Soldier

by Tarin Lex

  I feel silly standing here in this position. I’m not very physical in general, and Sam obviously is. He throws little air-punches, warming up, and I duck and pivot out of his range, getting more used to the movements as we go. It’s like a dance. He leads, I answer back.

  There’s a pleasant breeze as Sam delves deeper into explanations of head movement, blocking, timing, footwork…it’s a lot to take in all at once. This is all just for fun, it is fun, but he’s proof the more you know about something, the harder it is to stay on the surface.

  “You’re sounding like Chef,” I tease, and he busts out laughing. I love that about him. I say something halfway witty, and he smiles and laughs. It seems genuine, but how would I really know?

  “Alright, alright. Let’s try a few simple combinations.” Sam gets next to me to illustrate a jab, cross, kick, which I do something terrible to. “Like this,” he says patiently, moving to stand behind me so he can rove his arms over mine and clutch my fists. “See how that feels?”

  Does he mean his rock-hard pecs pressed against my back? His warm, strong hands clasped over mine? The electric pulse that assails my pussy whenever I feel his voice on my neck?

  “Yes,” I croak. He positions my leg just so, when I lift it into a round kick. Holy hell do I ever feel…all the feels.

  “Good.” He smirks. “Let’s try another.” Sam advances me quickly, teaching me a jab, cross, uppercut, cross, hook. I watch the muscles in his arm flex and twitch with movements as graceful as they are strong.

  “That looks…wow.” I can’t even hide the fact I’m attracted him. “You’re overestimating me though.”

  “Nah, you got this.” He does that reach-around demo thing that spins my heart round and round in my chest, making me breathless. “See? Yeah. You’re getting good at it.”

  The sunrays sink into the water, casting Sam’s face in a pink-orange glow. He stops for a moment to smile at me, swiping a wayward hair off my brow. Now I’m all sweaty. I’m still trying to catch my breath.

  “God you’re beautiful,” Sam whispers, stunning me. He moves closer, eliminating a breath of distance between us. “You know that, right?”

  “I, um…” I stare into the world’s most soulful blue eyes. It feels dreamlike, all this attention he’s giving me. I can’t fall…it hurts to land. “Ready to spar?” I challenge, snuffing out the warmer moment.

  “Let’s do a bit more practice, yeah?”

  “That’s probably wise.” Sigh. My body feels lit up, nose to knees with inspiration. Maybe that’s the chocolate or the half-glass of wine. Whatever it is, I actually get the hang of these moves. I find the rhythm with my feet, start to time my head-bobs more intuitively to dodge his faux strikes. He’s refreshingly playful, chortling whenever he misses or I manage to block, smiling after I clip his chin. That’s Sam. Occasionally a thoughtful, serious look comes over his face, subtle micro expressions, and in those whispered moments that’s when I see Soldier too.

  “Damn, girl.” He nods his chin, crossing those big rope-strong arms over his chest. I bite down a smile. It’s a bit funny when he calls me girl, considering I’m almost forty; a whole decade older than Sam. I can’t explain why that’s starting to matter less and less, or that it’s actually kinda…hot. Those words haven’t come to me yet.

  We break for a quick drink of water.

  “You’re catching on real good,” he says, “seriously,” between gulps.

  “You’re a good teacher.”

  “Eh. I’m alright.” It’s getting darker now. We both look out over the water mirroring the smallest silver sliver of sunlight remaining as the moon’s glow brightens. “I think you’re ready to spar for real.”

  “Is that a challenge, sir?”

  “Indeed.”

  Sportively we come together again to face off. “What do I get if I win?” I ask.

  “Well that depends, hon. What do you want?”

  “Would you judge me for eating the last of your bouchons?” I half-joke, guiltily.

  “I’d think you were the coolest chick I ever wined and dined.” He laughs earnestly, that deep, rolling timbre that buoys me, that heats my core and splinters my inhibitions just a little bit more each time. “Save me one?” As if I have a devil’s chance of winning.

  “I might.” I look at him thoughtfully. “What do you get if you win?”

  “A second date.” Did he just say?

  My heart flips out again.

  “Deal,” I say. Then I go right for him and for a minute it almost seems like he’s letting me win. He doesn’t really want a second date? I’m getting winded, losing steam. I land a few halfhearted strikes to his upper body. Pretty sure my knuckles will be more bruised and sore tomorrow than Soldier’s chest.

  “Not bad,” he says evenly. It’s not fair how unaffected his breathing is through all of this. “Did you know…” he ducks his head below my next punch, “…that I’m actually more of a grappler?”

  “What does that mean?” I block his outstretched hand with my forearm.

  “You ever heard of Judo?” he says.

  “No. Who’s that?”

  “Not who”—Sam grins—“what.” He pitches me against him, torques his ankle over mine, and the next thing I know I’m soaring in an arc through the air as he tosses my body, upward and then down, slinging me low around his hips almost three hundred and sixty degrees. I land on my back in the soft grass, going down as light as a feather—that’s how strong he is to swing me around and take me down—with Sam perched on top of me, smiling, arresting my gaze with his bottomless blues.

  Holy. Shit. If I thought he was sexy before, this angle of him is perfection. He pins my wrists above my head. His smile sends my heart into fits.

  “Wow,” I sigh, breathless for more reasons. All the reasons.

  He says valiantly: “I win.”

  Four

  Soldier

  Can’t remember the last time I felt nervous before a date.

  Can’t remember the last time I felt nervous, at all.

  Ava inspires me with her candor, her quirkiness and offbeat wit. She’s so real, so authentic. It’s hard to find people like that anymore. Not just now that I’m a world-class fighter. Even people who don’t know who I am, what I do, tend to steer conversations toward what’s in it for them.

  There’s a simplicity about Ava that’s so refreshing, not that she’s shallow or trite by any stretch. The opposite. She is who she is, not boisterous but confident, intelligent but not unwilling to learn, beautiful but she doesn’t flaunt it. I’m not sure she knows how awe-inspiring she is.

  I plan to change that.

  I wanted to see her again sooner but I had to put in long hours at the gym to prepare for a fight in Las Vegas. Was glad to win that one. It isn’t a belt, but it’s a notch closer in that direction.

  So it’s been three weeks since our first date. This time, she didn’t lay any money down. There’s no charity involved. And I intend to pull out all the stops.

  The guard at the front of the gated community calls me at eight, right on time, and I send Ava through. My house isn’t ostentatious, it’s actually modest and small, but yeah, I live in a 24/7-secured community. For my own protection, and for anyone else’s.

  “I wasn’t sure what to wear.” Ava steps in, and I can’t picture any more beautiful version of her. She’s perfect.

  “You look fantastic.” I kiss her cheek and take her coat. She blushes, cutely.

  “Smells amazing! I didn’t know you cook.” Ava lifts her nose. She’s talking about the pan-seared scallops and shrimp tossed in brown butter beer sauce, served over Asian noodles and garnished with chives and sesame seeds. I uncork a chardonnay.

  “I cooked, for you,” I emphasize the fact it’s a one-time event, doesn’t really happen that often. “I hope you like seafood?”

  “Everything but anchovies.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” We trade a look that lingers for a heartbeat. I toss her a wink. I
meant it. I’ve been paying attention, harboring all kinds of little insights within my mental filing system. There’s room for more. This is only our second date but if I can help it, it won’t be our last.

  Ava sips the white wine then smiles approvingly. “Can I set the table?”

  “Sure. We’re mostly set up out there on the patio. Could use napkins, maybe some water.”

  “Will do.” We chat idly as Ava busies herself, flitting about the kitchen as if she’s been over here many times. She tells me she’s working on a new series of sweet, small-town romance books. She watched my fight, her heart in her throat the whole time. “I love your home, Sam.” I sense it’s not what she expected, but she finds it charming.

  “Wait till you see outside.” I tick my chin toward the half-opened patio doors. “This is just about done.”

  Ava heads that way as I plate our meals. “Oh! My! God, Sam!” I hear her admiring, exactly the reaction I’d hoped for.

  I smile, deeply satisfied as I head out there. “You like it.”

  “Sam…” She whirls in a slow circle, sending her gaze all around. She lifts one eyebrow when she stops and surveys me, in suspect. “…was it always like this?”

  I shake my head ‘no’.

  “It’s exactly like…” Her voice fades to a sigh.

  “That scene you wrote in Falling for You?” I watch her lips part in surprise, her mouth slowly forming an O that activates my dick and gives me ideas about skipping dinner altogether, watching those sexy lips make a ring around other things…

  Easy there, Lieut. I invited her over to feed her. But after we eat…

  “That Henry was quite a character,” I admit as we sit at the table. “The way he surprised Rebeca that night? Damn. You sure knew what you were doing.” I fork a scallop, nonchalant. “Made me think I needed to spruce things up out here.”

  Ava looks at me with wide, reverent eyes. “It’s…precisely how I wrote it.”

  “Mmhm.” It’s chilly out, perfect for the small electric fire blazing in the farthest corner, a couple of chaise lounges cozier than the chairs we’re sitting in now, a vase of bright silk flowers on a table between them. The jasmine and sweet-orange-scented candles I lit were easy to find. The perfect miniature Asian lanterns, not so easy, but it was worth the quest to see Ava smiling now, captured beneath their amber glow.

  She wrote it. All I did was make it real.

  I don’t tell her the sex scene that came later was a goddamn turn-on. I don’t have to. A soft blush paints her cheeks, she looks down at her fork, realizing what else I read. What I been thinkin’ about for a week… I indulge a sip of smooth chardonnay, and the sight of her.

  Ava bites into a scallop, and tilts her chin back, giving me hints of expressions I hope she’ll make again for me. “Ohmygod,” she sighs, “this’s so delicious.”

  “Happy you like it.”

  Slowly she comes to, sips her wine then pulls a face that’s half cagey, half adoring. “Are you real, Sam?”

  “Sweetheart.” I reach for her hand across the table, tracing my thumb gently along the peonies tattooed on her wrist. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing about you.”

  Five

  Ava

  I couldn’t write this man into a romance novel, certainly not with me as heroine, no one would believe he really exists. Yet here he is; here I am too. Sam did all of this, for all of me.

  We finish the most divine meal I’ve ever had in my life outside of dreams. It’s effortless, companionable smalltalk that slowly deepens toward something more meaningful, moments of just-as-easy silence woven through it, drawing us closer. Bodies, and hearts. This whole night has been dreamlike. Just like the first evening we spent together.

  Is that all it is then? A dream, a fantasy? As a romance writer I’m an optimist through and through. I believe in happily ever after…but Soldier, Sam, this man before me…well he’s almost too good to be true.

  “You get this look in your eyes…” Sam reaches over to swipe a lock of hair from my chin and tuck it behind my ear; his hand pauses there for a moment. “…when there’s a thought making waves behind them.”

  “I do?”

  We’ve moved to the comfortable chaises on the patio. There’s a cool breeze and his touch leaves chills in its wake. But I don’t shiver. I feel warm inside from the meal, the wine, his soft gaze and tender affections.

  He caresses my cheek. “Like you’re piecing something together. A puzzle, or a painting. Or you already see it, but you’re not sure how it came to be.”

  “You’re observant, you know that? You could be a writer.” It helps that he has a way with words. Already imbuing me with endless fodder for my readers…

  “I’ll let you write the stories. What are you thinking, Beautiful?”

  “So many things.”

  He takes his last sip of wine. “I’ve got time.”

  “And you really want to spend it with me?”

  “If I told you I haven’t dated much, would you believe me?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He chuckles. “You would be right, I’ve dated…enough. I’ve known so many people, Ava, and none of them like you. Do you believe me when I say that?”

  It’s very hard to tell him ‘no’ when he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m appetizer and dessert, lover and friend, someone he trusts. Not only with secrets. “Yes.”

  “Right again.”

  “Why are you testing my lie detector, Sam?”

  “I want you to know when it’s genuine, when I tell you you’re gorgeous, when I tell you I want you, not just for my own sake. I want you to know it, and feel it, in your heart, your body, your soul. For you, Ava. Not for me.”

  I’ve never had a knife pointed at the base of my neck, but I’m certain the effect would be the same. A cache of breath heaved from my lungs. Head whirring. Heart racing. Stunned by his beauty, his sincerity, his measured words.

  Every hesitation, every doubt I’ve ever felt, vanishes like whispers in wind. I write long, meandering, slow-burn novels, not insta-love. I never believed in love at first sight. This isn’t the first time I’ve laid eyes on Sam, but it isn’t very far removed. It’s crazy to think I’m falling in love with him, so soon. It’s too crazy to entertain that thought. So I don’t think it.

  Instead, I feel it. Let my heart take over.

  And other places where I’m pining for him.

  I flick my gaze, fluttering my eyes when they land on his. “You said you…want me?”

  Sammy grins, melting my thong to its last gossamer thread. His voice descends, hungrily. “Can I kiss you, Ava?”

  I finish my wine, liquid fortification, and set the glass down, gingerly, next to his. “Yes, please.”

  I thought he’d lean over the small table and offer a chaste, close-lipped peck. Instead he stands up, slowly, and mindfully as if the kiss is all that this has built up to, taking both of my hands in his and guiding me against him as his gaze routs languidly over each of my curves. Once Sammy arranges my fingers at the nape of his neck, where I would’ve chosen to hold on to him of my own volition, he coasts his hands up my arms, then up my throat, into my hair.

  My lungs about fail.

  My core fissures.

  My knees go weak.

  “You’re good at this,” I shudder.

  He smirks, holding me, us, together. “Everything before you was only practice.”

  “No.” I give my head a little shake. “Don’t make me picture you with other women.”

  “Not my intention.”

  “I can’t help it, y’know. I have a really good imagination.”

  “You’re creative with things that aren’t real. Does it matter that you’re also observant? You mull over worst-possible scenarios, why? You always know the truth from a lie.”

  He skates his fingers through my hair, indolently from root to tip, sending pleasant tickles down my neck that spill past my collar bones. My nipples peak. I inhale his cedar, m
asculine scent.

  “I know this,” I manage, “you’re building me up. You think I have more to offer you than anything you already have, or have had. I won’t be your first. I won’t be your best.”

  “Wrong, sweetheart. You’re already better than my wildest dreams. You won’t be first,” he muses out loud, “you could be last.”

  Is he saying?

  “Sammy…” My voice breaks, more whimper than word.

  “I like that.” He draws a circle around my parted lips with a long, long stare. “You can say it again when I’ve all but rendered you speechless…when you’re crashing, coming, after I’ve done more of this, to more of you.”

  On a breath I’m certain is my very last one, he kisses me.

  Six

  Soldier

  I seal Ava’s lips to mine for what feels like a day and a half. In reality it’s maybe ten seconds, but one—I don’t want to stop, and two—I know when I do my lust for her will be unleashed. Out of control. I already feel like chewing through all of her clothes to get to her skin. My dick is already…inspired.

  My heart, mind, and everything else are right there too. Right at the edge.

  The shape of her mouth impresses so perfectly against mine I’d swear her lips were hewn from mine then softened with cream. I deepen the kiss. Little further…little more. It takes nil persuasion. Her lips part sensually and our tongues dance a slow dance together. She tastes exquisite, like wine and woman. And love. I want more.

  I sail one hand down her back, peeking at her expressions. The woman I’d never be ashamed to admit I love. Not falling, I’m already there. I’m in love with her.

  I wonder if she could ever love me too?

  My hunger overtakes that thought and Ava’s eyes burst open when I pull her against me, extinguishing the leftover gap between us. There’s no mistaking the hard, greedy pressure of my arousal, twinging against the heat between her thighs.