worry on his plate.
Cash strode into the apartment and went to take a quick shower, then threw on a pair of sweatpants and heated up some leftovers. He ate on the couch, staring at his cell phone the entire time. It was seven o’clock, which meant it was eight in Honduras. Jen ought to be back by now.
Call me, damn it.
He swiped his phone off the coffee table, debating whether he should just call her himself, when the thing buzzed in his hand. He answered with an eager hello, and the second he heard her voice, the tension in his chest seeped away like water spiraling down a drain.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t get a chance to call until now,” Jen said. “I was having dinner in the mess hall with some of the guys.”
Cash frowned. “The guys, huh? Well, feel free to tell them that if any of them hit on you they’ll have a bloodthirsty SEAL on their asses.”
Melodic laughter tickled his ear. “Trust me, I told them all about the big bad SEAL I’m in love with.”
His chest squeezed. Well, she still loved him. That was something.
“Besides, none of them are interested in me like that,” she assured him. “They all treat me like I’m their little sister. Seriously, I’ve known these guys for less than a day and they’re already more overprotective than my dad.”
He was glad to know that people were looking out for his woman, even if it was a bunch of jarheads. Cash leaned his head on the arm of the couch, relieved that she’d survived her first day without incident.
“So how did it go today?” he asked.
“Good.” Her tone grew rueful. “Well, not good. I mean, it was awful. You should have seen this village, Cash. All the houses were falling apart and there were all these children on the street begging for food. Most of them didn’t even have any shoes on. And there was garbage and graffiti everywhere. Jamie—that’s the marine who’s watching out for me—he says it’s like that almost everywhere you go.”
“Did you take a lot of pictures?”
“Hundreds. We were helping this relief foundation drop off supplies at a local clinic, and I was able to meet some of the patients. There was a boy there who’d gotten his ear cut off by a gang member. He was recruited by the gang and they got pissed when he tried to run away. And we stopped off at an abandoned building that used to be the distribution base for one of the cartels—the military cleared it out a few months ago.”
She was painting a picture that Cash had seen a thousand times before when he was overseas. A part of him wished he could have shielded her from it, but Jen was no stranger to heartache and poverty. She’d sought it long before they’d met, when she’d traveled on her own to take photographs for her blog. He’d been upset when she’d told him what her previous side trips had entailed. He hadn’t liked the idea of Jen, who radiated light, being surrounded by all that darkness. He still didn’t like it.
“I got some pretty heartbreaking shots,” she admitted. “I emailed them to Rick, and he’s already having trouble deciding what to use for the cover.”
As they chatted more about her day, Cash found himself relaxing. Jen had come out of that village with her skin intact, and he suddenly wondered if maybe he’d overreacted. Maybe the danger wasn’t as great as he’d thought it would be.
“I hated leaving knowing you were angry with me,” Jen whispered.
Her unexpected confession brought a pang of pain to his heart. “I hated that you left being angry with me.”
“I was,” she admitted. “I still am, a little bit. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, then chuckled at the honesty between them.
Jen laughed, too. “But I can be angry at you and still love you. You know that, right?”
“Right back atcha, sweetheart.”
There was a pause over the line. “Remember the last fight we got into?”
Like he could forget. Sometimes he still jerked off to the memory of Jen’s flushed cheeks and blazing eyes as she railed into him for being an insensitive ass. She didn’t get angry often, but when she did…holy hell, she was sexy as fuck.
“Of course I remember. It was the most irrational you’ve ever been,” he said cheerfully.
A snort filled his ear. “I was not! You were a total jerk.”
“Because I refused to take sides during your fight with your brother?”
“You did take sides! You took his.”
Cash grinned to himself. “Because Carson was right and you were wrong.”
“Ugh. Forget it. I refuse to argue about this again.”
“Hey, you brought it up,” he pointed out.
“Only because I wanted to remind you of the angry sex we had that night.”
His cock instantly rose to full salute. It was like the little soldier was programmed to harden whenever his beautiful girlfriend said the word sex.
“That was some really great anger sex,” he agreed in a husky voice.
“Great? Try awesome? You took me from behind against the wall in the front hall.”
With a soft groan, he reached down to rearrange the erection trying to tunnel its way through his pants.
“Did you just groan?” Jen demanded. “Are you hard right now?”
“Yup,” he said sheepishly.
He waited for her to tease him, but her voice lowered to a throaty pitch. “How hard?”
Oh yeah. That’s what he was talking about.
“Very hard,” he drawled. “Like an-entire-boy-scout-troop-could-camp-out-in-my-sweats hard.”
Soft laughter rippled over the extension, along with the unmistakable sound of bed sheets rustling.
Cash narrowed his eyes. “Are you in bed right now?”
“Yep. I’m lying under the blanket.” She paused. “I was planning on reading up about the area, but…”
“But what?”
“But now I’m thinking I want to make myself come.”
Lust shot straight to his groin. He could never get enough of this woman. Whether she was right in front of him or two thousand miles away, his need for her never went away.
Cash slipped his hand beneath his waistband and grasped his aching cock. “If you’re coming, then I’m coming,” he rasped.
“Hmmm. Are you touching yourself right now?”
“Yup.”
“Describe it,” she ordered. “And don’t skimp on the details.”
He chuckled softly. “There’s not much to describe, sweetheart. I’ve got my cock in my fist and I’m jacking it.”
“Fast?”
“Slow.” He gave himself a teasing tug, rubbing his thumb along the tip. “Very slow.”
“Are you pretending it’s my hand?”
“Nope. I’m imagining that you’re lying on the bed and I’m standing in front of you, jerking off while you touch yourself.”
The moan in his ear vibrated through his body. His balls tightened, tingling wildly when Jen voiced a husky question. “Do you want to know what I’m doing?”
Another groan slipped out. “Fuck yes.”
“I’m taking my panties off. My hand’s between my legs now.”
God. He could see it. Her long, golden limbs stretched out on the bed, one dainty hand gliding down to her pussy. Honey-blond hair fanned out on the white pillow, lips parted with arousal.
“I’m rubbing my clit now. Slowly, the way you’re stroking your cock.”
“Are you wet?” he choked out.
“I don’t know. Want me to find out?” Her voice was a purr now. Low and seductive.
“Oh yeah. Slide your finger inside and tell me how wet you are.” His hand moved faster. Long strokes that tightened the knot of pressure in his groin.
“I’m drenched,” she murmured. “So turned on, cowboy. I wish it was your finger inside me right now.”
Cash’s breathing grew ragged. “I wish it was my cock.”
“Mmmm, me too. Two fingers now. But it’s not the same. My fingers don’t fill me the way you do.”
He stroked faster, squeezing the head of his cock on every upstroke, pretending it was Jen’s hot pussy clamped around him. “Get yourself close, baby. I’m about to explode here.”
A whimper echoed on the line, and his mind snapped into lust overload as he pictured her lying there, her hand between her thighs, her fingers working her slick folds. His strokes grew frantic and he clenched his ass cheeks to ward off the speedily impending release, but then Jen moaned loudly and he lost the battle.
He came all over his hand and stomach, panting hard as pleasure sizzled his nerve endings. White dots danced in his vision, and the whole room swayed for a moment as he tried to catch his breath.
Jen sounded just as breathless. “God. How do you make me come this hard and you’re not even here?”
The emotion clogging his throat made it difficult to speak. “I am there,” he said thickly. “I’m always with you, sweetheart, even when I’m not.”
“Good. Because I’m there with you, too.” He could practically see her smiling over the phone. “I’ll be home late tomorrow night. Will you wait up?”
He was smiling, too. “For you? I’d wait forever.”
She made an exasperated noise. “How am I supposed to stay angry at you when you say things like that?”
“Well, how am I supposed to stay angry with you when you initiate phone sex and start moaning in my ear?”
There was a pause, followed by a sigh. “Wanna do it again?”
Cash was already thickening in his hand. “Hell yeah.”
Chapter Six
‡
Her second day on assignment began right before dawn. Jen stumbled out of bed, yawned half her face off, then hurriedly put on a tank top and cargo pants. Yesterday she’d worn jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—and she definitely wasn’t repeating that mistake. She’d quickly discovered that the thick Kevlar vest she was forced to wear was not just heavy, but it trapped in the heat and turned you into a sweat monster. And the olive drab combat helmet had stuck to her head and caused beads of moisture to slide down her neck all frickin’ afternoon.
She couldn’t stop yawning as she headed for the door. She needed caffeine, stat. But she’d slept well, and her phone sex session with Cash had definitely bolstered her spirits. She was still mad at him for acting like an overbearing ass and going to her father behind her back, but orgasms had a way of making you forget about the anger.
“Morning.” Jamie greeted her outside the mess hall, looking bushy-tailed and bright-eyed despite the ungodly hour. He was clad in his camo gear, his nose and cheeks red from the early-morning air.
“Mornin’,” she grumbled as they went inside. “Is there a reason we’re leaving this early?”
Jamie nodded gravely. “The situation in San Cortés is more unstable than it was in Guera. The gang there is the one responsible for the convoy ambushes I mentioned yesterday.”
His words sparked her alarm. “Are you expecting anything like that to happen?”
“It’s unlikely. The Honduran army beefed up the military presence in the area since then, but it’s safer to go earlier than later.”
“Makes sense.” Jen grabbed a croissant and a foam cup of coffee, scarfing down her breakfast and chugging the caffeine as they headed out to the waiting Humvees.
It was the
same routine as the day before—she put on her bulletproof vest and helmet and got in the front seat between Jamie and Ortiz, the Honduran sergeant she’d met yesterday. Shadows bathed the landscape as they left the base. This time they were accompanied by a second Humvee consisting of more local soldiers and five marines from Jamie’s unit. The extra manpower worried her, but Jamie didn’t seem concerned, so she allowed herself to relax as they set out on the long drive west.
They stopped only to pick up the Global Aid van that was carrying the medical supplies being delivered to San Cortés, and then they were back on the road, the two military vehicles protectively sandwiching the relief van.
Two hours later, the convoy slowed as it entered the small town of San Cortés. It was larger than the village she’d seen yesterday, but the surroundings were far bleaker. Graffiti covered every inch of available space on the rundown houses and crumbling stone buildings, some of which looked like they’d topple over at any second.
There was nobody on the streets—it was barely eight in the morning—but Jen saw signs of life as they neared the small marketplace on the edge of town. She spotted people hauling crates of fruit, merchants setting up their booths and getting ready for a day of selling and bartering.
“Do the gang members bother the merchants?” she asked Jamie.
His brown eyes flickered with displeasure. “Nope, they extort them. The mara escorpión has a nice little protection racket going on—they leave the market alone as long as they get a cut of the profits. They’re not above treating the place like their own personal supermarket, either. Except the kind where you just take food and goods without bothering to pay for them.”
Jen shook her head in dismay, suddenly overcome with gratitude that she’d grown up in Del Mar. She knew crime-ridden areas existed everywhere, even in San Diego, but crime had never touched her life growing up. She would have to remember that the next time she complained about the boring suburbs.
They drove past a one-story white structure with a wooden cross over the door and she peered at it curiously. “Is that a church?”