by Jean Stokes
I wake her with a kiss, and push past the pain in my hip as I undress her slowly, pressing kisses to every inch of skin I can bare. Her neck, her collarbones, her hands, and wrists, and her breasts. I travel down her smooth stomach and to the slick, warm place between her legs. I hold her thighs wide open and pull a symphony of cries and moans from her, her fingers clutching my shoulders as she bucks and arches She starts shuddering around my tongue and fingers.
It's easier to make love to her standing, so I pull her to the end of the bed and spread her out again, sinking into that amazing, wet heat I had missed so much, that had haunted my dreams as much as her smile and laugh and her beautiful green eyes.
Being able to kiss her, and touch her, is the best feeling in the world. I know I'll go to bed and wake up with her face, her scent, her skin being the last thing on my senses. I will dream of her.
I take one of her hands, and lace our fingers together as my other rubs between her legs, making her cries gain pitch and volume as she arches, breathless, gasping. Watching her as pleasure overtakes her is the best view in the world.
I kiss her as she comes down, trembling around me, inner muscles squeezing and making me want to finish inside her. But I hold back. I owe her so much more than that—I need to make her as blind and senseless as she makes me.
I want to make her cry and curse my name as I bring her over the edge again and again. Her nails dig into my back and she moans into my ear, whispering more of that sweet, gentle encouragement and praise. It's everything I need. I never want it to end.
But when she kisses me after her fourth orgasm and begs me to finish inside her, I can't deny her anything. I'll never deny her anything again. I squeeze her fingers and bury my face in her hair as I go still, moaning weakly in relief.
My hip aches and my toes cramp from how tense my thigh is, sending uncomfortable spikes of pain up and down my leg, but in Sadie's arms, I can feel nothing but euphoria.
"I love you," I whisper to her, and she smiles, wrapping her arms around me, and kisses me passionately.
"I love you, too."
And I know she does. She looks at me like Aaron looks at Talia, echoing the same emotion I feel pulsing in my chest. I love her, I love her, I love her. I'll protect her, keep her safe, and spend the rest of my life making her happy.
I cup her face, and kiss her again, and again, until I'm breathless and I want nothing more than to give her more pleasure, until she's as boneless as I can make her. Until her cries of pleasure turn to curses of my name.
I laugh, and she pulls back, arching a brow. "What're you laughing at?" she demands.
"I'm just happy," I reply, and kiss her forehead, breathing in her scent. She hums, tapping my chest lightly, and then relaxes in my arms.
"Me too."
Chapter 21 – EPILOGUE - SADIE
It's a long and grueling road to recovery, but Dwane gets stronger every day. The first time I see him run, neither of our eyes are dry. I hug him tightly, so proud of him and all the work he put in to being able to move as he used to. The memory of that night still makes my stomach flutter in excitement.
It takes almost a year until Dwane is able to keep up with the rest of them during drills. It surprises me then, when he announces over dinner one day, that he's considering retiring from the Army.
"I don't want to leave you," he confesses, and kisses my hand. "I'm sure I can find a way to help people here."
He does. I never doubted he would. He ends up joining the fire service in Witmer, joining Scott in happily retired life. He still gets his sense of community with the other firefighters, but with a lot less chance of getting sniped by enemies in some jungle overseas.
Of course, I would be proud of him either way, but it's nice to know his chances of survival are significantly higher staying in Witmer with me.
A few months later, some incredibly nauseous mornings and a pregnancy test later, I find him at the breakfast table, and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck. He hums, tilting his head for a proper kiss.
"Guess what?" I murmur, dragging my nails across his chest.
"What?" he replies, shivering.
"You're going to be a father."
He freezes, and then turns to me, his eyes wide, face split into a wide smile. "Really?" he whispers.
I nod, putting a hand on my stomach. "I just took a test. Positive as can be."
He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, and picks me up, spinning me around with a whoop of delight. I laugh, playfully batting his shoulders, and he lowers me down to the ground again, kissing me so deep and long it feels like I'm still flying.
When I go to Sergeant Monroe to tender my resignation, he smiles fondly at me and nods. "Promise me you'll come back if we have another special case," he says.
"If you'll still allow home visits, sure," I reply, smiling. I salute him, and then I'm dismissed.
It's strange, walking out of Fort Bliss. I don't even look back once. My future is in Witmer now, and it's inside me, with Dwane, our child, and the life we're going to build together.
Although I would love to keep up my demanding job as a physical therapist with the Army, the more pregnant I get, the more difficult it is. I've long considered opening up my own practice, and finally I have the chance to pursue that dream. While most of my clients are locals, I do get a few consults for wounded warriors, and I've never been happier.
The job is a lot more stable and, like Dwane, has a lower chance of me getting deployed or accidentally hurt during drills. Those things can be brutal.
I tell Dwane the good news about the job, and he smiles at me from his place at the stove—he's quite the cook, and brought some of that New Orleans cuisine home with him. He leans down to kiss me, his free hand on my stomach.
"Now, I'm definitely going to marry you," he teases.
I arch a brow. "Why now?"
"I need those sweet teacher benefits. Firefighters don't have it as nice as you'd think." I know he's joking, but I can't help pretending to be offended. I cross my arms across my chest and level him with my best drill sergeant stare.
"Dwane Foster, that is not how you are proposing to me," I warn, arching a brow. He laughs, and takes one of my hands, kissing my knuckles.
"Of course not, darlin'," he purrs. I bite my lower lip, shivering at the drawl in his voice. Damn it, that really does get me. His eyes gleam with mirth. Smug jerk. "I'm going to get you a diamond the size of your fist, and propose to you in a hot air balloon, and there will be doves and—"
"Stop," I say, swatting him playfully and rolling my eyes. "Not on your salary, and I am not getting in a hot air balloon, especially not pregnant."
He smiles, and leans down to kiss me. "No hot air balloon," he promises. "But I want it to be a surprise."
I grin. "It'll be fun to see if you can take me by surprise," I tease.
He growls, and tightens his grip on me. "Now you've done it," he says, and I gasp, laughing as he scoops me up bridal style and walks away from the stove. He carries me up the stairs and tosses me on the bed, kicking the door closed behind him.
"Dwane," I protest weakly, even as I moan when he slides between my legs and pushes my thighs apart, kissing my neck warm and open-mouthed. "The food. It'll burn."
He chuckles, and fixes me with a devious grin. "Guess I'll just have to be quick, won't I?"
I roll my eyes. "I have every faith in you," I tease.
Dwane grins, and leans down to kiss me. "That's the spirit."
THE END… (Keep reading for a free bonus chapter from the first book of the Fort Balerno series ‘Engaging With The Enemy’)
…But if you want to find out the juicy details behind how any of the other couples got together in Witmer, click on the links below!
Aaron and Talia -> Hero Of The Heart!
Jamie and Sophia -> Nothing Else Matters!
Ava and Scott -> Forbidden Chance!
Or for best value you can grab them all in the Witmer Boxset!
&
nbsp; See the full list of Jean’s books and their reading order here:
JeanStokes.com – books
Amazon.com – Jean Stokes
FREE BONUS CHAPTER FROM FORT BALERNO 1 ‘ENGAGING WITH THE ENEMY’!
I lean my head against the airplane window and close my eyes. Breathe, I tell myself. The breath catches in my chest, and I try to hide the small hitching sound from the passenger next to me by turning my face further toward the window.
She hears it anyway. "Are you okay?"
I nod my head—once up and once down. I open my eyes, lift my head, and put on a polite smile. "Yes."
She returns the smile and goes back to her magazine. I pull out the sleep mask I had put in my pocket and block out my surroundings so I can settle into my thoughts.
Instead, I hear a deep voice. "Ooo, a blindfold. Planning to get kinky on the plane, cutie?"
I answer without lifting the mask. "Go jump out the emergency door."
The invisible wonder jerk huffs under his breath. "Bitch."
I hear his footsteps retreating, and the woman next to me giggles. "Men, right? What an idiot."
I grin halfheartedly. I don't want to think about men. Because I know that my mind is going to go right back to Natsuki. And there it is. Damn it. I've got eleven hours until we reach Dubai for the connecting flight, and now I'm going to spend the whole time questioning whether I did the right thing.
I could have been comfortable in Tokyo. But that's all there was between Natsuki and me. We were comfortable. And I'm too young to be just comfortable.
We were friends. And then we were roommates. And then we were sharing a bed. It was just kind of something that happened from being around each other all the time. But there wasn't any fire there.
The breakup wasn't even that difficult. I just told him I'd taken the job in the States, and he nodded and said "Congratulations."
I know Natsuki cares about me, and we would have gone on being fine, but there has to be more to love than that. Where's the part where he sweeps me off my feet? The part where he makes me feel like I'm worth fighting for? Where's the part where he begs me not to leave because no other woman could ever compare to me?
Okay, maybe I've watched too many rom-coms. Relationships are overrated anyway. If my experience so far is any indication, then all they do is give you someone to answer to and keep you in your comfort zone.
I sink further into the seat and notice that someone nearby is wearing entirely too much cologne. God, I hate flying.
#
She's gorgeous. Long auburn hair cascading down her shoulders in waves. Full lips the color of a sweet, summer watermelon. Icy blue eyes that reflect the sunlight like the surface of a lake.
And she's leaning forward against the table so that the cleavage is practically spilling out the top of her dress. I grin and stare. Hell, she's not being subtle, so why should I?
I met Holly on a dating app, and it turns out she doesn't live too far away.
"So that's when I decided to start wearing gel eyeliner instead of pencils." She giggles and leans forward more causing her cleavage to become fuller.
"You don't say." I take another swig of my beer. I know this is the part where she wants to hear a compliment from me. And I also know that if I give her one, as much as she thinks she wants it, that will kill the mystique for her. She'll think I'm a desperate old loser, and I'll go home alone. At forty-two, I've learned a few things about what women want.
Instead of leaning in and getting all giggly with her, I lean back in my chair, relaxed. I put one hand up behind my head. And I watch her eyes widen as she sees my bicep pull at the sleeve of my t-shirt.
And then I sigh and put the beer back down on the table. This old dance is played out. I could have this woman tonight, no question. Because she's young, and aside from having a real job with real money, I'm fitter than most guys my age. I'd be a supplement to daddy's allowance until one or the other of us got tired of that deal.
And I used to be fine with it. Lord knows I've been with more than my fair share of younger women looking for a man with money. These days, though, it's starting to make me feel like I'm paying for prostitutes. They only come back to my place because it keeps them in cheesecake and necklaces. None of them are actually interested in me. I stopped fooling myself about that a long time ago. I guess I'm just starting to get . . . tired of the game.
Instead, I hit her with honesty. "You know, Holly. The whole time we've been here, you've talked about makeup, Instagram, and the new dress you bought last week." I shake my head. "Oh, and the matching shoes you found."
Her eyes light up. "You've been listening."
"Yes. I have been listening. And frankly, we have absolutely nothing in common to talk about."
She stands. "Well, I didn't think you were all that interested in talking." She pretends to swipe a few crumbs away from her cleavage.
"Well, miss, you thought wrong." I throw some cash down on the table and walk out.
#
"You just . . . walked out on her?" My buddy, Troy, looks incredulous.
"Yep." I don't take my eyes off the match playing on the TV screen.
"But you said she was hot."
"Yep."
Troy shakes his head. "I don't understand." His big hands grip the tall beer glass in front of him, and he leans forward in the circle booth. "So you didn't, you know." He raises his eyebrows at me.
I sigh. "No, I did not."
"Is this some kind of game you're playing with her? Baiting her and making her wait?” He seemed to think that over. “Damn, that's a pretty smart move actually."
"It probably would work, but that's not my plan. I'm just not interested."
"Okay, explain the part to me where you're not interested in going back to your place with a hot college student with massive tits?"
I finally take my eyes away from the game and look Troy in the face. "Listen. She's damn good looking. And any other time, I would've been interested. I'm just . . ." I blow air out in a heavy sigh. "I'm tired of playing games."
Dax and Anthony are sitting with us in the booth, and they've both been listening silently. Troy always was more the talker of the four of us.
Dax finally speaks up. "No, I hear ya, Tyler. Knowing that the right amount of money will get you a fun night starts to feel dirty after a while."
"Exactly," I say. I run my hands through my hair. "I don't know why it matters. It just does. I don't want to be a part of a damned business transaction."
Anthony grins and raises his glass. "Tyler Wright, the last true gentleman." And then he snickers.
"I think he just doesn't want to spend any money," Troy says and laughs, too. He shakes his head. "Walks out on a woman trying to shove her massive titties in his face." And the three of them bust out laughing.
"Aw, shut up," I say and down the rest of my beer.
…Click below to continue reading ‘Engaging With The Enemy’, or if you need to find out the steamy details behind how any of the other Witmer couples got together?!
Joslyn & Tyler >>> Engaging With The Enemy!
Aaron and Talia -> Hero Of The Heart!
Jamie and Sophia -> Nothing Else Matters!
Ava and Scott -> Forbidden Chance!
Or for best value you can grab them all in the Witmer Boxset!
See the full list of Jean’s books and their reading order here:
JeanStokes.com – books
Amazon.com – Jean Stokes
About The Author
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Jean came late to writing. Only after a couple of failed career paths and ending a messy divorce did she manage to dedicate herself long enough to string together her first novel—that initial writi
ng was mediocre but the experience fantastic and an addiction was born!
Ever since then it’s been Jean’s outlet for frustrations, dreams, and desires. Romance is her niche and she loves to write them boldly, with alpha males, independent women, and as always, the perfect happily ever after!
Jean is an American exiled in London with eccentric dogs and lazy cats. When she’s not in her cave writing or dreaming up the next book, she’s watching trashy TV, drinking good coffee/wine with friends, and catching up on her backlog of romance reading!