Bay Griffin’s statement about being in love with her needled his conscience. Was he like all the rest of those men who salivated after Khat? Seeing her as nothing more than a night of sexual gratification? A challenge, maybe? Mike scowled as he dug deeper into himself. Hell, being attracted was a mix of sex and…
He heard Khat laugh, the lilting, husky sound sending riffles of pleasure through him. Lifting his head, Mike watched the two mares nosing around her emptied hands and then nudging the pockets of her cammies, searching for more lettuce. Khat’s mouth was pulled into a tender smile. Mike knew that he wanted this woman in his life for more than just sex. And sex would be good with her. He sensed it as only a man could. But he also saw the hurdles he’d have to leap to get her into his arms, too. Mike wanted Khat to voluntarily come to him. He’d made the first move that night out in the Hindu Kush mountains. This time, she had to come to him of her own free will and accord. Or it wouldn’t work.
“I know where there are some apples. Our chief always likes a bowl of them on his desk,” Mike suggested.
Khat felt happiness blossom in her heart as she glanced over and met his hooded look. She was aware of the intense, burning expression in Mike’s eyes. He wanted her. So much of her wanted him, too. Her heart was pleading with her to give in to him, to show him with a kiss once again, that she liked him. Her memories, however, waived her off. She’d struggled for so many years trying to tell her mind and body that not all men were hurtful. She knew that from her younger years. The scars on her back were also inside her soul, and that was what stopped her from reaching out to Mike. What would he do when he saw her scars? Felt them? They were disgusting to Khat. “Apples? Out here?”
“Yeah, can your girls have one a day?” he teased, easing away from the fence. He walked over, sliding his hand across Mina’s dusty back. She was in top shape, not an ounce of fat on her short, compact body.
“Of course you can. I know they would love to have an apple a day. Do you have a hose and water around here?” Khat wondered, looking around the area.
“I can rig up something,” Mike said. “Why? You want to wash them first and then give them an apple?” He saw a sparkle in Khat’s eyes.
“Are you reading my mind?”
Shrugging, he murmured, “I learned a long time ago not to try and figure out what’s on a woman’s mind.”
“We’re that complicated to you men?” she teased.
He grinned. “Complex but worth it.” He ran his fingers across Mina’s black coat. “They’ve rolled and now they’re dirt bags. I imagine they’d enjoy having their own kind of shower and feeling clean for once. Get rid of all the salt accumulating on their skin?”
“I’d love to do that,” she said. “I’ve got some jeans and a tank top in the other pannier. I’m going to change into civvies, and I’ll meet you back here. We can wash both of them.”
Mike nodded. “Sure. It’ll bring back fond memories of me working in my father’s barn, washing all our horses once a week.” He patted Mina’s rump and walked toward HQ.
*
KHAT HAD NEVER enjoyed herself so much as she had putting Mina in the cross ties within the barn and washing her from stem to stern. It felt good to be in a pair of comfortable jeans and a pink tank top. She’d unbraided her hair and used rubber bands to make two pigtails. With a bucket of water, a mild soap and rubber curry comb that would loosen the deep dirt and sweat that had accumulated on her mare, she went to work. Mike worked one side of Mina, dressed in a set of jeans and a tan T-shirt that showed off his powerful upper body.
Mina’s eyes were half-closed, her hind leg cocked, telling Khat she felt comfortable and absolutely loved all this attention. “I think Mina has gone to horsey day spa.” She laughed, looking over her gleaming back at Mike. His T-shirt was damp with splotches of water, some suds caught in his dark hair. She liked to watch those lean, powerful arms and hands of his at work. He had a protective waterproof removable cast on his lower left arm.
Chuckling, he said, “I like that. Horsey day spa.”
“She’s more than earned this downtime,” Khat murmured, crouching down and rubbing her legs with a soft brush instead of the currycomb.
“Speaking of downtime,” Mike said, crouching opposite her, getting Mina’s other leg with soap and water, “what kind of leave do you get with this op?”
“I’m supposed to get six month rotations on and off from combat. When I go Stateside, they like me to take more training in my area of expertise. In my case, upgrading my paramedic skills.”
Mike took the hose and stood, allowing the water to flow from the Arab’s wither down across her leg and hoof. “Six on and six off? That’s a pretty brutal schedule. SEALs get six-month deployments, but then we go Stateside for eighteen months.” Damn, six months off from combat and then getting thrown back into the mix seemed like a crazy plan to him.
“The operation is in its third year of seven-year trial,” she said. “I didn’t want to leave my op area. I could see the difference I was making, and the Shinwari villages were beginning to feel a sense of protection because I was in their vicinity all the time.”
Mike handed her the hose around Mina’s chest. Their fingers touched briefly, and he ached to kiss her. The ends of her long pigtails were wet and curled against her upper chest. Her tank top was soaked, outlining her breasts. Worse, her nipples were clearly straining against the fabric. He was in a special hell. He’d never seen Khat happier, discovering a dappling of gold in the depths of her eyes. To Mike, she looked like a young teenage horse-crazy girl. And his heart expanded with a grinding hunger and a driving desire to see her happy like this with him.
“What does that mean, ‘all the time’? You mean six months out of every year?” He straightened and began to wash Mina’s long thick black mane. It had a lot of snarls in it, and he used a shampoo conditioner to unknot most of them. They came out quickly as he gently combed down through the strands.
Khat stood up, brushed some damp tendrils away from her flushed cheek. She saw concern in his eyes. “The first year I was with the operation, I took a week to visit my parents.” She shrugged. “That didn’t go well, so I went after my upgrade training instead. When I finished the schooling, I deployed back to Afghanistan.”
“You didn’t take that six months off?” Mike probed carefully.
Khat gave him a grimace and began to wash Mina’s neck from her ears down to where it intersected her sloped shoulder. “No, I came back here.”
Damn. Mike couldn’t believe what she was doing to herself. He’d seen the train wrecks with the marines and army personnel who would spend a year in combat, go home for four to six months and then get slammed with another year of deployment back into combat. Mike had seen men commit suicide after two or three such brutal tours. The amount of PTSD they accumulated was stunning, and their symptoms grew worse with each deployment. What the hell was her handler thinking? Hutton should realize Khat needed downtime to recharge and get back to a somewhat normal life Stateside.
He continued to comb out the snarls in Mina’s mane, opposite where Khat stood. “Tell me something. Didn’t your handler care that you came back too soon into combat?”
Khat heard the grate in his voice. It was veiled, but it was there. The look in his eyes was narrowed and filled with concern. She felt Mike was upset although he appeared relaxed. “No. The Shinwari villages were being regularly plundered by Sangar Khogani of the Hill tribe. With me being boots on the ground, I was making it hell for him to keep attacking my villages and not lose five or ten men at a time.”
Mike scowled. “So the handler decided that?”
“No, I did. He wasn’t happy about it, but he saw the value of me being in the breach and making the difference. I was able to slow Khogani down. I was also providing actionable intelligence in an area where it was desperately needed.”
Anger rolled through him, but he kept it to himself. “So do you go Stateside every year, then?”
�
��No.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Past three years,” she muttered, seeing Mike was clearly concerned. She took a soft cloth, wet it and cleaned out Mina’s ears and then gently washed off her face and tiny muzzle.
“Because?”
“Because I wanted to protect my father’s tribe,” she answered, defensive. “You don’t understand, Mike. My father, Jaleel, was born and raised in Dur Babba. He was second of two sons and three daughters. He wanted more than a dirt poor farmer’s life. Since he wasn’t the firstborn son, he was able to leave the village. My father went to Pakistan when he was twelve years old. He got a job at a concrete plant outside of the capital and saved money. When he was eighteen, he went to the university and worked for five years to gain a degree in civil engineering. Then he went home and told his parents he was going to immigrate to the US, to find a good-paying job.”
“And he’d send money home to his family after that?” Mike guessed, washing out the conditioner from Mina’s mane.
“Exactly.”
“How did he meet your mother?” He saw some of the defensiveness leave her face.
“My father was taking English classes at San Diego State University. My mother is an English teacher. They fell in love and got married a year later. My father got a good-paying job at a construction company, and my mom kept teaching until she became pregnant with me.” Khat smiled softly, cleaning Mina’s large, delicate nostrils, wiping the fine dirt out of them. “I was born two years after they were married.”
“That’s a nice story,” Mike murmured, meaning it. “You said you didn’t like going back after coming home from Afghanistan?”
“That’s another long story,” Khat whispered, standing back and looking at how Mina’s black coat now shined.
“I’ve got all day,” Mike teased, wringing out a cloth into the bucket. He glanced over and saw pain lingering in her eyes.
“My father hated that I joined the Marine Corps,” she admitted, overcome with sudden grief. She took a towel and began rubbing Mina’s neck dry. “He said a woman’s place was at home, having children and all that. He couldn’t understand why I joined the Marine Corps.”
“I’m sure it raised hell with his customs. Was he a strict Muslim?”
“No, he was actually pretty worldly considering where he was born. It’s just that he’s a neanderthal about what women can or can’t do. He hated that I went into the military. And then, when the Corps asked me to join USMC Counterintelligence group, because I spoke flawless Pashto, was half Afghan and had ties in the country, that’s when he lost it.”
“You wanted to go over and help your family?” Mike saw the tears in her eyes for a moment, and then she swallowed them back, continuing to dry Mina’s neck with the towel.
“You know, Mike, I grew up in the States. I was like any other girl. The freedom I enjoy there wasn’t here in this country. It was like stepping back into the Stone Age for me. Like being caught in a time warp. Girls are chattels in Afghanistan. They were imprisoned. But at the time, I didn’t know all that until I got training in counterintelligence.”
“I imagine it was a helluva jolt coming over here after being born and raised in America.”
She snorted. “It was a stunning revelation, believe me. My parents made decent money. I grew up with my father’s stories about Afghanistan, about his huge, extended family. In my heart, I felt this driving need to get back to the place of his birth. He was very proud that he was Afghani. I grew up on his knee, listening to fabulous, wonderful stories of Afghan heroes and warlords, fighting for their tribe, keeping them safe and out of harm’s way.” She smiled a little, resting her hands on Mina’s back. “I guess I wanted to give back to the other side of my family, to meet them, know them and love them.”
“And you did get to meet them eventually?”
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she nodded, tears in her eyes. Her voice wobbled a little. “I got to meet my father’s brothers and sisters. When I drove into Dur Babba with a SEAL unit a long time ago, it was one of the most amazing and happiest days of my life.” She gave Mike a self-conscious look, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I finally felt like my soul had come home. Father had always told me Afghan blood ran deep and wild in a person, and he was right. I’ve committed whatever’s left of my life to my people. It is in my blood. And nothing and no one is ever going to tear me away from this part of the world. I’ll die over here, and my body will someday be thrown to the vultures, my bones bleached white by the sun. But my spirit will be happy.”
Something broke inside him as she whispered those last words. It scared the hell out of him. “Hey,” Mike said, walking around the horse. He turned her around, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I want you around, Khat.” She felt so damned fragile in that moment that it triggered every protective mechanism he owned.
Mike was so close that it made Khat dizzy. She felt his hands on her shoulders, monitoring the amount of strength he held her with. The intimacy he automatically established with her. His face blurred for a moment and without thinking, she leaned upward and placed her mouth upon his. For a second, he tensed, surprised by her action. And then he swept her into his arms, his mouth taking hers with a fierceness that flooded her entire being. Desire plunged through her, electrifying every nerve ending, triggering a wild hunger that howled through her awakening body.
*
THE WORLD CEASED to exist for Khat as his mouth plundered hers, giving and taking, wanting her. As she strained to get even closer to Mike, the length of her body plastered against his, she felt as if she’d come home in a different way. A good way.
His hand cupped her cheek, deepening his exploration of her, the hunger flaring bright within her. Khat couldn’t get close enough to him, her breasts pressed urgently against his chest, her heart a staccato against his. And as Mike eased his palm across her nape, his calloused fingers incited flares of building heat down through the core of her body. His mouth skimmed her, tasting her, giving her lower lip a small nip.
Khat moaned, her arms curling tightly around his shoulders, absorbing his strength, his masculinity. Her breasts tightened, and her nipples hardened, and she wanted him to touch her so badly. The fear of him discovering the thick scars on her back was erased as his hand drifted from her nape and he enclosed her hip, bringing her hard against him. A softened cry tore from her, his thick erection against her belly, bright, white heat flooding her core, dampening her thighs as his mouth pleasured her.
Khat’s senses were blown by his sweet assault upon her. She inhaled Mike’s masculine scent, dragging it deep into her lungs. His beard sent prickles across her cheek and jaw, his hands exploring her, awakening her until she trembled in his embrace. And without realizing it, he’d moved his hand lightly across the damp fabric stretched across her scarred back. The one thing she’d lived in fear of had not made him recoil, had not stopped him from continuing to kiss her. Her fear dissolved as his tongue moved slowly against hers, suggestive, hot and sending more ripples of heat exploding through her lower body.
Mike didn’t want to stop kissing Khat. But they were out in the open and someone could walk around the building and find them practically making love to one another. Easing from her mouth, he dragged his eyes open, staring into her drowsy green and gold gaze. Yes, that dappled gold sunlight was there, her black pupils huge, a green crescent around them. He kissed her nose, her cheek and then her brow. “We’re a little exposed here,” he said gruffly, regret in his tone.
Dazed, Khat released him, but not wanting to. She felt so damn needy that she could barely think coherently. Her lips throbbed with the power of his kiss, and her heart was fluttering in her chest. “Y-yes,” she whispered. Her knees felt unsteady.
Mike needed her softness, her woman’s strength as he framed her face. Khat’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, her nostrils flared, drinking in his scent. “It’s damn nice to kiss you again,” he rasped agains
t her ear, nuzzling her temple, the red tendrils tickling his nose and cheek. “Do you know how many times I replayed our first kiss?” He pulled away, smiling into her softened eyes. There were no more tears, just arousal and a keen hunger for him in them. More than anything, Khat had come to him. His heart nearly burst with joy. It told Mike that what he felt for her was mutual, not one-sided. He saw Khat give him a tremulous smile.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you, Mike, from the first minute I saw you again…”
Her voice was husky with sensuality, and it flowed through him, making him ache even more than before. “I like what we have, Khat,” Mike grated, still trapped in the blistering heat coursing through him.
He tamed several strands of her hair and tucked them behind her ear. “I want to build upon what we have, Angel. And I hope you do, too.”
Khat’s voice throbbed with emotion. “I’m afraid, Mike.” Afraid that if she undressed and he saw the extent of her scars, that it would disgust him. He would think her ugly. She was damaged goods. Her father had said so. She saw his lion-gold eyes grow hooded. That mouth of his, strong and chiseled, called to her again then moved into a very confident, male smile.
“We can both be afraid as long as we run toward one another, Khat, not away from one another.” Mike’s voice lowered. “I’m serious about you. This is no one-night stand. I need you to know that.” Mike saw her eyes grow moist.
“How do you know?” she demanded, her voice breaking.
“From the minute I became conscious and saw you, I knew.” The indecision in her eyes was from her self-consciousness about her scars, Mike sensed. Yet, he’d purposefully run his hand across her back, seeing if she was going to shy away or freeze because he’d grazed that injured area of her body. Khat had done neither. Mike felt it was a sign of trust on her part toward him. “You’re so damned breathtakingly beautiful to me, Khat. I can’t think two thoughts in a row without thinking of you.”
Taking Fire Page 12