by Kaylea Cross
Dropping to one knee, he lifted an unsteady hand and brushed a lock of hair away from her flushed cheek. The instant he touched her soft skin her eyes flew open and her head came up. That vivid green gaze focused on him and she sat up with a relieved gasp. He kept his hand where it was. “Hey, sunshine.”
“Luke,” she breathed, grabbing him around the shoulders and holding him tight.
He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the sting of tears. She felt tiny in his embrace when he gathered her close and pressed his face into the side of her neck. Small and delicate, yet she loved so fiercely. He pulled in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the vanilla scent of the lotion she always used after a bath. His chest tightened further. Damn, he was an inch away from losing it.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He was now.
Sighing sleepily, Emily cuddled in tighter and stroked his hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I’m not okay, he wanted to say. I can’t take losing you again. But she pulled back and took his face in her slender hands, and her smile was serene as a Madonna’s. “I couldn’t sleep until I knew you were home safe and sound,” she whispered.
He swallowed. “And here I am.”
“Hmmm,” she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. Her body seemed to melt into his, growing pliant and supple. Because she trusted him, even after everything he’d put her through.
Luke slid his arms beneath her and scooped her up, blanket and all. In response she settled against him with a contented sound and laid her head on his chest. Beneath her cheek, his heart thudded hard against his ribs. She felt perfect in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to take care of her, be there for her through her illness. To hold her and cherish her for whatever time they had left. The sudden lump in his throat made it hard to breathe as he strode down the hall and up the stairs to Emily’s room. Pausing next to her bed, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t stir when he shifted his grip. Sound asleep because she was so exhausted from the chemo and waiting up for him two nights in a row.
Knowing it was probably for the best that she kept sleeping, he eased her onto the bed and pulled the thick duvet over her robe, removing the blanket from the den. The wig moved slightly. She immediately shot a hand up to grab it, her eyes snapping open to find his. Trepidation and fatigue filled her gaze. Worried he’d seen beneath the wig.
“Don’t worry it’s still there,” he whispered, and her hand lowered slowly to her pillow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but he was damn close.
He wanted to crawl in next to her so badly his muscles knotted. Instead he knelt next to the bed and gently rubbed her back through the covers, hoping to soothe her. She brought one hand up to take one of his and kiss it, then twined her fingers through his and laid their joined hands on her pillow. Her eyes drifted closed again. The quiet spread throughout the room while he continued to stroke her back, dying to give her so much more, but he hated to wake her when she obviously needed to rest. When he was sure she was asleep again, he reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers and stood. For several minutes longer he watched her, memorizing every precious detail of her face. Then he made himself leave the room.
Shutting his own door behind him, he went into the bathroom and fired up the shower. When the water was hot as he could take it, he stripped and stepped under the spray, leaning one hand against the tiled wall. He closed his eyes and let his head sag on his shoulders while the water ran over him. His brain was full of dismal images. In a few more hours he’d be in a chopper on his way back into the mountains of north-eastern Afghanistan. The snow would cover the barren terrain, and the temperature would be bone chilling even without the razor-sharp winds that scoured the Hindu Kush. After tonight God knew when he’d ever get another hot shower, or a hot meal for that matter. For the foreseeable future he’d spend what little time he got for rest huddled and shivering in some dug-out abandoned by al Qaeda or the Taliban during the carpet bombing performed by the US at the start of the war on terror. The knowledge depressed the shit out of him.
Once he’d soaped and scrubbed himself clean, he got out to towel off and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. God, he looked like a mountain man with his shaggy hair and beard sprinkled with far more gray than there’d been a few months ago. He was still in good shape, but the years were starting to catch up with him. Back in his twenties and thirties, fifty had seemed goddamn ancient. Now that he’d reached the milestone, it didn’t seem very old. His body didn’t feel old, except for the usual aches and pains that came from everything he’d done to his body over the years, and neither did his mind. Yet the years had crept up on him without him noticing. He was halfway through his best-case scenario life span, and his life was a pile of shit.
God. Had he wasted the best years of his life? The question scared the shit out of him. Because the honest answer was he suspected he had. And there was nothing he could do to get those years back.
Reflected in the mirror, his eyes were time-worn. Weary. He thought of Emily asleep in the next room, curled up alone in that big bed. He thought of her unrelenting loyalty and devotion to him and everyone she cared about. She gave it without reservation, even if she never received it in return. Even if he and a lot of others she’d given it to didn’t deserve it.
Luke exhaled deeply, urgency building inside him. Shit, he couldn’t stay away any more. He needed to go to her and at least hold her against him for the few hours he had left. Needed it more than he needed air to breathe.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he left the bathroom and headed for the door. Something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. A lump lay curled up beneath the covers on his bed. He swallowed, heart turning over in his chest. Em.
She was on her side with her hands tucked under her cheek, innocent as a child in the snowy white sheets. And too beautiful for words.
The bed dipped beneath his weight when he settled a hip on the edge of it, but she didn’t waken. He admired the hell out of her quiet courage. Coming in here again couldn’t have been easy for her. Yet exhausted as she was, she’d dragged herself in here and climbed into his bed to be with him, whether for comfort or something more. How the hell could he not reach for her?
When he touched her shoulder her eyes flickered open, the luminous moss-green almost disappearing as her pupils expanded in the dimness.
“Hi,” she murmured, pushing up onto one elbow. She tucked her blood-red robe around her legs as she looked up at him, eyes full of a quiet hunger that made his guts clench. “I didn’t want to sleep alone.”
A blast of heat flooded him, chasing away the chill in his soul. It swirled through his bloodstream to his muscles before settling in his groin. His cock lengthened and swelled beneath the confines of the towel, growing tight and painful. Wanting in her, now.
The faint light coming through the windows from the security lights across the yard illuminated her ethereal features. She looked like an angel staring up at him. A very nervous, uncertain angel. Wondering if she was welcome in his bed.
When she continued gazing at him without moving, he understood what she was waiting for. She wanted him to take the decision about what would happen next out of her hands. To seduce her into letting go. She’d always loved it.
Worked for him. He preferred controlling things, in and out of bed. But knowing she was unsure of herself wasn’t okay. After the other night, she had to know he still wanted her. Didn’t she know she would always be beautiful to him? How ultra-feminine and outrageously sexy he found her? She needed to accept her body the way it was now and not be ashamed of it. Luke vowed to take any and all fears from her tonight.
He would erase the doubt and pain embedded in her eyes, and replace it with pleasure until they both went blind from it. He needed to do that. For himself as much as for her. Every touch would give pleasure and restore her confidence, give her the comfort she so obviously needed. She’d trusted
him once. Deeply, and without reservation. He could reach her on that same level again, if she’d only let him in that far. Would she?
Planting one hand next to her head on the pillow, he bent over her and trailed his index finger across her cheek, watching her eyes. The green depths flared with instant arousal before she lowered her eyelids and leaned into his touch. Softness and deceptive strength in a powerful combination that never failed to turn him inside out.
Luke dipped his head to brush soft kisses across her eyelids and cheeks, down her straight nose to hover over her mouth. He feathered over the seam of her lips, teasing and tempting until she threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him down. Her mouth parted beneath his, opening for the tender stroke of his tongue. She was like warm silk, and he couldn’t get enough.
Her soft moan made his whole body hard, but he forced himself to take things gentle and slow. Leaning farther over her, his hands took his weight while he sank into her more, losing himself in the feel and taste of her. Emily stirred beneath him, her robe parting slightly as she stretched out to twine her calves around his. Her hands slid down his neck to his shoulders and arms, pausing to squeeze his muscles before moving to his back. The delighted moan she made at touching him had him sliding his hands beneath her back to bring her closer. He’d always loved that his body turned her on. She made him feel powerful and masculine while managing to pull out all the tenderness in his soul.
Oh God, touch me. Hold me.
He kissed her harder, angling his head while he lowered his weight atop her. He shuddered at the feel of her beneath him. Growing impatient, Emily gripped the edge of the towel around his hips and pulled. Luke traced a damp path with his tongue down her long, lovely throat. She shivered in his arms, tilting her head back like an offering. He inhaled the intoxicating scent of her skin and took what she exposed, finding the most sensitive point where her neck met her shoulder and gently scraped his teeth against it. She jerked, and he laved away the little sting with his tongue. Her hands tightened on his back. He sucked the spot firmly. Her quiet gasp was full of anticipation, and all the reassurance he needed that she was as into this as him.
Kissing her throat, he reached for the neckline of her robe where the two halves came together and caressed the skin over her sternum. She tensed and brought her hand up to grab his wrist, but he anticipated the move and circled hers with his fingers, pulling it away to her side. He wasn’t going to let her be ashamed of her body. Not for one second.
Her other hand went to the front of his shoulder and pushed. “Luke—”
Hearing the fear in her protest, he captured her other wrist before pressing a soft kiss to the spot where his fingers had been, right at the notch between her collar bones. “Shhh.” He nuzzled just inside the neckline, breathing in more of her heavenly scent.
She tried to break his hold on her wrists. “Luke, no.”
Fear. He sensed it in her, growing, threatening to break through her arousal. So afraid he might reject her because of her scars. How could she ever think he would? Luke lifted his head to look into her face. Her jaw was tight, eyes pleading with him not to uncover her. “Rollover, sweetheart,” he whispered, watching as surprise filled the depths of her eyes.
She hesitated a moment, then allowed him to help her onto her stomach. Luke paused to sweep the ends of the wig away from her cheek and nuzzle at the thin scar beneath her jaw. Her pulse leapt against his lips, but the remaining tension in her body told him she was still wary of what he intended. He was going to take care of that. “Relax for me, Em. Give yourself to me.” A shudder sped through her muscles, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her body softening by degrees.
Luke praised her with low murmurs while he eased the robe off one shoulder, following it with his mouth, hands moving over her satin skin with loving propriety. He ached to fill her, to wrap around her tight enough that she’d feel safe enough to let go.
When he had the robe pulled down as far as he could without removing it from her entirely, he took her chilly hand in his and slid the sleeve off her arm. Then he did the same to the other. With his fingertips he caressed the silky soft skin along her spine from nape to the tempting swell of her hips before sliding up to blanket her with his weight. She gasped at the contact and stretched out beneath him. His painfully hard cock nestled between the cheeks of her softly rounded ass. Closing his eyes on a growl, Luke surged gently against her, loving the feel of her naked skin against his sensitive flesh. In answer Emily moaned and pushed back against him, more at ease in the new position. Her arousal building again because she felt secure.
Luke eyed the bottle of lube she’d left on his bedside table the other night. He’d use it to ensure she was as ready as he could make her, and to guarantee there would be no chance of discomfort for her. He wished she wasn’t self-conscious of her body. There was so much he wanted to do to her, but he couldn’t until he’d taken her to the place where pleasure overrode thought. Before he could love all of her the way he wanted to, he needed her lost in a haze of sensuality, all her shields down. Damn. He wanted that so badly he shook. But he had to go slow. Seduce her into that place.
“Ohhh, you feel good,” she whispered, arching up like a cat.
“Not as good as you.” Nibbling and kissing her neck and shoulders, one hand cupped the front of her left shoulder before sliding down toward her breast and moving right. Instantly she stiffened again but he kept going, careful not to pause when his fingers found the IV port embedded below her collar bone. His touch moved left again, and she released the breath she’d been holding.
He stroked the side of her breast, moving inward until he cupped it, her hardened nipple stabbing into the center of his palm. Emily bit her lip, watching him in her peripheral vision. His aching cock slid deeper between her cheeks as he shifted his weight, allowing his hand enough freedom to rub against her straining nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath and arched her back to give him more room, but he didn’t change what he was doing. He kept sliding over that sensitive spot while she gasped and moaned, her legs instinctively parting to let him ease between them. So damn perfect.
Luke nudged one of her thighs with his and pressed outward until she bent her knee, exposing the softness of her sex to him. She hissed in a breath when the head of his cock pressed against her, wriggling to get him closer. “Easy.” He slid his hand out from beneath the weight of her breast and grabbed the bottle of lube. When his fingers were coated with it, he used his knee to push her thigh up higher and reached under her hip. He took the time to caress her inner thighs and as first, all around where she wanted him to touch, but never quite there.
“Luke,” she groaned, curling her lower back to give him access. “Please touch me.”
“I will, pretty baby,” he crooned against her nape. “You’re so soft.”
The skin of her mound was completely naked. Satin smooth against his searching fingers, the tender folds already damp with her arousal. He bit back a moan at the feel of her bare flesh. At least he could make that side effect of the chemo good for her, he thought, sliding his slick fingers over the exposed, delicate folds, up, up. She trembled and cried out, but he kept his touch slow and gentle as he aroused and moistened every inch of sensitive flesh before gliding his fingers down and pausing at the entrance to her body. Emily pressed her hips into his palm, demanding more. He kissed the nape of her neck. “Easy, Em. Let me take care of you.”
He slid one finger into her carefully, then two, enjoying the feel of her body stretching around him, hugging him in a tight grip. Another moan left her lips. After a few gentle strokes he pulled out and followed the delicate folds to the hard bud of her clit, circling that fragile flesh.
“Ohhh,” she moaned breathlessly, opening her legs wider and straining back to bring the aching length of his cock into her. But he moved away, circling his fingertips around her taut clit before easing into her body again, searching for and finding the sweet spot inside. The broken cry she gave
almost made him come.
Tensing his jaw, he pressed and stroked with firm, slow pressure before withdrawing and feathering around her clit again. Softly. Just the way she liked it, the way she loved him to use his tongue there. Over and over until she breathed in shaky bursts and a fine sheen of perspiration dewed her skin. One of her hands grabbed the forearm he was braced on, fingers clamping tight.
“Let me see your eyes,” he whispered, straining to hold back the need to plunge into her. His cock throbbed in agony between her thighs, the tip already drenched with her silky juices.
On an unsteady breath, Emily opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him over her shoulder. Heavy-lidded from pleasure, but not quite blind. Not yet. “Please...” she gasped.
“Feel good?” he asked, slowing his touch, her intimate flesh warm and slippery beneath his caressing fingers. So damn hot and wet it tied him in knots. His lips teased the edge of hers before he leaned to the side and penetrated her mouth with a slow, erotic glide of his tongue at the same time his fingers pressed deep into her.
Gasping, she tore her mouth away and squeezed her eyes shut. “God—Please push into me...”
Damn he wanted to go down on her. Turn her over right then and put his mouth between her thighs. He was dying to taste her again, the exotic-sweet flavor of her a haunting memory. She would feel so good against his mouth, his tongue gliding over her smooth, slick folds while she writhed and begged for more...
His cock pulsed in agony, screaming at him to slide into her. He growled at the thought, struggling to hold on. She needed to be able to trust him in this. Needed to know he had complete control of himself before she could let go. She had to consciously trust he would take care of her needs first when she was helpless in his arms. She already knew it on a subconscious level, because she’d come to him. Now he had to prove he was worthy of it.
