The hot water felt good on her scarred back, some of the tightness melting magically away. Leaning against the wall, Khat closed her eyes and uttered, “Am I in a dream?” Her mouth stretched into a soft smile. She tipped her head back, leaning against the tiles.
“If you are, I’m in it, too,” Mike murmured, drinking the glass of water. He set the emptied glass on the wooden teak deck, far enough away so it wouldn’t accidentally fall into the tub.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was for you,” she said, opening her eyes and catching his gaze.
“Six years is a long time. Besides, I’m not complaining.” Mike reached over and brushed her flushed, damp cheek. “We were good together last night.”
Khat became serious. “My father told me after seeing my scars, that no man would want me. I believed him.”
Angered, Mike kept his expression neutral. “They sent you home after you were rescued?”
“Yes. They did as much as they could for me at the naval hospital in San Diego. The counselor said I should go home for thirty days, that I needed a place where I felt safe…”
He heard the sadness in her voice…saw it linger in her eyes. “What happened?”
“My father lost it,” she muttered. “He got angry and blamed me for it. If I hadn’t joined the Marine Corps, this wouldn’t have happened and a whole bunch of other stuff. I was a POW for thirty days. I was still in shock from the captivity and torture when I arrived home. His anger totaled me. I felt so broken anyway, and when he laid into me, I just felt that much more fractured. I couldn’t protect myself from his anger. I felt like a piece of raw meat.” Khat’s heart grew heavy thinking about those confrontations, and she finished her tea, setting the mug on the teak deck nearby.
Mike’s mouth tightened. “Did he ever give one thought to the realization you were tortured? That you needed to be helped? Not yelled at or blamed for what happened to you?” His hand curled into a fist, and he put a choke chain on his growing rage toward her father.
“No. My mom did, though. She had her hands full with my father’s anger toward me. He went ballistic. I had to get out of there. I couldn’t handle it. There was no way I was staying with them for a month and dealing with my father’s blaming me every day.”
“What did you do, then?” Mike asked, his heart breaking for Khat. She’d just been tortured and had come home, thinking it was a place of safety. Only Khat stepped into another kind of war that was being waged against her shattered soul by her own blinded father. Dammit, anyway.
Shrugging, Khat moved her arms slowly through the warm water, luxuriating in it flowing across her limbs. “I went back to my op. A year later, I was contacted by General Maya Stevenson. She asked if I would consider volunteering for Operation Shadow Warriors. I liked what I heard about the plan, and I said yes. The rest is history.”
Mike reached out for her elbow, levering her up and floating her across to where he sat. She laughed like a child, eyes alight with joy as he settled her across his lap.
“What was that for?” she asked, breathless, sliding her arm around his shoulders.
“Because,” he growled, lowering her into the water just enough so that he could bring her lips to his. “You’re an incredibly brave woman, and I want to kiss you…”
Closing her eyes, Khat absorbed the power of his mouth wreaking fire through her. Instantly, as her breasts glided against his chest, her nipples hardened, and she moaned. His hand swept from her curved back, cupping her hips, bringing her fully against him. She felt his erection and went hot and hungry all over again. His mouth was commanding, and she surrendered to his arms, happiness and hunger threading through her.
Mike eased his mouth from hers. Khat’s head was tipped against the edge of the spa near his, her eyes warm and shining. With love? For him? He wanted to hope so. Her mouth was plundered and slightly swollen. When she kissed, it was with that fierce Afghan passion that drove her. He cradled her in his arms, lifting his one leg and resting his heel on the tile bench below the water. That effectively trapped her long legs and hips against him.
“You’re such a water baby.” She laughed, lifting her hand and running her fingers through his damp hair. His eyes grew stormy-looking, narrowing on her like a hunter would his prey. His hand glided across her curved thigh, down her lower leg, caressing her, letting her know how much he cared for her.
“Did you expect anything else?” he teased. “I’m a frogman by training.”
Nodding, she touched his broad, lined brow, her fingertips sliding down his temple. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and they grew more obvious when he smiled. “I like water.”
“Yes, you do.” Mike caught her fingers and kissed each one of them. “I’ll never forget seeing you beneath that waterfall. That just blew my mind.”
Laughing, Khat said wryly, “You probably thought you’d died and gone to heaven, right?” When he kissed her palm, licks of fire radiated from the center, making her so aware of the ache centering in her core once more.
Raising his brows, Mike murmured, “Yeah, I’d seriously thought I was dead, and I was in heaven.” And then he gave her a wicked look. “I thought, man, this is great. I’m in heaven, and I have this beautiful, naked babe in a waterfall waiting for me.”
They both laughed.
Mike became serious, enjoying her in his arms. “Feeling better?”
Nodding, Khat kissed his cheek. “You were right. I was sore.”
“That’s why I’m not going to take you here and now,” he told her, catching her green gaze that was dappled with gold flecks.
She pouted. “But I’m ready.”
“So am I, but you can’t abuse your body, Khat. You need some downtime. We have tonight.” Mike held her sultry look. Khat had shown an extreme tendency to take her body for granted. She didn’t seem to understand that she was human and needed rest, not always pushing herself to the edge with exhaustion.
“Okay,” she murmured, gently outlining his mouth with her fingertip, “you’re probably right.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” he growled, catching her finger and kissing it. “I want to put some seriously good lotion on your back.”
Stunned, she frowned. “But—why?”
“Dr. Johnson called me over to the dispensary after you’d had your physical. She said you forgot the bottle of special lotion she gave you when you left the building. I picked it up. She told me it should go on your back morning and night.”
“I didn’t forget to pick it up.”
“No? Why?”
“Because I can’t reach the worst parts of the scarring in the center of my back.”
“She said it would help you a lot, take out the stiffness that the scars have caused. Don’t you want to try it?”
The truth was, she didn’t want Mike to see how bad her scars were. Would he be repelled? It was one thing to run his hand over them. It was another for him to really look at them and then rub lotion on them.
“What are you thinking?” Mike coaxed, seeing hesitation in her eyes. He had felt her withdraw from him. “Your scars don’t scare me, Khat. I don’t mind putting the lotion on them. Do you?”
Some of her trepidation melted beneath his roughened voice, the tenderness burning in his eyes. “I—well, it’s just that no one has ever touched them. Except for the doctor I have to see once a year. I don’t care what they think.” She forced herself to look him in the eyes. “I do care what you think.”
“That I’d get up, walk out of your life because I saw the extent of your scars? Touched them and become disgusted? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Well,” Khat whispered, “when you put it that way, it sounds kind of dumb of me, doesn’t it?”
“Angel, I love every inch of you,” he rasped, bringing her mouth to his. “And read my lips. You’re mine.” Mike kissed her gently, feeling all the tension dissolve within her. Cupping her cheek, holding Khat’s gaze, he added, “I told you that the night we
were on the mountain. Nothing’s changed since then. I don’t blow hot and cold. I know what I want. And that’s you, Khat. I accept you just the way you are. Your scars are a part of your life, but like I told you before, I wasn’t going to be defined by scars, nor should you.”
The passion in his gruff tone affected her deeply. Khat felt one more door that she’d hidden behind crack and fall away. The fierce look in his burning gaze told her he meant every word of it. Mike had never lied to her, always done what he said he’d do. “Okay,” she whispered, resting her brow against his head and closing her eyes. “Let’s go do it, then.”
“Good,” he praised. “Then I’ll make you breakfast. Did you know I’m pretty good in the kitchen?”
Khat smiled, feeling his strength feeding her, holding her, and she opened her eyes and murmured, “This I’ve got to see…”
Mike carried her in her bathrobe back to his room. He disrobed Khat and urged her to lie on her stomach. Khat hid her face in the pillow, and he understood why. He opened the floor-to-ceiling drapes, allowed the dawn light to spill into the large room. Sitting down at her side, their hips meeting, he squeezed the thick, unscented ointment on his fingers.
“This might feel cold,” he warned. He saw her nod, her face hidden. For the first time, Mike got a look at her back. Unprepared for it emotionally, he gently began at the top of her shoulder, lightly applying the cream. He felt the fine tension running through her body, as if holding herself against what he might see or think. His stomach turned as he saw the skin had been ravaged, never sewn up, but laid open and healed back together in ragged, thick keloid ridges. It was as if she’d been whipped three or four times, days apart from what he could tell with the way the skin had healed, one on top of the other.
The welts were real, and he choked back rage as he continued to apply it to her moist, heated skin. The damaged flesh had turned darker over time, nothing but layering of scar tissue. He saw how the thickened scars were pulling the unbroken flesh of her back. Some lashes had been deeper than others, and he could almost feel those metal tips digging deep into Khat’s long, beautiful back, slicing through her skin, ripping into her muscles beneath.
“Feel okay so far?” he murmured, keeping the horror, the rage, out of his tone. He knew how to stuff his emotions. Khat had been through enough. She didn’t need to see his violent reaction to her torture. Her father had done enough damage to her already.
“Mmm-hmm.”
Mike smiled faintly. “I think this cream will help over time. Dr. Johnson said it had a lot of vitamins in it to help soften up those scars. It will stop them from pulling on the surrounding skin.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Okay, he understood. Khat was mortified. He got that. By the time he was finished, her back gleamed beneath the low light. As he sat there, Mike watched her skin absorb it, thirsty for more. So he put on another layer. Every once in a while, he’d glance down at Khat. Her hand had fallen away from her face, and she had fallen asleep. His heart opened with powerful emotions as he sat there ministering to her. She’d trusted him in the end, and was still so damned exhausted by the unending years of combat that she’d fallen asleep.
A slight smile curved Mike’s mouth as he continued to feed those thirsty scars across her back. Maybe it was his touch. Maybe it was because she finally believed him that he loved her, and he didn’t give a damn about what kind of scars she carried. The more he worked the ointment in, the more pliable her flesh became. In the end, he gently massaged her back, feeling the tautness of her muscles from the grueling work she did every day. Her skin was flushed, and after the massage, appeared rejuvenated. He even saw a lightening of the darkness that had once been in the scar tissue, some normal color returning because of improved circulation into those areas.
Getting up, Mike covered Khat with a sheet and light blanket. He quietly padded into the bathroom to take a shower. If Khat was still asleep when he was finished, he wouldn’t wake her. More than anything, she needed deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Turning at the door to the bathroom, he saw the dawn light caress her soft, relaxed features. Her hand was slightly curled near her flushed cheek. Her hair was tousled and still somewhat tamed within those two tortoiseshell combs she’d used. Thick crimson tendrils curled softly at her temples, and Mike ached to walk over, gather Khat into his arms and hold her safe.
*
KHAT YAWNED SLEEPILY, staggering down the hall, dressed in the dark blue terry-cloth robe. She’d taken off her watch and didn’t know what time it was. All she knew was sunlight was cascading brightly through the open curtains of Mike’s room. Rubbing her eyes, she walked out of the hall that spilled out into the kitchen and living room area.
“Feel better?” Mike asked from the sink. He was washing his hands after making two beef sandwiches for lunch. Khat looked like a lost child in that voluminous robe, her hair loosened, her eyes half-open, a drowsy look in them.
“I think so,” she muttered, heading to the kitchen where he was. “What time is it?”
“Noon.”
“What?” Her eyes rounded. “You’re kidding me!”
“No.” He wiped his hands on the towel. “Emma just left for Kabul, and she said for you to take it easy today. She thinks you’re tired.”
Wrinkling her nose, Khat walked across the cool tiles of the kitchen in her bare feet, rubbing her eyes. “You should have woken me up, Mike.”
“Oh,” he teased, “so this is my fault?”
She made a noise in her throat and looked around. “Is there tea?”
“I’ll make you some,” he said, picking up the kettle and putting it on the gas stove.
“Thanks,” she said, yawning again. And then she rubbed her face as she leaned her hips against the granite counter. “I feel drugged,” she muttered.
“You slept a long time,” he said, opening a cabinet door and bringing down a plate. “How’s your back feeling?”
She lifted her hands from her face. “A lot better. It’s not pulling and stiff like it usually is. I feel like my back has turned to hard leather, but it doesn’t feel like that now.”
“We’ll keep putting the lotion on it.”
She gave him a tender look. “Sometimes,” Khat admitted huskily, “I think I’ve made you up. I’m so desperate, so lonely, and my imagination has created you…”
Mike walked over, taking her into his arms. “I think you know how physical I am from last night.” He kissed her brow.
“Really,” she mumbled, laying her head beneath his jaw. Content to be held, she leaned fully against him. “I liked it, liked you. A lot. And I want to do it again.”
Pursing his lips, Mike whispered against her temple, “You’re not leaving my bed while we’re here.”
The teakettle began to sing, and he reluctantly released her. “Want to have your tea in the living room?”
“I’d better get out of this robe,” she said, gesturing to it.
“Emma and Khalid are gone until this evening. It’s the housekeeper’s day off. We’re alone here at the villa. So why not kick back?”
“Wonderful,” she murmured, moseying toward the couch.
When Mike brought in her cup of tea, he sat down on one corner of the couch. Khat snuggled into his arms, wanting to be held, starving for his nearness. Unable to explain her neediness, she felt her entire life slowly revolving in a new direction. It left her feeling uncomfortable in some ways. And in others, she was running toward it with open arms, joyous and anticipatory as never before.
“My life hasn’t been the same since I met you,” Khat said, sipping her tea.
“Well, my life hasn’t been the same, either,” he chuckled. Khat lay against his left side, his arm over her shoulders, her legs tucked beneath her. The robe had opened, revealing most of her curved, firm thigh.
She blew some air across the surface of the steaming tea she held between her hands. “You’re like a lightning bolt that crashed into my life, Mike.”
He moved his fingers across her shoulder. “Are you sorry?”
“No.” Khat leaned her head back on his arm and looked up at him. “You just worked me up and over my worst fear of a man who liked me until he saw my scars.” Mike made a face and shook his head. She laughed softly. “You’re such a little boy sometimes.”
Moving his fingers along her temple, pulling some of the strands away from her eye, he growled, “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Angel. You wouldn’t worry about that at all.”
Content, she raised the cup to her lips, feeling a happiness she’d never felt before. “Well,” she whispered, “I like what we have.”
“Makes two of us.”
“What are we going to do, Mike? When I have to leave?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.” He knew Mac was getting information together to try and take her off that op. Inwardly, Mike felt panic because he knew it was Khat’s entire life and reason for being. They would literally be taking her life, her passion, away from her. She’d be made to stand down and probably rotate Stateside for a minimum of six months. He drew in a deep breath, worried for her, worried for their blossoming relationship. He’d just found Khat, and he sure as hell didn’t want to lose her. If she ever found out he was a part of trying to get her off the op, he knew she’d hate him. Hate him enough to walk away from him forever.
“My life feels like it’s in transition,” she said, worried. “You’re the only stable part to it right now.”
“Then let me be your anchor. We’ll take this one day at a time.” Mike drowned in her gaze and saw her mouth pull into a sweet smile that set his body on fire once again. Hell, he was already hard. Just being with Khat aroused him. Having her in his arms sent him into a constant ache. He knew she had no idea of her effect on him. But tonight, Mike was going to love her, bind her to him so that when the storm came into her life, she would stay with him, not run away from him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“THIS IS OUR last night together,” Khat whispered, moving her naked body against Mike. She felt as if these past three days were some kind of magical respite never to happen again. His arm curved around her waist, and Mike pulled her solidly against him. “I don’t want it to end, Mike. I feel like a pouty little child having a temper tantrum about it.” Khat closed her eyes, nuzzling against his shoulder, her fingers tangling through the soft, dark hair across his chest.
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