Promises in the Dark (24 page)

“And you still think you’re innocent?”

She nodded, because she was, in so many ways. “All I did was sleep with the wrong person. He used to tell me I was so innocent, he was afraid he’d scare me.”

“I’m going to scare you, Vivi,” Cael promised, his voice low and rough, his eyelids heavy. “And the last thing you’re going to be thinking about is your ex.”

He flung the towel to the floor, pushed her legs open as her face flushed, grew even more so when she realized what he was going to do.

His head lowered to her sex. The first lick from his tongue set her ablaze and she let out a keening cry, a sound she’d never heard herself make. She felt herself flush when Cael pulled back, demanded, “Tell me what you want, Vivi.”

God, she couldn’t … she knew, but saying it out loud … “Cael … please …”

“Please what? You want my tongue inside of you again, licking you until you scream?”

Her toes curled and her breath escaped in the form of a small gasp. It was all she could do to nod, to say, “Yes … I want that. I want … you.”

His mouth quirked to one side and he conceded, burying his face between her legs again, the unbearable pleasure intensifying as she was unable to stop him from doing what he wanted to her.

It was exactly what she’d asked for, and he’d been right—she was trembling. Dale had never done this—no man had—and when his tongue slipped inside her, over and over, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle the loss of control.

She tried to move forward, but the restraints held her, bit into her wrists when she tugged. He was murmuring against her wet heat now, telling her how beautiful she was.

He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. And she closed her eyes, let him splay her open more, jolted as his tongue danced along the tight nub of nerve endings until it was an exquisite torture, until the coil in her belly tightened …

Until she couldn’t stand it anymore, and then, just then, her body let go with a ferocity that shocked her. The climax tore through her, blindingly white hot, and she slumped back, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure she felt.

She was vaguely aware of being freed, of being carried. And then she was on the mattress with Caleb.

“Let me take care of you,” he urged, his body solid and unforgiving against hers.

She drew in a low, stuttered breath. All she could do was nod, because if this was what came from fear, she needed more of it.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her close as his lips sought hers. She sighed against his mouth, a soft flutter of pure contentment that cut straight to his heart, and he knew he was goddamned toast.

And he didn’t give a damn.

Right now, a part of her was using him to exorcise her boyfriend and her past—and most of him didn’t mind. But the sharp sting of jealousy told him he would need to erase all those memories from her mind—and quickly, long before this night was over.

He hadn’t ever shared his bed with the ghosts of former lovers and didn’t expect to start now.

When he broke off the kiss, he felt her trembling under him—nerves, anticipation, the bliss from the orgasm fading as she realized he would make good on what he told her.

Her lips were swollen, bruised from his kisses, and he liked that, liked the thought that he’d marked her.

Pretend it’s her first time, treat her that way
, his mind said, but his body insisted otherwise, wanted her with a primitive need that bordered on the edge of pain.

There would be no easing into this with her—he would take her with a fury that was threatening to scare him as well, the kind of fear that could drive a man wild.

And he wouldn’t be sorry for anything he did.

“Too late to change your mind,” he told her, enjoyed the stain of embarrassment on her cheeks, because it had been too long since a woman had been that pleased and innocent at the same time. Maybe never. “You’re all mine. Any way I want you.”

“How … do you want me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Do you really want to know? Or do you just want me to show you?” he asked, stroked his tongue over one nipple and then the other, enjoying the way her body surged up toward him.

Right now he wanted action, not words, and so her breathy “Show me” made him curl his fists and bite back the urge to take her that instant.

He’d already pushed aside any thoughts of direct orders, but not danger. No, the woman spread before him was far more dangerous than any firefight or tango he’d encountered, and the fear burned in his belly, made him burn all over with a desire he recognized and invited.

You’re letting a woman lead you around by your dick
.

And it felt damned good.

She was watching him intently. “I won’t betray you, Cael. I couldn’t. You saved my life. The only way I can repay that is with my loyalty.”

Giving that to him meant more than giving him her body—he knew that, and he treated it with the reverence it deserved.

“I want you to know how good fucking feels … how I can make you fly.” He licked a path down to a taut nipple, her skin a mix of honey and spice under his tongue.

While she might be innocent, she tasted like sin.

He saw the desire in her eyes. Her sex was warm, hot, and as his fingers played with her slick folds, her hips bucked up off the bed. A second and then third finger joined the first he’d slid inside of her and her mouth opened as he twisted them for her pleasure, but only a jumble of incoherent words came out.

He suckled a nipple hard as he stroked her inner walls, his thumb massaging the hard nub of her clit as she tried to simultaneously escape from his touch and move closer. He let her ride his hand until she was ready to come, stopping when she was right on the edge, her protests covered with another hard kiss, even as she struggled to get her wrists free from his grasp.

He let her hands go and they immediately wrapped around him, one on the back of his neck, the other sliding down to his shoulder and then farther, her short nails raking him, demanding he do more, and oh yeah, she was ready.

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His cock demanded release, needed to be hugged inside her slick sex, and God, she was so tight. Her nails dug into his shoulders, the sharp sensations of pain biting his skin, bordered on pleasure as he sank into her slowly.

“Caleb … my God … please.” She writhed under him as if to drive him in more deeply. He didn’t want to hurt her but he wouldn’t be able to hold off much longer if she kept moving like that. And while he wanted to lose control, he hadn’t lost his mind completely.

“I’ve got to grab protection, Vivi,” he told her, rose to riffle in his bag for his
never leave home without them
stash of condoms, rolled one on quickly and walked back to her.

Her hair, blond, blue-tipped, was splayed on the pillow, her body wanton and waiting for him, her eyes lit as they raked his body up and down.

“You’re a hell of a lot less innocent than you think,” he told her.

She smiled, welcomed him back on top of her with open arms, and he plunged inside of her, as deeply as he could. She arched against him, moaned incoherently and wound her legs instinctively around his waist.

“That’s it, Vivi. You just hang on for the ride,” he murmured. His balls tightened as he pulled out nearly all the way and pushed inside again, hitting the spot that made her cry out with pleasure. So much pleasure he could barely stand it, burrowing his face against her neck to breathe her in, to hear the groans vibrate against his skin.

He held her legs open—she grabbed the headboard for support and met him stroke for stroke, a rhythm that shook the bed hard, that made her moans loud enough for neighbors to hear … if they’d had neighbors.

And when she climaxed, she pulled him along for the ride and he came in a heated rush that made his legs shake and his mind go refreshingly blank.

When he surfaced, he realized he was still inside her … and still very much erect. “We’re so not done, honey. There’s so much more.”

Her hands twined in his hair, tugged him to her breast, and yes, she wanted more too.

He probably had notches somewhere. As Rowan washed herself under the thin trickle of water in the shower, her head still throbbing from too much tequila, she wondered if she’d been one of the fastest women to throw herself at him. Too much of everything, despite the pleasant soreness between her legs that told her otherwise.

She had to admit, he’d satisfied something inside of her, because that gnawing, gut-wrenching feeling of being empty was gone, replaced with ripe satisfaction.

Who said she couldn’t sleep with him when she wanted to? She was a grown woman, with no one to answer to. If having sex with him was wrong … well, there was no one but her conscience to tell her so.

Right now, conscience was the last thing on her mind.

Okay, yes, technically she’d had sex with a co-worker. It was no longer against rules and regs for her, because there didn’t seem to be any in this camp, except for
do whatever Doc J asks
.

Of course, she couldn’t do that blindly. At least not for long.

She put sunglasses firmly in place to hide her bloodshot eyes and the guilty look she was sure Doc J could see in them. She was also pretty sure that if she looked at her own face in a mirror, it would still bear evidence of the unmistakable flush that only came from good—no, great—sex. But she didn’t let that stop her from heading to the main tent and assessing the new patient who’d come in at some point during the night, an older man who was restless from fever.

Doc J was next to him. “Malaria,” he said. “I’ve started the quinine.”

She checked the dosage on the bag and adjusted the line. When she looked back at him, he had the briefest hint of a smile on his face.

“I guess you’re staying.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She walked over to the cabinet and gathered the supplies with one hand, held them close to her body with the other. “Have you checked on Julia?”

Doc J nodded. “I was up with her most of the night. She’s getting weaker.” He paused and then told her, “We’ve got some new visitors. Tristan picked them up this morning.”

“Are they sick?”

“No. One of them is a doctor—I’ll have her look at Julia, but …” He trailed off with a shrug and she noted the look of helplessness mixed with anger on his face.

Good to know he felt the same way she did.

“You know, I was born a healer,” he said without further preamble. “My mom was part Cherokee, daughter of a shaman.”

“But you never went to medical school.”

“School wasn’t my favorite place. I wanted to see the world, you know? My mom taught me about natural medicines and cures.”

“And that gets you by here?”

He shot her a look. “Usually, the visiting medical personnel, like you, get me through.”

“Oh.”

She wondered how much he knew about her time with Tristan. Wondered if she should care.

There had been men—other soldiers in Iraq and when she was on leave, despite the rules, because they were all lonely or horny or scared. She didn’t mind when a few of them called out another woman’s name—a wife or a girlfriend’s—when they came. Their names certainly hadn’t been on her lips either. Those men were nameless, faceless, interchangable hard bodies—mere substitutes for one man and one man only.

It was what it was, and hey, fighting it had done her no good.

“Why didn’t you take the Army up on their offer of medical school? Or the RN program?” he asked.

“Why don’t you worry about your life and I’ll worry about mine. If we don’t discuss our personal lives, we’ll get along fine.”

“This place—this entire operation—is personal to me.” His voice wasn’t raised, his expression didn’t change but she felt the strength of his words blow through her like a hurricane. “I’ll ask anything I want.”

His smile was unexpected after those words. “You’re a tough one, Rowan. I know that. But you don’t always have to be.”

She wanted to tell him that he knew shit, but somehow she had a feeling that wasn’t true at all. His next words proved her right.

“I came here after the Army. I went into the Army to escape a gang war. It was the only way out for me, because I refused to testify against them, but I couldn’t go on like that. It was senseless. And I was young and stupid—fought my way in, looking for a family. Now I make sure I give these boys—men—a way out.” He turned and lifted his shirt to reveal an old tattoo that covered most of his back. “I was going to have it removed, but I’d always know, so what’s the point? For me, it’s not so much about escaping my past, but about moving forward. Are you ready to do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then be careful with Tristan. Because he might be. And he’s come too far to have anything happen to push him back down again.” Doc J tucked his shirt back into his cargo pants and gave her a nod.

Obviously she hadn’t been able to hide her feelings for Tristan. Or maybe he’d spotted Tristan leaving her tent—or entering it. Or maybe Tristan told him everything.

“Speaking of, why don’t you find Tristan—he could use some help,” Doc J suggested.

“Sure.”
Great
. She pushed out the door without another word to Doc J.

How could Doc J have known? Tristan didn’t seem like the type who would brag about his sexual escapades, but then again, how well did she know either of these men?

And why did she still want to?

Without really trying to seek Tristan out, she stumbled on him when she walked out of the main tent, must have been drawn to him as if he was a magnet.

She decided to face the potential embarrassment head-on. “You left without waking me. Avoiding the uncomfortable morning-after routine?”

“I’m not avoiding you. You were asleep and I had work to do, and that starts early,” he said with a scathing glance at her, so different from the words he’d murmured against her neck, her breasts …

Her face flushed because she realized she was staring between his legs. She quickly shifted her eyes and he said, “Are you here to help or not?”

She’d been all but ordered to, and so she bit her tongue and followed him to the water pump. There were several empty jugs scattered around and he said, “We have to boil the water before we use it.”

It was amazing how intimate you could feel with someone in bed … and how quickly that faded to the whole
we’re total strangers
thing in the light of day.

Light of day was kicking her ass.

She stood, her head throbbing, and handed him jug after empty jug and he filled them, one by one. The day was rainy and overcast. No drops fell now, but the bareometric pressure was wreaking havoc with her hangover.

She could try, she supposed, to have a conversation with him, one they might’ve had yesterday, before they slept together. Or afterward, if they’d stopped the hot sex part long enough to, like, talk.

“So, how long have you been here?” she asked, because, hey, no time like the present.

He took a jug from her, their hands touching just long enough for her to know that the chemistry flying between them was stronger than she thought.

He stared at her, his body damp with sweat and still somehow not unappealing to her at all. “Long enough.”

He had a knife strapped to his arm, but she didn’t see any kind of gun, holstered or otherwise, on him.

He didn’t need a weapon—he was one.

Although he hadn’t said he’d been Special Forces, she knew he was, because she’d met men like him before. But this one, he was so … raw. Maybe it was because they were out here and everything was stripped down, but she could see the lethal beauty of his stance. Could appreciate the magnificence of him.

Wild and incredible. “Are you a missionary, like Doc J?”

He snorted and told her no, but she knew that, had wanted to see if he’d admit he was some kind of mercenary.

“So you’re not a missionary, you say you don’t believe in God, but you’re out here in the middle of nowhere, working for a missionary.” She crossed her arms, waited for him to brush the questions off, could already tell the man was a master at ignoring everyone and everything with that infuriatingly calm manner he had.

That had only come undone when he’d been in the throes of his own orgasms—she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him in those moments.

“I have my reasons,” he said after a few minutes of silence, and then turned away, and she should’ve known. This wasn’t high school and it wasn’t the real world and what had she been expecting?

“Well, that clears everything up.” She grabbed two of the filled jugs and began to walk them toward the main tent.

“Rowan, wait,” Tristan called. But she didn’t stop, tripping through the red dust, her arms aching. The tears were ready to spill as easily as the water that sloshed around the open plastic.

But he wasn’t letting her get away, had run up beside her and was taking the jugs from her hands. “These are too heavy for you.”

She let him take them, and then he told her, “I came here because I lost everything at home. There’s nothing left there for me. I found a home in the Army, and then that was taken from me too. I have nothing except this place.”

She almost sagged at the weight of his confession, because it was brutal and beautiful at the same time. Because it was hers as well, and because he’d told her something about himself. Maybe more than he’d admitted to anyone. For now, it was enough, and still she pushed on. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “At least here, Doc J gets it.”

“He seems to understand.”

“He’s a lost soul himself, and that’s better than having a fucking know-it-all shoving Bible shit down your throat, right?”

That got her to smile. She wished he had too, but he moved to continue on his way with the heavy jugs.

“I didn’t mean to sleep with you like that,” she blurted out.

“Funny, I did,” he called over his shoulder.

She tried not to stare at him as he sauntered away but it was no use. Who could she blame? The heat? Her hormones? Stress?

You wanted him—it’s not a crime
.

She went back to the pump and grabbed a single jug this time, walked it over to where he was and ignored him muttering that she was stubborn and would hurt herself.

“I’m fine. I’m strong,” she told him.

“Agreed on both counts,” he said. “Are you staying?”

Was she? She hadn’t unpacked yet—was still trying to figure out why the fact that this was a training ground for mercenaries bothered her so much … or maybe why it didn’t shock her more. Time in the military had not softened her feelings about the need to serve and protect her country. “Yes.”

“Why? For me?” Tristan asked, and she stared at the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, the way she hadn’t given herself time to last night.

“No,” she said. “And yes.”

He gave a low snort. “Not a bad answer.”

“Do you have sex with all the new people who come through here?”

He crossed his arms, leaned against the outer beam of the tent with an easy stance. “Most of the people who come here are men.”

“But not all.” So she had an answer. Or thought she did anyway, until he moved, cupped her chin with his hand so her gaze met his.

“It was different with you, Rowan.”

“Why?” she asked, because maybe he had the answer for both of them. Because there was no way she’d been able to figure that one out for herself.

“I couldn’t not have you,” he admitted. “Again and again. I knew from the first time I came inside of you that once wouldn’t be enough. And I never thought I’d say something like that. Being with one woman hasn’t been in my nature for a hell of a long time.”

He seemed slightly annoyed by that and more than a little confused.

Yeah, well, join the club
, she thought as she headed to Julia’s tent. It was a place she was pretty certain Tristan wouldn’t follow, and right now she needed that space.