Microsoft Word - AlwaysaWarrior (6 page)

He stiffened, tried to draw back from her, but she tightened her hold and only moved closer. The contact scorched her through two layers of cotton. Her breasts pressed firmly to his chest so her nipples tingled and hardened until she ached for his touch.
I shouldn’t
, she told herself weakly. But she surrendered to her needs, her desires. Her fingertips raked his nipples through his sweatshirt with light, provocative strokes.

His breath hitched. She smoothed her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. The silky texture of his hair at her fingertips tantalized her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. She pressed her mouth to his throat. Her tongue glided over salty skin, teasing and tormenting herself and, she hoped, him. His taste exploded in her mouth, salty and musky, uniquely Damien.

A low, deep groan, music to her ears, erupted from his throat. He jerked back and covered her mouth with his, forcing her lips apart with the demanding thrust of his tongue. The sheer male sex appeal, the strength of him, dragged her under. Her heart melted and her body burned for him. She strained closer, her breasts crushed to his chest. Like steel bands, his arms molded her to him as his mouth ravished hers.

Sensation after sensation slammed into her. Violence, terrorists, revelations—all were forgotten when she clung to him, devoured him. Her tongue dueled with his, her lips rubbing frantically over his as she strained to get even closer, to get inside his skin, to have him.

Lowering her to the mattress, he left her mouth to blaze searing, sucking kisses along her jaw and down her neck. His body covered hers, a glorious comfortable weight pressing her into the mattress. She sucked in a harsh breath, speared her fingers in his hair. Passion, unleashed, controlled her. She welcomed it, reveled in it. He made her feel wanted, needed—everything that made her whole. She arched, offering him easier access and his mouth slid, tongue licking, along the curve of her neck to her shoulder.

He tugged her T-shirt from the waistband of her jeans. Fast and lethal, his hands streaked under her shirt to cup her straining breasts. Blood rushed to her head. A low moan shuddered from her throat. His fingers teased her nipples, his thumbs flicking the hard peaks.

“Mommy?” Stacy’s hesitant plea doused passion like ice water poured on a fire.

Laurie froze. Damien jerked back from her. She felt almost abandoned and wished, just for a selfish instant, that Stacy had been asleep downstairs. Cool air blew across her stomach and she guiltily tugged her shirt down and looked at her daughter. Stacy stared at her and Damien, ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

25

her green eyes wide with fear and confusion. Throbbing with unappeased hunger, Laurie let out a fragmented breath. Damien jumped from the bed with a frustrated groan. Laurie felt his withdrawal like a slap in the face.

“I heard a noise under the stairs,” Stacy whined. “What is it?”

“Damn,” Damien muttered as he strode across the wood plank floor. He glanced over his shoulder, his face an impenetrable mask. “I apologize.” He disappeared down the stairs.

That emotional retreat hit her harder than his leap from her bed. It carried the sting of rejection. Inwardly cursing herself, Laurie made no effort to explain to Stacy what she had interrupted. Stacy climbed into her lap and clung. Laurie rocked her gently, murmuring soothing nonsense as she took her own comfort in her daughter’s unconditional love.

Downstairs several minutes later, Laurie stared out the window. Stacy was sprawled on the floor with crayons and coloring books. Laurie made a valiant effort to banish desire, though she knew in her heart it was a hopeless task. Restless, she prowled the cabin. Noting the time, well past three in the afternoon, she started an early dinner to keep herself busy. But her sensual attack on her ‘bodyguard’ played in her mind like a film loop. Her skin burned for his touch. Her nipples hardened at just the thought of his mouth. She shook her head firmly but the images stayed in her mind. She wanted him—desperately.

She was setting the table when Damien emerged from a small hidden room under the stairs. It was obviously where he kept the radio. She forced herself not to question him. It could only be bad news and she couldn’t take any more. Her gaze followed his every tense move as he prowled the room. So nervous she wanted to throw a dish at him, she just clenched her teeth and finished cooking dinner.

“Laurie,” he finally called from across the room.

She flinched and turned slowly from the stove. He stood next to end of the sofa, his gaze rooted squarely but impersonally on her. “We’ll talk after dinner.”

The only sound during dinner was Stacy’s chatter. Laurie often found herself watching Damien, the afternoon’s passion uppermost in her mind. Memories played havoc on her imagination and her senses.
Strictly physical
, she reminded herself firmly. She had lost her mind for a little while under the emotional storm of the situation, but she could easily get over a strong physical attraction if she did not give in to temptation again.

She shot a surreptitious glance at Damien across the table and caught him staring at her.

Her stomach fluttered and she swallowed hard. Passion smoldered in his dark eyes. She wondered briefly how things might have progressed had they met under different, more normal, circumstances. A wistful sigh escaped her and she banished the notion. Wishing was useless.

Things were not normal.

The chair legs scraped the floor as she pushed her chair back and all but bolted from the table. Stacy scrambled upstairs to play. Damien pushed his half-empty plate away and only sat there, watching her. Self-conscious, Laurie handled the post dinner cleanup.
Quit staring
, she ordered Damien silently. The back of her neck prickled. His eyes seemed to drill holes in the back of her skull. Intensely aware of him, she slammed the frying pan into the sink. Soapy water splashed on her.

“Shit,” she muttered, her stomach jittery. “The man is making me crazy.”

She scowled at their reflections in the darkened window. October nights came early in the mountains. She shoved the pan into the dish rack, drained the sink, and tried to dry her hands on her damp shirt. To avoid even looking at him, she prepared the coffee pot for morning use.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

26

Damien fidgeted impatiently behind her.
Let him wait!
She stood by the sink, staring out window into the dark woods.

“Laurie,” he said with quiet intensity.

She ignored him, refused to face him despite the soft caress of his voice in her ears. He could say nothing she wanted to hear. She had given in to desire once before and nearly ruined her life. She had built a secure world for herself and Stacy. There was no room for anyone else, no room for more heartache.

“Talk to me, Laurie,” he said directly behind her as his strong hands gently covered her shoulders.

Startled, she flinched hard. He moved so silently, like a ghost. She sighed, turned, and he dropped his hands. The warmth of his touch lingered and flowed into her. She tilted her head, peered into his eyes. Desire blazed in those dark chocolate depths. An answering heat rose in her and she leaned back against the sink. He moved closer, crowding her. She flattened her hands on his hard chest in a tentative push.

“No, Damien,” she said as she moved aside. “We can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have .…” Her voice trailed off. His steady probing stare held hers. Disconcerted, she averted her gaze over his shoulder.

He frowned. “What’s wrong? You did what you wanted to do.” He leaned a hip on the edge of the sink. Grasping her chin loosely, he urged her to look at him. “What do you want?”

You
, she thought in automatic response and drowned in his eyes. She barely managed not to say it.

“I just want to get through the next few days with my sanity intact.” She looked at him in confusion. She was here. This was her life, but she did not recognize it. She sighed. “I feel like I’ve been dumped into the location of a Hollywood action movie without a script. Next I’m supposed to fall madly in love with my rescuer.”

To her surprise, he laughed. A spark of amusement lit his eyes. His hearty laughter boomed around the room and infected her so she grinned at him.

“Well, in all the movies, the heroine ends up in bed with the hero at some point.” He paused and the brief humor faded. “The terrorists are still moving. We haven’t located them yet.”

“So they could be anywhere, doing anything,” she surmised, gnawing on her lower lip.

“What are we going to do?”

“As long as we’re here, I’m going to teach you to defend yourself,” he said. His tone forbade argument. He scowled and his eyes were very dark and impenetrable.

Learn to fight
, she thought skeptically then conceded the merits of the idea. It wouldn’t hurt to learn to defend herself and Stacy. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you to do it.” His uncompromising stare bored into her.

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as she crossed the room. She sank onto the mattress of the sofa bed. Damien straddled the chair at the end of the table, leaning his arms across the back.

He studied her intently, silently, as though trying to fathom her depths. Uncomfortable, she squirmed under his scrutiny. She stared at the floor and finally looked up at him again.

“What?” she snapped waspishly, disconcerted. “Did I grow another head or sprout wings?”

An absent smile curved his lips but she read nothing of his thoughts. He only looked at her. A soft light entered his eyes, turned them from dark to milk chocolate. Tension faded and a gentle smile softened the hard lines of his mouth. For the moment, the solider disappeared. He ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

27

was just a man. She almost imagined they were just two ordinary people on the verge of discovering each other. She shook her head determinedly. There was nothing ordinary about them or the situation.

“Something wrong?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

“No,” she replied curtly.

He frowned but said nothing. She watched, fascinated, as Damien once again became the professional soldier. His face hard, he tensed. Alert and wary, he stood up and shoved the chair under the table.

“I’ll be back,” he said and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “Just going to walk around.”

Laurie nodded. “Be careful.”

He flashed a brief grin and patted the gun he wore constantly on his hip. “Always.” He opened the door and the night swallowed him.

Laurie wandered around the cabin, stopping at a row of low bookshelves in the corner under the loft. Scanning the titles, she discovered Damien’s varied taste in reading material. She found history, military adventure, science fiction, action adventure, and even a row of romances on the very bottom shelf. She pulled one out at random, wondering who had read it. She could not imagine Damien McAllister reading romance novels. Curled into the corner of the sofa bed, she opened the book. She only managed to finish one chapter before sleep stole over her.

* * * *

After an invigorating walk through the woods to check the area, Damien returned to the cabin. He hung his jacket on the hook, strode across the room—and stopped abruptly by the sofa bed. Laurie was curled in the corner, sound asleep, with a book on her chest. He smiled indulgently, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He bit back a groan of desire. It was going to be a long week if he kept his hands to himself, as she expected. Scowling, he locked the door and turned off the main lights. She wanted him. She had been all over him just that afternoon, more eager than he. The memories burned him, aroused him.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

The soft glow of the reading lamp spilled over her face. She looked younger in sleep though he knew she was twenty-nine. He removed his shoes and socks, put his gun on the end table, and pulled his shirt over his head. He crawled under the blanket, close to her. Then he hesitated. He should wake her and send her upstairs. Instead, he drew the blanket to her shoulders. He sighed. It was difficult but he honored her wishes. After all, SEALs excelled at doing difficult things. He settled on his back, his arms crossed under his head, and drifted off to sleep.

Damien woke to early daylight and curious warmth draped over him. He shifted slightly, pleasantly surprised and aroused. Laurie still slept, snuggled up to him. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hair spread over his chest like silk. Her leg lay across his thighs, her knee nudging him to painful hardness.

He curved his arm around her, drawing her even closer. Her skin felt like satin under his stroking fingers. Her breasts brushed his chest with every breath she took. He swept the hair from her face and caught her dreamy smile. She shifted, her arm sliding over his chest. That soft friction nearly short-circuited his brain. Her palm rested on his nipple. It pebbled instantly. He groaned aloud and wanted badly to wake her, to kiss her until her eyes opened, glazed with passion.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

28

Her warm breath caressed his bare skin. Need erupted in him. He tried to disengage himself, but she clutched at him. Her body tightened along his. Her knee stroked him, scorched him through the denim barrier. His resolve weakened.

“Laurie.” Almost desperate, he gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she tilted her head to stare sleepily at him. She looked like she absolutely belonged in his bed and in his arms. He wished she did. Her hair slid across his skin like silken rain. Surrendering to his urges, he rolled and pinned her to the mattress.

She stared at him, her eyes clouded with the lingering effects of sleep “Good morning,”

she murmured, her face flushed and her skin warm.

“Morning.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly.

He stroked his tongue over her lips until she parted them. He explored, savored, and drowned in her taste. He drew back slowly and stared at her, searching her face for any indication that he should continue.