Our First Kiss

by Judy Lynn Hubbard

  “I love you, Nathan,” she whispered, her hair covering their faces when she kissed him lingeringly before he could respond.

  At her admission, their feverish pace suddenly changed, and he loved her slowly, tenderly as if she were the most precious person in the world to him, which indeed she was. They kissed long, slow and deep. Threading his fingers in her hair, Nathan unnecessarily held her mouth against his; she had neither the desire nor the intention of moving away from him not even for a second. As they drank thirstily from each other’s mouth, he rolled her beneath him in one fluid movement as their slow dance continued. The simple beauty of their perfect closeness brought tears to her eyes, which he kissed away while his body gently, stroked hers.

  She stared into his expressive eyes and learned all she needed to know—everything he didn’t say but felt; he loved her, too. She could wait until he was ready to admit it. For now, he let his body and heart tell her what he couldn’t yet say, and for now it was enough because she knew without a doubt he would utter the all-important words very soon.

  Nathan felt her climax come in a long shuddering release, and still his body continued to caress hers until she took him with her. A deafening clap of thunder sounded—or was it the frantic beating of their pounding hearts? His mouth sought and found hers, and they shared numerous lengthy, earth-shattering kisses that added the final layer of oneness their bodies were seeking.

  Her eyes wanted to close, but she kept them partially opened and focused on Nathan until she felt herself sinking, drowning and spiraling toward ultimate pleasure, pulling him along with her until they both found blessed release. He collapsed on her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and she held him close as their ragged breathing slowly returned to normal. The fury of the storm inside was temporarily spent while the storm outside raged on furiously.

  They both knew it had been different this time; this wasn’t simply about physical release. They had willingly given their hearts and souls tonight, and nothing would ever be the same between them again.

  * * *

  The next morning, Marcy and Damien sat across from each other across a small table in the rehearsal hall. She hadn’t been surprised to receive his call this morning; they had never been able to stay angry with each other for very long.

  “I’m sorry, Marce,” he reluctantly apologized and then took a gulp of coffee, as if to wash the bitter words down.

  “Say it like you mean it,” she softly ordered.

  “Don’t press your luck.”

  “Tell Natasha thank you for making you do this.” She laughed at his dry tone.

  “I will.” He didn’t bother to deny his wife’s hand in his apology. “Maybe you could call her and—”

  “Gave you a hard time, did she?” Marcy interrupted him and intuitively smiled at his confirmatory expression. “I don’t think I will call her. You deserve to suffer a little.”

  “You can be so heartless sometimes.”

  “You deserve it after what you did,” she chided.

  “Marce, I only said what I did because I love you.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” She slid her chair until she was sitting close beside him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, too.”

  “But?” He waited, knowing there was more.

  “But I would appreciate it if you would let me handle Nathan. I know what I’m doing.”

  He doubted that, but then that was just Marcy—jump first and look later. “I’ll try to mind my own business,” he relented.

  “Thank you, Dami.” She hugged him close. “I’m happy for you, Daddy,” she whispered against his ear.

  “Thanks,” he said. When he pulled back, he was grinning like an idiot.

  “How scared are you?” Marcy asked.

  “Terrified,” he admitted. “But don’t tell Tasha.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” she promised. Her eyes strayed to the wall clock and she jumped up. “I’m late. I gotta go.”

  “To see Nathan?”

  “No.” She smiled at him tolerantly. “I’m seeing him later. Now, I’m off to work.”

  She waved at him brightly, and he sighed heavily while watching her hurriedly leave. His baby sister was in love, and he wanted to be happy for her, but he was worried instead. He liked Nathan, but he wasn’t sure he should trust him, and if he couldn’t, Marcy definitely shouldn’t. He’d keep his suspicions to himself for Marcy’s and Natasha’s sake, but he was going to keep a careful eye on the situation. If Nathan looked as though he was going to hurt Marcy, brother-in-law or no brother-in-law, he was going to skin him alive.

  Chapter 12

  Nathan strolled down the hall to his suite, whistling a happy tune after a wonderful night and morning of loving Marcy, and before opening the door, he sensed something was not right. His smile faded, and he became quiet and lethal as a predatory cat. Someone was here or had been here. Slowly, his hand moved under his jacket and drew out his gun before carefully opening the door. His eyes slowly touched on every corner of the room as he remained silhouetted in the doorway.

  “Move and you’re dead,” he ordered, pointing his gun at the figure standing by the window. “Hands over your head and walk slowly toward me.”

  The figure complied, and when he came into view, Nathan lowered his gun with a muffled curse. His heart sank because there was only one reason his visitor was here—to let him know it was time to leave for his next mission.

  “Nice to see you’re still on your toes even though you’re on holiday.” The man smiled.

  “Benson.” Nathan replaced his gun and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

  “This is for you.” Benson handed him a large envelope with an official seal on it.

  “Everything all set?” Nathan took the envelope and threw it carelessly on the bed.

  “Nearly.” Benson raised an eyebrow at his blasé attitude. “We’re waiting on satellite confirmation of the rebel camp, which should come anytime.”

  “Is the team assembled?” Nathan asked, and for the first time in his life didn’t really care.

  “Ready and waiting. This is going to be a dangerous, extremely delicate undertaking, Nathan.” Benson paused before reminding, “We’re invading another country’s sovereignty.”

  “I know,” he agreed on a sigh. “We tried diplomatic channels, but the Yemen government refused to cooperate with us. They’ve left us no choice. Besides, everything suggests they were complicit in our envoy and his aides being taken in the first place. We’re better off going it alone.”

  “True, but you know if you’re captured...” Benson’s words trailed off ominously.

  “We’re on our own. The United States will deny having sent us,” Nathan unemotionally finished. He had no intention of failing or being captured. They’d be in and out of Yemen before the enemy knew what had hit them.

  “It would be so much easier if we could use drones.” Benson sighed.

  “We might kill the hostages if we did that. The best way is boots on the ground.” Nathan scratched his chin before rigidly asking the dreaded question, “How long do I have?”

  “A few days, maybe a week, but don’t count on it. You’ll receive your extraction orders—”

  “I know the drill.” Nathan snapped the words as he walked over to stare moodily out of the window.

  “Anything wrong?” Benson’s eyes bore into his back. He was about to be dropped into the mouth of hell; they had to have him in tip-top shape, and he seemed far from that right now.

  “No, everything is fine.” Nathan turned from the window. “I’m just a little antsy.” He remained stone-faced as Benson studied him closely.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Very well, then.” Benson frowned but
shook his head and walked toward the door. “Oh, and Nathan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Enjoy the rest of your time with your family.” The man smiled, and then he was gone.

  “Yeah.” Nathan sighed, pushing his fists into his pockets as he stared moodily out into the bright, sunlit Manhattan skyline, which made the darkness encasing his heart all that more noticeable.

  A few days. He had only a few days left. He glanced at the file on his bed and recoiled from opening it as if it were a poisonous snake—it was worse than that, it were the thing that was going to take him away from the woman he loved and he was powerless to stop it. He turned and glared out of the window, fingers rubbing his suddenly aching head.

  What was he going to tell Marcy? He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he had to tell her something. What? If he told her that he had to leave for work but couldn’t tell her where he was going and had no idea when he’d be back, she’d naturally have questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. His necessary silence would inevitably lead to righteous anger on her part and they’d argue; he didn’t want their last days together to be spent at odds. The alternative was just as distasteful—leaving without saying goodbye, disappearing without a word. He couldn’t do that to her. The very thought chilled him to the bone.

  Maybe he could... He paused and sighed loudly. Hell, he honestly didn’t know what he was going to tell her, but he’d better decide soon, because time was quickly running out.

  Miserably, he turned from the window, sat down heavily on the bed and angrily tore open the envelope that was about to destroy his life.

  * * *

  “Marcy, what are you doing here?” Nathan reluctantly stepped aside as the woman who had occupied his thoughts for the past hours entered his hotel room.

  “What kind of a greeting is that?” She laughed, kissing his lips briefly before he moved away.

  Her eyes followed him as he walked over to the table and picked up a folder and papers before placing them in a manila envelope. With them in his hand, he turned to face her but made no move toward her.

  “What’s wrong, Nathan?” She threw her jacket over a chair and walked over to him.

  “Nothing, I’m just tired.”

  “I’m tired, too.” She wound her arms around his neck and pressed close to his rigid body. “Why don’t we rest together?”

  “I don’t think so.” He disentangled himself, walked over and placed the folder in a briefcase, clicking it shut and twirling the brass wheels to lock it. “You should go home.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” She touched his arm, and he slowly turned to face her.

  “Nothing.” His eyes were devoid of any emotion.

  “Nothing?” she disbelievingly echoed. “Try again.”

  “All right. If you must know, I think we rushed into things without thinking through the consequences.” He inwardly groaned as he uttered the lie.

  “We need to cool things down.” She slowly dropped her hand away from him. “Is that it?”

  “Yes, that’s it,” he distastefully agreed.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her, but he didn’t; he couldn’t. Instead, he met her penetrating gaze unflinchingly waiting for her angry response, but it never materialized.

  “Sorry, Nathan, but I won’t be neatly swept under the rug.” She startled him by her smile and light, almost playful tone.

  “That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he denied. “I just think we made a mistake.”

  “We didn’t make a mistake, baby,” she softly denied.

  Where was the anger and outrage? He expected her to rant and rave, maybe try to claw his eyes out but not this calm almost amused tolerance. She never did what he expected, which was one of the things he loved about her.

  “Marcy, I don’t want...” His voice trailed off—the distasteful words he needed to utter refusing to pass his lips.

  “What? What don’t you want?” She moved closer to him. “Finish that sentence. I dare you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” He sighed.

  “Then why are you trying to do just that?”

  “I’m not.” He rubbed his chin, stopping when she smiled. “I’m trying to save you.”

  “From what?” She touched his cheek gently. “From you? From us?”

  “Yes.” He sighed.

  “Nathan, I don’t even pretend to understand what’s going on in here.” She touched his head with her fingers. “But I understand this.” She touched his heart and paused before framing his face with her hands. “I love you.”

  “Marcy, don’t.” He couldn’t bear to hear her admit that again. Hearing it last night had been hard enough.

  “I can’t help it. I do love you,” she reiterated, pulling his lips down to hers. “I’m so in love with you,” she vowed.

  “Marcy...”

  “I love you, Nathan,” she softly yet urgently interrupted him.

  This woman held his heart. He would do anything for her, which is why it killed him not to be able to tell her the truth about his impending departure, but he could tell her how he felt about her. It was eating him alive to keep it to himself.

  “I love you, too,” he admitted against her lips.

  “What?” Her heart stopped beating at his admission and she pulled back slightly to smile at him.

  “I love you,” he repeated.

  “You do?” She couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

  “You know I do,” he gently countered. She did, but she couldn’t believe he had finally admitted it. “I love you with all my heart,” he echoed, sealing the vow with a deep kiss.

  “Why are you telling me now, when a few seconds ago you were trying to push me away?”

  “Are you complaining?” Despite himself, he smiled before encircling her waist with his arms.

  “No, not at all,” she quickly denied. “I’m just...overwhelmed.”

  “That’s how I feel about you,” he sympathized. “I didn’t want this to happen, but I realize now I couldn’t stop it.”

  “No,” she softly agreed. “Make love with me,” she offered, taking his hand and pulling him over to the bed.

  “Nothing would please me more.” He began unbuttoning her blouse, and then they slowly divested each other of their clothes.

  He drew her to him gently yet firmly. Their bodies melted together, engaging in their own private seduction. Their hands and lips savored the different textures and flavors while they lost and found themselves. It was special, complete, without comparison; they gave each other all that they had—surrendered everything without regret or remorse.

  Soft sighs and murmurs gave way to deep groans and whimpers as they gave themselves over to love. It was as if they had never made love before. It was different this time—perfect because each had confessed their love. As they sighed into each other’s mouths, Marcy doubted if anything would ever be this perfect again.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Marcy,” Nathan whispered against her temple much later when they were still.

  “You won’t. You couldn’t.” She snuggled closer to him. “Tell me again,” she softly ordered.

  He easily complied. “I love you, Marcy Johnson.”

  “Nothing will ever come between us,” she sleepily whispered against his chest.

  “No, nothing,” he sadly agreed.

  He pulled her close and wished her words were true. However, he knew that all too soon his duty would rear its ugly head, and then he was going to hurt her more than anyone ever had and he was utterly helpless to stop it—just as he had been powerless against falling headlong, hopelessly in love with her.

  * * *

  Nathan had spent every second of the past four days with Marcy. He’d tried to te
ll and show her how much he loved her; praying that would get her through the pain his unexplained absence was going to cause when he was forced to leave her.

  Inevitably, this morning, he had received the activation he had been dreading. It was now his last day with the love of his life, and he was determined it would be a happy one. He sat with her now in floor seats at a New York game. He watched every movement she made, listened to every word she uttered, no matter how small. He didn’t want to miss a second of this, their last day together—for a while.

  She caught him glancing at her several times with an unreadable and almost sad expression. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “Nothing, I’m just floored by how much I love you,” he seriously replied.

  “Now you tell me, when we’re surrounded by thousands of strangers,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I’ll tell you later when we’re alone,” he promised, and despite the loud noise, throngs of people and constant action on the court a few feet away, he kissed her lingeringly.

  “What was that for?” She sighed as his lips left hers.

  “Because I wanted to.” He forced himself to smile as he picked up her soda and took a big gulp.

  “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” she persisted, unable to shake the feeling that all was not well with him.

  “Everything is great,” he insisted, pulling her close as they continued watching the game.

  Despite his denials, she knew he was bothered and wished he would let her help him through it, whatever it was. He seemed to desperately need this—need to be here with her now; therefore, she relented and bit back the questions threatening to spill from her lips.

  He would tell her what was wrong when he was ready, and she would listen and be there for him—always. She pushed her worries aside and snuggled closer to the man she loved who loved her back.

  * * *

  “What’s next?” she asked as they left Madison Square Garden hours later.