For Love of Valor: A Bad Boy Military Romance

by Samantha Westlake

  "Oh, Richard," she murmured, and I saw her blinking quickly. Was she crying? I had to keep going.

  "In the past," I continued, "I told you about my fourth tour of duty. I told you how some of my men died. But I didn't tell you that I was the one who chose that patrol route, even though there were warnings of increased militant activity, of a potential attack." I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath. "I led them into that danger, and it was my fault that they were killed. I carried that burden on my shoulders for a long time, and I thought that it would consume me."

  "Richard," she began again, but I held up my hand, imploring her to let me finish.

  "But when I'm with you, something amazing happens. I know that it wasn't all my fault, that someone else would have fallen into that trap instead. When I'm with you, those nightmares don't haunt me any longer." I reached down and took her hand, holding her fingers in my own. I sank down to one knee, and my injured leg didn't complain in the slightest. "You help me be at peace."

  "I love you," she whispered.

  "And I love you too." But I had one last little part of my plan. This last part, I hadn't told to Callie, to Sebastian, to anyone else. I reached into my jacket pocket, feeling for the little velvet box.

  My fingers found it, and I tugged it out from the inside of my jacket. "And that's why," I finished, "I have my mother's ring. And I'm offering it to you."

  The moment stretched out forever, Linda's eyes widening as she stared from the ring to my face, and I waited for her to respond. I held my breath as I waited for that one last word that would decide my future.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  LINDA

  *

  Oh my god. Oh my god ohmygod ohmigod.

  Richard's down on one knee, and he's got a ring. He has his mother's ring, Elanna's ring, and he's proposing.

  Maybe I should have guessed that this was coming. Now, looking back, it all seems obvious – the getting dressed and cleaned up, the elaborate dinner where he cooked my favorite food, the speech where he confessed his deepest secret, proclaimed his love for me. I didn't even have the chance to tell him that I already knew, that he'd told me this secret in his fevered delirium after the car accident, in the hospital.

  Maybe it didn't matter that I knew the secret. What was more important was the fact that he chose to volunteer it, to tell me of his own free will, without coercion. People don't respond well to questions in psychiatry; they need to be allowed to share things in their own time, when they're ready.

  I was distracting myself with other thoughts, not addressing the question that gleamed and sparkled in front of me, shining brilliantly in the light from the chandelier above the dining room table. Richard's mother had owned a huge ring; it had to be at least two carats. It looked almost as big as a grape, set into the gorgeous, antique designed ring.

  He loved me. He would tell me everything, never keep secrets from me. He wanted to marry me.

  He was asking me to marry him right now. He loved me. I needed to answer him.

  Was I ready? Was this the perfect relationship that I'd dreamed about? Sure, he was wealthy, and incredibly handsome and sexual, and he understood me better than anyone else in the world (with the possible exception of my best friend), and we had incredible energy and passion with me in the bedroom-

  I tried to think, but I felt stifled, choked. I'd always known what the right choice was to make, in any situation. I'd always followed that little voice in my head that told me to do the right thing – up until I met Richard.

  Going out with him, letting him sweep me away on a date, had been my first bold choice. It had been the first time that I dared to disobey that little voice of authority inside my head.

  That single choice first seemed to lead to bliss... and then came crashing down into heartbreak.

  I'd thought that it was a mistake. I believed that – up until I found Richard in the hospital, alone and needing me more than ever before, and I chose to stay.

  Now, I once again found myself faced with a similar dilemma. Looking down at that ring, waiting for some word, any word, to spring to my tongue, I didn't know whether to trust that voice of authority in my head.

  But all of those voices in my head were silent.

  They'd pushed me to work hard, go to medical school, follow my passion but also do things that were pragmatic. My career was a pragmatic choice. Waiting for the perfect man, instead of taking chances on first dates like Callie, was the pragmatic choice.

  Now, looking down at Richard as he knelt before me, I didn't know what to do, and I felt paralyzed. My head had no ideas.

  But my heart had an opinion, and it took this chance, perhaps for the first time in my life, to speak up.

  "Yes."

  I didn't realize for a moment that the voice I heard in my ears was my own. Similarly, Richard looked stunned for an instant, as if he hadn't even expected me to agree.

  "What?" he asked, looking as stunned as an ox that had just taken an axe blow to the head.

  "Yes." It came stronger, now, more confidently. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes!"

  Richard was up on his feet, his arms reaching out for me. As I let myself into his arms, however, he paused, as if a sudden thought occurred to him.

  "Oh, the ring!" He pulled the ring out of the box, held it with trembling fingers as he slipped it onto my hand. I stared into it, watching it catch the rays and feeling mesmerized for a moment.

  After a second, my eyes returned to Richard's, and I felt a tremble pass through my body. "I can't believe that I just agreed to this," I said as I tried to control that shiver.

  His gaze held me steadily. "Do you want to?"

  I nodded. "I love you," I said again, loving how the words sounded on my tongue. "I do; I have all this time. But it just wasn't right before."

  He sighed. "And you're right. I just wish that I'd handled it differently, didn't force you to come move in and take care of me like an invalid."

  I rose up on my tiptoes, slipping my arms around the back of his neck. The ring felt odd on my finger, strangely heavy, and I guessed that it would take me some time to grow accustomed to its presence. "Aren't you going to kiss me, invalid?" I asked, as my lips moved in towards his.

  "Most definitely." And he did so, sweeping me off my feet as his lips met mine.

  I kissed him fully, feeling my heart sing as he held me close. Never before had I even dreamed that I'd feel so touched by a man, that I'd find one who charmed me so fully. "So now, I'm going to be a part of your family," I said, when we finally, breathlessly, broke apart. "Are you sure that you're ready to accept someone new into your family?"

  "Are you sure that you want to join it?" Richard countered, although the smile on his face said that he'd happily desert his family to stay with me. "Because I have to tell you, my other brothers are just as messed up as I am, once you get to know us."

  "I'll take it," I told him, kissing him again. "I'll take you, Richard Stone, and be your wife."

  "And have my children?"

  I paused for a second, seeing the glitter of humor in his eye. "Maybe we can just practice making them, first," I countered.

  He didn't need any more urging. He swept me up again into his arms, and bore me off towards the stairs. I kissed him again, laughing with delight as I bounced in his strong hold, but then suddenly stopped as a thought occurred to me.

  "Wait, what about your leg?" I asked, as he started up the stairs.

  He smiled back at me. "When I'm with you, I don't even feel it."

  I still worried, not wanting my new fiancé to break anything, but we made it up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom without any issue. Richard kissed me again as he let me slide down from his hands, and I felt his hard body press against mine, the heat radiating out from inside his fancy clothes.

  "Let's get you out of that outfit," he murmured to me, his hands already moving to my hips and sliding upward, bunching my shirt up ahead of him.

  "You know, I k
ind of wished that you'd let me know to dress fancy for dinner," I remarked, even as my fingers fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. Desire and adrenaline made me clumsy, but I still managed to pop them open one by one.

  "It would have just come off you in the end," Richard responded, as his hands tugged my shirt up over my head. It landed on the floor, joined a second later by his suit jacket and button-up collared shirt.

  Standing there in front of him, topless except for my bra, I paused for a moment. "I just need to say something," I got out, hating myself for bringing this up but feeling like it needed to be stated. "I know that I'm not the sexiest woman in the world, and I don't have an amazing, curvy figure like some other women do..."

  Richard swept me again into his arms before I could finish the sentence, holding me so closely against him that he squeezed most of the breath from my lungs. "You are perfect for me," he whispered fiercely into my ear, raw emotion making him choke slightly on his words. "You never need to worry about that with me, Linda. You are exactly what I want."

  Tears dripped down my cheeks, precisely because I knew that what he said was true. Richard gave me one last squeeze and then held me a foot away from him, leaning in to kiss my cheeks, kissing the tears away.

  "I love you," he murmured, and drew me into the bed with him. The last clothes fell away from our bodies, so that there was nothing standing between us touching each other, exploring every inch of each other's bodies and rediscovering half-forgotten but always familiar territory.

  Strangely, I would have guessed that our first lovemaking, after so much time apart, would have been hard and fast and intense. But instead, we both moved slowly, taking our time to explore every inch of each other's bodies. Richard drew me to him and traced a line down my neck and across my chest, his lips leaving soft little marks of wetness behind as he moved south. He circled around my nipples, his tongue teasing them and making them stand up from my chest. I groaned at how he tortured me, but still loved the attention, loved how delicately he moved over me. He treated me almost like porcelain, like he feared that he'd snap me with his big muscles, his masculine power.

  Richard kept on moving down, descending until he found my warm entrance, setting up shop between my thighs. I hesitated at first, but he gently eased them apart, his kisses now moving up my thighs. First his lips, and then his tongue, explored my entrance, probing and tasting. "Be loud," he murmured up to me, as he dove in.

  I did my best to comply, moaning out when he hit the right spot. Richard quickly refined his technique, pushing in and raising me up to the very brink of orgasm, and then backing up just enough to leave me shivering on the edge of that cliff. He kept teasing me, bringing me to the edge and then slowing just enough to keep me from diving over into the bliss of orgasm, until I almost wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him.

  "You're killing me!" I gasped after one particularly intense rise that made me almost bite my tongue in half with frustration. I reached down and found his short-cropped hair, tightening my fingers in that military haircut and dragging him back up. "Give it to me!"

  "Can't rush things along too much," he grinned back at me, even as his fingers found where his mouth had moistened and pushed inside of me, wriggling back and forth and causing me to release him as new waves of pleasure radiated out into my limbs. "I need to really torture you, now that you're going to be my wife."

  Just hearing that word leave his lips sent a new thrill through me, one totally unrelated to the masterful movements of his fingers inside of me. His wife. I was going to be the wife of Richard Stone, hero, veteran, and billionaire. I would have him, in my bed and in my arms, for the rest of my life.

  He kept on torturing me, but two could play at that game. I reached down and grasped the hard rod that vibrated between his legs, savoring his little jerk and gasp as my fingers closed on his equipment. I worked it with my hands, and then took my turn crawling beneath the covers of the bed to take him in my mouth, teasing and torturing with my tongue.

  He didn't hold out as long as I managed. I scarcely got ten minutes of playing with him, grinning as I tortured him with long, slow licks along his length, before he dragged me back up to face him. His lips pressed in fiercely against mine as he drew me beneath him, rose up to take his place between my thighs.

  We rocked back and forth in gentle rhythm, knowing that we had all night, that we could do this for the rest of our lives. I came first, clutching him and crying out at the sharp, sweet release. He followed close behind, adding his deep grunts to my higher-pitched moans, filling me to the point of bursting as he lost control.

  "I love you," Richard whispered to me, as the aftermath slowly receded like the tide retreating from a beach.

  "I love you, too," I told him, my hand sliding up to feel the strong lines of his face. I closed my eyes and pressed back against him, more at home than I had ever felt in my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  RICHARD

  *

  I woke up the next morning to find Linda sitting up in bed beside me, her left hand splayed out in front of her. The morning sunlight entered through one of the windows beside my bed, and Linda seemed to be admiring how the massive diamond in my mother's ring caught the rays of light, refracting them into dozens of tiny rainbows that scattered their way across the covers.

  "Morning, fiancée," I murmured, slipping my hands around her. I rose up, and she kissed me passionately, not even caring about how my morning breath smelled. She, of course, tasted amazing, sweet and delightful, my perfect flavor. "What are you thinking about?"

  She smiled back at me, but her eyes drifted back to the ring, as if drawn by a magnetic current. "Are you still sure about this?" she asked softly, clearly talking about the ring. "You know that, if you marry me, I can't be your psychiatrist any longer."

  "I'll get your help in finding a new one," I replied immediately. "I agree, now, that I need to talk about my experiences with others." I slid my hands down her arm, down to take her fingers in my own. "But I promise that I'll never keep anything from you."

  "Ever?"

  "Ever." I squeezed her fingers to drive my point home, feeling my mother's ring poking into my skin. "And besides," I added, "I think that trading away my psychiatrist for my wife is the best choice that I could have made."

  "And your mom is okay with me taking her ring?" she asked.

  I nodded. "That was one small part of it; when we went to meet her, you were so kind to her. Somehow, she remembered you when I sent Seb to ask her for the ring. I don't know how you did it, but you left your mark on all of us."

  Linda smiled – and then suddenly, her face went slack in shock. "Oh my god," she gasped. "I need to tell Callie! She has no idea!"

  I laughed as she jumped out of bed, giving me a flash of her cute little round, bare ass as she snatched up her phone from where it was charging on the bedside table. She wiggled it back at me as she dialed Callie's number, slipping out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Even as the door drifted shut, I heard loud, excited exclamations coming from her as she shared the good news with Callie.

  I'd also need to share the news with my brothers, although I suspected that Sebastian wouldn't be as surprised as Teddy. I leaned back against the pillows behind me, my gaze growing slightly unfocused as I thought about our next steps.

  Suddenly, my largely empty days were filling up with new activities that we had to do. Now that I'd proposed to Linda, we'd need to, at some point, actually go ahead and get married. That meant that we needed a wedding, and I suspected that Linda would want to have a full ceremony instead of just hopping on the jet and flying directly to Vegas, getting married in Elvis's chapel.

  And that didn't even touch on kids. I still had to talk about it with Linda, but I kind of wanted to have a couple of rugrats running around the house, try and be a better parent than I'd ever had. I suspected that, given Linda's maternal instincts, she'd feel exactly the same about children as I did.

  All of
that would come in the future. We didn't have any need to rush. We had the rest of our lives to spend together.

  For now, I just relaxed, naked in the bed and feeling the tug of the invisible cord that connected me to Linda, in the hallway outside. That cord grew stronger, flaring with each heartbeat. It was almost visible, the glow of love so bright that I wondered how it didn't blind us both.

  A few months previously, I'd considered killing myself, just as a way to drown out the voices that assaulted me and told me how the deaths of my friends were my fault. I used to drink myself to sleep almost every night, blacking out instead of letting myself drift off to sleep. I popped pills, drank booze, and tried to distract myself with the dumbest women that I could convince to let me pass out beside them.

  Linda changed all of that. In her own quiet, contemplative way, she changed almost everything about me. I no longer took the pain medication, hadn't bothered to refill my prescription for a while. Since the night of that accident, I'd sworn off alcohol completely. Sobriety sometimes felt a little strange on weekend nights, but it suited me – and had the added benefit of helping to tighten up my waistline, where I'd started suspecting that my muscles were disappearing beneath a growing layer of fat. She never told me to stop taking pills, stop drinking, but I did it anyway. I wanted to be a better person whenever I was around her.

  And whenever I fell asleep beside her, the voices in my head let me drift off to sleep in peace.

  Linda pushed the bedroom door back open, jolting me out of my contemplative thoughts as my breath fell away at the sight of her. She looked full of youthful feminine energy, shining like a beacon in my eyes. I didn't know how I ever thought of her as less than completely stunning, how I didn't appreciate those slender lines of her body. She might not have the same curves as some stacked swimsuit model, but she was real, fit perfectly against my own body.