For Love of Valor: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Samantha Westlake

  I blinked. The statement was refreshingly honest, and it matched up with how I saw Richard. "When I look at you," I murmured back to him, "I don't see a spoiled rich kid."

  "What do you see, then?"

  I couldn't keep a smile off my face. "I see a sexy veteran who gave up far more to serve his country than anyone else realizes. One who knows who he is – and that's the sexiest thing of all."

  For a moment, Richard kept looking at me, his thoughts totally unreadable. "You're a strange one, doc," he said softly, and I felt a hot little rush inside me as my insides melted from the heat in his words.

  I nearly kissed him, right then and there, but the growling of my stomach convinced me that I ought to attend to dinner first. The waiter appeared as soon as we separated and sat back up, smiling and giving us a slight nod of his head. No pad and paper, I noted – at a place as fine as this, the staff had the entire menu memorized.

  We ordered, Richard requesting a beer with his meal. I expected the waiter to protest, or even raise his eyebrows, but the wait staff were much better trained than that. The man simply nodded, just as he nodded when I asked for a nondescript glass of chardonnay.

  "I still feel like an imposter," I said after he'd vanished. "Someone's going to run a credit check on me and realize that I've still got mountains of student debt, and they'll drag me into the back and force me to scrub pans for a million years to pay them back for daring to sit at one of their expensive tables and even read their menu."

  "I could make that happen, if you'd like," Richard joked. "And it wouldn't be too bad of a look for you." I raised my eyebrows at him. "Come on, you standing in someplace warm and steamy, all wet and soapy and smelling like Italian food..." He licked his lips, and I had to bite my lip to keep from lunging across the table and straddling him like a bull.

  Somehow, we managed to keep our hands off each other until the food arrived, although I found him returning every sultry, aroused glance that I sent his way. The food tasted sublime, even better than I'd imagined, but it still paled in comparison to the almost solid cord of arousal that linked me to the man across the table. I'd take a bite of my herb-drenched chicken, twirling my fork to scoop up some of the finely sliced peppers and delicate pasta, and pop it in my mouth. As I savored the deep, multi-layered flavors, salty and briny and richly decadent with meaty umami, I'd glance up – and see Richard just watching me, his fork sitting abandoned on the side of his plate.

  "What?" I asked on the third time I saw him gazing at me, the words slightly muffled by my mouthful of food.

  He shook his head. "There's something about watching you," he replied, heat flowing in a rich undertone to his words. "You really enjoy that food, don't you?"

  "It's delicious," I said honestly.

  He paused, his eyes examining my face. "But I don't think I've ever seen anyone truly focus on it, taste it, as much as you do."

  I shrugged, feeling a little on the spot. Was it weird for me to savor what was, most likely, the most expensive and finest prepared food that I'd ever eat in my life?

  Richard's smile broadened. "It's a good thing, Linda. I like watching it."

  He used my name. My name always seemed ordinary and mundane to me before this moment, but his lips managed to shape the syllables into something magical. I very nearly leapt over the rest of my meal to tackle him to the floor and devour him, regardless of how amazing and expensive the food had been. That cord of invisible attraction, pulling tightly between us, flared with new intensity.

  I wondered if he felt it, too. From the heat in his eyes as he looked steadily back at me, I suspected that the answer was yes.

  "Are we going to eat dessert?" I asked.

  He wavered. "The desserts here are divine, yes – but maybe they can box a few of them up so that we can take them home with us."

  I didn't question whose home he meant. "Not eating them here?"

  That slow, panty-dropping smile danced around the edges of his lips again. "I've already put on a lot of calories here. I feel a bit guilty about it, like I need to find some way to burn them off."

  He was echoing my own words back at me, from earlier in the day. They sounded so much better when they came from his lips. "And how do you plan on burning those calories off?"

  "I've got a lot of ideas, although they're two-person activities," he murmured back. Even just the deep rumble of his voice sent a quiver running down to earth itself between my thighs, and I worried that my dress might spontaneously combust right here in the restaurant. "Most of them start with bringing you up to my bedroom and kissing every single inch of skin that I reveal as I peel that dress off your body."

  I looked down at my still half-full plate of incredible food. "I could always finish this later."

  He laughed. "Go ahead and eat." His eyes glinted as he lifted his beer to his lips, taking a long swallow, still watching me over the rim of the pint glass. "We've got all night – there's no need to rush."

  Fingers slightly trembling, I picked up my fork, repeating his words inside my head. We had all night, I assured the butterflies. Settle down. Enjoy this. Savor the anticipation.

  Even though, with each beat of my heart, I felt that invisible rope of attraction thrumming between us, tempting me to abandon any pretense of propriety and jump this man right here and now, in the middle of the restaurant.

  Surely, he could pay for the damages, right?

  Chapter Fifteen

  LINDA

  *

  I accepted Richard's helping hand as I climbed out of his luxury car, looking up at the grand visage of his mansion. Even in the darkness, the building looked expensive and elegant, subtly placed floodlights artfully revealing the strong lines of its French architecture. "I can't believe that we're doing this," I said, probably for the tenth time that evening.

  After we finished our dinner at the restaurant, I made sure to drain the last of my second glass of delicious, buttery Chardonnay. I didn't consider its effects, however, until I stood up and wobbled a little, putting one hand on the table to steady myself.

  "Why don't we take my car back?" Richard suggested, also rising up and holding out one hand to help me maintain my balance.

  "What about mine?"

  He smiled. "I'll send someone to come pick it up for you. Come on."

  I accepted his offer of support, feeling the muscles in his forearm flex as he walked me towards the entrance. His other hand carried the assortment of desserts that the waiter obligingly boxed up for him.

  Now, back at his house, Richard's fingers slid out of my hand, past my arm to wrap around the small of my back. He drew me to him, and I came as if pulled by magnets. "How can I make you believe?"

  I looked up at him, his strong features half-hidden by the dim light. The whole night so far had been magical, and I almost couldn't believe that there was more to come. "I don't know," I said.

  I felt the hardness of his body as he pulled me against him, the warmth radiating out from him contrasting against the chill in the night air. "Let me try."

  He leaned in, and I knew what he wanted. I could only see the outlines of his features, but I tilted my face up to him, rising up on my tiptoes so that my mouth could find his.

  The kiss wasn't how I'd expected.

  Part of me thought that Richard would kiss strongly, demandingly, proving his masculinity. I expected to feel his lips crush against mine, immediately seizing control from me and using me as he chose.

  Instead, however, he started softly, more gently than I'd imagined. His lips found mine and spread, but he didn't grind against me, let me come the last tiny distance to him.

  I opened up to him, inviting his tongue to taste me, explore me. He accepted the suggestion, and I met his invasion with my own, my fingers tightening to grip handfuls of his shirt, the short hair at the scruff of his neck as I refused to release him.

  We kissed until we were both dizzy from lack of air, pulling apart and gasping for breath for a moment. He didn't give me the
chance to speak, however, immediately tightening his arms around my waist and dragging me against him for another exchange. I felt my heart thumping like a jackrabbit in my chest, tingling and tantalizing sensations running through every inch of my limbs and awakening sensual desire that I'd forgot existed.

  "Inside," Richard whispered to me, and we dashed into the house like children running to their presents on Christmas morning.

  We didn't even make it up the stairs before I needed to taste him again, once again feel his mouth on mine. At the foot of the grand, sweeping staircase, I leaned back against the ornately carved wooden banister and drew him to me. Both my hands felt the sculpted lines of his cheeks as I kissed him, pushed my tongue into him, caught the slight aftertaste of Italian herbs and spices on his breath as he devoured me.

  His hands were on my thighs, pushing the fabric of my dress upward. They encountered the elastic of my panties, and I gasped at the tug against aroused and sensitive areas. I'd picked out my sexiest pair, but I suddenly worried that they wouldn't be enough, that they'd seem plain and dull compared to what Richard might see on other women.

  "Wait-" I began, but he didn't listen to me.

  His fingers slipped inside of the elastic and pulled down. The sheer fabric slid over my ass, brushing against that heat between my thighs as it reluctantly relinquished its hold on my waist. He dragged them down, out from beneath my dress, down until the elastic could no longer keep them up. When his fingers released the little scraps of fabric, they dropped down the rest of the way to the floor.

  I kissed him again, and his arms tightened once more around me. Lifting me up bodily and holding me against him, he carried me up the stairs, another dozen feet closer to his bedroom.

  We still didn't make it there.

  Halfway down the hallway, he paused, letting me slip from his hands until my bare feet touched the floor. I'd lost one of my shoes on the stairs, and had immediately kicked off the other. It had clattered down the stairs as we ascended, and I fought the silly urge to wave goodbye to it. So long, shoe! So long, dry spell!

  As I landed on the floor, something caught at me. I reached out and realized that I felt Richard's erection, bulging through his pants, thick and hard like he wanted to steal one of the salamis out of the Italian restaurant. I heard the man's breath catch slightly in his lungs as my fingers brushed over his equipment, even through the fabric of his pants.

  A new thrill shot through me. Suddenly, I knew that he didn't hold all the power. As much as he drove me crazy, I could do the same to him! I curled my fingers again around his length, feeling it pulse inside his pants, and he groaned as he guided me towards the clasp on his belt.

  I tugged it open, wrestling against the buckle for several agonizing seconds before it gave way and opened. He roughly forced his pants down to his knees, and I again felt him, this time separated from my skin only by the sheer silk fabric of his boxer briefs.

  "Oh god," he groaned. "Linda, you're driving me crazy."

  I smiled, even though he couldn't see my expression in the darkness of the hallway. "It's kind of fun to be the one driving you crazy for once," I told him, letting my fingers dip into his waistband and stroke, ever so gently, along the length of his erection.

  "Fuck!" His hands were on me again, pulling at my dress. He found the zipper that I'd carefully tugged up my back, dragged it down. The little black dress fell off of me, and his fingers instantly replaced its pressure on my body. He slid nails up from the small of my back, my bra almost magically popping open as they ran over its clasp. He drew me closer to him, dipping his head down so that he could kiss at each newly revealed inch of my small breasts as the bra slipped away.

  For a second, a wave of shame competed with my arousal. I didn't have the large breasts of a model, even of the skinny supermodels. How could my flat, boyish figure compete with some of the women who surely threw themselves at this rich and ruggedly handsome billionaire?

  Richard, however, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the lack of heft and fullness. His hot breath, strong lips, and dancing tongue moved down over the surface of my breasts, circling in towards the nipple. I grabbed twin handfuls of his hair and guided him, throwing back my head and gasping as he finally found one of my nipples with his lips, his tongue, playing with it and nibbling just hard enough to send spikes of pleasure straight into my brain.

  He moved from one side of my chest to the other, one hand pressed in strongly between my shoulder blades to pin me in place, the other rising up between my thighs. His fingers probed at the entrance between my legs, already wet and begging for his touch. He traced lightly across my slit, fingers exploring confidently, sure that they knew the best way to please me.

  "Oh god." It was my turn to moan out this exclamation as I felt him teasing my entrance, just barely spreading me open before retreating to play with my swollen clit. I sagged down, my legs giving out and refusing to support my weight, but his arm kept me from falling. "Oh god, Richard, I can't-"

  "Can't?" he whispered back, the word rising up from my chest.

  "It's been too long..." I stammered, trying to explain how I would surely be rusty, unfamiliar with how to perform for a man. Surely, those areas of me were dried and sore and stiff with disuse, not what he expected...

  But the touch of him, the smell of him in my nostrils, the overwhelming waves of heat and need that shot through me each time he touched me, swept away my insecurities. His hands felt my wetness, knew that I was ready for him. He lifted me again, carried me the last dozen steps to his bedroom, across the room and onto the massive cloud of his king size bed. I tore at his shirt, ripping off several buttons as I wrenched it open to reveal his muscled torso, and he slid my dress off my body to leave me completely bare and nude.

  He was on top of me, his boxer briefs gone, his massive cock hanging down between his legs and brushing against me. Before, when I could still think, its size and girth might have scared me. Now, however, filled to exploding with the desperate, carnal need for release, I grabbed at it, guided it to my wet and waiting entrance, rubbed it against me as I moaned at just the brush of it on my sex.

  "Linda," Richard whispered, his neck bending down so he could kiss my neck, his teeth nipping at my shoulder.

  I arched my back and moaned wordlessly, my fingers still wrapped around him and pulling him into me. I felt fierce resistance at first, my body not prepared for the size of his invasion, but he pushed down with his hips, the heat of his body, the touch of his skin, all of it helping me past my body's reluctance.

  And then he slid into me, and my eyes went wide as I sucked in air. So big! So warm, so filling, so raw and dominating!

  I looked up into his face, saw him smile down at me. Arousal, previously a banked flame, now roared as a steady bonfire in his eyes. He kissed me, his tongue pressing into my mouth even as his hips drew him slowly but surely deeper into me. He filled me with cleansing, burning fire that scoured away all my insecurities, reminded me that I could be strong and powerful and possess him.

  He wasn't my master in the bedroom. We were partners in lust, in desire for completion. Our bodies moved together, finding a rhythm as we danced horizontally in the softness of his bed. He slid in and out of me, his tempo rising and falling as we breathed together, quickening as he saw my face tighten as the waves of pleasure grew towards total overwhelm.

  "Oh, Richard," I moaned out, feeling that approaching cliff. "Oh, you're going to make me-"

  I couldn't finish the sentence. He moved strongly inside me, and an overwhelming rush of pleasure swept away all conscious thought. I gave myself fully to him, and he brought me cleansing orgasms in exchange, a tidal wave pouring through my body to leave me spent and drained, every muscle first tightening and then loosening until I went limp.

  "Oh my god," I sighed out, feeling his skin compress the beads of sweat that had broken out all over my naked body. My fingers tightened on his back, tracing red lines as they pulled him down against me, flattened his
warm strength on top of me. "Oh my god, Richard, I haven't come like that in..."

  "Forever?" he finished my sentence for me, smiling.

  I smacked him lightly in one of his pecs. "Don't be rude, or I'll start psychoanalyzing your performance in bed."

  His smile broadened. "Well, I'll just have to work hard to make sure you can't focus long enough to accomplish that."

  My answer was lost in another moan of pleasure as he began moving his body once again, this time drawing me up and on top of him as he rolled over to land on his back. His hips pistoned beneath me and his hands squeezed my hips, guiding me into the rhythm that matched his thrusts. The second orgasm came faster, but he drew it out of me with fingers and tongue and the swell of his cock inside of me, his eyes dancing as he watched me lose control astride him.

  But this time, I felt his breath quickening beneath me, sensed a slight raggedness to his movements. He was close, approaching his own cliff! I bent forward, twisting my hips even as I plunged down to take all of him inside me, filling me with overwhelming sweetness that teetered on the cusp of pain. I moved against him, fighting against the roaring current, not stopping even as he gasped out and his fingers tightened to clutch me.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he roared out, as I brought him to the brink of his own orgasm, kept him teetering on that knife edge for a few delirious seconds. I felt myself once again taking the plunge along with him, both our bodies shuddering as we lost ourselves in pleasure. I squeezed my eyes shut until sparks exploded against my closed eyelids, the visual manifestations of the bliss that swept away all thoughts on a tide of ecstasy.

  Side by side in bed, we lay there silently in the aftermath, unable to even form the words to speak. It took nearly fifteen minutes before my breath returned to something comparable to normal, before I could even manage to form words with my trembling lips once again.