Loving the Wounded Warrior

by Adriana Anders

  I unzipped my day pack and pulled out the box, lifted the lid, swallowed hard, and closed it again.

  “Can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I know he’s gone. He’s dead. This is just ashes. I know that, it’s just…” I squeezed my eyes shut, but the orange sunlight still shone through my shades and my lids. I held Sebio to my chest. “Once I let this go, I’ve got nothing left. No more purpose.”

  She didn’t say anything for a while, and when I opened my eyes, she was looking off to where the carpet of mountains turned into ocean and disappeared into the sky beyond.

  “You’re worried about your purpose. Okay. Fair enough. But what about him? You thought about that, Kurt?” I blinked. The last thing I'd expected from her was tough love. “Right now, Sebio’s just a pile of ashes in a box. Well, and a burden to you, honestly. He’s a million-ton ball-and-chain, sending you on this crazy fucking crusade to…what? Where? It’ll never end if you don’t set him free. Man, this is such a stereotypical thing to say and I can’t believe I’m the one saying it, but dude. If you love the guy…let him go. Let him go, Kurt. Let. Him. Go.”

  “Here.” I shoved the box into her hands.

  “What? No, no. No way. I’m not—”

  “He’d want a hot woman to do it. He’d like that. In fact, maybe this is what was missing. You.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Fine.” She lifted the lid, gloves making her awkward, pulled out the bag, yanked her scarf over her mouth and nose and waited for me to do the same before taking a big breath and flinging the ashes out into the wind. It picked up, almost magically, at that moment, and dispersed the dust to nothing. Nothing.

  I waited. I should feel lighter, like a burden had lifted, but nothing changed.

  “Need another minute?”

  “No.”

  She made as if to move and then paused. “You say goodbye?”

  “Not really.”

  “Say it.”

  “What?”

  “Say goodbye.”

  “Out loud?”

  “If you think that’s what he needs.”

  No. No way.

  Embarrassed, I shook my head and squinted into the distance, definitely not speaking aloud.

  My brain picked that moment to offer up a memory of Sebio in drag. Halloween, a few years ago. We’d been deployed in Afghanistan and everybody’d been talking about home. Nobody in their right mind would have hunted down lipstick and some kind of black crap for his face, but Sebio did it. He’d thrown a scarf on and done this freaky dance, which had us all rolling on the floor laughing. Why the hell was this the memory that came up? My team goofing off instead of doing the serious business of fighting and protecting?

  Because Sebio’d understood. He’d known when to be a goofball and when to be serious. Man, we’d laughed our asses off that night, like almost pissed our pants laughing, and we’d needed it. Sebio, as usual, had known it and he’d provided that dose of comic relief to the team. Crazy, no doubt, but man it had felt amazing to laugh. I'd cried laughing that night. We all had.

  The fact was, Sebio would do this. Right now. Sebio would say goodbye, out loud, to any member of our team. Without shame, without worrying what anyone thought. At least the old Sebio would have, and that was the guy I wanted to remember today.

  “Bye, Sebio,” I croaked, and cleared my throat. “Happy travels, buddy.”

  A shiver didn’t go through me until O’Neal added her voice to the wind. “Farewell, Eusebio. May you find peace wherever you are.”

  Peace. Yeah. That choked me up. I swallowed it back, because hadn’t I made enough of an ass of myself in front of this woman?

  “Come on.” She shoved the now-empty box in the pack, helped me return the folded-up chair to my back, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

  We walked down in near-silence, only communicating briefly to watch a step or for pit stops. It was getting dark as we arrived at our camp. I headed to the outcropping of rocks where we’d hidden our gear and paused. My eyes sought her out, where she did some sexy-ass yoga stretches right where the tent had been the night before.

  These last 24 hours had been different from anything I’d lived in the past year. Longer than that, actually. And that was because of her.

  She reached up and arched her back. I dropped my pack with a thud.

  “Got someplace to be tomorrow?” I went for casual.

  She turned her head to look my way and stilled, caught in that sexy stretch. After a few seconds, she said, “I could switch it up. What’d you have in mind?”

  “Stay another night.”

  Her arms dropped and she straightened. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got bourbon.” I smirked. “And chicken à la king.”

  When she didn’t respond immediately, I figured she’d decided against it.

  “In that case. How can I refuse?” I let out a breath of relief at her words.

  She walked my way, eyes intent. I couldn’t tell whether to be freaked out or turned on by that look. “But I’ve got an idea.”

  Turned on. Definitely turned on. I swallowed. “What’s that?”

  “My car’s only a few minutes away. How about we pitch the tent again and head up the mountain to the ski area. Water was running for the event yesterday. If we’re lucky…”

  Even with her brows up and the intense way she eyed me, it took a second for me to understand.

  “Bathe.”

  Her slow nod was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. “What do you say?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  * * *

  O’Neal

  I should have said no when he suggested I stay the night. It would’ve been easy—I had a million excuses, including the big one—which was work. I’d had to text in sick again, which was a huge deal. When had I ever not gone to work? Never. Literally not one time in my entire life. And here I was willing to skip it for this guy.

  Shit. I glanced at him and swallowed back a wave of panic.

  The problem with Kurt Anderson was that I didn’t just like him. And I didn’t just want him. If either had been true, I wouldn’t have worried as we drove up the mountain to the deserted ski area. The problem with Kurt Anderson was that I’d fallen in love with him—sometime between early puberty and tonight—and this wasn’t something I was equipped to handle.

  I pulled into the spot closest to the restroom. It was pretty dark now, but the carved-out walls of snow lit things up enough to clearly see that we were alone.

  We paused in the dark. “You go first,” I told him, since we only had one soap and towel between us.

  “That bad, huh?”

  I didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning.

  On impulse, I leaned forward, grabbed him by the back of the head and put my lips to his. It was worse than I remembered. Or better. But worse, because I was addicted. And there was none of that slow crap he’d put me through last night. Here, in the parking lot, he kissed me like he couldn’t get enough. We necked like teenagers for a good three minutes before I pulled away, the back of my hand pressed hard to my bruised lips.

  I swallowed and forced words out. “You smell amazing. But you said you wanted a shower so we could…” O’Neal? Paging O’Neal Jones! The woman who talks like sex is nothing. The woman who does near-strangers in club bathrooms and discards them like last night’s underwear. “So we could do it.”

  He sucked in a harsh breath. “You want to have…to fuck?”

  I nodded. Where were my words? What the hell was wrong with me? “Yeah.” I swallowed, breathless. “You?”

  He groaned and leaned in for another of those consuming kisses. By the time he extricated himself from this one, I was ready to do it in the car. Forget the tent, forget dinner and sleeping bags and talk of protection. I was a heartbeat from climbing over the gearshift, tearing off our pants and putting him inside of me.

  He opened the door, which
turned on the overhead light and let in a swoosh of frigid air.

  “Be right back.”

  When he returned seconds later to rap on my window, I jumped in my seat. He opened the door a crack. “Got a paperclip in here?”

  “What—”

  “Door’s locked. Screwdriver? Paperclip? Give me what you got and I’ll try it all.”

  In the end, he did it with a credit card. After about ten minutes, he returned in fresh clothes, smelling like soap and breathing like he’d run a race.

  “Cold as hell in there.” He handed me his bathing supplies and turned up the heat. “Here.”

  I suffered through my own frigid sponge bath, which was doubly painful because I was so turned on. Wet between the legs, with nipples hard as ice, I washed my body, all the while thinking of how I was preparing myself for him. By the time I was done, every part of me was swollen with desire and want, freezing cold and so excited I’d already soaked through my extra change of panties.

  Oh, well. They’d be off soon anyway.

  That sent another shiver through me as I ran out to the warm car.

  “Ooooooh,” I groaned, with my hands at the vent. “This is heaven.”

  “Sure you want to go back to the tent?”

  Surer than I’ve ever been of anything in my life.

  I nodded and drove us back down.

  Our motions at the campsite were a replay of the night before, with Kurt heating water and making us those strong-ass hot toddies, then cooking up dinner. Everything else was different, rife with the knowledge of what we planned to do. My body hummed with anticipation so strong that he could’ve made me come with a look.

  But he didn’t.

  I frowned when I realized that I couldn’t catch his eye.

  He cooked, mixed, drank… all exactly like before, but not. He didn’t seem happy, which strummed at my nerves until excitement mixed with jitters and left me with a vague sense of worry.

  Had I done something wrong? Did I pressure him somehow or encroach on his personal space? This wasn’t how I’d pictured it.

  “You okay?”

  He glanced my way, barely looking at me. “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.” I took a bowl of food from him and sat in the same spot I’d occupied last night… only he sat a couple feet away. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.”

  The food was too hot to eat, so I set it down and picked up my warm cup. It was colder out than last night, although maybe that was the apprehension creeping through me. “All right.” I forced a smile and held up the cup. “Well, cheers. Here’s to enjoying each other.”

  When he didn’t immediately move, everything inside of me plummeted. Like the little girl my mom had forgotten to pick up from ballet, I felt as bereft as if I sat on this mountain alone. And I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

  “I’m so bad at this,” I finally told him. When he didn’t reply, I took a big, burning swig of booze and sputtered.

  “You okay?” Ah, finally, he looked at me, but his jaw was hard, his eyes unreadable in the dark.

  I gave a shaky laugh. “Great. You?”

  He threw his head back and I watched his big back move as he breathed. Above us, the sky was full of stars. Layers and layers of them, like bright little windows into other dimensions. For a few long moments, I wished I were anywhere but here.

  “I told you I’m honest to a fault, right? I’m just not good at talking about serious stuff. So, I’ll just cut to the chase.” I could barely get the words out. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind about me, Kurt.”

  He let out a self-deprecating huff of a sound and shook his head. “Me? No. But I’m afraid you might.”

  Something like foreboding tingled through me. “What do you mean?”

  “Got something to tell you.”

  I tried to respond and choked on the words. All I could do was approximate a nod.

  He turned to me. “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back again. “You know what happened in the tent last night?”

  “Mm hmm.” Please don’t say you regret the most intimate sexual encounter of my life.

  “Well, I’ve done that before.”

  I nodded and slurped from my mug, wishing the whiskey would relax me instead of tightening my belly into a ball of nerves.

  “Never enjoyed it quite so much, but I’ve done it.”

  Oh my God, get on with it. What are you saying?

  “Done other things, too. Like, um…” He let out a low, hard laugh and turned to me, intensity shooting from every pore. “Gotten my cock sucked. Christ. This is so fucking hard.” With a low, frustrated growl, he chugged his drink, threw the cup to the side and stood. “I’m a virgin, O’Neal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  6

  O’Neal

  * * *

  I blinked up at him, like a doe in the headlights, took a sip of my drink, and set it aside. “Okay.”

  I managed to make my voice even, which was impressive considering the explosions going off in my head.

  Kurt Anderson, high school stud, football star, Marine…virgin?

  Keep it together. Keep it together.

  He looked at me like he wanted to shake a bigger response from me, so I opened my mouth and let random words fall out. “So… You’ve never had intercourse?”

  “Yeah.” There was a hard bite to his voice.

  “But…you were almost married? You mentioned an ex?”

  “Fiancée. Ex-fiancée. And she wanted to wait.”

  Righteous anger at what that woman had done to this man pushed me to my feet. “You walked in on her screwing some other dude.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened to waiting?”

  “She got tired of it. Got pissed at me for leaving her alone back home.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Can’t blame her all that much.” He shook his head and turned away. “I joined up without talking to her first.”

  “Oh.”

  “See? Shitty thing to do, right?”

  “Shitty, sure. But not screw-some-douchebag worthy.”

  “We all have our limits, I guess.” He rolled his shoulders, looking…caged or something. Which was weird for a man standing in the great outdoors. “I pushed her too far.”

  “She sounds like an asshole.” I still didn’t get it. “Why didn’t you, I don’t know, go for a revenge fuck or something? I mean, didn’t you want to?”

  “Couldn’t do it.” He shook his head, slowly. “After waiting that long, there was something so off about doing it with some random woman I met in a bar.” His eyes met mine, full of intent. “Decided to bide my time.”

  “And this is it?” My words came out breathy and a little shocked. I’m it?

  “Yeah.”

  That caged thing got stronger when he prowled off a few steps, turned and stalked back. “Tired of talking about it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wanna talk about this.” He flicked his hand from his body to mine and just that little move sent a heavy, swishing weight spinning into my abdomen.

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “You sure you’re ready to take this on?” It was meant to be a real question, I guessed, but it sounded like a challenge. That was what he looked like—a fighter gearing up for another round, bursting with pent-up aggression; anticipation, maybe.

  My body reacted to it like a magnet to metal. Parts of me going taut and others liquid. I clenched hard between the legs, more hollow than I’d ever felt.

  “Yeah. I’ll take it.” I didn’t even try to modulate my voice. This wasn’t a seduction, it was a skirmish. He had the brawn, and I had the expertise. Funny how his lack of experience didn’t feel like a disadvantage right now. No, it made him seem wilder. Feral.

  “Problem is, O’Neal, I’m so fucking pent up right now, I’m afraid I’ll shove myself into you and lose it.” His fists were clenched at his sides. I couldn’t stop lo
oking at those massive hands. How thick and rough those fingers had been inside me last night.

  “Got all night,” I whispered.

  His teeth flashed in a half-smile. It wasn’t a happy sight. “Only got one condom, though. Been carrying it around for more than a year now.”

  My stomach squeezed and I lost my breath. “I’m on the pill. And you’re…”

  “Yeah. Not a risk.”

  The image of his cock sliding in without a barrier made me whimper. Holy shit. I’d had no idea that was a fetish. But apparently the idea of him coming in me did it in ways I’d never imagined.

  “How do you want to do this?” My voice, low and gravelly at the best of times, sounded like it’d been scraped from the side of this mountain.

  “Shouldn’t you be calling the shots?”

  “Hell, no. This is about you.” I couldn’t force out a laugh, or even a smile. This whole thing was deadly serious. I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything. Ever. And, above all, I wanted to see what he’d do. “You’re in charge.”

  I could have sworn he got bigger in that moment, muscles expanding, spine straightening, face hardening. He’d be a scary opponent in battle. “That works.”

  And it felt like we were about to scrap. I got a rush of excitement at the idea of all that strength and intensity working with me in the pursuit of pleasure. Or against me. It wasn’t quite clear. I couldn’t wait another second to find out how it’d be.

  He couldn’t either, apparently. We closed the distance between us and clashed, chests, arms, mouths, teeth. Our tongues wound together in an all-out attack. This wasn’t the slow, sensual hell he’d put me through last night. It was an invasion.

  It took a few seconds for me to realize how he’d immobilized me—my hair caught in his fingers, my head held perfectly still, his other arm tight around my body so I couldn’t move, even if I’d wanted to.

  Which maybe I did.

  I shoved back, tested his hold. Within three seconds, I was flat on my back on the ground, every drop of air gone.

  “Want me to stop?” He sounded wild, barely restrained.

  “No.”

  “Sure?”

  “Shut up, Kurt.” I slid my arm out and he caught it hard by the wrist. “And fuck me.”