by Selena Kitt
After several tense moments, Conner placed a fierce, open-mouthed kiss against her lips.
Quietly leaving the bedroom, he returned with a warm washcloth. After they had both cleaned up, he nestled them under the covers. Wrapping her in his strong arms, he settled down to sleep. Neither had spoken a word, as if they both sensed the experience was beyond words.
Sage felt rattled. Shaken. This man was so powerful, so strong. She could feel herself weakening. Falling for the false idea that his arms offered protection and safety. This was wrong. A modern woman like her wasn't supposed to yearn for such a thing.
Thinking him asleep, she hesitantly tried to creep out of bed, then she felt his arm tighten about her waist.
"No," he mumbled, half asleep.
"It's okay," she said with false bravado. "I'll just grab a cab. I have an early meeting tomorrow."
"I said, no."
"I can't stay, Conner."
"And I won't let you leave, Sage. Guess which one of us will win this battle?"
With a sigh, she settled back against his warmth and fell asleep.
Chapter Three
Sage woke to the smell of bacon and eggs. About to get out of bed, she realized she was naked without anything to wear. That was when she saw a t-shirt thoughtfully laid out at the end of the bed. Sage smiled. Pulling the t-shirt over her head, she realized her small curves were swallowed up by large amounts of fabric. It reached just past her knees. She looked down to read what was on it. 'All Men are created Equal. Then a Few Became Marines.' If last night was any indication, the shirt spoke the truth, thought Sage with a satisfied smile. She also threw on the equally massive, white athletic socks Conner had left that were more like leg warmers on her slim calves. Taking a deep breath, realizing she couldn't hide in his bedroom forever, although an escape through the balcony door was looking pretty good, Sage headed out in search of the kitchen.
"Morning, Spitfire!"
Conner was standing over the stove, on which was a pan filled with what looked like a dozen scrambled eggs. Next to him was a plate piled high with bacon. Next to that was another plate with what looked like an entire loaf of bread made into toast. Basically enough food to feed an army… or a corps, she guessed.
Looking down as she ruffled her hair, Sage shyly answered, "Good morning."
"Coffee?"
"Um, tea if you have it," said Sage as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the tiny kitchen, twisting the end of the t-shirt.
"Doubt it. Buddy's not the tea drinking type but let me check," responded Conner as he turned to rifle through the various cabinets. "Sorry. No tea. I can go get some."
"You know what? That's okay. I really should be going anyway," said Sage as she turned and tried to escape out of the kitchen. She didn't make it two steps.
Conner grabbed her from behind, hugging her close. "Not so fast. You're not getting away that easily."
The moment she walked into the kitchen looking hesitant and vulnerable, still rumpled and warm from his bed, wearing his t-shirt, Conner felt an uncharacteristic possessive surge. His only thought was: mine. The more she resisted their attraction, the more he fought to hold on to her. It wasn't realistic. The last thing he wanted or needed was a serious relationship but the idea of letting this woman go, of even letting her out of his sight, seemed untenable to him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked as he nuzzled her neck.
Sage tilted her head back, loving the feel of his lips on the tender spot below her ear. Once again he was half naked. She seemed to see him more out of his clothes than in. He was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips. The warmth of his skin soothed her.
"Sage… baby?"
"Hmmm," she murmured, more feeling his words against her skin than hearing him.
"Are you hungry?" he repeated. "This is for you. I ate already."
Sage’s eyes widened as she took in the small buffet's worth of food. It was sweet, really. Insane to think a girl would eat even close to that amount… but still sweet. She hated to disappoint him but she was far too nervous to touch a bite. "Not really," she whispered.
"Good," he said, lifting her by the waist and carrying her over to the kitchen table, "because I still am."
"Conner, what are you… no, I—"
Her naked ass hit the hard wooden surface as he grabbed her knees and pushed them up and out, exposing her already wet pussy. Locking in on her with his clear, blue eyes, he slowly lowered his head to the top of her thighs. Opening her lower lips with his fingers, he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue.
"Conner, we shouldn't… I… oh God…"
He pressed his tongue flat against her clit and moved it from side to side. The combination of pressure and rhythm sent shocks up her spine. Shifting his shoulders to push her legs open even wider, he moved his right hand to cup her. In gentle circles, he stroked the tight entrance to her passage with the pad of his thumb, feeling her body relax. Swiping his tongue over her clit in quick succession, he plunged two long fingers straight to the hilt deep inside her.
Sage's hips vaulted off the table surface at the contact. Conner followed her up, keeping the frenetic pace. His tongue against her clit, his fingers thrusting deep. It didn't take long for Sage to see stars. Her orgasm was swift and fierce, leaving her feeling drained and perhaps more than a little defenseless. It was alarming how well he knew her body. How quickly he could read her.
Conner licked his fingers. "Just what I was in the mood for," he said with a wink before helping her off the table. Sage almost stumbled on her unsteady legs. Excusing herself she practically ran to the bathroom, needing a moment of solitude to recover.
After splashing some cold water on her face, she stared at her reflection. What is wrong with me? Most woman would be rejoicing at finding a man so great in bed! That was the problem. Sage feared she liked him too much. Men like him didn't stick around. She would be left broken-hearted. She needed to get out of there!
Opening the door, she listened for sounds in the kitchen before sneaking into the living room. Finding her purse on the floor, she grabbed it and made her way back into the bedroom before dialing the number for a taxi.
"Yes, hello. Can you please send a taxi to—"
The phone was pulled from her hand before she could finish.
"Cancel that cab," he said.
She knew it was childish, but she refused to turn around and face what she knew was a very angry male standing behind her.
"I didn't want to bother you for a lift home."
"Oh, you bother me in a lot of ways, Sage," he said suggestively. "Driving you home isn't one of them. I'll get my keys."
With that he left the room, but she heard him muttering something about God saving him from independent women.
* * *
Talk about your walk of shame! Sage sat in his car wearing his t-shirt and her high heels from the night before. She looked ridiculous! As soon as he rolled up to her building, she could not get out fast enough.
"Thanks. I'll call you," she tossed over her shoulder.
She was surprised when he also got out of the car. "You don't have to walk me to the door," she said.
"Yes, I do," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Not wanting to attract any more attention than she probably already was doing in her outfit, Sage refused to argue. Digging into her purse for her keys, she scurried up the walkway. Again she tried to shake him at her apartment door.
He propped it open with his hand, refusing to allow her to close it. "What are you doing today?"
"I have work," she lied.
"On a Sunday?"
Sage blushed.
"I owe you a meal and a dress."
She blushed even deeper at the reminder of the fate of her dress from last night.
"I promise I won't bite," he coaxed. "In fact, if memory serves, I'm not the biter in this—"
"All right!" Sage agreed before he could also remind her how had she bitten his shou
lder as she came. "Get in here," she said with a laugh.
* * *
After taking pleasure in making him cool his heels for a full hour while she showered and changed, they headed out.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
"Have you ever been to Paolo's in Georgetown? They have the best frozen peach Bellinis."
"You know, just last week, I was saying to my crew in Afghanistan: I can't wait to get back to the States and grab me a great peach Bellini," he joked.
"Shut the hell up and drive."
* * *
After ordering their drinks and entrées; Conner a beer, her a peach Bellini, they settled into an awkward silence. The question Sage most wanted to ask was the one thing she would die before asking.
Conner read her beautiful, expressive brown eyes like a book. They were sitting out on the veranda so the sunlight played nicely over her features. They brought out the faded pink highlights in her hair and the gold flecks in her eyes. Knowing he was sitting across from a 'nice girl' who probably didn't make a habit of having one-night stands with strangers, he knew exactly what she wanted to know.
Leaning back in his chair, he said, "My full name is Benjamin Conner. I'm a Captain in the Marine Corps."
"Your first name isn't Conner," choked Sage. She didn't know what was worse. That she didn't know the last name of the man before she slept with him. That he guessed she desperately wanted to know his name so she didn't feel trashy for doing so, or that the name she thought she knew was wrong!
"It might as well be. No one calls me Benjamin."
"How about Benjie?" she teased.
"Do it and you will earn a spanking," he teased right back, a sizzle in his eye. "In fact, please call me Benjie," he offered, after the image of turning that cute little bottom over his knee crossed his mind.
Sage bit her lip as the same wanton image crossed her mind, as well.
Change of subject!
"What do you do in the Marines?"
"I'm a SuperCobra pilot."
"Is that like a snake charmer?" she said playfully.
"No." He laughed. "I fly close air support attack helicopters. Although, after my leave is up, I'll be heading for some new training on the Viper and Venom."
"More snakes? Wait. Viper and Venom… aren't they villains from the G.I. Joe cartoon?"
"Wrong department. That's the Army. The Viper and Venom are upgraded attack helicopters. We're retiring the SuperCobra."
"Have you been in the Marines long?"
"Ten years. Enough about me. Your turn."
"I'm afraid I don't have any G.I. Joe supervillains or snakes in my story," she joked, stalling for time. Sage suddenly felt this irrational fear about telling him more about herself. It would make it all more… real.
"Sage," he said in that dark warning tone she found hard to disobey.
"MacGovern," she blurted out. "My name is Sage MacGovern."
"And what do you do for a living, Sage MacGovern," he prodded.
"I work for a foundation that approves grants for art and music programs in schools."
"That's really cool!" said Conner, impressed.
"Thanks. I like to think so. It's nice thinking your work helps make a small difference in the world."
"That's how I feel about my life with the Marines."
Their conversation ceased as their entrées arrived.
* * *
After insisting on taking her to the Georgetown mall to purchase a dress, which was way more modest than the one he tore to shreds but she wasn't going to bring that up, Sage figured they would part ways. Conner had other ideas.
"I haven't been to the war memorials yet this trip. I would like it if you joined me."
This was one request Sage didn't even think about refusing. When someone from the military asks you to go help them honor their kind's sacrifice, you put aside any misgivings you may have about them personally, and you go.
They parked near the Lincoln memorial and walked the rest of the way.
"Which one is your favorite?" she asked.
"I'd have to say the Korean War Memorial. The names of victims etched into a stone show the reality and sacrifice of war but those figures just blindly marching on, showing the tedium, the exhaustion, that is a reality of war, too."
Without thinking, Sage took his hand. He squeezed it gently as they walked on towards the Vietnam Memorial.
Conner stopped at a flag pole displaying the American flag. At its base was a copper plate displaying the insignia of each branch of the military. "What do you see?" he asked.
Sage looked closely. The copper base was tarnished and stained except for one section. It shone as bright as a new penny. She looked closer and saw the distinctive globe and eagle emblem of the Marine Corps. She looked up at Conner.
"Each morning we send someone out to polish it," he explained. "Respect."
"What about the rest of it?"
"Screw them. Let them send out their own grunts to polish their insignias."
Sage laughed. The somewhat good-natured animosity between the military branches was well known amongst those who lived in D.C.
* * *
For her turn, she took him to one of her favorite places in D.C., the Corcoran Gallery of Art. One of the best things about D.C. was all the free Smithsonian museums, so it seemed silly to pay for a membership to such a small gallery like the Corcoran, but she loved it. It reminded her of the museums in Europe. Its galleries were small, with jewel-toned walls displaying the perfect mixture of art and sculpture.
"Do you like art?"
"I'm not going to lie. When I head to a new city, I'm not beating down the door of the local museum, but I certainly appreciate art. I like the cultures it represents more than the individual pieces. I like how it speaks for a society's beauty and knowledge. You know, when we go into an area torn apart by war, that is one of the first things they want protected. Their art. You have to respect that."
"Wow. I never really thought about what you do like that. The media always portrays it so differently."
"A lot of what I do is just getting normal people back to a sense of normalcy. Sometimes it is as simple and as complicated as that. It's not all bombs, guts and glory," he said with a smile. "Now, show me some of this art of which you speak," he added, lightening the mood.
Sage took him all around the gallery, especially showing him her favorite sculpture, the Veiled Nun.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Sage asked, staring in wonder.
"She certainly is," said Conner, although he wasn't looking at the sculpture.
* * *
"How about we grab a pint at the Dubliner and then I promise I will take you home?"
"All right," agreed Sage.
She had spent the entire day with Conner. They had laughed, talked, and seen the sights. She had even had her very first hot dog from a street vendor, something she thought she would never venture to do. He was warm, funny, charming, and intelligent. It was awful!
It had been bad enough when he was just this exceptionally hot guy in a uniform, but now that she was getting to know him, it was worse! What the hell! This was exactly what she was trying to avoid. Sage didn't want to get to know this side of him. It would make the intolerably—albeit sexy—arrogant Neanderthal side of him more bearable. Plus it would just make it harder when the inevitable other shoe dropped. They hadn't talked about it specifically but he had mentioned he was just on leave. Hell, he didn't even have a home. He was crashing at a buddy's house!
When they got to Dubliner's, the place was packed.
"Perhaps we should just call it a night," offered Sage.
Just then she heard a shout. "Captain! Over here."
Conner grabbed her by the hand and guided her through the crowd to a long table along the back right. As soon as they neared the table, everyone seated suddenly jumped up at attention. Sage was astounded.
Conner solemnly nodded his head in greeting. Two men immediately relinquished their
seats for them.
Sage sent a questioning glance to Conner. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Respect." She smiled.
As soon as Conner was settled with a pint and she with a glass of wine, the war stories started.
A fun loving Second Lieutenant, nicknamed Hippie because he liked to wear his hair an 'unruly' inch long as opposed to the close-cropped 'high and tight' favored by everyone else, including Conner, regaled her with stories about him.
"I think she's heard enough about my deployments, Hippie," groaned Conner.
"Ah, Captain. I can't leave off without telling her about Operation Strike the Sword!" complained Hippie.
"Operation Strike the Sword? Seriously? That's a real thing?" asked Sage.
"Of course!"
"You boys read too many comic books when you were little," griped Sage, which earned her a good-natured laugh about the table.
"So anyway, we're in the middle of the biggest offensive since Fallujah in the Helmand River Valley. Dawn breaks, and boom! We start taking on small arms fire from outta nowhere. I turn to Spike and I'm like, what the fuck! Oh! Excuse the language, Ma'am. I'm like, what the fudge! We try to communicate to base but nothing's working right when outta nowhere comes Captain Conner and Dirty Sandy. Oh, that's his SuperCobra, Ma'am. That's an attack helicopter. He starts laying down all kinds of strafing hellfire along the tree line. Saved our asses. Oh, sorry Ma'am. I meant saved our butts," related Hippie, barely taking a breath in all his excitement.
Sage started to laugh. "Well, fuck me! That's one hell of a story, Hippie!"
There was a moment of silence at the table before everyone erupted in a cheer at her jest. Sage really enjoyed the easy camaraderie and friendship of the group. It was a true brotherhood.
* * *
Time passed too quickly, and before long Conner was taking her home as promised.
Once again, he insisted on walking Sage to her door.
Pushing a silken lock of hair behind her ear, he caressed the line of her jaw. "You know how much I want to ask you to invite me in?"
Sage didn't trust herself to speak. She was afraid she would invite him in if she did.