Frisco couldn’t stop himself from brushing his thumb back and forth over her soft cheek as he stared into her cognac-colored eyes. “C’mon, whatta ya say? I’ll even let you choose the movie.”
He thought for sure she was going to turn him down, as she’d done several times this week when he’d tried to get her to relax and unwind, but this time she surprised him. She opened a drawer on the other side of her chair, withdrew a takeout menu, and handed it to him. “Okay. But I want Chinese instead of pizza. I’m in the mood for General Tso’s shrimp and pork fried rice.”
Grinning, he opened the menu and scanned the fifty or so choices. “What else is good besides that? We can share.”
“Who said anything about sharing?” she asked with a smirk. “I don’t share my General Tso’s shrimp with anybody.”
“Hmm . . . not even with someone ordering Szechuan beef?”
“Mmm. You drive a hard bargain. I might be persuaded to swap a few bites, if . . . you let me have your fortune cookie.”
His brow raised at her playfulness. He’d been flirting with her all week, and while she hadn’t said he was overstepping the boundaries between them, she also hadn’t flirted back . . . until tonight. “Tell you what, I’ll order extra.”
Haven pushed on the wheels of her chair and rolled backward. “Great. While you call it in, I’m going to hop in the shower.”
“I can scrub your back if you want.”
The blush he loved so much was back, staining her cheeks. “I got it covered, stud. Thanks anyway.”
His laughter followed her out the door. Maybe he was finally growing on her. Awesome.
Thirteen
A fter stripping off her clothes, Haven transferred herself to the sturdy, plastic seat in the extra-large, handicapped shower with the spray already on full blast. Usually, she would let the water warm up, but didn’t wait this time. A little cold water would temper her burning cheeks and raging hormones. All week, she’d kept herself in check and made sure she didn’t lead Frisco on by responding to his flirting. But tonight, her control had flown out the window when he’d cupped her chin, and those wicked eyes had bored into her. Her jaw and cheek still tingled from where he’d rubbed his thumb back and forth, and that feeling had shot straight to her core. It had taken all her strength to propel her chair out of the room. If she wasn’t careful, the man would work his way under her skin more than he’d already done.
Once her hair was soaked, she grabbed a bottle of her favorite shampoo, which smelled like roses, from the shower’s low shelf. Actually, it’d been her sister’s favorite, and Haven liked to use it to bring back happy memories that weren’t marred by terrorists determined to kill anyone who didn’t pray to the same deity they did. But this time as she worked the scented lather into her strands of hair, her mind conjured up the man who was currently ordering their dinner.
If this were another time and place, she’d have already invited Frisco into her bed, of that she was certain. But she saw the way he looked at her sometimes when he didn’t think she was paying attention, and that usually stopped her in her tracks. He wanted her in his bed—he’d made no attempt to hide that fact—but she got the feeling he wanted more than that . . . more than what she could give him. Haven had no idea how to be herself around a man like him. For thirteen years, up to the point she was shot, she’d played a role, even if she wasn’t on a mission. She always had to be “on,” like an actor staying in character during an entire filming schedule. The only place she could relax and be herself was alone, behind closed doors. But Lucas “Frisco” Ingram was slowly working his way past the defensive walls she’d built around her heart, and it scared her shitless. She was so afraid that if he got to know the real Haven, the one she kept hidden from the rest of the world, he’d be disappointed and walk away. She couldn’t handle any more loss in her life—there had been far too much already.
But the way he made her feel, just by roaming his gaze over her from head to toe like he wanted to devour her, was weakening her defenses. Each day, she became more attracted to him and often found herself daydreaming about what it would be like for him to kiss her, strip her naked, and bring her to orgasm after orgasm. Her long-dormant sexual desires were rising to the surface again, and when Frisco was in the room they were ready to spill over, taking her doubts with them.
Once more, she felt a stirring between her legs. “Damn it,” she muttered to herself as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. “Thinking about him all day long is not helping.”
After several moments of hesitation, Haven rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of body oil she kept on the shower’s shelf. “Might as well figure out if everything’s working without an audience.”
Pouring some of the oil onto her fingers, she spread her legs a little wider. Leaning on the chair-back, she closed her eyes and conjured up Frisco. Every day in therapy she was treated to a delicious sight when he took his shirt off so the therapists could get at his shoulders and neck. He was sculpted perfection under his cotton T-shirts, and she wondered what the loose pants and shorts he wore hid, certain she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Trailing her hand down her abdomen, she paused for a moment, before allowing her fingers to brush across her clit. She gasped at the contact, even though she’d been expecting it. She did it again as, in her mind, Frisco went down on his knees in front of her. He kissed the inside of her thighs as he worked his way up to her pussy. While she’d recently begun trimming herself down there, she really wanted to go get waxed again. Up until the day she was shot, she’d always kept herself bare, sans a small patch above her clit.
As Frisco did wicked things to her in her daydream, her fingers began to work their magic. Dipping them inside her tight pussy, she drove herself higher. Haven forced herself to push everything else from her mind except what her fantasy lover was doing to her. Lifting her other hand to her breasts, she rolled the taut peaks between her fingers, pulling on them. Her breathing increased as she found her clit again and rubbed furiously. Frisco was spreading her wider and eating her like she was the sweetest fruit on Earth.
That’s it, baby. Give me more. Give me all of it.
Harder. Faster. Demanding everything she had. Refusing to take a small sample. He wanted everything she had to offer.
Cum for me, Haven. Cum for me, now!
Haven shattered around her fingers. Her body shook with abandon as her other hand shot out to grab the shower’s safety bar. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. It’d been so long since she’d climaxed, she thought she’d pass out from the intensity. Her fingers drew out the orgasm as long as possible, before she began to float back to reality. Behind her closed eyelids, she saw Frisco looking at her from between her legs. His chin was covered with the evidence of her release as he grinned with satisfaction. “That’s my girl. Ready for round two?”
With Haven curled up to his right, her head resting on the pillow in his lap, and Roxie, to his left, snuggled against him, Frisco couldn’t get up. He was thanking his lucky stars the remote was in reach and he didn’t need to use the bathroom; he didn’t want to disturb either of them. His hands had stroked both of them—Haven’s chestnut hair, which was still slightly damp, and Roxie’s reddish-blonde fur—long after they’d started to snore softly in tandem. Picking up the remote from the other side of the dog, he lowered the volume of the TV as the last of the credits for Skyfall ended and Spectre began. He’d been surprised at Haven’s choice of the James Bond films. Then again, she used to do a lot of things that could’ve been used for a series franchise about a female spy . . . if the public ever found out about it, which probably wouldn’t happen.
Frisco adjusted his hips the best he could without waking the two sleepers. His dick had been hard for the past half hour—more so than earlier when he’d been thinking about Haven naked in the shower. With her hand tucked under his thigh, her fingers were curved around his leg, stopping just below hi
s sweatpants-covered balls. He knew it was unintentional on her part—she’d been out like a light when it’d happened—but still it was driving him crazy. Every once in a while, her fingers twitched or tightened briefly, and he wished they were wrapped around his aching cock instead. If it wasn’t for the pillow, he’d be hitting her in the ear with it, and that wasn’t the part of her body the damn thing wanted to be in.
He could really get used to this. Not only was he attracted to Haven on a sexual level, he liked being with her. There were a lot of guys he knew who considered their wives or girlfriends to be their best friends, but he never really got it before now. In only a week, he felt more comfortable with her than he’d ever been with another woman in his life. He’d told her all about his family the other night over a cup of coffee and dessert after Avery had gone back to the guest house following dinner. She’d seemed honestly interested in the funny stories that had become part of his family’s history over the years. Then she’d listened with sympathy as he’d explained how he’d lost several good friends on the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan. While he’d never forget any of them, the one incident that often woke him up in a cold sweat was the one he should have been killed in, too.
It was actually embarrassing why he was still alive and the others were dead. It’d been a year before he’d become an Army Ranger, and almost three years before he’d joined the elite Delta Force. He and his unit had been two days away from going home after a six-month tour. They could almost taste the American air they’d been missing, along with pizza, barbecue, and anything else that didn’t come from a mess hall or MRE package. Ten members of his squad had been loading up to leave the confines of Camp Leatherneck for a run to Kandahar, escorting a small convoy of supply trucks. Frisco’s intestinal system had been revolting against that morning’s breakfast, and he was suffering from a severe case of the farts. The guys he’d been serving with for nearly two years had banished him to another Humvee with some of the newer arrivals to the base, instead of having him stink up their vehicle. With no AC and areas where having open windows was an invitation to get shot in the head, they’d wanted no part of his gastric distress. Laughing, they’d locked him out of the vehicle, telling him to hitch a ride in the other one. His grumbling had been cut short about two miles from camp when the lead Humvee, filled with his best friend and other buddies, ran over a concealed bomb. The explosion had ripped through the bottom of the vehicle, instantly killing everyone on board except the driver, who’d died hours later while in surgery.
Four friends, who’d been through hell and back with him for two tours, were gone in the blink of an eye. Frisco had been beyond devastated, and his superiors had known it. Since he was already rotating home, they’d granted him permission to accompany the bodies of his teammates back to the US for burial. He spent the entire trip aboard a C-130, a military transport plane designed to carry only rows of flag-covered caskets of fallen heroes and their escorts.
After landing at Dover AFB, a solemn, dignified transfer of the remains of the dead followed, before they were transported to whichever part of the country their families had requested. Frisco had stayed with two of his buddies, including his best friend, Joshua “Digger” Riggs, who’d been placed on the commercial flight heading to Columbus, Georgia, near Fort Benning where they’d been stationed at the time. Digger’s family had flown in to escort their son and brother home. Frisco had barely gotten through the funerals, and if it wasn’t for Digger’s father, he may never have gotten on Delta. He could still hear the older man’s words after they were the only two still remaining at the grave site.
Retired Army Gunnery Sergeant Michael Riggs grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and made sure he had his attention. Riggs had aged ten years since he’d been notified of his son’s death, but he still gave his support to those around him, who were also grieving. “Now, you listen here, Frisco. I know what you’re going through—I’ve been there many times during my tours. You’re wondering how the hell to go on after this.” He pointed to the still open grave. “This was not your fault. Put the blame where it belongs—with those bastards who planted that bomb. Josh and the others wouldn’t want you to give up your dreams for them. I know you both put in for the Rangers with the intent of going all the way to Delta. When you get that call, I want you to go and be the best damn Ranger then Delta the US has ever seen. You do it for him . . . for all of them. I know you won’t be able to tell me when you do make it to Delta—notice I didn’t say if—but I’ll know. And I’ll be damn proud of you. So will Josh. Every mission you go on, know they’ll have your six.” He tapped Frisco’s temple and then the left side of his sternum with his finger. “You’ll feel them here and here.”
Two months later, Frisco had gotten the call to join the 75th Ranger Regiment. After passing the training, he spent two years with them before being selected for Delta Force. With Michael Riggs’s words resonating in his mind, there had never been a moment of doubt that he wouldn’t complete the rigorous, six-month Operator Training Course.
Two days after graduation, he’d learned that Digger’s father was near death after a year-long battle with cancer. Having a week’s leave before he was due at Fort Hood, Frisco had flown to Columbus, Georgia. Upon his arrival at the Riggs’s family home, he’d been greeted warmly by Digger’s mom and three sisters, before walking into the living room where a hospital bed had been set up.
Thinking he’d arrived too late—the older man had been in and out of consciousness for three days—Frisco was surprised when Mr. Riggs’s eyes opened and focused on him. Unable to speak, he’d used the little energy he still had to raise his eyebrows. Frisco had nodded in response. “You tell them, I did it, Gunny. I did it for you, them, and every veteran who’s ever defended our flag.”
A smile had spread across the man’s pale and drawn face. Three hours later, surrounded by his family and his son’s best friend, Michael Riggs passed away.
Fourteen
F risco’s eyes were shut, but he was still awake. A faint click, barely discernible over the low volume of the TV, had his lids opening in a flash. Roxie had apparently heard the same thing because she lifted her head and stared toward the kitchen. When her tail started thumping softly against the back of the couch, Frisco relaxed again. It had to be Avery since the dog barked for everyone but her and Haven. Rising to her four paws, the retriever-mix hopped down and stretched before trotting over to her mistress as Avery walked into the room on silent feet. She bent down to scratch Roxie’s ears and crooned softly, “Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?”
From the way the dog groaned and leaned into the caress, while her tail went a mile a minute, it was apparent she did. Avery glanced at the couple on the couch and raised an eyebrow at Frisco. Haven was still out like a light in the same position she’d been in earlier. He’d placed a throw blanket over her to keep her from getting cold in the cotton shorts and tank top she’d put on after her shower.
Avery smiled. “Hmm. I knew the moment I met you, if anyone could break through her defenses, it would be you. You’re good for her. That being said, you hurt her, and they’ll never find your body. Got it?”
That the petite woman in her fifties was threatening him, a highly trained Delta operative, would have been comical to most people. However, Frisco was sure she’d done her share of damage to enemies of the US and would have no problem taking one down today. He wondered if becoming a nurse was to atone for any deaths by her hand during her prior career. “Duly noted. The last thing I’d ever do is hurt her.”
“I know. Just wanted it on record. Come on, Roxie. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. Have a good night, Frisco.”
“You, too, Avery.”
After they left for the guest house, Frisco used the remote to turn off the TV. Gently lifting the pillow and Haven’s head, he slid out from under them and stood. Tucking his hands under her back and thighs, he lifted and carried her to the master bedroom. He loved the feel of her in his arms, her
head resting on his shoulder. Bending over, he grasped the covers of the bed with the hand that was still under her legs and pulled them down, before setting her on the mattress. Drawing the sheet and blanket on top of her, he shut off the bedside lamp she’d left on earlier. He then returned to the living room to throw out the empty plates and cartons from their dinner. Retrieving her wheelchair, he placed it next to the bed where she could reach it.
After staring at Haven’s sleeping form for a few more moments, committing it to memory, he was about to head back out to the couch when she moaned. Her head rocked back and forth as she reached up into the air for something he couldn’t see. “Noooo! M-Mom . . . Tara . . . I’m sorry . . . so sorry.”
Frisco was shocked at her mention of family. He knew she didn’t have any now, but from the sound of it, Haven had lost some of them tragically. Her restlessness increased as her legs moved slightly under the covers, but she was still sound asleep. “It’s all my fault . . . noooooooo!”
He grabbed her hand, before it could knock over the lamp, and squatted next to the bed. Brushing his other hand across her forehead, he whispered, “Sh. Haven. It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”
It took a few moments of reassuring her before she quieted under his touch. Her hands closed around his arm and pulled him closer. It was probably the stupidest idea of his recent past, but Frisco couldn’t let her go. Carter’s words from months ago, sitting in the restaurant, came back to him. Sometimes what a person wanted, wasn’t what they needed. And Haven needed him; there was no way he’d be able to sleep on the couch tonight, knowing that.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Handling Haven: A Deimos/Trident Security/Delta Team Crossover (Kindle Worlds) Page 10
