Craving Her Soldier's Touch

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “Beautiful.” He dipped his knuckle into her opening, twirled in tight little circles, then distributed her wetness front to back. There. An area that, until that very minute, had never been touched by male hands. Or any other part of the male anatomy for that matter. Whoa.

  “Relax,” he encouraged.

  Easy for him to say. He knew exactly what he had planned. She didn’t. “What time is it?”

  He answered by setting his mouth on her oh-yeah-right-there spot and erased all thoughts unrelated to the pursuit of pleasure from her head. Arousal pulsed through her veins. A finger, two, no three, plunged deep inside of her. Over and over. And another. Testing. A delicious pressure, absolutely sublime. “That’s so good.” She rocked her hips. Wanting more. He gave it to her. So close. But Jaci didn’t want to come alone.

  She reached up and brought Ian’s erection down to her mouth. Upon contact he took over. Filling her. Everywhere. Driving into her, taking her higher, ratcheting up the intensity.

  And then, with no warning, he pulled out. Abandoned her.

  “No!” She’d been so close.

  He lifted her head gently and rotated her on the bed until her head rested in the middle and her legs fell over the side. He sheathed himself. She bent her legs, setting her feet on the edge of the mattress. Opening for him. Waiting.

  “I want to see your face when we make love.” He leaned over her and settled his hardness between her legs. “I want to see your pleasure.” He drove into her. “Watch your lips pucker and hear the urgency of your little moans.” He pulled out and thrust back in. “Watch your eyes roll back in your head when you come.”

  Jaci wrapped her legs around his hips and watched him right back. The intensity of his gaze, the affection and lust and determination to please her. She listened to his rapid, harsh breaths. The sound of skin on skin.

  Her eyelids tried to drift closed at the feel of him, filling more than her physical form. He felt right. Like this was meant to be. Perfection.

  And as body and soul surrendered to Ian, Jaci remained cognizant just long enough to enjoy Ian’s climax and feel the collapse of his heavy weight on top of her, before she allowed herself to swirl off into a sea of spectacularness.

  * * *

  “I haven’t seen you smile this much since we opened our doors,” Carla said, coming to stand beside Jaci.

  Superb loving did that to a woman. Every night for the past six nights. “Life is good.” She smiled as she watched Ian play Slap Jack with two of the older boys who resided at the center with their mothers. He was an excellent role model, and after school the boys basically shadowed him everywhere.

  “I have to admit I had my concerns about bringing a man on staff,” Carla said. “But in his first week on the job, Ian’s managed to win over everyone. Even Monique.”

  They both watched as tiny, painfully thin Monique, who spoke only when spoken to and rarely lifted her eyes from the floor, carried two coffee mugs to the farthest empty table in the common room and sat down. Then Ian excused himself from his card game—to groans of unhappiness, stood, and joined Monique. The two spoke quietly.

  “What’s that all about?” Jaci asked.

  “Ian told me someone informed him, confidentially, that Monique had been receiving threatening messages from her husband. Ian asked if it was okay for him to try to get her to talk to him about it. I told him to go ahead.”

  To date Monique had not said one word in her group or private therapy sessions, and she’d been an onsite resident for over two months. Yet there she sat, huddled next to Ian, talking quietly. She handed him her cellphone.

  “Your man has a genuine gift,” Carla said.

  He truly did. Jaci was about to say, “He isn’t my man.” But she kind of liked him being referred to as such. Ian fit into her life better than she’d ever imagined any man would. And based on his actions and how he went about doing his job, arriving early and staying late, in the very short time he’d worked there, the residents of the crisis center had become just as important to him as they were to her.

  And so far, other than a minor argument about the cost of the high tech security system Ian wanted to have installed, for which he finally agreed to search out less expensive options, his transition into the new position of head of security and facility maintenance had been without incident.

  * * *

  “Mr. Eddelton?”

  Ian retrieved the file on bids for a new security system, closed the file drawer, and returned to his desk. He leaned forward to depress the intercom button on his phone. “Yes, Andrea?” He tried not to sound curt, but the time he’d spent with the boys and Monique put him behind on the report he’d told Jaci he would have on her desk first thing Monday morning. And after the call he’d received from The Kid’s wife this afternoon, he wouldn’t be around this weekend to finish it up on his days off.

  “Remember how you told me if anyone entering the lobby makes me even a little bit nervous I should contact you right away?” the receptionist asked quietly.

  Ian went on alert. “Yes.”

  “And remember how you told me that even if Ms. Piermont tells me not to bother you I should still tell you and you’ll make sure she doesn’t fire me?”

  Come on. “Yes, Andrea. I remember.” Get to the point.

  “A few minutes ago an older man came in asking for Ms. Piermont. I told him she was in with a patient but he started yelling and said he’d take this place apart brick by brick—” Ian ran to Jaci’s office.

  Empty.

  Carla’s office.

  Empty.

  To the large common area, where he saw Jaci talking amicably with a somewhat tousled and less put together version of the Mr. Parks he’d met at the benefit.

  Frankly, Ian had expected him much sooner. Anger started to build. Why the heck hadn’t Jaci informed him of Mr. Parks’s visit? And why was she walking with him toward the private, staff only area of the building which would be deserted this late on a Friday afternoon?

  An image of Mr. Parks standing over Jaci, his hands around her throat, squeezing the life from her while he questioned her about his wife’s whereabouts flashed.

  Ian shifted into battle ready and headed toward them.

  “Why didn’t you tell me we had a visitor?” he asked in his most congenial tone when he reached Jaci.

  “Because I didn’t want you to make a big deal of Mr. Parks’s friendly visit,” Jaci replied with a smile. “He is a very generous benefactor of the Women’s Crisis Center and, of course, is welcome to stop in for a tour any time he’s in the area.”

  Regardless of what brought him to the area or his intentions while on site? “Hello, Mr. Parks.” Ian held out his hand. “Ian Eddelton. We met at the benefit.”

  Mr. Parks glanced at Ian, shook his hand then returned his attention to scanning his surroundings. His eyes darting to any movement, any sound.

  This was no friendly visit. Mr. Parks was on the hunt.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Ian offered. “Shouldn’t you be in with the doctor and our new arrival?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jaci said with another smile. This one forced and accompanied by tightening around her eyes. “I always have time to show off our beautiful facility and brag about the wonderful work we do around here.”

  She’d shifted into fundraising socialite mode. That’s when Ian noticed she’d changed out of the scrubs she’d been wearing earlier and into a set of brown pleated slacks, pointy toed brown heels, and a short-sleeved, cream-colored, cashmere sweater.

  Well friendly visit or not, Ian wanted Jaci far away from Mr. Parks. Every moment they spent in each other’s company increased the risk she’d slip up and Mr. Parks would identify some inconsistency that would further fuel his suspicions of Jaci’s involvement in the disappearance of his wife. And make him more aggressive in his search for answers.

  Jaci hadn’t seen the accusation and distrust in the man’s eyes or heard the threatening warning in his tone w
hen Mr. Parks had confronted Jena thinking she was Jaci. If I find out you had anything to do with this...

  “I’ll take good care of Mr. Parks.” Ian put his hands on her shoulders and turned her in the direction of her office.

  She continued around to face him. “Stop it.” She glared up at him. “I’ll be the one giving Mr. Parks his tour.”

  “Would you excuse us for a moment?” Ian asked Mr. Parks, and, not waiting for an answer, he pulled Jaci out of ears reach. “I will handle Mr. Parks,” Ian said. “Go to your office and wait for me there.”

  “Absolutely not,” she snapped in a whisper. “You are creating an unnecessary scene.”

  “Which I will stop when you leave.”

  Jaci looked on the verge of a major blowup.

  “You will not win.” He stared her into silence. “Go. Now.”

  She walked over to Mr. Parks and took his hand. “Ian just reminded me of an urgent matter I need to attend to. And he’s graciously offered to give you a tour.” Then she whipped around—lucky for him her eyes weren’t loaded or he’d have a bullet lodged between his eyes—and stormed off.

  So she was mad. At least she was safe.

  The tour took just under forty-five minutes and, at Mr. Parks’s insistence, included the electrical room, janitorial closet, and basement. “So you see,” Ian said to Mr. Parks as he accompanied him back to the lobby. “Your wife isn’t here.” Ian let him know he knew the real reason for today’s visit.

  Mr. Parks showed no reaction.

  “And before I start to wonder why you thought she might be hiding in a crisis center that houses women who have been displaced as the result of abusive relationships, you’d better turn the focus of your search away from Jaci.”

  “I will find Millicent,” Mr. Parks insisted.

  Ian hoped the woman was far away and well hidden. “I wish you the best of luck, sir,” he lied.

  “And when I do—”

  “You will owe Jaci an apology.” They reached the door to the lobby. Ian turned to block Mr. Parks’s path. “Your suspicion of Jaci stops today.” Ian stared the villain down. “You stay away from her.”

  He didn’t react to Ian’s look or tone of menace that typically sent seasoned soldiers running for cover.

  Ian opened the door and Mr. Parks walked through it. Good riddance.

  But he knew better than to believe that was the end.

  “You should have let Jaci handle him,” Carla said from behind him. “She wants to see you in her office.”

  Well he wanted to see her, too. What the hell was she thinking sneaking Parks into the center without telling him? Ian broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of Jaci alone with that man in the dank, poorly lit basement.

  He found her door open, per usual, with Jaci sitting behind her desk. When she saw him, she hit a button on her computer and her printer clicked into action. “Come in and close the door.” She stood. All business.

  As soon as they were alone she let him have it. “How dare you send me to my office like a parent banishing a child to their room?” He’d done nothing of the sort. “How dare you usurp my position here and mitigate my authority by ignoring me when I told you I would be the one giving Mr. Parks his tour?” That had nothing to do with her position or authority and everything to do with keeping her out of harm’s reach. And Ian would do it again in a heartbeat. “Do not for one minute forget who you report to.” She snatched a piece of paper off the printer and handed it to him. “Read this, and sign it.”

  He looked down and scanned the words.

  The heading: Employee Disciplinary Action Form.

  His body went rigid.

  Type of Violation: The box for Disobedience had a capital, bold-faced X in it.

  Violation? Disobedience? While he’d accompanied their ‘guest’ on a tour of the bowels of the building, Jaci had embarked on her own excursion. Of the power trip variety.

  Employer Statement: Head of Security failed to acknowledge and respect an upper level manager’s statement then proceeded to act in a heavy-handed and intimidating manner.

  Intimidating his ass. Nothing intimidated Jaci.

  Warning Decision: Further infraction of the managerial hierarchy will result in immediate termination.

  A heated anger frothed up from his core. Termination? He jammed his left hand into his pants pocket so she couldn’t see the tight fist his fingers had curled into. She was just like his mother and sisters. He didn’t act the way she wanted or do things according to her plan and she wanted to get rid of him. Boom. Done.

  “Are you kidding me? All I did was protect you from a dangerous man who has it in for you. And you’re threatening me with termination?” On his fifth full day of work? Ian had never in his life, since he’d gotten his first job at the age of fourteen, been disciplined by an employer or threatened with termination/discharge. If anything, he’d been commended for exemplary commitment and performance. He had the commendation medals for distinguished service to prove it.

  “You are home from the war, Ian,” she said calmly. “Not everyone poses a threat. By inserting yourself into the situation with Mr. Parks, by not letting me handle him on my own, you made it appear I have something to hide.”

  “You do,” he yelled. This was absurd. He took a step toward her, wanted to shake some sense into her. “Did you know Parks called off the official search for his wife?”

  She stepped away from him. From her surprised expression, no she didn’t.

  “I asked Justin to make a few discreet inquiries. Apparently he contacted the police a few hours after leaving the benefit to say he’d returned home to find a note from his wife saying she’d gone to visit her sister. Based on his visit here, he’s taken it upon himself to continue the search on his own terms. By his own rules.” Which meant no rules.

  Jaci glared up at him. “You underestimate me if you think I’m incapable of handling a man like Mr. Parks.” She unlocked a drawer of her desk. “I have lived my life surrounded by pompous, self-important, power-hungry clones of him. I can walk the walk and talk the talk with the best of them.” She held up two sealed envelopes.

  As part of his orientation he’d been shown the locked file cabinet where Jaci and Carla maintained pictorial documentation of the injuries inflicted on their clients by their abusers. “You have pictures?”

  She slammed one envelope on her desk. “A letter from his wife telling him to stop his search or she would expose him for tax evasion. Which, now that he has demonstrated an interest in me as an accomplice, I will mail to a contact in Texas tomorrow and she will mail to Mr. Parks upon receipt.”

  She slammed a second envelope on her desk. “A letter of explanation and a key to a safety deposit box that contains the documentation necessary to send Mr. Parks to prison. He comes here again or I feel threatened in any way, I mail it to the district attorney’s office. Anything happens to me, Carla hand delivers it.”

  Waiting until after something happened to her was not an option.

  “And for your information, Ian, not all abuse is physical. Emotional abuse is a pattern of behavior aimed at insulting, humiliating, degrading, threatening, isolating and/or controlling another person.”

  She placed special emphasis on the word ‘controlling’ and aimed it directly at him. “Even when you’re exerting that control in the other person’s best interest?” he asked. Because she chose not to acknowledge the inherent danger in dealing with the seedy underbelly of society—Mr. Parks included—or maintain a healthy fear of it?

  “You don’t get to decide what’s in my best interest,” she snapped. “Just like Mr. Parks does not get to decide what’s in Aunt Mill’s best interest. We’re not children. Why do men feel they have authority over us? That it’s their God given right to dominate us and bend us to their will?”

  Ian studied her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “The men in your family really did a number on you.” He shook his head.

  “Wha
t is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re so busy fighting against what you perceive as a man’s attempt to control you, you’re blind to the fact I act the way I do because I care about you, and I’m concerned for your safety.”

  She looked shell-shocked. Had she never had a man tell her he cared for her before?

  “This isn’t about me trying to dominate you or manipulate you,” he explained. “It’s about me trying to protect you. And I can’t figure out if you actually believe you’re invincible, if you’re so overwrought with guilt over what happened to your parents you tempt fate for the chance to join them in the hereafter so you can apologize, or if you’re just too naïve to realize when someone poses a threat to you.”

  “Get out,” Jaci screamed and pointed toward the door.

  “Gladly.” Ian ripped the Employee Disciplinary Action Form down the middle and tossed it on her desk. “If you want me to stay on as head of security, I do my job my way.”

  She started to say something but he cut her off with a raised hand. “You hired me for my expertise and you need to trust my instincts. Even if you don’t like what they’re saying. If you can’t do that, fire me.” With that he turned and left her office.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “DID I mention I worked today, and I’m exhausted?” Jaci asked, knowing, yes, she had. At least three times. But the investment banker from the tenth floor liked to talk more than he liked to listen. Two more minutes and she’d belt out the truth. “Your cologne makes the back of my nose itch, I don’t date men with fingernails longer and better maintained than mine, and you drink scotch, neat, which is a definite deal breaker.”

  But in deference to his upstairs neighbor status, determined to end on a friendly note, she held off.

  He leaned close and Jaci backed up as far as she could, purposely banging her elbow on the door to her condo, hoping Jena would hear and come to investigate.

  “I still can’t believe The Jaci Piermont has an actual job.”