by Rachel Lee
“I was…I was striking out because you made me start to hope again. I was afraid because you made me feel that a normal life might be possible for me. And I don’t believe that anymore. I can’t believe that. Look at me. I’m damaged goods. I’ll never be normal again.”
“It’s unlikely.”
Damn! She couldn’t believe she had done this to him, and it was too late to rip out her own tongue.
Then, finally, in the dark so she couldn’t even attempt to read his face, he began to speak. His tone was measured, his words slow.
“Nobody,” he said, “who has seen and experienced what you and I have seen and experienced will ever be so-called normal again. It’s an impossible thing to ask.”
“I guess so.” A hot, stray tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away.
“There will always be scars,” he continued. “Things will never look the way they used to before violence entered our lives.”
“No.” Now she sounded like him.
A few seconds ticked by. Then, “But just because we carry scars, just because we’ve lived through things a lot of other people don’t, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with us. Far too many people in this world have experienced violence in one form or another. Maybe that makes us more normal than those who haven’t.”
“What an awful thought.” One that caused her a pang, not only for all the others of whom he spoke, but because it reminded her just how much self-pity she’d indulged, maybe was still indulging. He was right, and she knew it. One only had to turn on the news to see what millions of others suffered, many on a daily basis.
“Maybe. Still true. I’ve seen a lot of the world, and violence touches more lives than you can imagine. I’m not saying that’s right, I’m just saying it is.”
“You’re right.” Her voice broke a little. “I was protected from it all my life.”
“Some people are. Some of us are lucky enough not to live in war zones, or among thugs. But an awful lot of us, sooner or later, taste the ugliest side of human nature. Unfortunately, you didn’t even have a support group of friends and family who shared your experience. Maybe that’s the worst thing WITSEC did to you. It protected you physically, but left you with no help to heal emotionally.”
She caught her breath. “Maybe,” she agreed.
“Most of us are luckier than you. We have all kinds of social support.”
“You didn’t, when you were a child.”
“No, but I sure as hell did after I grew up. But the scars are still there. All of them. Unlike you, I’ve had decades to deal with my crap. You haven’t. And you can see what a stellar example of healing I am.”
“Don’t knock yourself. I already did that, and unfairly, too.”
“I’m just trying to make a point. You can have a life again. It’s just that sometimes you’re going to hurt. Always.”
“I guess so.”
“With time the hurting comes less often. But it never entirely vanishes. Sorry, but I can’t offer more than that.”
“It should be enough.”
“It’s life. Whether it’s enough is something only you can decide.”
“I’d almost decided. Then…well, you saw what happened.”
“Yeah.” He was silent a moment, then with a surprising note of humor he added, “You tried to build your walls back up with dynamite.”
She winced, because the description was so apt. And the only person who’d been hurt by her explosion was him. She’d had no idea she could turn so ugly, and the knowledge didn’t comfort her at all. “My explosion didn’t work very well. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said finally. “I understand, believe me. I’ve seen it plenty of times, even done it myself a few times. That’s what I meant about trip wires. You just start thinking you might reach for the brass ring, and then everything inside you starts shrieking warnings. Hell, you probably don’t even believe you’re entitled to live a normal life.”
She honestly hadn’t looked at it that way before, but the sinking in her stomach acknowledged the truth of his words. “That’s a place I haven’t gone.”
“Not yet, maybe. You will. At some point, if it hasn’t already, survivor guilt will give you a rough ride. If it does, and I’m around, talk to me about it. Been there, done that.”
If he was around. That word caused her another sharp pang. “God, I’m a mess.”
“No more so than anyone else in your shoes. Try to find some comfort in that.”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to make me feel better after the way I treated you. You’re being awfully generous.” And that made him a truly remarkable person, in anyone’s book.
“Don’t beat yourself up.” His tone had grown softer, kinder than when they had begun this conversation, and that only made her feel worse.
“But the things I said!”
“I don’t blame you for them. After I got upstairs and cooled off a bit, I realized you touched one of my trip wires. At least one. I overreacted.”
“I don’t think you did.” She was still aching over the things she had said and implied about him. “You offered to protect me when you didn’t need to do a thing. You deserve better from me.”
“You didn’t say anything so god-awful, in the circumstances. Just let it go. I have.”
But had he? He might say so, but given the way he had responded, she knew full well her angry words must have cut him to the quick in the places that mattered most to him, like his sense of duty and honor. Ideals to which he’d devoted his entire adult life. Maybe he wasn’t proud of everything he’d had to do. She could scarcely imagine the kinds of jobs SEALs must be sent on. Maybe some of those things even stuck in his craw. But she was fairly certain he’d never betrayed one of his buddies, and had never failed in his duty. And she’d made him sound like nothing better than a hired gun.
God, she wished she could erase the memory of her words.
“Ah, damn, lady,” he said on a sigh, “just let it go. Don’t you think you already have enough baggage?”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t give me the right to hand out more of it to anyone.”
“You didn’t hand me any baggage. Period.”
Of course not. She didn’t matter enough to him to be able to hurt him that way. In one sense she felt relieved that her shrewing hadn’t hurt him in any lasting way. In another, awfully selfish way, she didn’t like that she mattered so little to him. But why should she? Two days did not a relationship make. Not even good sex could make up for lack of time.
And, as he had told her more than once, he didn’t make those kinds of connections anyway. So maybe she shouldn’t feel bad about what she had said, at least as far as hurting him went. He didn’t allow himself that kind of vulnerability.
Judging by the way he had initially reacted to her rant, she supposed he wasn’t totally impervious. At least not at that moment in time, although she would guess she had sent him back to that place where he let nothing touch him.
But there was more at issue here than whether she had hurt him. She had behaved deplorably, according to her own standards whether she had wounded him or not.
He surprised her then by rising and crossing the room to stand in front of her. It was still dark, the room illuminated only by the faintest light from outside streetlamps that managed to creep around cracks in the corner.
“I want you,” he said baldly.
Her heart leaped instantly. Something about her loved the way he was so open and honest about his needs, the way he voiced them without varnish or hesitation. Best of all, without embarrassment. That freed her from all those things, too.
She lifted a hand to take his. “Just don’t carry me.”
“Why not?”
“Because just once I’d like to get into bed with you under my own steam.”
At that he laughed. “It’s a deal. Sorry, I guess I’ve been picking you up a lot.”
“Only a few times.” She answered the gentle tug of
his hand and rose to her feet. “Why do you do that?”
“I don’t know.” He said nothing for a few seconds, still holding her hand. “Maybe,” he said finally, almost breaking her heart in the process, “it’s the only way I know to keep you close.”
Ah, God, that was such a revealing thing for him to say, as if he had stripped his mind and emotions bare. It was one thing to say you wanted someone sexually. It was entirely another to admit you wanted to keep them close but didn’t know how. Her throat tightened so that she couldn’t even speak.
All she could do was stare starkly at the fact that they were both wounded souls, each in their own broken way trying to make some kind of connection again, regardless of what either of them might claim. He sought physical connections because he didn’t know how to make the other kind. She fought emotional connections because they hurt too much, and found the same solace he did in the physical.
Was that wrong? No, it wasn’t. And maybe it was the first step on a much longer path they both needed to walk, whether together or separately. She squeezed his fingers to show her understanding, then cleared her throat, finding her voice again.
“I, um, guess it’s okay if you carry me then.”
A little laugh escaped him. “Oddly, I think I’d prefer it a whole lot more if you came with me, Cory. Come lie with me, lady.”
He couldn’t have chosen words more likely to ignite her desire, though she couldn’t have said why. Heat spiraled through her to her very core, making her feel heavy with longing. Already her body ached for his touches, for his weight, for the fullness of feeling him inside her. She’d felt desire before in her life, but never this hot and this fast.
And he did that with simple words. Somehow that come lie with me affected her more viscerally than, let’s make love, or many of the other affectionate or teasing suggestions she used to hear from Jim. Come lie with me.
The words made her nerves hum, and she had no desire to analyze any further. She was tired of being under a microscope, his or her own. Wade offered her the freedom to be, just be, in this moment and no other. And she reached out with both hands for the gift.
This time he evidently felt no desire for the rough-and-ready matings they’d had before. This time he stood beside the bed with her, and began to remove her clothing slowly, almost as if he were unwrapping a present and wanted to savor the anticipation a little longer. To draw out each moment of expectation.
He took his time even with things that should have happened quickly, like lifting her tank top over her head. Trailing his fingers up her sides as he did so sent ripples of longing through her for more. Oh, she felt so greedy, and he made her feel that way.
Then he followed the movement all the way up as he lifted the top, tracing the most sensitive parts of her inner arms all the way to her fingertips. When he at last tossed the top aside, she felt almost worshipped.
Nor did he stop there. He cast aside his own shirt, and the darkness in the room added to the mystery of all that was happening inside her. When his hands gently gripped her waist and pulled her close, there was something inexplicably exquisite about the feeling of his skin against her belly, except for her breasts, still shrouded by her bra. Then he bent and took her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath, and seemed to touch her very soul. His tongue mated slowly with hers as his fingertips drew gentle patterns on her back and sides, promising so much, taking nothing at all. He merely ignited her cells one by one until she felt alive with fire.
Then his mouth left hers, trailing slowly down her neck, causing her to arch and moan softly with delight.
“You are so sexy,” he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and moist. A shiver rippled through her. Had anything ever felt this exquisite?
On a wisp of breath she answered, “You make me feel so sexy.”
“Good. Good.” His mouth trailed lower, lips and tongue outlining the cups of her bra, promising but not giving. Not yet. She shivered again and lifted her arms, looping them loosely around him in offering. When she felt his muscles bunching beneath her palms, she stroked them, following hard curves and hollows down toward the small of his back, where she marveled over a new discovery. In the dip there, she felt a soft, thin tuft of fur, so masculine, so perfect.
He trembled a bit as she stroked him there, then dipped one finger beneath the waistband of his jeans.
He mumbled something against the upper curve of her breast, and then with a quick movement, he released the clasp of her bra, allowing her to tumble free.
The throbbing at her center reached new heights as lightning seemed to zing along her nerves, every new sensation headed toward her core as if it was all that existed.
The air grew thin in the room, and she panted helplessly, her head falling back, her eyes closing, giving herself to the moment and to him as she had seldom given herself before: mindlessly, helplessly. If any part of her didn’t ache in that throbbing, primal rhythm, she had long since ceased to be aware of it.
Here and now. Everything else vanished.
Wade felt the moment when she left the world behind, her entire consciousness focused on what was happening inside her. He wasn’t far behind, but he struggled against his own hardening body, the pounding demands of his own needs.
Because he wanted to be sure to give it all to her, everything. He couldn’t explain it, maybe didn’t want to look too closely. All he knew was that he wanted to brand himself on this woman, right here and now in a way she would never forget.
So when she reached for the clasp of his jeans, moaning softly, he stopped her. Instead he reached for her shorts and panties, and tugged them down with one hand just as his mouth found her pebbled nipple and drew it deeply inside. He sucked gently at first, but as she pressed herself harder against him, he threw gentleness to the wind and sucked on her as if he could draw her right inside him.
The groan that escaped her fueled his own needs, and he had to push them back. If this woman remembered nothing else about him, she was going to remember this night, these hours.
Something even more primal than need for satisfaction drove him. This was a claiming of some kind, a claim he had never tried to make before. And for some reason, that need to claim added to his passion, making him almost as desperate as he was hungry.
The damn shorts and panties flew away at last, tugged off her ankles as he swept her up in one arm, his mouth still latched to her breast, each movement of his tongue and lips sending a fresh quiver through her.
She was clinging to him now, clinging as tightly as she could manage to his back, and the feel of her arms hanging on to him was surely the most wonderful thing he had ever felt. More wonderful even than the acts to come.
He’d have gone to the stake before he would ever admit how long it had been since someone’s arms had been around him, or how good it felt, or how much he needed it.
He almost didn’t want to lower her to the bed.
But his body had already made promises to her, and he was going to keep every one of them.
He laid her down, cast aside the rest of his clothing, pausing only to tug some protection from his pocket. He hadn’t anticipated this, hadn’t anticipated any sexual relationship at all, but the military had taught him well. He always carried protection, and for the first time he was truly grateful for it because it would ensure no harm came to Cory from him.
He tossed the packets on the bedside table. Then he wrapped his arms around the naked beauty beside him, and felt her arms wrap around him, and had the craziest feeling that he could stay right here, right now forever.
Their bodies met, warm smooth skin against warm smooth skin, their legs tangled, working for even greater closeness.
But he had promises to keep. With mouth and hands he began to explore her, every inch of her, stealing all her secrets even as he lifted her to moaning heights of passion. Then his mouth followed his hands, across her belly, her hips, down the insides of her thighs to the delicate arches of her feet.
&n
bsp; He could think of no better way to worship her than by kissing her every inch.
The pounding in his loins now hammered in his brain. Slowly he slipped up over her, smelling her wonderful musky scent, then dipping his mouth and tongue into her most private places.
Claiming. Branding. Possessing.
Causing her to arch upward with a soft scream as he touched the delicate knot of nerves that gave so much pleasure-pain. She tasted good. So good. This was something he had almost never shared, it seemed so intimate to him, and he knew just the barest moment of fear he might not be doing it right, but her body immediately answered as if it had heard his question.
Oh, it was so right. So good. He licked, nibbled, tasted, even plunged his tongue deep into her, and felt a smile stretch his lips when her hands grabbed his head, pressing him closer still, then clawed at his shoulders as if she could barely stand the pleasure.
He felt the ripping shudder as an orgasm took her, listened to her moan helplessly, then before the riptide had fully passed, he pulled on a condom and moved up over her, staking his claim completely as he slid into her warm, welcoming depths.
“Wade!” Half sigh, half cry, and never had his name sounded so beautiful. Triumph filled him in that moment, because she was his, all his.
Then the throbbing in his body demanded more, her hands tugged at him, trying to move him, and when at last he began to thrust, she sighed his name again, wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his hips.
Holding him. Hugging him with her entire being. Making him welcome in every way as she carried him with her to the stars.
For that little while, he even allowed himself to believe he could belong.
Chapter 11
They lay together for a long time, just cuddling. That was something new to him, too. And he liked it. Finally he decided to tell her so, even though he was aware it could make her dislike him, to know how casually he had treated sex in his past. But for some odd reason, he was telling Cory lots of things he’d never told anyone else. Maybe because she always seemed to understand.