Her Loving Hero

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “There are a couple of really good guys on the ground in Oman,” Kane said. “These guys are working covertly, trying to infiltrate the group in Nizwa. Max said they expect to find Hamza al Libi pulling the student’s strings.”

  “Al-Qaeda is more on Yemen’s side, right?” Dex said slowly. “And Hamza is Al-Qaeda.”

  Wyatt nodded, and Kane gave a bored, “Yes.”

  “So, what would Yemen and Al-Qaeda have to gain about stirring up students and Oman Nationalism against Saudi and the UAE?” Dex asked.

  “That’s what the suits are trying to figure out,” Kane said. “In the meantime, Wyatt, I would be expecting to see the Hoag women in San Diego pretty damn quickly.”

  Wyatt felt his stomach turn. Carly he could handle. Lilliana, not so much.

  There was a ping as an e-mail came in on Dex’s computer, he tilted back on his chair so he could punch his keyboard and call it up.

  “Oh Man, it looks like there will be a briefing on this developing crisis tomorrow morning,” Dex said in a Jamaican accent.

  Wyatt and Kane groaned.

  “Please say that is the last damn time you will say Oman in a Jamaican accent. That is one tired assed joke.” Wyatt begged.

  “Oh Man, no it’s not,” Dex continued.

  Wyatt pulled out his wallet, took out a twenty and handed it to Dex. “Here, go buy yourself a sense of humor.”

  Emily was ready to spit nails. Dealing with her mother was like trying to nail jello to the wall. All she had been trying to do was convince her to come stateside where it was safe. But no, Tammy Wynette needed to stand-by-her-man. She pulled the last towel out of the dryer and slammed it shut.

  “Sorry!” she called out. She never slammed things. Emily didn’t want Wyatt to think that she wouldn’t take proper care of his things. She picked up the laundry basket and walked down the hallway to her room and got down to the business of folding clothes.

  “What are you apologizing for?” Wyatt asked as he knocked on the doorjamb to her room.

  “I slammed the dryer door shut.”

  “Well, I think that requires a written apology,” he teased.

  She snapped a towel in the air and crisply folded it into a small square. He walked into her room and pulled out a hand towel one from the basket to help with the task.

  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not particularly.”

  She saw him try not to smile, it wasn’t working too well for him.

  “What? What are you thinking?” She demanded.

  “That particular level of frustration and upset could only be brought about by one person.”

  Emily sank down to the edge of the bed, clutching a towel to her chest. “I forgot that you’ve met her before.”

  “Yes, I have. What did your mother say?”

  “I think there must be a production of Gone With The Wind that she’s auditioning for in Oman, because she was giving me her best Scarlett O’Hara impression. The woman could do Faye Dunaway for overacting.” She buried her face into the towel.

  Wyatt tugged the towel out of her hands and tilted her chin upwards. “That still doesn’t tell me what she said.”

  “She literally said, I could never leave your father in his hour of need. What the hell is she talking about? It makes it sound like Dad’s Winston Churchill and this is the London Blitz. Wyatt, this is a normal American protocol during a heightened potential terrorist threat. Kristi is fifteen and Mom needs to come to California with her. But no, not Lilliana, she has to be able to tell the bridge club about her supposed heroism, fuck the fact that her youngest daughter might be scared.”

  Wyatt crouched down in front of her. “Emily, I hate it when you swear.”

  That got her attention. “I’m not allowed to swear?”

  There was something else to get angry about?

  “No, that’s not it, I just know you’re really hurting when you swear. But I have a question, how will Kristi take it when your mom doesn’t come?”

  Emily shoved the towel aside. “There’ll be extra cash thrown at the situation, and I think my sister is at the shallow age where she can be bought.” Emily reached out and grabbed Wyatt’s shoulders. “But it will hurt. She’ll always remember this. All of us girls know that Dad doesn’t really need us, and now Kristi will see that Mom’s being self-absorbed and putting her vain interests above her and will be something she’ll always remember. I just don’t want Kristi hurt that much.”

  “Emily-” Wyatt started.

  “On the good side, less people to cram into a studio apartment,” she said flippantly.

  He grinned crookedly, but his eyes were warm with compassion. “We’ll figure something out,” he promised.

  “Actually, we won’t have to. Like always, Dad will throw money at this problem, so it will be fine. Because it’s for their welfare, I’ll suck it up and find someplace big enough for the three of us temporarily.”

  “That will be really costly, and it will take at least a week” he warned.

  “Dad’s got the cash. He never went into this line of work because of true altruism and love of country, it was the contacts. He’s made some good investments over the years.”

  Wyatt’s hand curled around the back of her neck, his fingers gently massaging the muscles there as he stared deeply into her eyes. “You hated that didn’t you,” he asked quietly.

  “Being an American Ambassador is important. I believe in our diplomatic corps. I’ve met some of the most amazing, selfless people while I’ve lived overseas. But I’ve watched how Dad has manipulated things to his advantage. So yeah, I hate it.”

  She saw the question in Wyatt’s face.

  “No, I don’t think he’s ever crossed the line. He’s walked up to it and brushed his toe against it, but he’s never crossed it. Everything’s been legal.”

  “How are you so sure?” His thumb was playing havoc on her nerve endings. She pushed into his hand, arching into his caress.

  “I knew he did business with Prince Khalid bin Al Halabi, I heard them talk together a few times when Dad came to Saudi to visit. After my attack and being sent home, I finally started wondering if everything was above board. I looked into things. Dad was happy to give me information about his business dealings, he was hoping I would finally take some money from him. Of course, I didn’t. I told you why.”

  Wyatt’s other hand came up and they framed her face. “I respect the hell out of you Lady.”

  Emily reached up and speared her fingers through his short dark hair. “You’ve been respecting me an awful lot these last three days. Do you think it’s time for you to be a little less respectful?”

  Her heart felt like it might beat out of her chest.

  Wyatt stilled like a bird of prey, waiting for something to cross its path. As if watching her for some kind of sign.

  What more could she say?

  Ah, she could do something.

  Emily smiled.

  Leaning so close so that their lips were a hairsbreadth apart felt right. The only trembling she was doing was because she was turned on. She could taste the mint of his breath. “Open,” she commanded.

  Wyatt parted his lips ever so slightly. It was enough.

  She tilted her head and she kissed him.

  He let her lead, and she gloried in her power, licking his soft firm lower lip, then sinking her tongue into his mouth and stroking it against his. She jolted at the arc of electricity that zinged through her at their joining, but he caught her. Somehow, she was off the bed and cradled in his lap, her arms curled around his neck, but despite that, Wyatt was still allowing her to lead.

  She hesitated. He tasted so good, but she needed more. She needed the kiss to go deeper, could she do this? All worry went out the window as a wave of desire took over and she captured Wyatt’s tongue and suckled him into the cavern of her mouth. Then he was kissing, demanding, thrusting and giving her exactly what she craved.

  Emily clenched him closer, a roar o
f need taking over her body. Up and down her back, she felt his firm strokes, then his hands chose a different path. Those same two hands that she loved and trusted, again started from her waist, but instead of going along her spine, they went up the sides of her body. It was even more sensuous to feel his hands coming so close to the sides of her breasts, as he ended up resting them on the tops of her shoulders, then sweeping his palms downwards again. She strained closer to him, trying to get some relief for the aching tips of her breasts.

  He broke the kiss just long enough to say, “Emily, you’re killing me.” Then Wyatt started his caresses up and down the sides of her body, again and again. She wiggled again, then froze. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  Wyatt repositioned them in a heartbeat, so that she was sitting beside him, not on his lap.

  “It stops now. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to, okay?”

  She nodded, staring forward at the low drawer on the dresser.

  “Are you hearing me, Love? Nothing happens, we can sit just like this all night, you’re safe.”

  She looked over to the side where the evidence of his arousal was unmistakable. Intellectually she’d known what they were working their way up to. She just didn’t realize how high up it went. He certainly was up for the job.

  She let out a shattered laugh.

  “Em?” he queried softly. “Why are you laughing.”

  “Up for-” Her voice stuttered. She started again. “You’re certainly up for the job.” Tears threatened.

  “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” Wyatt pushed back the hair from her face. That was nice, because she hated it when her hair ended up with tears and snot in it from her big ugly cries, and she suspected that one of those was about to make an appearance.

  “I’m not going to cry,” she said as the first tears started.

  He wrapped her tight in his arms. “I was wrong, cry all you need. Whatever you need, whatever helps. I’m here for you.”

  “That’s the problem. I felt the part of you that was here, and it scared the spit out of me.” She clutched the front of his shirt and another sob overtook her. “I’ve been leading you on. I’m one of those ‘not nice’ teases.”

  Wyatt’s chest shook underneath her.

  Was he laughing?

  “Are you laughing?”

  “You’re the furthest thing from a cock-tease as any woman I know.”

  “But I came onto you, and I made you... erect.” She hissed the words into the front of his wet shirt.

  “Honey, you’ve been doing that by just being around me for the last three months, this is not new. In no way, shape or form do I feel like you are teasing me. I think you are being emotionally and physically honest and you got scared. Could that be it?”

  “I don’t know,” she wailed. “Maybe?”

  “Probably,” he smiled. “I really think that’s what’s going on.”

  “I’m a mess,” she groaned.

  “You’re my mess, and I love you Miss Hoag.”

  She slapped her hand over his mouth, wishing with all her heart that she could have stopped him from ever having said those words. “Don’t. Don’t ever say that again,” she implored.

  He gently moved her hand. “I love you Emily. With everything I have inside me. I. Love. You.”

  “So, you never want to have sex again? Are you high?” She shoved against his chest.

  “I think you should be able to wear white on our wedding day, like your grandmother did. So, we should wait until after we’re married anyway,” he said solemnly.

  Emily shoved up from the floor and hugged herself. “That’s wrong on so many different levels I don’t even know where to start.” Now he’d done it, she’d never be able to stop crying ever, ever again.

  Wyatt got up to stand beside her. “Tell me why that’s wrong.”

  She looked wildly around the room, saw her afghan, grabbed it and marched out into the living room and curled up under her blanket into the arm of the sofa. She knew he’d follow, but at least she was emotionally fortified with Grandma’s afghan.

  How dare he say that! How dare he!

  “What did I say that was so wrong?”

  “Wyatt, I’m crazy, I keep saying my inside words out loud. I’m the furthest thing from a virgin in the world. I have panic attacks. And I’ll never be able to have sex. Why in the hell would you even think about hitching your wagon to this crazy train?”

  Wyatt sat down beside her, a box of Kleenex in his lap. He handed her one and she blew her nose. Mr. SEAL boy even had a plastic pharmacy bag to dispose of the used tissues.

  “Just because you’re prepared for dirty Kleenexes, don’t think you can solve my problems. You can’t. I’m unsolvable.” She yanked the box away from him and huddled in such a way that she was facing away from him. She didn’t want him to see her crying.

  “Emily, you’re not crazy,” he said quietly as he sat down beside her and touched the soft fringe of the blanket.

  She plucked a Kleenex out of the box. “I’m not sane either.”

  “No, you’re scared, and you’ve been hurt in the worst way imaginable. You’d be crazy if you weren’t uneasy.”

  Blonde hair popped out of the fort blanket, and finally she peered at him. “But it’s you Wyatt, I trust you with my life. But you scare me. Or your body does. Intimacy does.”

  He smiled easily and stroked the backs of his fingers down the petal softness of her cheek. “It does?”

  “Well not kissing,” she blushed. “I really like kissing.”

  He leaned forward and she drew back. “You don’t want me to kiss you?” he asked in surprise.

  “Not after I’m a crying, I’m a red-faced mess.”

  His eyes glinted. “But otherwise kissing would be okay?”

  She nodded. “You know it’s become one of my absolute favorite things.”

  “Emily, have you thought about the fact,” Wyatt’s voice grew huskier as he considered what he was going to say. “Have you realized that I would kiss you other places?”

  He trailed the tips of his fingers along her collarbone. “Here?”

  “You have,” she said. Her voice heated.

  “I would want you to drop the blanket, and I would want to unbutton your blouse one slow button at a time, slowly exposing your skin to my gaze, so I could see every smooth inch. Do you know what I would do then, Emily?”

  She shook her head. Her eyes wide on his.

  “I would kiss every bit of bare flesh I saw. Does your bra hook in the front or the back?”

  “Uhm,” she swallowed. “Front.”

  “I would reach between your beautiful breasts, and I would-”

  She pushed the blanket off her shoulders. Her lips trembled, but she said, “show me.”

  He didn’t move.

  She took his hands in hers and brought them to the buttons at the top of her sleeveless blouse. “Show me.”

  “Only some intimate kisses, that’s all Sweetheart. We wouldn’t take off anything below your waist, okay?”

  Her eyes flew up to meet his. “That’s all?”

  He nodded, and she gave a tremulous smile. He still didn’t move his fingers. “Wyatt, I want you to unbutton my blouse. I even dreamed about it before you started painting your pictures in my head. Please?”

  Time stood still. He undid the first delicate pearl button in her blue cotton top. Then the second. Then the third.

  Her bra was a plain white cotton. Their world was down to the bubble of this couch and their breathing, and the scent of vanilla wafting up from her heated skin. He saw the two freckles clustered together above her left breast and pressed a gentle kiss on top of them. He imagined they tasted like cinnamon to go with the vanilla fragrance.

  She hissed his name as she clutched at his shoulders. She wasn’t pushing him away, she was pulling him closer. He laved the freckles and traced a circle-eight around them.

  Long moments later he heard her. “There are more butt
ons.”

  He smiled at her softly whispered words. There were more buttons. Four more.

  She’d shimmied out of the blanket so that it had flowered around her hips on the couch, her blue blouse rested on top of the same white jeans he remembered from weeks before at the YMCA.

  Emily’s hands reached up to the next button, but he softly brushed them away.

  “Mine,” he reminded her. She relaxed back against the sofa and he continued baring her flesh to his gaze. As he saw the softly rounded flesh of her stomach, he stifled a groan. She was the stuff of his every fantasy.

  “You’re staring.”

  “I’m admiring.” He dropped a kiss above her belly button and she heaved up. The air crackled between them. He was going to die if he didn’t see the color of her nipples.

  Die.

  Wyatt trailed his tongue from her navel to the clasp of her bra, she trembled, but her skin was heating beneath his caresses.

  “Emily,” he admonished with a laugh as he found her hands trying to unclasp her bra.

  “You were taking too long,” she complained.

  Wyatt adored the joyful sound of laughter in her voice.

  “You’re supposed to be closing your eyes and thinking of England or something, while I do my manly business,” he teased.

  She giggled, and he unhooked her bra and brushed the cups aside not noticing anything except how her eyes darkened. He kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her lips.

  Wyatt felt her trembling fingers dig against his scalp, as she demanded a deeper kiss that he was happy to provide. But this time he didn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure that was Emily’s kiss, instead he waited and watched for her body’s signals.

  Her choppy breath evened out and she relaxed back against the couch, pulling him down against her, thrusting her bare breasts against his chest. He still made no move to touch them, instead he poured all of his feelings into his kiss, keeping his hands on either side of her head on the couch. He didn’t care if this was all there was tonight, or ever, he would die a happy man.

  Emily bit his lower lip. Hard. Harder.