Her Special Forces

by Sophia Roslyn

  “What do you mean, exactly? We have us. We’re together. Everything else can be worked out.”

  She pulled away from him, pounded pillows behind her so she was propped against them, settling her body carefully. “I’ve been a Marine for a good amount of time. Now, suddenly, I’m a civilian with a corporation and employees to worry about, and giant house to deal with.” There, that seemed enough to quell his nosiness, didn’t it? Of course, the board ran the corporation fine without her, household staff was comfortably in place, and the caretaker’s cottage was hers for the taking.

  He stretched out his long, muscled body, rested on an elbow. He’d pulled the cloth from the clock, so their eyes were adjusted to the dark. Even in the shadowy expanse that was left, she could see well enough to appreciate the sharp planes of his face in relief.

  “Since the O’Donnell lumber business is a giant enterprise, I imagine the officers and board of directors handle the day to day stuff. What’s the problem with the caretaker’s cottage?”

  She wiggled to get comfortable. Busted. He was too quick on the uptake regarding the business. “I’m thinking of moving to the cottage, then turning Timberwyck into an upscale resort hotel.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Alrighty then. Is there enough tourist trade to fill all the rooms?”

  Damn him, and his common sense. “I think so. I don’t know for sure. I’d need to investigate, speak to the number crunchers, first.”

  “You don’t want to live there?”

  “Why? To rattle around nearly one hundred rooms? To keep the entire household staff to do what? Cook for one? Do laundry for one? Clean up after one? Wax the floors so I can slide down the hallways in my socks?”

  He sat up, covered his manhood with the edge of the sheet. “Cook for one? Clean for one?”

  She realized what she’d said, and how she’d said it. Oh, shit. It hadn’t been her intention. “Nathan, I didn’t mean…I was just saying…”

  “Yep, you were just saying. Stupid me, I think I finally heard you. Loud and clear.”

  Not exactly what she planned, but this might get the point across. “Nathan, what did you think was going to happen? Tulips on the table and breakfast every morning? Happily ever after?”

  Judging by the collapse of the tented sheet, his arousal had definitely diminished, the ardor gone. He switched on the table lamp, made eye contact with her. By the soft glow of the light, she was unable to mistake the pain in his face for anything else. Her gaze dropped.

  Nathan rose. “Yeah, I hear you. For a smart guy, I’ve been such a dumb shit. I really thought I’d be able to wear you down, try to get back to the place we were in Delaram—without the bloodshed. I thought you just needed time to get your bearings again. Happily ever after? I thought so. I consider myself to be a fairly clever guy, honest, forthright, but I guess I was wrong. It honestly didn’t occur to me that your plans only went as far as flying solo as soon as you could. Oh yeah, I am definitely a dumb shit.”

  He pulled on his pajama bottoms, slipped his feet into the moccasins. “Thanks for helping Jeffrey. Let’s hope Jonah can get him the help he needs.” Dressed, he turned toward her. “While he’s at it, maybe he can arrange a package deal, then you can get the help you need.”

  She felt anger, not excitement, run up her spine. “And just what does that mean? I don’t need help.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Jeffrey felt the same way before he lined up the muzzle of a gun to his temple. Maybe he still feels the same way. I imagine most folks who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder are sure they don’t need help. That they can handle the insanity all alone. Until they totally leave the reservation and take themselves out—or take out others, like their families or friends, before they kill themselves.”

  That brought her upright, a hand pressed to her side against the pain. “And what the fuck makes you think I have PTSD?” She’d actually snarled. Damn, how did he do that? How did he get under her skin so fast?

  Nathan spread his hands in supplication. “Kacey, please. Don’t do this. You have people willing to help. I’ll do whatever it takes. You know I’m with you, one hundred percent. At least, I would be if you’d let me in.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You do. Nearly textbook symptoms. When Jonah called…”

  “Fuck, I knew it. He just couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut, could he?”

  “Whoa, hold on there, that wasn’t meant to throw Jonah under the bus. He’s your friend, my best friend, and he was goddamned right to worry about you. If you sought help, even just spoke to him about it, he wouldn’t have interfered.”

  “I don’t need help. I can handle whatever’s going on, thank you very much.”

  “Yes, I saw first-hand how well you handle night terrors and flashbacks. You don’t sleep, don’t eat, you’re way too thin, you look dragged out and beat up. You’re doing your damnedest to push away everyone who was close to you, then isolating yourself in this big-assed, empty museum. I haven’t been here long enough to check out the rest of the story.”

  The trembling had begun, but she couldn’t let him see. “Maybe there is no rest of the story.”

  “Kace, there’s no shame in accepting help. You’ve been through a lot in a short period of time. There’s no reason you need to handle it on your own.”

  Her fists balled up. “For fuck sake, Weatherly. Why couldn’t you just leave it at a roll in the hay, fun between the sheets? Hot sex, then we go our own ways. What’s wrong with that?”

  By the look on his face, she’d actually stunned him, really and truly.

  “Is that what you think we’ve had? A succession of booty calls? Just sex?”

  No, she wanted to scream, no, that’s not it, that’s not it at all. I need you, I don’t ever want you to leave me. For fuck sake, I love you. But she couldn’t do that to him. He needed to be free of her, free of the monster she’d become, free of the even worse monster she could be. Before she turned into Jeffrey, with her own Sig pointed at her head, before she dragged Nathan down with her.

  She bullied her way through, hating the words that rolled off her tongue like streams of poison. “Well, isn’t it? The sex was great, but that’s all. No personal attachment. That’s why I left Delaram.” Omigod, the lies, the lies! Mum and Da, please forgive me for the lies. She nearly choked on her own words, couldn’t continue.

  The anguish on his face was nearly unbearable to watch. “I see. Wow, talk about missing the boat. How did that happen? So, that’s all it was, scratching your itch. How would you characterize what we’ve been doing—pity fucking? Throw the sailor a boner, in a manner of speaking. So, if I wanted to fuck you, you’d have no problem with that? As long as I didn’t stay.”

  Those harsh words threw her, made it real. She fumbled for a response, but none came.

  “Well?”

  “Um, yeah, right, sure. That’s it. Just sex.” Now, if he would just go away.

  Nathan stood, kicked off his moccasins, dropped his pajama bottoms again. His cock had been hanging, but firmed up to mildly interested as she watched.

  Then Kacey sat up straighter, ignored the twinge at her side. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “According to you, I’m just your fuck bitch. And I feel like doing you again. No reason not to, right? Just sex. No personal involvement.”

  Rage raced up her spine. In a fit of anger, she spread her legs, lifted her nightgown, rubbed her groin like a man hiking up his nuts and rearranging his junk. “Here you go, sailor boy. You want to do me again, is that what you said? Well, come and get it.” It was rude, crude, and unacceptable, so unlike her that she couldn’t believe the words flew out of her mouth. Even the Marine in her had never been vulgar or offensive. She closed her eyes, mortified by her behavior, but didn’t close her thighs.

  Oh fuck. Couldn’t he just go? “Nathan, don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what? I’m just following your lead, sweetheart.” He dragged out the last word, made the end
earment sound cheap, dirty.

  Naked, he walked around to the other side of the bed, moved across the mattress to her. He came to her from the side, her left leg trapped between his so he didn’t lean over her injuries. Supporting himself on one elbow, he palmed her mound with his left hand, fingered her to wetness, again. His hardness pressed against her.

  And Lord help me, his touch excites me like crazy, even though he’s angry and has me nuts. But please, not this way. What have I done to him? What have I done to us?

  He shifted so his muscled thigh rubbed against her sex.

  “Nathan, wait, this isn’t what I meant.”

  “No? Then what did you mean, exactly? Are you telling me you don’t want me now? Have you had enough already? Had your fill? At my age, I’d given up the possibility of being a woman’s boy toy, but I’m willing to give it a try. I think I can keep up. Who knew it wasn’t too late for an old squid like me?”

  She tried to shift under him, but his thigh trapped her. “You know that’s not it. I do want you, but….” The words fragmented and nothing coherent came out of her mouth.

  “But what?”

  He didn’t otherwise touch her, didn’t kiss her, didn’t do any of the tender, sensual things he’d done every time he’d made love to her. Made love—yes, that’s what he’d done, what he’d always done since the first time, even in their heated frenzies of torrid want and scorching need. Even in the bleak sands of hell, he’d always taken care of her, treated her special, treated her as a desirable woman. Treated her as his woman.

  His harsh countenance told her that he had no intention of making love, not this time. His expression was raw, livid, making the lies she told him seem real—it was just fucking, and he was going to take her, hard and fast.

  Overwhelmed by his response, she turned her face away, hoped her humiliation would soon be over.

  “Nathan, we shouldn’t become involved.”

  “Become involved? What were we before, passing strangers? Oh, wait, that’s right, we were convenient fuck buddies. Silly me, how could I not remember. It’s nothing personal.” He jammed his heat against her, ground his hardness against her belly.

  Her breath lodged in her throat. Omigod, he’s going to do it. He’s really going to do it. How could he want her like that? Eyes squeezed tightly so she couldn’t see the anger, the pain in his face, the tears came, and a tiny whimper escaped, nearly unheard. She’d pushed him too far—he was going to do it. Will it hurt? Was he angry enough to hurt her? A roiling part of her brain almost hoped so, hoped the pain would assuage her guilt. She deserved it, and the agony he could inflict for what she was doing to him.

  A horrible sound, formed of raw pain, anger, and rejection, came from above her, and her eyes flew open. The anguish in his expression rocked her.

  “No. I am not this man.” Without another word, without another touch, Nathan lifted away from her, backed off the bed. With a quick swipe, he collected his pajama bottoms and moccasins from the floor.

  Reaching over, he delivered the final blow. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “You were right—something did die in Afghanistan. Good-bye, Kilo Delta.”

  His hard, beautiful body still naked, he left. Once again, he didn’t slam the door.

  When he was gone, Kacey couldn’t even force a sound, but that didn’t stop fresh tears from cascading down her cheeks, soaking the bodice of her nightgown. The discomfort of her healing wounds as she tried to curl up her body didn’t compare to the pain in her chest. Her heart thudded against her ribs, but her lungs couldn’t, wouldn’t function properly. Crawling out of bed, she leaned over the bathroom sink to splash cold water on her face, then drank from her cupped hands. Barely toweled off, she limped to the window, rested her elbows on the sill, sucked in the fresh, cool night air.

  What had she done? She’d taken the only good thing in her life, lied to him, tormented him with those lies, finally chased him away. She should be thrilled, right? Ecstatic? No emotional encumbrances, no one to watch her self-destruct. No one to feel responsible for her.

  Unbelievable loss had overwhelmed her when she’d received word her parents were dead—yet even that news hadn’t ripped through her viscera like the agony of what she’d just done.

  Nathan had punished her by making their last union ugly, but her words to him had been the most cruel.

  …

  Nathan didn’t know which was worse—the gut-clenching anger or the heart-wrenching hurt. How could Kacey take everything they’d meant to each other and distill it down to just sex? Was the sex fantastic? Absolutely. But there was so much more to it than that.

  He’d fallen for her the moment he saw her, his avowed bachelorhood crashing around his psyche like a fallen house of cards. The promise in her sea-green eyes had stitched itself across his heart, from the first time they’d spoken until dawn’s early light, from that first morning they’d watched the sun rise together. He’d known, without a doubt, she was the one. Just as his mother had promised him, years ago, when he’d asked about love, the sort of love his parents had. You’ll know, my dear boy, when you meet her, when you meet the right one, the woman with whom you’ll spend the rest of your life. You’ll need her like the very air you breathe.

  Mom had been correctamundo, but she never said his woman might not want him back.

  SEAL ops weren’t exactly planned—they happened as necessity demanded. It wasn’t as if his job was nine to five, nor was hers—orders came, he and his men deployed. Whoever survived, returned to camp. It had taken time before the pair had actually met up.

  For months, the joker gods had deemed it amusing to allow Nathan and his squad to drag their sorry, exhausted asses to base almost the same moment Kacey saddled up her Viper and leapt for the sky. To prevent attracting attention or sophomoric jibes from his mob of rowdy teammates, he’d watched from the shadows often enough, until he could identify which helo was hers before he could see the markings, just by the way she handled the bird. A damned good pilot, she had an edge, and it showed. Not a careless hotshot, she had über control over the deadly flying machine and its lethal ordnance.

  He’d finally caught up to her late one night in the mess hall, where she sat in a corner, alone, with a cup of cold, stale coffee and beat-up, dog-eared copy of The Da Vinci Code. They were alone at last.

  “So, any thoughts on Mr. Brown’s theory of the Holy Grail?” He slid across from her. “Captain Nathan Weatherly.”

  Apparently unimpressed, she hadn’t even looked up. “I know. Captain Kacey O’Donnell.”

  “I know.”

  He could barely add to the non-conversation, not with his attention captured by the loose waterfall of her soft, auburn hair, usually confined in a ponytail, and by her bright green eyes, hidden as they were during daylight hours by mirrored sunglasses. Her elfin face had a cascade of freckles that marched across the bridge of her pert nose, which intrigued him.

  That same little nose had suddenly done a Bewitched twitch, then pointed toward him as she straightened up. “Hand ’em over, buddy.”

  Amazed that she’d smelled them with the ability of a prime coon hound, he’d been sure he won her heart when he reached into his shirt pocket and produced a bouquet of strawberry Twizzlers from a beat-up plastic bag. Even though the red candy twists were stale enough to be doggy chew toys, there’d definitely been a sparkle in her green eyes.

  “How in heaven’s name did you cop the Twizzlers?” She reached out a hand in the universal “gimme” position that every child learns at an early age. “Share, I may let you leave here alive.”

  Dividing the treats between them, they’d left the mess hall and found a sturdy wooden bench between the hangars on which to settle, in a sparse grove of Charlie Brown olive trees. As they munched quietly, they’d listened to the noises of the night—animal, human, and machine. The odor of diesel and jet fuel permeated the air as vehicles went about their nightly assignments.

  Watching a pair of Black Hawks lift off
, Kacey hadn’t objected when Nate wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Hadn’t objected when his mouth found hers, intrigued by the candied sweetness of her lips, the delicate, responsive touch of her little cat-like tongue.

  He’d murmured against her ear. “I can truthfully say I’ve never kissed a Marine before.”

  She’d whispered back. “Neither have I. Nor kissed a squid.”

  They were still completely dressed when he lifted her slim frame to straddle his lap, facing him. The fabric between them did nothing to cool his ardor—he’d been rigid, painfully so, sure his cock would rip through the threads that struggled to secure his zipper.

  Never breaching each other’s garments, they’d managed to caress and fondle and tease and torture each other until the ability to breathe normally became all but impossible.

  Her breasts were moderately sized in keeping with her athletic slimness, but perfectly formed, the nipples small and rigid under his touch. She moaned against his mouth as he tweaked those points between thumb and index finger. When he lowered his hand to her mound, the moan escalated to panting as she pressed back against him, wriggling, torturing his aroused member worse than before.

  Her words were raspy, throaty, sooo sexy, worsening his discomfort. “Sailor boy, if you don’t remove that hand, I’m afraid I’m going to embarrass myself.”

  He’d chuckled. Yeah, like he had any intention of stopping. Thus encouraged, he rubbed against her sex with two knuckles, moving in quick, tight circles. His mouth sought out a nipple through her shirt, and his free hand snaked around her perfect ass to pull her tighter.

  Suddenly, her backbone had stiffened and she’d thrust hard against him. She grabbed his head and pulled his face to hers, whimpered against his mouth. Rising up, she’d slammed her pelvis against his fist, her thighs squeezing his. Her chin tucked tight against his shoulder, all he heard through her heavy breathing was, “Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…”

  He never knew how he’d maintained enough control to avoid coming in his combat fatigues, but could only attribute it to his frantic desire to bring her to completion.