Field Stripped: 15 Steamy Military Romances

by Marissa Dobson

  Dec felt his mouth twist in a grimace. Yeah, that was something he couldn't do. So it wasn't going to be all fun and games in bed tonight. "I don't plan to rape her for Christ's sake."

  "You're on duty, Dec," Geek said sharply. "Not on shore leave in some tarted-up port."

  "Yeah, yeah." Dec picked up a cotton swab and dabbed it in oil. "It's good to know you're all so fucking saintly. We have a plan in place. Let's stick to it."

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Come here, edelweiss."

  Laila paused at the sound of Dec's voice. She hadn't known which rooms the men had chosen, but now she paused in the open doorway of what was clearly Dec's room. He was stretched out on a double bed that was covered in a bright red blanket. The room was lit only by a small candle burning on the sill of a rectangular window cut high up on the white stone wall. This house didn't have any working electricity.

  For the first time, she saw him shaven. She stared at the strong lines of his revealed face. High cheekbones, the mouth even more sensuous now that it was completely exposed, and a square jaw with a small cleft in it.

  His hair, darker since it was wet, hung around his face, framing his male beauty.

  She tried not to let her eyes travel downward because her first quick glance had told her he wasn't wearing a shirt. But the temptation was overwhelming. His broad shoulders and muscular chest reminded her of the strength she felt whenever he touched her. The sight of his nakedness set up a thrumming deep in her body.

  She clutched the damp towel she'd been carrying to her breast, hoping he couldn't see that she was braless under her tank top and nylon jogging pants. "What do you want, Dec?"

  "You're sleeping with me," he said. "Come on in."

  She gasped. "I am not."

  "Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's only so I can keep an eye on you."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I know I can't go out on my own at night. I'll be here until morning."

  "You will," he said. "Because I intend to make sure of it."

  He jackknifed to a seated position on the side of the bed and she took note of how quickly he could move when he wanted to. There was no point in making a run for it while he was watching her. She tried not to do stupid things.

  Of course, getting in that bed with him would be stupid.

  Unless she intended to have sex with him.

  Because they'd already proven that they couldn't keep their hands off each other. The constraints that had bound them when they were traveling in the open with other men would not be present in this room tonight.

  "You're not afraid of me, are you?" Dec nodded to her hand, which she suddenly realized was still clutched to her chest, as if she could keep her heart from reaching out to him.

  "No. Never." But she couldn't relax her hand. This moment was pivotal, a turning point in every sense of the word. As if from a distance, she could hear a couple of the men in another room talking and laughing with each other.

  But within the confines of this room, a peaceful quiet enclosed her and Dec, as if they were the only two people in the world, here in this white haven set off from the darkness outside—a darkness far deeper and more dreadful than the mere fact that it was nighttime.

  They would both venture into the figurative darkness tomorrow. Separately. Their time together was almost over.

  Could they have a different experience tonight?

  Should they?

  No matter what happened, she could never be afraid of him. Nor did their environment scare her. He couldn't know how familiar this room seemed to her, with its unadorned white stone walls, the high, plain windows without any hangings. She'd spent many summers of her childhood in a similar house in a small village, visiting her father. She recognized the long, rectangular cushions in faded colors that lined the far wall. She knew the plump pillows, with intricately patterned designs, which waited for the man of the house to take his ease.

  But this house, like that of her father, had been abandoned. The man of this house and all of his family members were long gone, either to death, the mountains, or, if they were lucky, to a refugee camp in Kurdistan or Turkey.

  Just as she needed to be gone, out of this house and out searching for her sister at first light. Which meant she had to figure out a way to get Dec to release her. She eyed him as he sat on the bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back straight. She knew what he wanted, even as he spoke of loneliness. Could she use his desire to get what she wanted?

  She had to assume he was planning to handcuff her so she couldn't sneak out. The men thought she'd jeopardize their safety if they let her go. She wouldn't, but she understood why they couldn't count on that. They'd only known her for a couple of days, as hard as that was to believe, and they were cautious men. Even she had to admit they'd be foolish to let her go.

  But she knew Dec had a chivalrous side to him. She didn't think he'd cuff a woman with whom he'd just had sex. He wasn't that cold, that unfeeling. He wouldn't want to think of himself as the sort of man who'd have sex with a prisoner; therefore he'd be careful not to treat her as a prisoner.

  Add to that the fact that a sexually sated man, especially a sexually exhausted man, would sleep soundly, wouldn't he? A woman who kept her wits about her could take advantage of that.

  She examined the idea from all sides.

  First, it was despicable.

  She knew that. Sex should never be used as a form of currency.

  Second, she might be making the mistake of thinking that what she wanted to do was what she should do. This was the last night she'd ever have with Declan. She'd be leaving Iraq and returning home with a traumatized sister. He'd be carrying on with his military service.

  So, even though she wanted to explore this explosive attraction between them, he would hate her for it when he discovered she'd used his passion to betray him.

  She sighed. That's exactly what she'd be doing. No point in lying to herself.

  The third point was the most significant. Seduction might work. He probably hadn't had sex in a while. She was pretty sure they'd have explosive sex if they let loose what they'd been playing with since they'd met. She could wear him out.

  The bottom line? She had to use whatever advantages she had. He would use the advantages he had to keep her here, including the fact that he was physically stronger than she was. She didn't doubt that if he caught her trying to escape, he could and would physically restrain her.

  "If you're not afraid," Dec said slowly, in response to her almost forgotten answer, "why don't you come over here?" He patted the bed beside him.

  "You must be tired." She had to be indirect, so he wouldn't guess what she was doing.

  "Not as tired as I am lonely." His voice was low, but it reached her with enough presence to feather over her skin.

  "I miss you already," he added.

  She was surprised into a soft laugh. "I'm still here."

  "This is our last night together."

  Even though she'd told herself the same thing, it was painful to hear him say so. He was establishing parameters. Whatever she did with him in this room tonight, it would not lead to anything more. Could she live with that? Did she have a choice?

  She stepped into the room. "Are you sure you'll be able to resist me if we're sleeping in the same bed?"

  His eyes narrowed. "I am damn sure I will not be able to resist you. So be careful what you start."

  She dropped the towel.

  His gaze flew to her breasts, which were clearly outlined by the tight tank top she was wearing. He sucked in an audible breath. "Laila," he murmured. "Come here."

  She padded slowly over the rug-strewn stone floor, until she was close enough to catch a hint of his scent. Gun oil and hot man.

  "Sit down." He patted the spot beside him on the low bed.

  She folded her legs, and sat, inhaling the sheer masculinity of his presence. This was going to be easy, because she wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anyone in her life. She wanted those
muscular arms wrapped around her, that hard body bearing her down to the bed, that hair-sprinkled chest rasping against her bare breasts.

  "Damn," he said softly. "I know this is going to torture me, but—"

  He lifted one hand and wrapped it slowly around the back of her neck, moving as if she were a skittish colt that needed to be tamed. "Just one kiss."

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Just before their lips met, he gentled his hold on her further so their kiss was light. Not glancing, but exploratory, a gentle tasting as if they had all the time in the world, rather than merely one night.

  One kiss turned into many, still tender, as if he didn't want to hurry her. As if he had much to learn about her and he wouldn't hurry himself.

  Laila melted at his unexpected tenderness. Where was the fierce soldier with his devotion to duty? All his devotion seemed directed at her.

  In the back of her mind, of course, she knew this rising joy was a mirage, a temporary respite in the midst of a difficult ordeal for both of them. But it was all too easy to forget that he had military duties to claim his attention in the morning, and she had her own heartfelt obligations.

  When he finally touched his tongue to her lips, she felt the first push of a demand. His patience, he seemed to say, had a limit. She opened immediately, as eager to explore as he was. Excitement roared through her at the thrust of his tongue, as rough and ready as the closed mouth kisses had been gentle and dreamy.

  He lifted her onto the bed, almost without breaking the kiss, and followed her down, his heavy body plastered against hers. Luckily, she didn't need to breathe as much as she needed to kiss him.

  Laila wrapped her hands around his shoulders, thrilling to the touch of his naked skin. Her hands began to roam, measuring the breadth of his shoulders, touring down his smooth, warm back. She could feel the contours of his muscles, thick and chiseled. This was a man who used his strength purposefully in his daily work, unlike the prissy men she was used to working with.

  "The brawn is impressive," she murmured, squeezing a bicep.

  He lifted his head a scant inch and looked down at her. "You calling me a piece of meat?"

  She nudged her hips upward. "From what I can tell, it's a lot more than a piece."

  He let out a roar of laughter. "You've inspired me, that's for sure."

  His mouth dropped onto hers again, and she let her hands continue down, until she hit the waist band of his pants. She mourned that he wasn't naked there. Yet. She wanted to slip her hands inside his waistband. It would be so easy to do.

  But a faint alarm was sounding in her head. Why was Declan showing so much restraint? His kisses were fierce, and hungry. But his hands weren't wandering like she expected, like she wanted them to, like hers were.

  His arms were wrapped around her, and he was rubbing his chest subtly against her breasts, as if some part of him had to be touching her there. But she wanted his hands there, his mouth—

  He pulled back abruptly, startling her. "Laila."

  "Hmmm." She really couldn't form words at this point.

  Dec shrugged his shoulders, as if he wanted to dislodge her hands. "Laila," he repeated, this time pulling his entire body away from hers. That was okay. The space he'd opened between them allowed her to run her hand down his chest, to his hard abdomen—

  He sucked in a sharp breath. "We need to stop."

  "Stop?"

  Had she heard him correctly? When she was inches away from delving into the loose sweat pants that rode low on his hips?

  "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked harshly. He grabbed her hand and held it off his body. "I don't think you do. We have huge—aw, shit." He rolled off her. "I don't know what to call it."

  "Call what?"

  "Differences." He waved his hand between them.

  "You mean like me Jane, you Tarzan?"

  He narrowed his eyes at her. "I am more than a side of beef, you know."

  "'Side' being significantly larger than 'piece'," she murmured.

  She could see his lips twitch with amusement, and was heartened. Whatever he was worried about, they could work through it.

  "It gets old after awhile," he said, "people thinking all we military guys do is beat our chests and pop off a few rounds."

  Immediately, she softened with remorse. "I know that, Dec. I know you have a heart hiding in here." She tapped his chest lightly. "I know you have a good brain that's necessary in your line of work. But what differences are you talking about?"

  "Are you kidding, Laila?" He peered across the gap he'd placed between them. "You haven't noticed the vast cultural differences between us?"

  "Cultural differences?" she parroted. What was he talking about?

  "Don't look at me like that, Laila. I haven't touched a woman in months. This"—he waved a hand between them—"what we were just doing. That's as much as I can take, given the circumstances."

  He must have read the surprise on her face. He gave a low laugh. "Yeah, I have to turn in my man card after that comment. But I don't know how experienced you are, nor what you might reasonably expect between us tonight given that I'm making you stay here with me."

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. How experienced she was? Did he think she was a—The answer flashed in her head. Of course. He thought she was a Muslim woman, with all the chaste modesty that the niqab represented.

  He met her gaze, his eyes serious, his lips unsmiling. "Are you the red lace camisole woman or the black burka-clad woman?"

  Of course he had to go by what he'd seen. A veiled woman, a member of a prudish religious sect—that's how she'd presented herself to him. He didn't know yet that almost every word she'd said to him since they'd met had been a lie.

  She'd laid herself a tightly sprung trap.

  How would a modestly covered, presumably chaste, Muslim woman have any sexual experience? How would she agree to sex with any man, let alone a man she'd only met two days ago? So how was she, Laila, going to use sex to get him to ignore his self-appointed guard dog duty?

  "Look." Declan broke into her thoughts. "Like I said before, you need to stay here with me tonight. But I'm not going to take advantage of you. Let's just try to get some sleep." He rolled over to the far side of the bed, turning his back to her.

  "Take advantage of me?" She propped herself up on one elbow so she could glare down at his broad back. "I am a twenty-eight year old woman. I'm responsible for whatever—whatever actions I take with my body. You can't take advantage of me!"

  He turned back to eye her warily over his shoulder. "Okay, whatever you say. Excuse me for worrying that I might be pressuring someone who is technically my prisoner, or for thinking you don't have the experience to understand how your body might betray you."

  "I am not the innocent fool you seem to think I am." She almost sputtered with anger. How dare he treat her like—well, as if she were the person she'd told him she was. Maybe she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't let it go. "If I had put my hands down your pants, it would have been because that's what I wanted to do."

  He rolled onto his side to face her. "In that case, maybe we should return to what we were doing before I stupidly decided to consider your wishes."

  Ah, he was so sweet.

  She raised her hand and ran a fingertip down the side of his face. She moved to the side of his neck, curled her fingers together and drew her nails down to his shoulder.

  "Again," he breathed, his gaze caught on hers.

  She scratched him hard, all along the back of his neck, until she'd moved to his far shoulder.

  "You don't seem quite so innocent anymore," he said, pushing her slowly down onto the bed. "Or you're ignorantly playing with fire."

  He followed her down until his chest pinned her. He shoved a hand into her hair, held her head and dropped his mouth onto hers.

  She opened immediately. Maybe it could be this easy. This pleasurable. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he groaned. She scored his back, feeling his muscles bunch and th
rob as he moved over her.

  His mouth was hard, his hands hungry as he pulled back enough to clasp one breast. He fondled it for a moment before lifting his head and muttering something under his breath. Then he lifted himself off her, grabbed the bottom of her tank top, and yanked it over her head.

  He fell upon her like a starving man, his mouth going unerringly for her breast. He sucked hard, a strong pull that drew pleasure from her nipple to her core. Her back arched like a strung bow.

  This time her hands moved below the waistband of his pants without her conscious order to do so. She was aware only of the enormous urgency to mate. She cradled him within the vee of her thighs, matching him thrust for thrust as he drove his erection against her.

  Their harsh breaths writhed between them as he lifted his head. He held himself there, staring down at her, his hips continuing their dance of desire against her.

  "Declan," she whispered. She was conscious of playing out her last card, knowing she was doing this for the wrong reason. At the same time, there was nothing she wanted more than for him to plunge inside her. Her own arousal clawed her with a need for relief. But she also wanted desperately to provide him with this ease while she could. She wet her lips. "I want you."

  He held himself over her, the muscles of his arms carved in the dim light, his eyes alight with emotions she couldn't name.

  Just when she was sure he would succumb, he yanked himself away from her and ejected out of the bed. "Christ, Laila, I can't do it."

  Shock held her immobile as cold air hit her where his warmth had been. She couldn't lose him now. "Don't you want me, Dec?"

  "Of course I want you!" He gestured angrily downward. "Can't you see that? Didn't you feel it?"

  "Of course I did," she said softly. "But an erection is an automatic reflex. I meant don't you want me with your mind, your—" She couldn't say the word that surprised her, trying to force its way out. The word 'heart' would end this tryst altogether. Of course he didn't want her with his heart. That was too much to expect.

  He stalked away from her, stopping at the far end of the room, as if he needed distance from her. That hurt.