It’s exhilarating. I get it now. When I left for the field, when I was pulled away from Becca for some time, I felt like I’d left a piece of myself behind, like there was something tethering me to Becca and her life back here. I always thought it was something approaching love that I felt for Becca.
If I’m honest, that might still be a big part of it.
But now I understand why that feeling was so strong. It was her child. Our child. I feel my heart pounding fiercely and proudly in my chest, the very core of my biological drive as a human feeling so fulfilled, so completed.
I’m a father, and I couldn’t be happier.
Even when I was in the middle of combat, going through the most intensive hell on earth that I could possibly experience, there was something very real tying me back to my home, the home that is Becca and our kid.
This feels so right, and it makes so much sense that my head is nearly dizzy. This is why I’ve felt her at my side in my darkest hours, this is why I’ve heard her soft voice whispering to me in the bleakest nights of my service to the country.
A world away from Becca, there was something tying us together all along, something pulling us to one another over insurmountable odds, and I knew my instincts were right without being able to place exactly why. But now I know.
And here she thinks she did something wrong?
I turn around suddenly, feeling a newfound energy in my chest, and I’m shocked to see fear in Becca’s eyes. Real, profound fear of losing me, of anxiety over everything that she’s just spilled out. She flinches away, uncertain of what I’m going to do.
Was that the impulse that made her hide the child from me? Maybe some men would be angry, but I feel a mix of emotions. To some degree, I do feel a sting of disappointment from the one person I hoped to be nothing but understanding and trusting with me when I returned.
But her words haven’t fallen on deaf ears. She’s done everything to protect our child. Wouldn’t I have done the same to make sure the most important thing in my life was going to be shared by capable, trustworthy hands?
And besides, I’m too overwhelmed by the joy of the revelation to feel anything approaching anger.
“Don’t apologize, Becca,” I say, taking her hands in mine calmly as she looks up at me uncertainly. Now it’s my turn to comfort her. “There’s no need for that.”
“What?”
“I understand what you had to do,” I say, giving her hands a gentle squeeze as she sniffs back tears. “It’s not something that comes easily, and I know it must have been something you labored over for a long time.”
I look back out the window for a moment and my blood is racing less fiercely, mellowed out by everything I’ve been feeling the past few minutes.
“I know more than anyone else how much life out there can change you,” I say, looking at her significantly. “That work you did isn’t something you come out of without scars. Neither is SEAL service. Nobody knows that better than me — and now you too,” I admit with a smile, and she manages one too through her tearstained eyes.
“Becca, I couldn’t hold anything against you if I wanted to,” I say, my deep voice a reassuring intonation to her. “You mean the world to me, you have ever since we parted ways. Don’t think that doing what you felt you needed to do should be a hurdle to that.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with that, Adrian?” she says, gnawing her lower lip as she lets me pull her in closer. “I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, but-”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from service, staying out in the wilderness with my comrades for months on end,” I say with a sincere smile, “it’s that I can’t hold my feelings back.”
She smiles, her eyes still teary, and I pick her up, swinging her around in a hug that makes her giggle. I walk her back to the bed and set her down, carefully moving the breakfast tray aside, and then I bring my lips to hers, kissing her in a deep, liberating exchange that makes my heart roar in bliss.
When it breaks, I smile at her, rubbing her back gently.
“It’ll be okay, Becca. I know we both have some healing to do, but I want to do it together or not at all.”
“Me too,” she says softly, losing herself in my eyes. I’m already gone in hers.
“Nothing’s ever going to hurt our family as long as I’m alive, Becca,” I say, my voice a little more serious now. I know I have enemies, but I’ll wade through their bodies before I let anyone threaten what I’ve built with Becca after all this time, what little it is. It’s the most valuable thing I’ve got. I smile. “But first things first.”
“What’s that?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
I grin, taking her hips and pulling her into my lap as I lean back against the backboard of the bed, playing with her hair thoughtfully. “Tell me everything about our daughter. I’ve got a year to catch up on, after all.”
We laugh in joy, but something bothers me. Not her. Not any of this. It’s like when you feel the air change around you as dark storm clouds gather just along the horizon.
It’s too good to be true. Something’s not right.
I have a good feeling for these things.
Rebecca
I am ecstatic.
This morning it feels as though I’m walking on air — no, like I’m dancing on air. I feel weightless, buoyant, like a vibrant rose petal being gently lifted and carried about on a pleasant breeze. The weight of my dishonesty has finally been swept away from my shoulders and at last I feel like I can walk around with my head held high, my shoulders straight. I haven’t been this happy since, well, since the day my daughter was born. And now she will have a father! Her real father!
All these confusing, complicated months of watching my baby girl grow up with a mingled sense of joy and regret are over. I mean, my little Maya already has a pretty strong male influence in her life in the form of her grandfather, my endlessly patient and steadfast dad. Between my parents and me, Maya has wanted for very little in her days on earth thus far. I am an only child, and my parents had me when they were already in their late thirties, so there was pretty much no hope for them to ever give me a sibling. And I think they were getting a little bored and lonely while I was gone away working for NATO. I was their shining star growing up, the center of their universe.
So now they are overjoyed to have another little girl to spoil and adore. I have been incredibly lucky to have my parents around to help raise my daughter. They have taught her things that I never would have even thought of. For instance, my Quebecois mother speaks fluent French. My own handle of the language is… well, shaky, to say the least. But Maya’s first word was actually un toutou, as she pointed excitedly at my father’s cocker spaniel, Mitzy. It’s moments like that which make me even more grateful to my parents for helping me raise my daughter.
But today I am over the moon at the thought of yet another wonderful person being added to the community of people taking care of Maya: her biological father, Adrian. Part of me is still in a state of shock and disbelief over how positively he reacted to my magnanimous revelation. I mean, it’s kind of a big deal to suddenly learn that one has a secret child out there in the world. I am amazed and filled with gratitude that he responded so well to the news. I expected him to be angry. No, I expected him to be furious, really.
I’m still kicking myself over the fact that I kept my daughter hidden away from her father all this time. But I have to remind myself that I didn’t do it for selfish reasons. It wasn’t for my sake — it was for what I thought was my daughter’s well-being. I assumed that her father would be vengeful and try to steal her away from me, from my parents, from everything she’s ever known, in some long, drawn-out custody battle that would traumatize us all. Or even worse — I knew there was a chance that Adrian would simply want nothing to do with her, and my little girl would have to grow up knowing that her own father rejected her. But that was all fear talking in my mind. I knew Adrian better than that, even from our brief time toget
her and the communication after.
Just the thought of that makes a lump rise in my throat. I think back on how wonderful it was to have my own father around all the time when I was growing up, and I can’t imagine how empty Maya’s life would be without the same kind of steady, protective influence. And even though Adrian has his issues — I mean, his past clearly still haunts him occasionally— I am confident that Maya will be much better off with her daddy around.
And then, of course, there’s the fact that I want him around. For me.
Because even in this brief, tiny little window of time we’ve spent together, it has become increasingly obvious to me that Adrian is meant for me. We are cut from the same cloth, despite our apparent differences. We complete and complement each other in so many ways. I can feel myself beginning to really, truly fall for him.
How poetic, and how strange. We’re doing it all backwards. It’s supposed to be this way: date, fall in love, get married, have a baby. But I feel like we have the sequence all jumbled up, and now I have no idea what could be coming up next. Even stranger still, I don’t even really mind not knowing. I am content to simply hop on this magical ride and see where it takes us. As long as we’re together, I don’t particularly mind where we end up or what we have to go through to get there.
Adrian and I have been cuddling in our lush, silken hotel bed, just dozing on and off, waking up now and again to kiss and gaze into each other’s eyes. It feels like we are on our honeymoon, even though we aren’t even married. Or engaged. But here in this bustling city, we have finally found a momentary oasis, a soft and pleasant spot where we can focus on nothing but each other.
Around nine o’clock, he sighs contentedly and wraps an arm around me, tugging me close so he can kiss my forehead. I giggle and press into his warm chest, breathing in his sweet, but manly scent.
“I could easily stay here all day like this,” he says, his voice deep and husky.
I kiss his collarbone, running my fingers along his bulging bicep absentmindedly.
“Me, too,” I reply. Adrian squeezes me tight and strokes my hair.
“But I think we should get up and take a quick shower. Then maybe head into town. I have something I want to shop for,” he tells me, a little cryptically. I am almost too enraptured by the thought of taking a shower together to even question what he wants to go out looking for. But then I shake myself back to the present moment and force myself to ask.
“You? Shopping?” I say dubiously, grinning up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s shopping for you, really.” He pauses, and I look at him expectantly. His sensuous lips crack into a broad grin and he continues, “I think it’s time I put a ring on your finger, don’t you?”
My heart does what feels like a complicated gymnastics move in my chest.
“Wh-what?” I splutter, totally blindsided. Like I said, our sequence is all jumbled up.
“I mean, I know what I want. And we already have a baby together, Bex. It seems only appropriate that we make this thing official. You are everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’ll be damned if I let you slip through my fingers ever again,” Adrian explains, cupping my cheek in his huge, calloused hand. My lips fall open as I struggle to come to terms with this new development.
“So, what do you say? Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” he presses on, still grinning at me with that gorgeous, cocky smile. I am reminded of him the way I first saw him, riding too fast and too dangerously up and down the Afghan dunes in that beat-up car, reckless and carefree even though I knew deep down he was strictly disciplined and in control. There is a kind of windswept charisma about him, his every smile or wink infused with a hint of adventure. I get the sense that a life by his side will be an exhilarating one. And it’s a life I simply cannot pass up.
“Of course I will,” I answer, laughing a little. “But aren’t you supposed to be down on one knee or something?”
“Well, you and I have already broken with tradition in about a thousand other ways, but if you want me down on my knee, you got it!” he replies, getting out of bed and kneeling down. I giggle and scoot to the edge of the bed, looking down at the impossibly handsome man before me, offering me his empty hand.
When my eyes land on his open palm he says, “See? This is what I need to go shopping for. I can’t properly propose to you until there’s a ring in this hand. And I don’t want to wait a minute longer to make you mine.” He stands up and reaches down to sweep me up into his arms, causing me to squeal with delight and surprise.
“Where are you taking me?” I laugh, batting at his arm playfully.
“I told you! Quick shower, then it’s off to put a ring on your finger,” he responds with a wink.
My whole body tingles at the prospect of getting in the shower with him. Feeling his hard, powerful body slick and wet against my own. I gulp back my anticipation as Adrian carries me through the doorway to the ritzy hotel bathroom, with its high ceilings and glossy finishes. He sets me down gently and strips out of his t-shirt and boxers. I have to stifle a gasp, amazed to see him in this bright, exposing light. For a moment I am overcome with insecurity, realizing that now I will be totally vulnerable under the unforgiving fluorescent bulbs, too. Especially because the shower is essentially a giant rectangular cell with fully transparent glass walls, reflected clearly in the massive mirror on the opposite wall over the white marble sinks. I’ll be totally exposed, and even though I have already been naked with Adrian before, this feels different. We’re not being quick and hasty this time, and we’re not fucking in the low light of evening. This is bright light. He will be able to see every line and curve of my post-baby body now.
Adrian turns on the shower and steps through the glass door, beckoning for me to strip down and follow. “Come on,” he says, “I want to see all of your beautiful body.”
I hesitate, biting my lip as I self-consciously fidget with the hem of my oversized t-shirt — one of his that I snuggled into sometime last night. But with him watching me expectantly, I know I can’t deny him what he asks for. So I gingerly peel off the shirt and my little pink panties, tossing both aside as I unsuccessfully try to cover up my exposed parts with my hands.
Adrian gives me a confused look.
“Why are you hiding yourself from me? Bex, I’ve already seen you naked. You know I love every part of you.”
I sigh and step into the shower with him, trying not to focus on how vulnerable I feel now. Adrian quickly pulls me into his arms and strokes the dampening hair back from my face, peering down at me fondly. As he slowly runs his fingertips down my neck, my arms, my curvy waist, I start to relax. Adrian knows me. He has known me since the moment we locked eyes at the bazaar. There is no reason for me to shy away from him. We are meant to be, and the one place I should feel most comfortable and free is in his arms.
He gently tips my chin upward to kiss me deeply, his tongue probing at my lips. I open my mouth to give him access, all but melting into his warmth, his incredible strength. He can bend me and mold me so easily, like I’m just a lump of obedient clay in his hands. Adrian knows just how to turn me on, how to make me tick. His hands slide down my back to grip my ass, pulling me closer to him so that his hard, stiff cock pokes into my thigh. He moans into our kiss, one of his hands roving up to caress my breast, his thumb trailing circles over my nipple. Tiny pinpricks of pleasure shoot down my body and I lean into his touch hungrily. I have longed for this. I find myself craving Adrian in a way I never expected to, like he’s a drug I never want to quit.
He begins to grind against me slightly, his shaft sliding back and forth across my thigh. I can feel myself getting slick between the thighs, and not from the shower water running down my back. Everything is soft and steamy, our bodies pressed so closely together I can hardly tell where my body ends and his begins. We are one, moving united under the deliciously warm water.
Adrian reaches down to cup my tingling sex and I gasp as he plants a biting, insistent
kiss along the slope of my neck, sucking at my skin until a rosy mark blooms there. His fingers expertly stroke my clit, flicking along my wet opening as I rock into his hand, needing more, more, more.
“Oh god,” I whisper, closing my eyes and giving in to the sensation. Adrian groans, clearly pleased with himself. He slips a finger inside me and I cry out, nearly falling over at the sudden penetration, but he catches me and holds me still. We kiss sloppily, the shower spray wetting our faces as Adrian pumps his finger in and out of my aching pussy.
“It feels so fucking good,” I groan, clutching at his shoulders as my pleasure mounts ever higher and higher, until finally an orgasm shatters over me, my legs trembling and my knees buckling beneath me. But Adrian holds me up, lifting his hand to suck my juices from his finger. He turns me around so that his cock presses against my ass cheek, rutting against me.
“Bend over for me, baby,” he orders softly, his voice rough and raspy with need. I can tell he’s doing everything possible to hold back, to take it slow. But I don’t want that — I want him to use me, to fill me up and lose control.
“Whatever you want, you can have,” I tell him plainly as I bend over, spreading my legs wider. He lets out a low groan of approval, his huge hands squeezing my ass, pushing them apart and sliding his cock along my slick cunt. That sensation in itself is nearly orgasmic and I back up into him greedily.
“I’ve dreamt about this for so long, Bex,” he tells me, slapping my ass. I can tell he’s getting closer to losing control. I want him to take me, hard, fast, however he desires.
“Me too,” I answer breathlessly. “Take me, Adrian. Please. I need it.”
“I wanted to be slow and gentle for you, baby, but you’re making it hard for me,” Adrian replies, and the catch in his voice tells me he really is struggling. “I just want to ram that sweet little cunt, fill you up with my seed. I want to put another baby inside you so badly, Bex.”
Sights on the SEAL: A Secret Baby Romance Page 6
