Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  Once again her overly active mind betrayed her with thoughts of all that skin rubbing against hers in a more intimate setting.

  She forked up some more potato salad and tried to focus on eating, especially as another small wave of lightheadedness swept over her. Instinctively she reached out for support and her hand landed squarely on Zack’s muscled thigh.

  He glanced over at her and his eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay?”

  She shook her head. A mistake. Her mouth suddenly dry, she tightened her hold on his thigh and said, “Would you mind getting me a soda?”

  He popped up out of the chair and came back with a can of cola.

  She greedily drank it and the shot of cold seemed to help.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Nodding, he sat back down to eat and motioned to her plate of food. “Maybe you should get something else into your stomach.”

  She chuckled. “Why do you all think food will help?”

  He shrugged those broad shoulders and grinned. “My mom is Italian. She always thinks food is the cure for what ails you.”

  He didn’t look in the least bit Italian, except for maybe for his tanned skin that never seemed to burn. “If your mom is Italian, what’s your dad?”

  “Mostly English, but with lots of other things tossed in,” he replied around a mouthful of food. After he swallowed, he shot her a half glance and said, “What about you?”

  “A real mix of things. An American mutt,” she said with a smile, but then winced as another wave of vertigo hit her.

  Her face and chest were flush with color, but not sunburn, Zack noted. He shot up from his chair, went over to the cooler, and came back with a bottle of ice cold water. “Here, have this. Maybe you have a touch of heat stroke.”

  “I should have hydrated more during the games,” she said as she accepted the bottle from him and drank part of it. Rubbed the chilled surface of the bottle across her forehead.

  “That feels good. Thanks,” she said with another easy smile.

  He was grateful he could help, but as the meal went on and her food went untouched on her plate, it was obvious she still wasn’t feeling well.

  With an apologetic glance at everyone at the table, she rose wobbly, and said, “I think I should go home. Get some rest.”

  He popped to his feet. “I’ll drive you home.”

  She was about to protest, but was cut off by Bridget. “That’s a good idea. You don’t look so hot, Sam.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks for a nice day,” she said and walked toward the house to get her things.

  He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but then that morning’s decision to make this a day of firsts came alive again.

  “I’ll see her home. Make sure she’s okay,” he told the group and didn’t wait for their reaction. He hurried inside, hopping painfully at a misstep with lefty, but catching up to Samantha as she was exiting the front door.

  She looked at him, her face and chest still a little flushed, and said, “I said that I’ll be okay.”

  “And I’ll feel better when I know you’re home safe and sound. I was leaving anyway.”

  “Bullshit,” she said, but followed him to his van without any more arguments.

  He helped her in, got settled in the driver’s seat, and drove away. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house.

  “Okay, so now you drove me home. Thanks,” she said and didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door for her.

  He followed her up the walk to the front door and said, “And now I’m going to make sure you get inside and are okay before I go.”

  She narrowed her gaze and her lips thinned into a tight line, annoyance oozing from every pore of her body. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  He thought of how many times he’d pushed people away in those early days after he’d lost his leg. How he’d confused accepting help as either pity or a lack of determination on his part.

  This might only be a slight case of heat stroke on Samantha’s part, but he sensed that those shadows he sometimes saw in her gaze maybe came from the same place. From not being able to accept help for fear that it would be construed as weakness.

  “It’s okay to lean on someone if you need to, Sam,” he said, liking the sound of the nickname he’d heard Bridget use.

  “You’re very frustrating,” she said. Pivoting on a heel, she opened the door, tossed her beach bag on the couch, and held her hands out wide.

  “See, I’m inside and totally fine,” she said, but a second later, all traces of color left her face. She whirled and stumbled into the living room like a drunken frat boy. As her knees started to buckle, he was there, sweeping her up into his arms.

  He walked with her to the sofa in the middle of the room and laid her down on the cushions.

  “Stay,” he said when she started to sit up.

  He shot a glance past her to the kitchen that was just feet away. Whoever had renovated the cape had gone for an open concept look. He walked to the fridge and poured a glass of cool water. For good measure, he grabbed a kitchen towel, wet it and then wrapped some ice cubes in it. He returned to the sofa and offered her the water.

  “Drink,” he said, earning a glare from her, but she snared the glass from his hands.

  He tucked the wet towel with the ice behind her neck while she sipped the water.

  Sitting beside her on the coffee table, he offered support and comforting words until she was finished and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. Her color was back to normal and not the greenish tinge of seconds earlier or the super-flushed pink from lunch.

  “Feeling better?”

  She nodded and said, “Yes, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”

  “What are friends for?” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

  She jumped on his words. “Is that all we are? Friends?”

  Embrace The Night: Chapter Six

  Zack smiled sadly, reached out, and cupped her cheek. “You know I want more, but do you?”

  “I do,” she said without hesitation. That brought them right back to where they’d been this morning, before she’d dashed out in a burst of totally not-ready-for-commitment fear.

  Fear was the enemy in so many ways and for right now, she was going to set aside her one fear to explore what might be possible with Zack.

  “Are you up for it?” he asked and tenderly stroked his thumb across her cheek.

  Physically, yes. Somehow the cool water and even chillier towel against her neck out had her feel not so awful anymore.

  Emotionally. . . .

  “I’m up for it,” she said, although a part of her wished for a more romantic start to what was finally about to happen.

  Zack cradled her face in his hands. “You are so beautiful,” he said and bent his head to brush his lips against hers in a fleeting kiss.

  “You take my breath away,” he whispered and kissed her more deeply, but almost reverently.

  Okay, way more romantic, she thought as she closed her eyes and let go to experience everything that he was.

  He kissed her again, exploring her mouth, his lips passing lightly across hers as he eased his hands into her hair. With a subtle move, he leaned closer and pressed his body to hers. Every inch of him was lean hard muscle and it was impossible to ignore the long ridge of his erection against the flatness of her belly.

  “You feel good,” she said in between kisses, laid her hands on his broad shoulders, and then moved them down to the hem of his t-shirt. She eased her hands beneath the fabric and skimmed the backs of her hands along all those muscles, dragging the shirt up with the motion.

  He broke away from their kiss only long enough to whip the t-shirt over his head and help her remove her beach wrap.

  He trailed his fingers down from her cheek to the swells of her breasts exposed by her bikini top.

  Her nipples tightened into hard points beneath the fabric and he dipped his thumb down to run it across
the turgid nub, dragging a shaky breath from her.

  “I want to see you. Touch you more,” he said and met her gaze directly.

  His crystal blue gaze gleamed with undeniable desire, his pupils wide, irises darkening to the color of moon-kissed ocean.

  “I want that, too,” she said, reached up, and with one tug of the halter string, undid it to allow the fabric to fall away from her breasts.

  Damn, she’s perfect, Zack thought at his first sight of her glorious breasts. He cupped them in his hands and their fullness filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, except for her puckered rose-colored nipples.

  He strummed his thumbs across those hard tips and she mewled a little plea, not that he needed that request.

  Bending, he licked one tight tip while he caressed the other and she cradled his head to hold him close.

  She tasted sweet and smelled like sun and sand, an irresistible combination.

  He closed his mouth around her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, teething it gently and dragging a rough gasp from her.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, afraid that in his need he’d been a little too rough.

  “No, I liked it. A lot,” she admitted, almost warily.

  He eased her over that reluctance with a grin and his own confession. “I like it, too. A lot,” he teased and earned a brazen smile from her.

  “Don’t let me keep you,” she said and hauled him close once more.

  With that grin still stuck on his lips, he kissed and sucked and licked her to his heart’s content, loving the little sounds she made that drove him on and the way she held him to her.

  When she reached down and stroked her hand across his erection, he moaned loudly and urged her on. “More, Sam. Touch me some more.”

  She stroked him again, harder and with more determination and he shook from the strength of the need racing across his body.

  He was on the edge and he didn’t want to lose it like some virgin teenager during his first lovemaking.

  He reached down and undid the strings on her bikini bottom. The fabric fell to the surface of the couch and she spread her legs so he could slip his fingers to her center.

  She was so hot and wet. So ready and so was he. With one sure stroke along her center, he pulled another pleading command from her.

  “Now, Zack. Please, now.”

  They both fumbled to pull down his track pants to free his dick and he guided himself to her center, waited there for a final moment of sanity.

  “I’m clean, Sam.”

  Shit, with two years of celibacy and nothing but my hand to keep me company, how could it be any different?

  She met his gaze, her emerald eyes nearly black with desire and devoid of the darkness that was there way too often. “I’m good, too, Zack. Nothing to worry about,” she said.

  Except that maybe I’m not the man she thinks I am, but he drove that thought away. He needed her too much on so many levels.

  He suspected she needed him as well.

  He eased into the sweet heat of her. She was tight and he groaned from the pressure of her surrounding him, the pleasure was so intense.

  Samantha sucked in a breath and held it, almost overwhelmed by the feel of him inside her, filling her emptiness. He didn’t move at first, his body tight against her as if he, too, was fighting to hold back.

  She moved her hands to his shoulders and hauled him close, and he bracketed her back with his hands, surrounding her with all that brazen masculinity. With that wounded warrior’s body, so beautiful even with its imperfections.

  When he moved it was a slow withdrawal that left her feeling every inch of his departure, but then he drove back in faster. Repeated that slow out and rushed in over and over, building passion until she was shaking in his arms and clutching him tightly as she reached for her release.

  He shifted his hands down to her buttocks and cupped them, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and that deepened his sure strokes. Let him rock into faster and harder until with one final grind, they both came together, bodies shaking. Breaths rough from the force of the pleasure that had taken them over the edge.

  Zack held her close and rested his forehead against hers, his uneven breaths spilling across her face, much like hers bathed his. When he finally could talk again, he said, “That was amazing.”

  She chuckled and kissed his chin. “It was. Imagine how much better it could be in bed.”

  Bed. With her. Long hours lying together naked. Making love again.

  His dick immediately reacted, shocking both of them.

  “Really?” she said, in obvious disbelief.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he confessed.

  “Then let’s not waste the moment.”

  Embrace The Night: Chapter Seven

  She shifted from the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Reaching for his track pants, she grabbed the waistband wrapped around his thighs and was about to pull the pants lower when he reached out and stopped her.

  At her puzzled look, he said, “I just need a moment. Why don’t you head up and I’ll be there in a second.”

  She examined his features, the worry evident on her face. “You’re not going to run, are you?”

  Between his erection and lefty, running was literally not an option. “I’m not running, Sam. I just need . . . ”

  What? Courage? he thought, but then it smacked him hard.

  “I need you. I need to be . . . normal again,” he said and was grateful for the understanding that swept over her features.

  She popped off the coffee table and jerked her head in the direction of the stairway. “I’ll be in the bedroom straight back from the stairs.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  With a nod, she walked away, providing him with an unrestricted view of a leanly muscled body that was still feminine, with womanly curves and those amazing breasts he’d loved to touch and taste just moments earlier.

  And which he could enjoy again if fear wasn’t keeping him paralyzed.

  He reminded himself of what he’d thought earlier that day. That it would be a day of firsts.

  He’d already tasted the freedom of flying across the waves and making love to her, as hurried as it had been.

  Now it was time to move on and truly savor being with her even if it meant finally revealing what he was.

  He slowly came to his feet and gingerly pulled up his track pants over the remnants of his erection. With hesitant steps, he walked toward the stairs and then moved up them more quickly, his stride becoming more confident as he reached the second floor landing.

  It was dark except for the spill of light coming from a doorway at the back of the house.

  Her bedroom.

  He wiped his wet palms across his pants and hurried there, pausing at the door to appreciate the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed gloriously naked.

  Waiting for him.

  She met his gaze as he approached and came to stand right before her. His hands were fisted at his sides to keep from touching her as much as he wanted to. First there was something he had to do.

  “You okay?” she asked, sensing his hesitation.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said.

  She raised her hand and laid it on the center of his chest. “I’ve seen the scars, Zack.”

  She trailed her hand down to the waistband of his pants and said, “I know there’s more than what I’ve seen. Sometimes the scars are buried deep.”

  As she finished, she swept her gaze past him and across her room, drawing his attention to the pile of boxes in one corner. Beside them was a large dresser, devoid of the usual female touches along its surface. Not even a single picture frame there or anywhere else in the room.

  Her scars, he thought and that reveal somehow gave him the courage to grab hold of his pants and slowly lower them.

  Samantha was silent as he did so, appreciating the beauty of his ruined body as he revealed his e
rection and then his upper thighs. As he skimmed the pants lower, she finally caught sight of the prosthetic and it explained so much.

  His absence from the volleyball games. The ever-present track pants on the beach and the way he’d been on the waves, like someone getting reacquainted with something they’d once done.

  Like making love, she thought and met his gaze.

  What she saw there made her mouth grow dry and her heart thump loudly in her chest.

  I’m the first, she thought, but then again, he was her first as well in a long time.

  His hands were once again fisted at his sides and nearly white from the pressure he was exerting. She covered his hands with hers and urged them open. Twined her fingers with his as she said, “Do you know what I see?”

  He was staring straight ahead, avoiding her gaze and the sight of his prosthetic, still partially covered by his pants.

  At his prolonged silence, she said, “I see courage and heart. I see a man with the strength to rebuild his life and live again.”

  He dipped his head and met her gaze, his shimmering with the hint of tears.

  “I wish the same for you, Sam. I wish I could help drive the darkness from inside so you can finally feel free of the past,” he said and she was struck once again by how well he understood her.

  She smiled and playfully shook his hands. “You’re already doing that, Zack. For the first time in a long time . . . I want more. I need more.”

  She needed him and the way he could make her feel again. Make her believe that one day she could be as strong as he was.

  “I’m here, Sam. For whatever you need, I’m here.”

  “Make love to me, Zack. Help me feel alive again,” she said.

  With a nod and a sexy grin, he kicked away his track pants and kneeled before her. Placing his hands on her knees, he urged them apart and skimmed his hands up her thighs to cup her buttocks and urge her closer to the edge of the bed.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Embrace The Night: Chapter Eight

  Zack edged closer, dropped a kiss on her knee, and then ran a trail of them up one thigh until he was at her center.