Rhys packed up all his supplies and checked the boy’s pulse and blood pressure before hooking him to a saline IV. Mercifully, the child had slipped into unconsciousness, worn out from his ordeal.
“Best we can do,” Rhys muttered. “Let’s go.”
They made their way back to the outpost as silently as they’d come, slipping through the front gate just as the sun started to peek over the top of the mountain. With weary but triumphant fist bumps, Matt, Shane and Aaron headed off to shower and sleep before the next recon mission kicked off.
“Gonna go brief the El-Tee,” Rhys said. “Then do you wanna work out? I won’t be able to sleep right now.”
“Sounds good.” The adrenaline was roiling through Devon’s body, too, along with residual grief at the horror of the wound. She grabbed Rhys’s arm.
“Is he going to make it?”
Rhys shook his head. “I don’t know. What he needs is a surgeon and a sterile environment, but—”
Devon thought about the mud hut, the dirt floors, an environment about as far from sterile as it could be.
Still...these people were survivors. The boy would be all right. He had to be.
“We gave him a fighting chance,” she said fiercely. “At least we did that.”
“We did.” Rhys nodded, his freckles standing out in sharp relief against his pale face. “You were amazing in there. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Rhys headed for the TOC while Devon went to her room to stash her gear, then change into PT clothes. Outside again, the air was cool, the ever-present scent of human and animal waste lingering on it, along with the smoke from the village cooking fires and the faint odor of pine. She inhaled deeply, letting Afghanistan sink into her pores, her very being.
“Hey!” The note of excitement in Rhys’s voice made Devon spin around. He was jogging toward her balancing a large box on his shoulder. “Care package from Sarah. Want to help me open it?”
His enthusiasm proved infectious, and soon they were kneeling on Rhys’s plush handmade rug throwing the packing material around like kids tearing into Christmas presents.
“Yes!” Rhys exclaimed, holding up a large canister of shortbread cookies. Devon was excited to find a bag of lemon drops, and she popped one into her mouth, savoring first the burst of sweet, then tart.
Lying down on her side, she watched as Rhys inventoried the rest of his bounty before flopping onto his back with the tin of cookies in the crook of his arm.
“Gimme some,” she demanded, and with his mouth crammed full, Rhys refused, rolling over and curling around them in a fetal position.
“Mine,” he mumbled. “Get your own.”
“Gimme some!”
Devon pounced, and they grappled lightly, which ended with Devon straddling Rhys’s hips, the canister held high in triumph. She ate a couple of cookies just to rub it in, then set the tin down and stretched out full length on top of him.
He rested his hands on her hips, his eyes warm, and Devon brushed some crumbs from his beard, her thumb lingering on the corner of his mouth.
“I’m pretty crazy about you, you know that?” Her whisper was soft but heartfelt.
Rhys gave a rueful smile. “I’m so far gone over you, darlin’, it ain’t even funny.”
Lowering her head, Devon kissed him, their lips clinging lightly—almost chastely—together before separating with a lush sound.
When she looked at him again, his face was solemn. “So tell me about the SF major.”
Devon froze, and then with a sigh, she rolled off him to sit cross-legged, her knee touching his ribs. He put his hand on her calf, thumb moving in slow circles.
“It’s about like you’d expect,” she said quietly. “He wants me to join his ODA as cultural support.” Operational Detachment Alpha 576, part of the 5th Special Forces Group, a unit of twelve combat-hardened Green Berets, and they wanted her.
“You’d be working with the spooks, too? SF usually does.”
Looking at him in surprise, Devon said, “Yeah. My job would actually be alongside Major Beck and his CIA contact.”
“The mission?”
Devon fell silent. Beck had told her during that one intense conversation that since the United States’ official withdrawal from Afghanistan, all previous gains had been lost. Regions once purged of the Taliban were left vulnerable, and with no coalition support, the fragile government and poorly trained local law enforcement been unable to hold off the other terrorist groups that’d quickly moved into the void.
“Unconventional warfare,” was all she said. “Training and leading a guerrilla force while we immerse ourselves in the culture, respecting the religion and way of life in order to earn trust.” She paused. “They want to see what happens when they bring village women into the mix this time.”
“Ah.” Rhys sat up, too, his wrist draped over his upraised knee. “Vital, important work, and this dude came to you. I’m so proud of you, Devon.”
His eyes and voice held nothing but sincerity, and Devon smiled. “I’m proud of me, too,” she said softly. “But that means a lot coming from you.”
From a man she respected, and admired, and was on the knife’s edge of falling in love with.
Why did I have to meet you now?
Clearing his throat, Rhys asked huskily, “When do you report to the ODA?”
“Once we land back in Coronado, I’ll catch the next flight to Fort Campbell.”
He drifted his fingertips along her jaw. “Temporary,” he whispered.
Hot tears rushed to Devon’s eyes, and she turned her lips into his palm. “But not casual,” she forced out. “Never.”
Rhys pushed to his feet and went to brace his hands against a nearby table, head down. Devon watched him for a minute, her chest aching, before getting up to approach him. Hesitantly, she laid her palm in the middle of his back.
“You want me to go?” she asked quietly, relief making her knees weak when he gave a vigorous shake of his head.
“No, I—” He took a deep breath. “I’m just wondering how much of my heart will be left standing at the end of this.”
A sob rose up in her throat, but before she could say anything, he whispered, “But it’d be worth it.”
Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, Devon buried her face between his shoulder blades. “It would be. I’ve never known anyone like you, Rhys. To have the chance to be closer to you, well—”
“You don’t know how much I cherish the gift of your trust.” Rhys’s voice was low, gruff. “Being able to make love to you—”
Slowly, he turned in her arms, and they gazed at each other in silence. Finally Devon cupped his cheek. “You look like a fierce, redheaded lumberjack. So strong and sexy.” She gave a delicious shiver, her nipples tightening painfully, when he bent to bury his face in her neck.
“And you look like an angel,” he murmured against her skin. “My warrior angel.”
Devon tilted her head back as he kissed his way up her throat and along her jaw. He nuzzled, and tasted, his murmurs of enjoyment humming against her skin.
When he at last pulled back, she looked up into his eyes. “Two things I need you know,” she said quietly. “I can’t be held down, and—”
His eyes were steady on hers. “What? Tell me.”
“You can’t wake me up with sex.”
A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “That’s another thing. Don’t feel sorry for me, or pity me, Rhys. I don’t require special handling to enjoy sex, but I do have those two hard limits.” Her voice softened. “Anything else you’re not sure of, just ask, okay?”
“Okay.” He sounded a little bit shaky. “Can I—” He put his hands tentatively on her hips. “Do you—”
“Can you touch me?” She slid her arms up around his neck. “Do I want you to kiss me? Yes and yes.”
His mouth settled on hers, and lingered. So gentle.
So careful. Her lips curved under his.
“Kiss me, Rhys. I want you to kiss me. I want you to fuck me.”
He moaned as she plunged her tongue deep, devouring him. When she pulled back, he was panting, eyes wild. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him to the bed and sank down on the edge of it, her hands on his hips urging him to stand between her widespread legs.
She yanked his T-shirt out of his waistband. “Off,” she ordered, and it was her turn to gasp when he stripped it over his head to reveal that gorgeous torso sculpted out of muscle and warm skin. Biting her lip, Devon ran her hands up and down his ridged abs, chuckling at the goosebumps that pebbled under her touch. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
She mouthed along his belly while she busily unbuttoned his pants until they slid lower on his hips, a tantalizing slice of red pubic hair peeping out. Brushing her nose across it, she whispered, “I want to suck you. Is that okay?”
With a strangled laugh, Rhys smoothed his hand over her head. “Consider this blanket consent to do whatever you want to me. I might not survive it, but...”
“Mmm.” Devon grinned up at him wickedly. “In that case—”
She began kissing her way slowly up his body, from his navel to his well-defined pecs, where she lingered over the flat brown discs of his nipples. He let out a husky groan as she tongued them to hardness, then sucked on each one in turn before letting them go with a pop.
By the time she reached his lips, he was quivering. Gripping her ass in both hands, he pulled her up high and hard against his erection. “Feel that?” he growled. “You did that to me.”
“I feel it.” She circled her hips, reveling in his gasp. “And I need it inside me.”
A horrible thought struck her.
“What?” Dropping his hands, Rhys took a step back. “What’s wrong? Did I—”
Pulling him close again, she soothed him with a kiss. “God, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just—do you have any condoms?”
“I do. I always bring them.”
That gave her pause. “You do? Why?”
“Because—” He started to work her T-shirt out of her pants as he placed soft kisses behind her ear and along her jaw. “Because that’s what a good medic does, has everything people might need.” Rhys pulled back slightly to look down at her. “Since I knew you were coming this time and could help me talk to the village women, I brought a case of them, along with some morning-after pills.” He blushed a little. “It’s not something I can talk about with a male interpreter, but I thought maybe you—”
“Oh, my God.” She stopped his words with her lips. “Do you have any idea—” Another kiss. “—how special you are?”
His blush deepened. “I know how hard I am,” he mumbled. “Does that count?”
Chuckling, Devon took pity on his embarrassment. “I’ll heap more praise on you later, then, after you fuck me with this beautiful thing.” She cupped him, measuring the length of the thick shaft with teasing fingers.
He gasped. “I’m not sure you’ll be praising me, but...”
“Oh, hush.” After yanking her T-shirt over her head, Devon linked her arms around his neck. “I’ll talk you through everything I like, trust me.”
His warm hands spanned her ribs, thumbs brushing just underneath the band of her bra. “Can I take this off?”
“If you don’t, I will.”
He fumbled with the front clasp, lower lip between his teeth in concentration. She was about to help him when he gave a crow of triumph, the cups of the bra parting to let her breasts tumble out into his calloused palms.
“Oh,” she breathed as he shaped them with gentle fingers. They weren’t large, but they were sensitive, and when he pinched the nipples lightly, she moaned.
“You like that?”
“Oh, yeah.” Devon arched her back in encouragement. “I love your hands on me. More.”
With one powerful move, he boosted her up. “Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on,” he ordered huskily. She did, locking her ankles at the small of his back and draping her arms around his shoulders.
Her breasts were now at his eye level, and he licked his lips. “Mmm. So beautiful.”
“Rhys...” The begging tone to her voice made him smile, but he wouldn’t be hurried, brushing his nose along the inner curves.
Devon threaded her fingers through his hair demandingly, and with a low chuckle, he finally pressed a kiss to her left nipple, just a graze of his open mouth, the moist heat tightening the sensitive bud to a sharp point.
“Rhys, please.”
Chuckling low in his throat, Rhys traced his tongue around it once, twice, at last drawing it inside to suck firmly. The rhythmic tugging sent corresponding jolts of electricity straight to her clit, and she tightened her legs to grind the ache against his taut belly.
When he released her nipple with a soft bite, Devon tilted his chin up with her fingers to kiss him desperately. His lips were swollen, and wet, his tongue a silky heat that was driving her out of her mind.
She clutched him as he broke the kiss and turned his attention to her other nipple, his teeth on it a sweet torture that soon had her writhing in his arms. Unwrapping her legs from his waist, she slid down his body and sank to her knees in front of him.
His pants were already sagging, so Devon unbuttoned them the rest of the way and reached inside to ease his erection free of its fabric prison.
“Oh, my.” Jutting up from his gaping fly, his cock was thick and veiny, with a slick purple head that just begged for her mouth. Unable to resist stealing a taste, she licked the tip, the saltiness of him exploding on her tongue.
“Devon,” he choked out. “Jesus.”
She licked him again. “I need for you to get the condoms, get naked and get on that bed.”
Rhys turned and stumbled toward some shelves full of supplies. Her own legs jelly, Devon managed to get her boots and pants off, and she yanked the covers off the bed and stretched out across the lumpy mattress.
Boxes crashed to the floor as Rhys searched desperately through them, until at last he brandished a strip of condoms with a crow of triumph. He hurried toward her, only to stop short a few feet away, biting his lip in hesitation. She finally held her hand out, and when he took it, she drew him close.
“Do we need to slow down?” She kept her tone even, although her heart was tripping a mile a minute.
Running the backs of his fingers down her cheek, Rhys said quietly, “It’s just hard for me to believe this is really happening. And I want so very much to please you.”
Sudden tears stinging her eyes, Devon pressed a kiss to his palm. “Come here.”
He shucked his pants, and Devon opened her arms, gathering him in.
“Just kiss me,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
The kisses were long, and slow, Rhys’s hands gentle as he learned the shape of her body. Devon purred, lifting one knee to glide it along his hip. “If you go a little lower, I think you’ll discover that I’m already very pleased,” she murmured against his lips.
His fingertips skimmed the top of her mound, paused, then slid between her folds. He caught his breath.
“You’re so wet,” he rasped. “For me?”
“For you.” Devon let her knee fall to the side encouragingly and lifted her hips. “Touch my clit. Ahhh.” Her back arched as he drifted his fingers across it. “Now circle it. A little harder, baby, that’s it.”
He kissed her. “I want you to come like this.” Before she could say anything, he bent his head to suckle her nipple, his middle finger dipping into her slickness before sliding back up to rub her clit.
The dueling sensations brought every nerve ending Devon had roaring to life, and she cried out, spreading her legs wide, one hand on the back of Rhys’s head, the other reaching up to twist into the pillow.
“Rhys,” she moaned. “Don’t stop.”
“Mmm.” He closed his eyes, as if he was savoring the taste of her, the feel of her body’s response
. Devon stroked his hair. He was so focused on her, so attuned to what she needed, that as her pleasure built, so did the tenderness. The devastating combination was almost more than she could bear, wrenching another hoarse cry from her throat.
“Yeah, give it up for me, darlin’,” he crooned, his tongue circling her nipple once, twice, before he lightly raked it with his teeth. “Let me feel you fly apart.”
A flick of her clit with his fingernail, and Devon was lost. The orgasm roared through her, buffeting her with wave after wave of pleasure. When it subsided, she went limp, gasping, her heart racing like she’d just run a marathon.
Rhys’s chest and shoulders were flushed, his forehead glistening with the effort of holding back. Yet his eyes were shining with pure satisfaction. “Good?”
She drew him down for a kiss. “So good.”
He knelt between her legs, his cock hard enough to tap his belly. Precome ran freely down the thick shaft, his heavy balls glistening with it. With shaking hands he rolled on a condom, then came down over top of her and notched the broad head of his cock against her entrance, the fullness parting sensitive tissues and making her gasp.
Rocking slowly, Rhys slid inside her, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. Devon clenched around him, milking him. “Oh, God,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “You’re killing me.”
Wrapping her legs around his hips, she offered her mouth for a kiss. His breaths gusted unsteadily against her lips as he started to move, slowly at first, then faster as his need built. She swept her palms up and down his back, the skin both slick with sweat and gritty from the ever-present dust.
The hair on his chest teased her swollen nipples, his lips on hers hot and eager. They ate at each other’s mouths until Rhys pushed up on his palms and looked down into her eyes, his own glazed with desire.
“Ah, Devon,” he moaned. “I’m gonna—”
With one last series of almost brutal thrusts, Rhys stiffened, his head tipping back. Devon held on to him as he shuddered, his cock throbbing deep inside her. At last, his whole body quivering, Rhys went limp and buried his face in her neck.
Keeping a Warrior Page 19
