by Karen Anders
“We need to get moving.”
“No. We’re safe here, Dex, and you need to recover. We’re not going anywhere for three days.”
“What?”
“Doctor’s orders.”
He sighed. “Looks like I’m outnumbered.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like hell.”
“Hungry?”
“A little.”
She settled close to him and picked up the bowl and spoon, then realized he couldn’t eat prone. She set everything down and moved around him. “Let me get behind you so that I can feed you.”
“You don’t think I’m capable of feeding myself.” He sounded completely exhausted, his words still slurring together, but they had a lilt to them as if he enjoyed challenging her.
She raised a brow. “Are you?”
“No.”
“Then be quiet.” She slipped her hands under his shoulders, splaying her legs and scooting her butt forward until his torso was cradled in her lap, the back of his head resting just below her chin.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly. His hair was soft alongside her neck; the weight of him seemed so right against her, and a weird, protective sensation rolled over her, clutching her heart. She was powerless to stop these feelings even as the guilt churned within her. There wasn’t a man she met since she’d lost Brad who was able to get past these barriers. But in one short day, Dex had stripped away a defense system that had been in place since she’d woken up alone and empty in a hospital bed in DC.
Everything tingled, as if her body had been asleep and was now waking up, the pins and needles a reminder that blood flowed through her veins.
He made her feel so alive.
She picked up the broth and brought the spoon to his mouth. Clearly agitated, but still a bit out of it, he didn’t respond. “Don’t make me do the choo-choo train noises,” she threatened.
“I’m not five,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
She gave him a narrow, chastising look. “Then don’t act like it.” She nudged him and he opened up so she could pop in the spoon. Dex was the kind of man who was used to being in charge, and it obviously rankled him that he couldn’t even feed himself.
His little hum of satisfaction went through her like a knife, the vibration from his chest through his back only making her more aware of him.
“See. It’s good.”
He tilted his head to look up at her. “It’s damn good.” He studied her face and said, “How are you doing?”
She barely knew with all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. That fact that she was running for her life with a navy SEAL who was making her feel more than she had in months, the fear and danger they were in, not to mention that she’d killed a man, it was all so overwhelming.
“I’ve had better days. I really don’t know how you do all this.”
“It’s my office,” he said, accepting and swallowing another bite. “I would go stark raving mad having to yammer at people all day and not have them heed a single thing I said.”
“You like giving out orders and having them followed.”
“War is easy, Piper. There are enemies and you kill them while trying to stay alive. It doesn’t hurt that I’m in charge of a bunch of great knuckleheads.” His eyes glinting, he shook his head, watching her with those piercing blue eyes. “In politics, you never know who will be stabbing you in the back. Five minutes with a double-talker and one of us would be leaving in a body bag.”
The way he said it made her laugh—really laugh. “I’m guessing it wouldn’t be you.”
He chuckled. “No. Probably not.”
“Not a really good way to get a bill made into a law. We might have to go over diplomacy and conflict resolutions that have nothing to do with ‘move your shapely ass’ or the business end of a handgun.”
He grinned at her, meeting her gaze directly, and they exchanged a long, silent look—a shared joke, a companionable closeness, a kind of unspoken honesty.
“You have a gift of negotiation,” he said.
“Gift?”
“Yes, the most dangerous or useless gift is one that isn’t earned. You’ve earned yours. It took guts to do something that would remind you every day of what you lost. Fight for something that your husband passionately believed in and was dedicated to doing with his life. It’s admirable.”
Feeling unexpectedly close to tears, she whispered, “I couldn’t do anything else.”
“You’re actively pursuing your passion. Wildly committed to doing this because your husband can’t. I call that an unbreakable spirit. Most of what I do is ninety-nine-point-nine percent mental. I only use my physicality to carry out what my mind dictates. Getting through combat is all mental—failing and getting up, again, all mental. Everything I do comes from up here.” He tapped his temple. “It’s the engine that runs me. I regret that what I’ve chosen to do with my life has taken a toll on the people I loved and who loved me, but not enough to stick by me when the going got tough. I’ve had two relationships and lost them both. So, being a SEAL is my passion, something I’m wildly committed to and what I tell myself every day is worthwhile. It makes me unbreakable.”
His words touched something inside her that no one had ever touched and made her feel so much closer and intimately attached to him. She was carrying out Brad’s wishes, but after she vacated his seat, she had no idea what she really wanted to pursue. She’d been supporting Brad for so long, she’d lost any sight of her own goals. Dex really gave her something to think about. She forced him to finish the broth, even though he grumbled. She could tell he was getting fatigued and the pain was creeping back. She gave him his meds and then came the part she had blushed red at—the antibiotic shot.
“Why are you looking like you have a job to do and it’s not going to be your favorite?” he asked, his sleepy blue eyes roving over her face.
“I need to give you a shot of antibiotic.”
“O-kay...”
“In the biggest muscle on your body.”
“Oh, right.” He smirked. “Trouble with the location, Senator?”
“I’d say the second-biggest muscle since your brain is obviously the largest.”
He chuckled. “I’m buck-ass naked, lady, so have at it.”
He was clearly laughing at her discomfort. Okay, maybe not out loud, but his laugh lines were all crinkled, and there was a wicked, wicked sparkle in his eyes.
She cast him an annoyed and embarrassed look. “It’s not funny, Dex.”
The glint intensified. “Oh, butt it is.”
She made an exasperated sound. “Need I remind you that I’m the one with the sharp instrument and I’ve never stuck a needle in anyone before?” It didn’t help that Piper was so aware of Dex; it was as if her body had a million little sensors in it.
He rolled gingerly to his side and she reached out a trembling hand and moved the cotton covering just enough to expose the top of one of his cheeks. The man was a study in thick, ropey muscle as the big muscles of his back tapered down into the smooth definition of his rump. My God, the man was so beautiful.
He looked at her over his shoulder. She met his gaze and her heart rolled over, a strange, fluttery feeling unfolding in her middle. His expression was wry and wickedly teasing. “Piper, are you going to stick me, or are you just staring at my ass?”
Oh, God. She had been staring at his fine butt. He pulled the blanket, revealing the full view of his posterior, and her mouth went dry. That knocked her out of her reverie and she stuck in the needle and pushed the plunger.
“Ouch!” he said, and reached down to rub the area, narrowing his eyes.
She raised her chin. “Serves you right for needling me.” She reached out and flicked up the blanket to cover all that gorgeo
us muscle.
Then she bit her lip. “Did I really hurt you?”
He laughed softly. “No. A gnat could have done more damage. But you can kiss it and make it better if you want,” he breathed.
She sucked in a breath at the thought of putting her lips anywhere on his body.
He carefully transitioned to his back, his eyelids drooping, the medication she’d given him kicking in. But he met her singed look with something direct and heavy enough to set off so many alarms in her, all amusement gone. He watched her with an intent, steady look, as if he was thinking something wholly sinful and definitely wild. His voice was quiet and low when he spoke. “You look tired. You should sleep.” His eyes closed and he took a deep breath and opened them. “Beside me, Senator. That’s an order. Stick close to me.”
Piper could handle that kind of concern. Barely. But she could handle that. Then Dex blew it. As if not even realizing he was doing it, he reached out and ever so carefully tucked her hair behind her ear. Then he ran the backs of his fingers along her jaw. “Close, Piper,” he said, his voice husky. “Real close.”
It was too much. Piper’s knees went immediately weak and her breath jammed up in her chest. It was all she could do to keep from folding into his arms. And all those feelings she’d tried to hold at bay came rushing through her, sending a fountain of need surging up. As if trapped by his gaze, she stared back at him, unable to break away—not really wanting to. She was so lost in his eyes, in the pulse-racing weakness...
He tried to keep his eyes on hers, but the medication proved too strong and he was battling pain and fever. His blinking got longer and longer until those lids stayed closed and his breaths became even.
With her lungs seizing up and her heart pounding, she watched him sleep, things happening inside her that made her heart pound even harder.
“You haven’t even touched your meal,” Afsana said, coming into the room and picking up Dex’s bowl. “You must eat, Piper, to keep up your strength.”
“I will,” she promised. “How do you know Dex?”
Afsana’s dark eyes filled with affection. She glanced at Dex and crouched down. “My husband wanted a better life for us. Better than the Taliban could give. He didn’t like the way I was treated or the pressure they put on me. So, he has been working with the Americans since they came here. Dex was wounded in a battle not far from here, before Bagram was reclaimed and built into that big base it is now. We found him and your brother and helped them. Nursed them back to health and smuggled them to safety. When my husband was accused of being part of the Taliban, a case of mistaken identity, I was so worried and scared. I went to Dex and he got my husband released and back to me. We would do anything for him.” She reached out and snagged the plate, setting it into Piper’s hands, then she squeezed her arm. “During war, where brutality reigns and justice seems lost, sometimes bonds are forged in turmoil and blood and are some of the strongest ones there are. Because of the unselfish acts of people you don’t understand and are so foreign to you, you have a hard time trusting them. Dex proved he was here to help us. He is a man of his word—so very, very brave and always does the right thing. No matter the cost. That’s how I know him. Now eat.”
Piper picked up her fork as Afsana left the room. From the moment she’d met Dex, she saw something in him that was clearly unbreakable, wild and massively appealing. It was no surprise he’d stepped in for Afsana and Raffi, and she melted inside at his compassion and the way he was always true to himself. Unable to help it, she moved closer to Dex, the chaos inside getting worse. As she took the first bite, she thought this situation was crazy. So insane. She wanted him to touch her all over. She wanted to lie in his arms like she had the right to do so and she wanted to hang on to him and never, ever let go.
Chastising herself for thinking that way, she finished her meal. She lay down next to him, trying to disconnect from the unsatisfied ache lying thick and heavy in her. But she couldn’t disconnect, no matter how hard she tried. Feeling shaky and out of control, she moved closer until she could feel his skin inches from her. It was clear that Dex was the kind of man she would seek out. Strong, true, honest and dedicated. But he was also someone who put his life on the line every day he went to work. That was...just too much; hit too close to her fears. There was no future in thinking about him as long term, and the short term was so full of danger. She might not even get out of this alive.
He was so warm, safe and solid. Easing in a deep, uneven breath as his presence physically enveloped her, she planned on taking care of him through the night. Whatever he needed.
Her eyes fixed on his handsome face. The beard stubble added to his dangerous appeal. Her tears flowed, unloaded from all the fear, shock and experiences she’d endured in the past twenty-four hours; some of those tears she cried were because she was afraid she was incapable of letting go, of finding something new, of taking a chance.
She recognized that he could be the man that made her whole again, if she had the courage to let go. But fear was a powerful barrier, and that settled inside her like a beast she had to fight.
He shredded her, too, with the way he looked at her and his character and his beauty.
He was wrong. She didn’t have that kind of courage or fortitude. She’d already been shattered into pieces that she was still picking up.
She wasn’t unbreakable.
Chapter 7
Splintered silvery pieces of awareness and a heavy warmth pressed to him filtered through Dex’s consciousness. Pain radiated, just enough to be felt. The meds must be wearing off. He was reaching for his weapon even before he was fully awake, but all he could feel was soft, warm skin. Nice, he thought, sighing, then drifted a bit until pieces of reality filtered through: the jumble of bedding beneath him, the smooth texture of the cotton against his bare skin, the light that spilled into the room from between the shutters.
He took stock of his situation as the edge of pain pulsated a little harder. The whole side of his body was raw and sore and, from the feel of it, padded with thick bandages. One of the wounds from the shrapnel of the mortar had cut deep, but the others were shallower. It was that deep gash that was causing most of the throbbing pain.
Then his hand ran over his hip. What the hell? He was buck-ass naked, the cotton blanket pushed all the way down to his groin. Who had stripped him? He just couldn’t remember anything except the hallucinated bodies pulling him under. Then bits and pieces...warm lips. Responsive warm lips. Had he kissed her? Ah, you freaking moron. Had he or had that been part of a great, fever-induced dream?
Wait a second. More memories flooded his brain. Had she really been here and had she stuck him with a needle...needled? Oh, damn, Piper had given him a shot in his butt and he’d said something wholly inappropriate, or had he dreamed all of this?
Nope, he didn’t think he had when the memories came back to him.
Damn, that had freakin’ hurt, and even trying not to react, the low groan was something he couldn’t stop. He’d been out of it for most of the day. How had Blessing gotten here? He tried to search his memory banks, but nothing registered.
He remembered, groaning again, when Blessing had stuck him with a needle and soft hands had cradled his head. He’d moved his legs restlessly. It had stung like hell, but then blessed relief. Must have been the pain meds he’d taken and then the numbing from the anesthetic she’d no doubt injected him with as a lethargy had mercifully spread over him and his mind swam.
Something had happened to him, but that was blurry, too.
“Will he be okay?” Piper’s soft, husky voice had asked, filled with concern and worry. He liked that she cared about him. But then, why wouldn’t she? He’d saved her life. Tyler’s sister. Right, Ty. He hoped he was doing okay. Her hand had smoothed across his forehead again and threaded through his hair. He couldn’t think straight. He was floating, the pain now d
ull, and he was so damn tired.
His eyes popped open then and he completely lost his train of thought as he realized Piper was there, her face close, her nose almost touching him. She was the weight he’d felt when he woke up, and sweet Jesus, she was snuggled up to his uninjured side, her fragrant body draped over his chest and her cotton-clad leg running the length of his. Her arm resting on his pecs, elbow bent, she had her hand on his face as if she’d fallen asleep checking for fever.
Wow, how long had it been since he’d woken up to a woman he’d known for more than a half an hour? One who obviously cared? Seemed like a long time, maybe a year. Between his deployments and his reluctance to do the bar scene now, female companionship had mostly consisted of his mom and acquaintances, both personal and job related.
But nothing had changed about his reaction to waking up. Morning wood was typical. Even wounded, he knew what he wanted. With her so close to him, stimulating him, it jumped and he wanted to groan at the throbbing ache that started at the base and moved up.
His body hungered and stirred up a sexual restlessness in him. He closed his eyes, wanting her. Wanting to drag her across his body, have her straddle his hips as he slipped inside all that slick heat.
The pleasant feelings were suddenly dominated by a feeling of enormous responsibility. He wasn’t going to let anything detract from getting her to safety, not even his dumb-ass urges.
And there was his brother Rock’s voice in his head. You don’t do a brother’s sister or think about his woman.
Ah, damn, Tyler was his best friend, and here he was having luscious thoughts about his sister. Get tough, man, buck up. Yeah, that was part of the problem. He was up.
She was limp, draped over him like an exhausted kitten, her delectable mouth partly open, smudges below the thick, blond lashes. The complete package was so exquisite it broke his heart.
She was taking care of him, the big, bad SEAL—yeah, that felt good.