Shelter in a Soldier's Arms (20 page)

Without meaning to, she recalled a lecture from the weekend. It had been about bombs and booby traps, and the damage they could do on the human body. Jeff’s knowledge didn’t come from a book; it came from experience. From watching people die. There had been so much horror and Jeff had been caught in the middle of it.

“I so want to make it better,” she breathed, and touched his cheek. “Jeff, I don’t know how.”

He took her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm. In that moment, every last doubt she’d ever had faded as if it had never been. She was more sure than ever that she loved him. She’d probably loved him from the first. It didn’t matter how he felt about her, if he loved her or not. He owned her, heart and soul.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

She sniffed. “I didn’t realize I was.”

He brushed tears from her face. “Why?”

How could she explain? “Hearing about your past makes me sad. I want to fix it and I can’t.”

He collected more tears on his fingers then rubbed them against his thumb, as if testing if they were real. “No one cries for me.”

She wasn’t sure if he was telling her that no one was supposed to cry for him, or if no one ever had. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I feel your pain.”

He frowned. “But I’m not like everyone else.”

“I know.”

“So you’re disappointed in me?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “No. I’m honored to know you. I’m honored to be a part of your life.”

He shook his head. “I still don’t understand the tears.”

“I’m crying because I care.”

*

Nearly a week later her words still didn’t make sense. Jeff tapped his pen against the pad of paper in front of him. He had retreated to his study after dinner, supposedly to work. Instead all he could think about was Ashley and the strange conversation they’d had the previous Sunday night.

She’d cried because of him. He didn’t understand that, nor did her saying she was crying because she cared make sense. As far as he could tell, nothing between them had changed. She was still sharing his bed, still trusting him with her daughter. He wanted to believe that everything was all right between them, but he wasn’t sure. He had a sense of impending doom. He knew he was waiting for her to get angry and come after him.

Hadn’t she gotten it? She’d spent the weekend with him, seeing him for what he was. If the lectures and demonstrations hadn’t scared her away, his nightmares should have. Hell, he’d dreamed that Maggie was in danger, yet too afraid of him to allow him to rescue her. Didn’t Ashley understand? Didn’t she know that meant that when it really counted he was going to let her down?

He didn’t want to. He would rather cut out his own heart than hurt either Ashley or Maggie, but he wasn’t going to have a choice. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t like other men. He was—

The door to his study flew open. Ashley stepped inside and planted her hands on her hips. She glared at him.

Despite her obvious temper, he drank in the sight of her. She was beautiful, with her flashing eyes and flushed skin. Her sweater hugged her slender torso and her worn jeans outlined narrow hips. He couldn’t help smiling when he saw the fluffy cow socks on her feet.

“Oh, sure, go ahead and laugh,” she announced. “But you, mister, are in so much trouble.”

His humor faded as if it had never been. This was it. She knew the truth and she was leaving him.

He didn’t speak. What was he supposed to say? He’d always known it was going to end like this.

She walked toward the desk. “You’re avoiding me. You’ve been avoiding me all week, and don’t even think about telling me you’re busy with work. What’s going on?”

“I do have work,” he insisted. “I have the Kirkman case. It needs my attention.”

Ashley didn’t even blink. “Sell it somewhere else. What’s wrong? I’ve been thinking about the sequence of events in recent days. As near as I can figure it, you started acting weird last Monday. Which means it was after that dream you had. The one we talked about. What’s the problem, Jeff? Did we connect? Are you concerned because I’m getting too close?”

She was, but not in the way she meant. He was waiting for her to figure out the truth about him and then run.

She sighed. “What is it? Are you mad at me?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Oooh, he speaks.” She glared. “Okay, you’re not mad. What about having Maggie and me here. Are you changing your mind about that?”

Her question stunned him. He half rose to his feet before settling back in his leather chair. “I don’t want you to move out. I enjoy having you here.”

She took another step closer to the desk. “Finally we’re getting somewhere. Okay, so you’re not mad and you want us here. Are you happy?”

He wasn’t even sure what she meant, let alone figuring out the emotion itself.

“I can see from your face that you’re not,” she said with a sigh, and settled into the chair opposite his desk. “Okay. Not mad, not happy, yet you still want me here. Care to explain all this?”

She was trying. He could tell that he’d confused her and he needed to make things more clear. The problem was he didn’t know how.

“It’s about the dream,” he told her, staring at the desk, not wanting to see her expression. “I don’t like that I have it. I don’t like what it says.”

“You mean you’re uncomfortable about your past?”

“No.” He sucked in a breath. “You saw my weak spot.”

When she didn’t say anything, he looked at her. She stared at him blankly. He nearly groaned. How much more was he supposed to explain? Why didn’t she get it? Weakness was danger. Weakness was to be despised. He wanted to be with her and he was terrified of her getting too close. He was a soldier and he needed a soldier’s detachment. When he was around her, he couldn’t stay detached. Not anymore.

For the first time in his life he was afraid. Of what was inside of him. Of losing someone important.

She leaned toward him and rested her arms on his desk. “Was the weakness that you shared it with me or was it what you talked about?”

“What we discussed.”

She stared at him. “Okay. We talked about the dream and your inability to rescue Maggie. Is it that you failed?”

He shifted in his seat. Was she torturing him on purpose? “Yes.”

“Are you afraid I’ll use your perceived weakness against you or think less of you?”

He sprang to his feet. “Dammit, what else would it be?” he demanded.

She rose and glared at him. “Don’t you yell at me. I’m not the idiot in this room. You are.” She circled around the desk and pushed in front of him.

“I’m not the enemy,” she said as she poked a finger into his chest. “Stop treating me like I am. Stop hiding out because you act like a human being. It’s more than allowed. It’s the sort of behavior I would encourage.”

She placed her hands on his arms and tried to shake him. “Don’t you get it? I care about you.” She paused as if she wanted to say more, then continued. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t think less of you. In fact, I admire you very much. Maybe in soldier-speak you’ve violated some manly code. Maybe in that world, showing your softer side is dangerous. But when it comes to a personal relationship between a man and a woman, being vulnerable is generally a good thing. I want you to trust me the way I trust you.”

“You trust me?”

She threw up her hands. “Is that all you got out of what I said?”

“No.”

He’d heard every word; he just wasn’t sure he believed it.

“Jeff, here’s the news flash, so pay attention. I care about you more because of your confession. Knowing about your pain and the darkness in your soul makes me feel closer to you. It doesn’t make me want to run away. So if that was your goal, you failed.”

His throat was dry and it was difficult to speak. “What about the weekend? Did that change anything?”

“Zane got on my nerves a little, but aside from that, no, nothing is different.” She paused and looked up at him. “I take that back. I think I have a clearer understanding of what it is that you do. I respect your abilities more. But that’s it.”

He felt as if someone had lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t running away.

“I’m glad,” he said simply.

She smiled. “Prove it.”

At first he wasn’t sure what she meant. Then he saw the passion flaring in her eyes. She wanted him. She wanted to make love and have him touch her everywhere.

He didn’t know how that was possible, but he wasn’t about to ask questions or turn her down. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up until he could set her on the edge of the desk. Then he dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her.

By now he was familiar with the taste of her mouth. He slipped between her lips, savoring the soft sweetness waiting there. They touched and circled, performing a dance that was uniquely their own. Need filled him—a growing heat and desire that made his blood throb and that most male part of him flex against her belly.

She was perfect for him, he thought hazily as he broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to her jaw, then her neck. Everything about her was exactly right. The texture of her skin, the scent of her body, the way her hands rubbed against his chest, igniting fires before fumbling with his shirt buttons.

He grasped the hem of her sweater and tugged upward. She leaned back enough to allow him to pull the garment over her head and toss it to the floor. Her bra was next. He quickly unfastened the slender hook and slid the scrap of lace down her arms.

Her nipples were already tight buds, thrusting toward him in the faint coolness of the room. He cupped her breasts, absorbing their weight, their temperature and their silky smoothness. Need hummed hotter inside of him. He longed to rip the rest of her clothes from her body and thrust himself inside of her. But he held back. Giving Ashley pleasure first made his own release better. Not only was she slick and ready for him, he’d learned that once she climaxed, she would release again and again when he entered her. Those rapid contractions were the best part of making love with her.

He lowered his head and took her right nipple in his mouth. As he swirled his tongue around the beaded flesh, he settled his hands on her waist and began unfastening her jeans. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. She arched into his licking caresses, breathing heavily and murmuring his name.

With one quick tug, he shoved off her jeans and panties. She wore only socks scrunched around her ankles. The sight of her in them and nothing else was oddly erotic, so he left the socks in place. He shrugged out of his shirt and placed it on the desk behind her.

“Lie down,” he instructed. “It’s time I went to work.”

She laughed even as she stretched out on the desk. He settled into his chair and pulled it close to her. She’d parted her legs and now he moved between them. He could already feel the heat of her arousal. She would be damp and ready for him. He knew exactly how sweet she would taste, how she would moan at the first stroke of his tongue, how her muscles would tense and her legs would draw back as she approached her climax.

Just thinking about how it would be made his own arousal tense painfully. Pressure throbbed at the base of his groin, but he ignored the sensation. There would be time for him later. Now he wanted to concentrate on Ashley.

He rested his hands on her belly and slid them up her body as he moved closer. As his fingers tickled her ribs, he nibbled his way up her thighs. First one side, then the other. Licking, kissing, biting gently. She gasped and giggled and breathed his name. Her hands settled on top of his, urging him higher until his palms settled on her breasts.

She shifted so that she could rest her feet on the arms of his chair, opening herself for him. He accepted the silent invitation and slowly licked her most feminine place. She gasped in pleasure. Her thighs parted more. He explored all of her, the place he would enter later, the sweet mysteries of her desire, before kissing that one spot designed to make her moan.

He found it easily, and knew exactly what to do. As his fingers toyed with her tight nipples, his tongue circled her center, moving over and around, teasing, rubbing, kissing, licking. He moved fast, then slow. He made her moan and then he made her beg. Only when her legs were trembling and her body slick with sweat did he give in to her demands and move in the steady rhythm designed to make her fall into ecstasy.

It took less than ten seconds. He licked her over and over, guiding her to her release. Then she shuddered in his intimate embrace. Her body quivered as her insides spasmed.

He held back as long as he could, waiting until she had finally stilled. Only then did he stand and reach for his belt. He fumbled with the zipper before finally unfastening it. As he shoved down his pants, he pushed the chair out of the way and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. Bracing his hands on the desk, he stared into her beautiful face and plunged into her.

One deep, slow thrust that had them both gasping. She clamped her muscles around him and smiled. Her eyes were still glazed with the lingering aftershocks of her release. As he moved in and out of her, he watched her expression tighten. At the same time he felt her body convulse around his. She moaned. He swallowed hard and struggled for self-control.

She didn’t make it easy. He knew that as long as he moved in and out of her, she would climax, rippling against him, drawing him in deeper, forcing him over the edge. He pulsed his hips, then swore, knowing it wasn’t supposed to be this good and never wanting it to stop.

Wait, he told himself. Hold back. But he couldn’t. Using her legs, she pulled him closer, sending him in deeper, then gave herself up to the release. As she breathed his name, he felt himself losing control. He grasped her hips and pumped hard and fast. The sound of his blood rushing through his body filled his ears. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel the intense release as he spilled himself into her.

When he’d recovered, he bent over her and kissed her mouth.

“Amazing as always,” she said with a sigh. “You are a man of many talents.”