Love, Tussles, and Takedowns (19 page)

“Hudson?”

Jesus. The way she said his name. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I love the romantic declaration, I do. And tomorrow morning, I’ll be swooning over it, I promise you. But if you don’t put on that condom you’ve been crushing in your hand for the past five minutes, there’s a very good chance I’ll flip you over and take matters into my own hand.”

“
Christ,
Lia.”

She’d taken him into hand alright.

“I’m trying to go slow. It’s your first time.”

“That’s
it. Time’s up.”

With a leg sweep that was frightening close to some very vital-for-the-night’s-festivities-body-parts, and a sexy little roll, she managed to flip their positions and land herself atop his lap.

Where she was suddenly looking very nervous.

He slipped on the condom quickly, knowing his restrain was at nil, and pulled her down for a kiss.

When he felt her nervousness burn into hunger again, he gently adjusted her body over his, positioning her so she could take him at whatever pace was comfortable for her.

And by doing so, he effectively turned the next five minutes into the most torturous ones of his life.

She rode him slowly at first, with long, gliding strokes that trumped every wet dream he’d ever had rolled into one. Then as she started to experiment and draw him deeper into her snug heat, and suddenly he was finding new wet dreams to fantasize about.

All starring Lia and her bike.

About another minute of that torture and he flipped her onto her back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t take anymore. I’m two seconds away from coming and that’s not happening without you.”

He
raided
her mouth then. Pillaged and dominated to get back a tiny fraction of the control she’d stripped from him while taking her on a trip down memory lane of the first three bases they’d frequented the past few weeks.

Sliding into her torturously slow, he pulled back every time she tried to control the pace again. Each time he did, she sank her teeth into the base of his neck in complaint. And rippled all around him in reward.

Dipping his head, he let his teeth rake over her sensitive skin, just barely reacquainting his mouth with first one nipple, then the other.

By pursing his lips to blow.

Like he was making a wish.

She gasped just as more wet heat flooded around him. “Why are you teasing me?”

Hell if he knew. It was the most amazing pleasure-pain he’d ever put himself through, but the more she responded, the more he wanted.

He became so wrapped up in feeling every tug and pull of her feminine muscles, he didn’t even realize she’d slid one hand free from his grip. He managed to stop her from taking matters into her own hands, cutting her off at the pass by slipping his left hand between them and sliding his thumb over the exact spot he’d discovered was a favorite of hers on his last trip to third base.

Two seconds later, she was coming so hard around him that he swore.

Still buried deep inside of her, he just plain lost it when she cried out his name. Everything around him disappeared into darkness as he pumped into her long and hard. Like a man possessed—or a man in love—he surged into her again and again, silently urging her to come apart for him once more. Just once more.

And she did.

A groan helixed out of him the second her final orgasm shattered over her.

Then he followed her over the edge.

* * * * *

THREE HOURS LATER, Lia collapsed on top of him.

She should’ve known the man would be insatiable.

“Come with me to Yuma next week, baby. I miss you too much when we’re apart.”

He was also incredibly romantic.

“Could we go for a hike one day while we’re down there? I’ve heard of some great trails in Yuma. I haven’t gone on a good day-long hike in years.”

“You know, you would’ve made an excellent soldier,” remarked Hudson thoughtfully, half-dozing as he combed his fingers through her hair lazily.

She giggled. “Do I want to know what kind of soldier training you guys went through?” Though she was thoroughly exhausted, her hands were still wildly curious. Hudson’s body was like her new favorite playground.

He slid his hand down to pinch one of her cheeks. “Watch it, woman. You’re getting into dangerous territory.”

“So are you.” She wiggled. “Not that I mind.”

He groaned. “No more comments like that until I’ve recovered at least thirty-six hours.”

“Wimp.” She wiggled again.

He clamped his arms around her to stop her tempting movements. With a nibble on her ear, he continued, “I’m serious, though. You’re smart, strong. Wily. I think if you’d been one of my UW trainees, you would’ve been amazing. You could’ve—”

He broke off then, taken away suddenly by the shift in his thoughts, by the unwelcome attack of his memories.

The flash of pain she saw in his eyes tore at her heart. Hiding her saddened eyes, she burrowed into his side and teased lightly, “Unconventional Warfare, huh?” She slid her hand lower, willing him to come back to her, away from the pain of the ghosts that he rarely let haunt him. “But what could you teach me that I don’t already know?” she goaded, her voice wavering only slightly as she tried to keep it together.

For him.

When he caught her hand before it could make its final descent, he finally smiled, and the cobwebs of his demons began slipping away.

“Imp,” he chided.

It took another minute but eventually, his soft gray eyes were back here with her again. Not in the past, not in the horror that she saw him relive in the middle of his worst dreams late at night.

“Welcome back,” she said softly. As she listened to his heartbeat return to its normal speed, she offered gently, “You know, as much as I love all the sex, we
can
just talk sometimes. Whenever you want, about whatever you want.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “I know, sweetheart.”

As they both drifted off to sleep, she idly traced her fingers along the scars on his arms, before laying her head against his heart.

Where she knew hid the biggest, deepest scars of them all.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HUDSON LED LIA out of the prop master’s mobile studio on site and headed over to the outdoor set where filming was taking place for the day. It was actually his day-off again because nearly all of the weapon and fight scenes were done.

“So what do you think of your first film shoot?” They halted as a few dozen extras were called over onto the ‘village’ set, which was sandwiched just a few feet from the ‘church’ set on one side and a battlefield scene on the other. Same big field. Lots of movie backdrop and prop magic.

“There are way more people on set than I expected. Times a hundred at least.”

Yeah, that had surprised him at first, too. “You get used to it. It’s a zoo, but you’ll find everyone has a purpose. It’s more chaos when there’s one person missing in the madness.”

Just then the director’s assistant came sprinting toward them at a mad dash, headset askew, expression overstressed as always. He grinned and began making introductions. “Lia, this is Peggy—”

Peggy gave Lia a quick and apologetic wave, cutting him off. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but we’re in a major time crunch. Thank God you’re here, Hudson. We need you to step in to consult on a scene.”

“What? But none of my actors are even filming today.” Mentally, he ran through the remaining scenes left to make sure.

“The writers made some modifications to this scene in the village. They added one more bout of insurgency to tie into a flashback season for one of the actors later. You don’t need to do any actual choreography. This isn’t a fight scene, but we need you to work with the actor on operating his rifle and defending himself. It’s a rough scene with just some struggling and fighting back so they want to keep things looking instinctive, not rehearsed.”

Hudson nodded. Made sense. “No problem. Just tell me what you guys need.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Peggy ran off to the director’s station, barking out orders into her headset.

As Hudson had discovered, the meek coffee-carrying assistant was a gross misnomer. Peggy ran things on set like a little drill sergeant.

He turned back to Lia. “I’m so sorry. Do you mind me working a bit today? It doesn’t sound like it should be too long, but you never know with these scenes.”

Lia grinned. “Are you kidding? This will be fun.” She nodded over to the cameras. “I think they’re calling you.”

“Hudson, my man. You’re a lifesaver as always.” Charles pulled down his director headset and crouched down to get on eye level with a kid actor who was outfitted exactly right for a civil war insurgent in Myanmar at the time.

Right down to the M16 rifle he was holding.

Instantly, Hudson felt the world shift.

A swift gasping sting pummeled him in his chest like a two-by-four. Every muscle in his body went rigid as his breathing dropped back and begin fading around the edges. Time began blurring in and out at a slow pulse. The tunnel vision and tunnel hearing set in like it always did. That’s what made him the best. He had no ‘flight’ instincts—it was fight or fight all the way. Adrenaline burned through his veins, hummed in a sweeping tide throughout his muscles as one heartbeat passed. Then another.

His hands clenched on empty air.

What the fuck?

Where the hell was his rifle? The sound of enemy fire was getting closer. He schooled his breathing and took inventory of his surroundings.

But nothing made sense.

People who had no business out here in Afghanistan were standing around calling his name.

Why wouldn’t they shut up? He needed to listen for orders.

He needed to find his
goddamn rifle!

And then his eyes locked on the kid.

Wide-eyed, scared. Dirt and tears streaking down his face.

He has a dead man’s switch, Reyes!

Hudson felt his feet rush him out of his hide site.

But for some reason, he didn’t feel like he was moving.

Take the shot!

That order. It didn’t come from his tactical com.

The kid was spinning around in a circle now. Shit, he couldn’t have been more than ten, eleven maybe. When he came to a dead halt, Hudson saw his eyes.

They were looking straight at him.

And absolutely overcome with dread. Fear.

His eyelids drifted closed.

Take. The. Shot.

Hudson felt bile tear up his esophagus as his finger closed around the trigger.

And then all chaos broke out.

* * * * *

“HUDSON!” LIA SHOT over to him as he began heaving into the trash can nearest him.

She heard a commotion and saw Fiona materialize out of nowhere, sprinting over barefoot with her scene wardrobe hiked up her legs. At least three people chasing after her with scripts, phones, and bottles of water.

“What happened to him?” Fiona skidded to a stop when another wave of nausea caused Hudson to double over and retch violently into the trash can.

“He must have had something bad at lunch,” lied Lia. They hadn’t eaten since this morning.

“Holy shit, did he eat something on set?”

Lia answered the worried voice without turning around, “No. Nothing on set.”

They all cringed as Hudson clutched his stomach and fell onto the ground, one hand holding onto the trash can like a lifeline.

Lia peeled off her t-shirt and wiped down Hudson’s face gently. “Fiona, can you take him to your first aid station? I’ll handle this scene for him.”

The director-looking guy with the baseball cap and the big headphones around his neck turned to her in surprise. “Do you work with Hudson’s company?”

“No—”

“But she’s a martial arts instructor,” finished Fiona. “And a weapons specialist. One of the best in Arizona. Her family’s business is one of the ones the prop guys have been using for rifle construction—Spencer’s Antique Arms.”

Brow arched in respect, the man stuck his hand out to greet her. “Boy, am I glad you guys travel in packs. You really think you can fill in for Hudson? You’ll be saving us a ton of money for today’s shoot.”

Lia gave him a reassuring nod. “Kids are my specialty.” With one last glance at Fiona helping Hudson away, she ruffled the kid’s hair. “C’mon, let’s show you how to kick some butt.”

She kept her voice modulated and her smile on her face when she could. But inside, her stomach was in knots. Now she finally understood why Hudson was so dead-set on believing he didn’t deserve to be a father.

Her heart broke for him.

* * * * *

HUDSON WALKED BACK onto the set during the second practice run for the scene. Silently, he watched the little boy Lia had been working with make a few adjustments to his rifle and then pretend-struggle via a few punches and kicks with the actor playing his adversary.

By the time all the actors and extras went to their marks, and silence was called for on the set, the vivid ghosts from Hudson’s past were retreating back into hibernation.

Meanwhile, Lia was giving a few last-minute pointers before ruffling the boy’s hair and wishing him luck.

He felt his ghosts linger then, lurking.

Just in case.

A few last minute filming directions and then the director called out, “Action!”

Hudson felt it starting to hit him again when the little boy charged forward into battle.

Different from his memories, and yet overwhelmingly similar at the same time.

Then suddenly, two small, comforting hands squeezed his forearm. Looking down, he saw Lia’s fingers intertwine with his. He wished to hell and back that he could feel more than just the faint pressure her silent comfort was pressing into his right palm. He did feel her thumb stroking over his radial pulse at his wrist, however, and her head lightly resting against his shoulder.

And just like that, his breathing regulated itself.