Home to Me

by LaVerne Clark

  It wasn’t long before the sharp crack of fire and the occasional yelps of fellow teammates as they were hit told them the battle was on. Something whizzed by her head, and she ducked instinctively, a ball of paint squelching with a thwack into the trunk of a tree behind her.

  Sam pulled her down flat as more incoming fire exploded into a multitude of colors around them. He rolled and crouched over her, his gaze searching the thick forest, gun cradled in his hands. With muscles bunched and ready for action and his eyes narrowed in focus, all he needed was camouflage paint and a buzz-cut and he’d look like most women’s fantasy of a soldier. His gaze sharpened on something in the distance, and he braced one palm beside her upper thigh, bringing him closer to the ground. His knee brushed the inside of hers, and she held her breath.

  As she lay beneath him, the heat from his body enveloped them and amplified his unique scent, sneaking under the helmet she wore and filling her senses. A sharp bolt of lust hit low in her belly, making her squirm. She needed. God, how she needed.

  He glanced down and cringed, misinterpreting her involuntary movement. He sat back on his heels, the points where his body had touched hers cooling. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Her voice sounded husky and muffled under the helmet. She lifted the visor and tugged at the waistband of his pants. “Come back here.”

  For a split second, he didn’t move, just stared at her until her courage faltered. Then the naughty grin that had always been her weakness spread across his face, and he started to lift his own visor, his eyes dark with promise.

  Thwack!

  He jerked with a yelp, then hit the ground beside her as another bullet whizzed over his head. A volley of shots followed. The carpet of pine needles surrounding them danced and jumped, exploding with color.

  “We’re being attacked. Let’s get to cover.”

  Before she could react, he leaped to his feet and grabbed her hand. With bodies low to the ground, they zigzagged through the trees, crushed pine needles lending spring to their steps and muffling the sound of their flight.

  They made it to a thick copse of trees, and Sam dropped her hand. She followed his lead, alternately ducking and weaving between the heavy branches, her gaze fixed on the course in front of her, wary of face-planting over exposed roots or loose matter. Ahead of him, she spotted what he was aiming for. A large pine which looked as if it had come down in a recent storm would serve as a great place to take stock of their situation and catch their breath. Sam bent double to duck under one of its broken arms, and her gaze dropped to a blob of fluorescent orange, square in the middle of his fine-looking butt.

  The memory of him jolting upright and the look on his face followed by the yelp of pain replayed itself in her head, and laughter bubbled up from her chest. She slapped her hands to her mouth in a futile attempt to keep it trapped inside, but air escaped the vacuum of her hands in an unladylike snort, and she laughed all the harder. Giving up, she dropped her hands and wrapped them around her middle, tears rolling helplessly down her cheeks. “Oh, God. That is so hilarious! I didn’t realize you’d been shot in the butt. Oh, my stomach! I’m dying!”

  Sam sat down, his back to the log, and shook his head, his arms crossed and legs stretched out before him as he waited her out, a wounded expression fixed on his face, but the sparkling eyes gave him away.

  “It still stings, you know. I deserve some sympathy after the way I got you out of there.” His eyebrows waggled up and down, his grin wicked. “Wanna kiss it better?”

  She wiped her eyes and rolled them. “Dream on, Merrick. If anyone is going to kiss someone’s ass, it’ll be you kissing mine. You’re already in deficit.”

  Those gray eyes darkened into smoke as he gave her a lazy look from under his lashes. “I’ll look forward to that.”

  The laughter evaporated in her throat, and she let out a strangled sound as she tried to swallow, the lust scorching through her system with a vengeance, blazing into an inferno in a matter of seconds. She tore her helmet off and sank to her heels beside him.

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep teasing me like that, Sam.”

  “Oh, I’m not teasing,” he murmured, his lids lowering until his lashes shadowed his cheeks. “I figure if I get you all hot and bothered, you’ll finally give in to what we both want and jump me.”

  Lucy’s nipples puckered under the double layer of her bra and shirt. She sucked in a sharp breath. The expansion of her ribcage pushed her chest out, causing already sensitive breasts to push harder against the constricting fabric, and she suddenly wished they were alone somewhere more private than a pine forest warzone. Regardless, it looked like it was her move next. It was time to take what she wanted.

  Rising to her knees, she straddled his thighs. Despite the sudden flare in his eyes, Sam kept perfectly still as if afraid she’d run if he made any abrupt moves. And judging by the way her heart pounded against her ribcage, she couldn’t rule that out. Eyes fixed on his face, she lowered herself down onto his lap, and his breath hissed out from between gritted teeth.

  Oh, God. He was hard as rock under her bottom. Her eyes widened on his, but his expression hadn’t changed. He still made no move to rush or grab her, even though she could feel him throbbing through the layers of clothing separating them.

  A rush of heat dampened her panties at the feel of him pressed so intimately close, and she rocked her hips in the smallest of movements, desperate for friction of some kind. Sam’s eyelids slammed down, and his jaw tightened. There was a slight rustle beside his lap, and she turned to see his fingers had dug themselves into the earth as if anchoring himself, the bones of his knuckles showing white through the skin. And yet the rest of him was stillness itself.

  That was it.

  His show of denial caused a dam to burst inside of Lucy, and she tore his helmet off, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He stared at her, his expression hot and heavy. She rocked again, hoping it would ease the ache that had built up between her legs, but it only made it worse, not better. A groan escaped from his beautiful lips, and she took the opportunity it presented, dipping her head to taste him.

  Heaven.

  Every fantasy she’d ever had about how it’d feel to kiss him, knowing he lusted for her, paled in comparison to reality. With his lips parted, she explored the recesses, her tongue dueling with his before sucking it all the way into her mouth. Now his hips did buck under hers, and the ache that had been slowly building became torturous, and her hips moved of their own accord.

  Desperate for air, she broke off, her gaze drinking in his raw beauty. His mouth was parted, the fuller bottom lip swollen and damp. A flush highlighted the sharp line of his cheekbones and ghosted down the side of his neck where his pulse hammered a staccato beat. Under her palm, his chest rose hard and fast. Feeling his stare, she met his gaze. All the humor had vanished. Only one word came to mind to describe the look in his eyes—feral. He reminded her of a predator waiting for its prey to make a move before it pounced, feigned idleness concealing coiled strength.

  Testing that observation, she lifted up from him a few millimeters, and his hands whipped out and clamped on her hips, holding her in place. A feline smile of contentment stretched her lips at the possessive feel of his hands, and she bent her head back down to him, more than happy to give him more.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  She reared back at the same time he slapped a hand to his neck, brows drawn in a fierce frown. Bright blue paint squelched out from between his fingers.

  “Save that for home time, lovers. We’re playing a different kind of game here.”

  Lucy scooted off Sam’s lap, both searching the area the male voice seemed to be coming from.

  “Better get a move on. The lady’s fine butt is in my sights, and it’s making me twitchy. It’d be a shame to bruise such a lovely asset.”

  “I agree. Thanks, man.” Sam grabbed the discarded helmets and pulled Lucy behind him to the relative safety of a tree. “Far out, brat. You make me los
e my mind.” He grinned, pushed her helmet into place, and slapped the visor down before securing his own. “That’s better. Now you can’t distract me anymore. Let’s go and make some carnage.”

  With frustrated adrenaline coursing through her body to burn off, she had no trouble keeping up with Sam, laying waste to what seemed dozens of competitors in the blur of action. They developed a strategy of working back-to-back, Lucy shooting blind at any hint of movement behind them. The occasional yelp brought immense satisfaction as they inched their way toward their team’s flag.

  When they topped the last brow of a hill, suddenly it was there, fluttering in the breeze in the middle of a clearing, enticingly close. Abandoned cars and broken-down machinery littered the area, teasing the advancing team of the possibility of victory. Two sentries guarded the area, guns at the ready and a full belt of ammo over their shoulders. Lucy dropped to a low crouch, and Sam squatted beside her, his thigh pressed snugly against her hip. He lifted his visor then hers, his mouth close to her ear. “Let’s make a run for it. I’ll take the lead and draw their fire, giving you a clear run.”

  Remembering the sting of the bullets on impact, she grimaced. “Are you so sure about that? You’re going to be covered in welts and bruises by the end of the day.”

  His eyes creased at the corners. “It’ll be worth it if you play nurse.”

  She grinned back and winked. “Well, in that case, hurry up. What are you waiting for? Let’s get this game finished.”

  In a quick move, he bent his head and kissed her, then slapped his visor down. Although it was only an echo of the one they’d shared previously, it still left her breathless, and he’d bounded away before she could clear her thoughts.

  Left no option, she leaped after him, adrenaline coursing through her system, keeping just far enough back that she could see the sentries, but they couldn’t get a clear shot at her. A shout and the sound of gunfire announced they’d been seen, and Sam zigzagged to make them a more difficult target, increasing his speed, making it difficult to keep up. They sheltered behind the rusted carcass of an old Beetle vehicle and caught their breath as metallic pings sounded out around them.

  Lucy risked a peek over the rounded end of the vehicle, her gaze zeroing in on a pile of wooden pallets and a clump of thick weed just beyond. She readied herself into a crouch and glanced back at Sam. He nodded and pointed to himself, then held up three fingers and counted down in a low murmur. At zero, he sprang out from their cover with a yell and rolled, firing as he went. A volley of bullets peppered the area around him, dust rising in clouds. Lucy leaped out from the other side and took off at a low run. Diving behind the pallets, she took a couple of seconds to catch her breath. Risking a quick glance around the pile, she fist-pumped the air. Sam had succeeded in distracting both sentries, taking them a good few meters away from their post. The flag was so close. It was now or never.

  Lucy made a break for it, hoping they’d be distracted long enough. A shout filled the air moments before a bullet whizzed past her shoulder, and she dodged as another followed it up near where her calf would have been. Heart pounding in her ears, she darted back and forth. A few more strides and she’d be at the flag. Then she caught movement out the corner of her eye, cutting her down.

  Instinctively, she dropped and rolled onto her shoulder, coming up into a crouch, gun held out in front of her, and she fired. She missed her target, but it was enough to make them flinch, giving her the chance to dive at the flag and tackle it out of the ground. A siren screamed over the valley, indicating their win. Lucy tore off her helmet and dropped it, closing her eyes as a soft breeze fingered through her damp hair. Heavy footfalls made her open her eyes to see the sentry lumbering over, his own helmet tucked under his arm.

  She rolled to a sitting position as he sank to the ground beside her with a groan. “Well played, lady. Thought I had you for a moment there.”

  Lucy grinned over at him. “You weren’t the only one. One shot to the head and it would have been a different story.”

  “Don’t tell my teammates, but I’m glad I missed.”

  “Oh?” She raised a brow and curled her arms around her raised knees. “Why’s that?”

  He grinned across at her. “You would have been less likely to accept an offer to dinner if I had.”

  Mouth agape, Lucy stared for a few wordless seconds. He allowed her scrutiny, his features relaxed and pleasant, then his gaze lifted to beyond her shoulder, and the smile plummeted from his face.

  “Sorry, buddy. The lady’s taken.”

  Lucy twisted around at the primitive growl. Sam stood behind her, his eyes narrowed on the man, the expression in them making her shiver. Then his gaze turned toward her, and the scowl lifted. He reached a hand out, his palm swallowing hers, and pulled her to her feet. The warmth radiated all the way to her bones. She desperately reminded herself he was just playing a part, keeping an eye out for her the way he always did. But knowing that didn’t stop her pulse from leaping at his touch and tendrils of heat curling through her belly.

  Paint-splattered people started to appear out of the forest. With color obscuring everyone’s clothing, the only way of figuring out who belonged to which team was by their demeanor. The winning team members came out whooping and hollering, fists pumping the air and high-fiving each other while members of the losing team came out slump shouldered and heavy footed. One thing everyone had in common, though, were the grins stretching across tired faces.

  Over the noise of the revelers who’d crowded around them came the sound of vehicles. Sam backed her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her middle, resting his chin on the top of her head as they waited for their ride. For the briefest of moments, she stiffened, then as his warmth seeped into her, she relaxed, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his hard body holding her close.

  “That’s my girl.”

  The approving murmur rumbled through the solid wall of his chest, and a warm glow rose from the pit of her belly. He released her to leap up into the back of the truck and crouched down, offering his hand, eyes warm on hers. The glow spread as his hand closed around hers and she was pulled up onto the truck bed alongside him.

  The drive back skirted the forest, but she was oblivious to the beauty of rows of native Rimu and Kauri trees, the curled fronds of ferns availing themselves of the smallest of gaps on the forest floor, softening rows of soldier-straight trunks. As close-packed as they were in the open back of the truck, Sam’s proximity was all-consuming. His thigh pressed warm and insistent against hers, rubbing occasionally as they bumped over dried ruts, the friction spiking her awareness of the man to near-nuclear levels.

  A soft breeze brushed over Lucy’s hot cheeks, and she turned her head slightly, studying him under her lashes. Her gaze caught on his mouth, and fantasies, raw and insistent, rose in her mind at how it would feel to have those lips on her body. He’d been driving her mad all day. She squirmed in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position for a body whose skin had grown too tight.

  “You okay, brat?”

  He squeezed her knee gently, and she suppressed the urge to grab his hand and drag it up her thigh. Belatedly, she realized he waited for an answer. Swallowing heavily, she nodded, her head jerking like a puppet’s, and cringed as heat crept into her cheeks. Naturally, his gaze zeroed in on the betraying reaction.

  His gaze met hers, and her throat worked in a hard swallow. His eyes were dark, the pupils dilated enough she could make out her reflection in them, making it seem as if she were all he could see. His thumb stroked a slow circle on her inner knee. Even through the thick material of the army-issue pants, she could feel the caress like a hot brand.

  “A group of us are going to the pub down the road for a drink. You guys want to join us? Celebrate your win?”

  Lucy blinked at the voice coming from across the aisle. With great effort, she broke eye contact with Sam to see the man who’d asked her out earlier address them. He leaned forward in his seat, an
easy smile on his pleasant face as he waited.

  Sam sat back and withdrew his hand from her leg, and it was as if a spell had been lifted and she could think again.

  “Thanks, but I’m feeling pretty shattered. I think an early night is on the cards for me. Oh.” She turned to Sam. “Unless you wanted to stay?”

  Those incredible silver eyes darkened to polished nickel as he studied her for a beat. A shiver lodged itself at the base of her spine and radiated outward into prickles of heat. “No. The sooner we get home, the better.” His thigh pressed once more against hers, sending delicious heat like wildfire through every atom of her being, and this time she had no doubt it was deliberate.

  The murmur of conversation surrounded them, but she had no desire to join in. She was too busy counting down the minutes, the seconds before she could get Sam alone and onto a flat surface. Hell, by this point, she’d take him standing.

  Once the truck pulled to a stop, Lucy leaped down, tugging Sam with her. His low chuckle warmed her insides to liquid.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ve still got the awarding of our spoils of war to be distributed yet.”

  “Can’t we just sneak out? They won’t miss us.”

  “You had a starring role in the team’s win, so yeah, I think they’ll notice if we’re not there. What’s the hurry?”

  Lucy turned her best glare on him. How did he manage to remain so calm while she trembled at the precipice of the breaking point? She bit her lip as a thought occurred to her. Perhaps this overwhelming need to have him wasn’t reciprocated. No sooner had the thought formed than the hand at her waist tightened. Lines of tension bracketed his mouth, and she saw through the easy smile on his lips to the pantomime it was.

  Their fellow comrades filed into the office after them where Lucy was hailed as the heroine of the hour. As they waited for their certificates, anecdotes of the day were shared along with laughter, and the start of some pretty impressive bruises proudly displayed. The biggest round of laughter was reserved for Sam when Lucy regaled them all with the scene of the bull’s eye on his bum. Sam shut them up by making a show of starting to loosen his track pants to show them, his eyes dancing, and Lucy’s breath caught.