Always a Warrior

by Patricia Bruening

  She climbed out of the car and nudged the door shut but waited for him. He rounded the front of the car to stand in front of her, his dark eyes staring into hers. The sensual gleam in his eyes sent shivers of desire through her. Instead of taking her hand, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. His head lowered, filled her vision, and his lips slid seductively over hers. On a sudden surge of hunger, she knew that no dinner ever tasted as good as Damien.

  He pulled back slowly, his eyes glittering as he peered down at her. “Hungry?"

  "Starving,” she confirmed huskily.

  The double entendre scrambled her pulse as he led her into the restaurant, his arm around her shoulders. The ambience inside might not have been as seductive as the raging thunderstorm and flickering candlelight at the cabin but it was as romantic as anything a romance novelist put on paper.

  The subdued lighting lent an air of privacy at every table. They were led to a table in a semi-secluded corner. A fat candle glowed in tinted glass in the center of the table. A shaded lamp suspended above the table cast just enough light for Laurie to peruse the menu. She glanced up, straight into Damien's gaze. The flickering light in his eyes brought back in full force that last erotic night in his cabin.

  He must have read the memories in her eyes because his eyes blazed. Delicious tingles zipped up her spine and spread all through her. Only a slight rustle of movement at the edge of her vision shoved those erotic images to the corner of her mind and forced her gaze from him.

  The waitress was a small Chinese woman, with gray in her hair, who took their order without writing a single thing down. Laurie was impressed when, after bringing the bottle of wine Damien ordered, the waitress returned with exactly what they ordered. Damien poured burgundy, Laurie's favorite wine, into both glasses then lifted his glass as his gaze met hers over the rim.

  "I almost didn't come back,” he began as he twirled the wine. “I wasn't sure if you could ever love me again. I almost chickened out but it's not the nature of a Navy SEAL to be a coward.” He paused, stared into the dark red liquid, and then looked at her again. “I wanted you to love me again, like you did before."

  "No. Not again, Damien.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass, twirling it on the table, as uncomfortable as he appeared to be. “I never stopped loving you."

  The sudden flare in his eyes had nothing to do with candlelight. “I thought you hated me. I deserved it."

  Laurie shook her head, sipped her wine, and then lowered the glass once more to the table. “No. I didn't hate you, though I wanted to, even tried to convince myself I did hate you for a day or two.” She sighed. “I was scared, confused—angry at you."

  "And hurt,” Damien interjected, regret in his eyes as his hand covered hers.

  "Yes, hurt,” she admitted. “But even then, I still loved you."

  Tears threatened but she blinked them back. Her hand trembled under his and she tried to draw away but he tightened his grip. She dropped her unsteady gaze to her plate and toyed with her wine glass.

  "You forgave me,” he murmured, sounding awed, baffled, and humbled all at once. “I didn't know if you ever would—or could.” He cleared his throat. “What did I do in the past month to deserve that?"

  "Not the last month,” she replied softly. “The day we left the terrorist compound—the day I had to make a killing shot I wasn't sure I could make."

  "What?” He put his glass down and stared at her.

  She squirmed but explained. “I swore I forgave you everything if fate let me make that shot. Nothing else mattered as long as I didn't have to watch you die."

  "You said that,” he muttered, “that night in that dingy room over the bar."

  "That was only part of it,” she admitted in a low voice. “Of course I didn't want to watch you die. In spite of everything, I still loved you. I.... “She stopped and bit her lip. “I just couldn't say it. I knew you didn't want to hear it."

  With that she did look away. She picked up her fork, toyed with her food, but didn't eat it. The silence lingered, uncomfortable as a wet blanket in winter. This time when she tried to pull her hand from his, he released her.

  "You're right,” he finally broke the silence. “I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to feel it. And I didn't want to say it."

  "Why?” she demanded but refused to look at him.

  "Because I loved you even then,” he admitted roughly. “And I knew if I said it, my whole life would change. I didn't want my life to change."

  "I didn't have to change,” she murmured into her glass, stunned by his admissions.

  "I wasn't ready for it,” he continued as though she had not spoken. “My life was exactly as I wanted it, needed it. I didn't need anything else. I couldn't have anything else."

  He stopped and the silence carried an element of expectancy. She lifted her gaze warily to his, knew he would not say another word unless she asked the question. She needed to know what made him decide to leave his career. Afraid she knew the answer, and unwilling to shoulder that responsibility, she hesitated. She drew a breath, let it out slowly, and hoped there was a different answer.

  "What changed, Damien?"

  "Six months of hell,” he muttered with a vicious edge to his voice. Then his tone softened and he looked into her eyes. “I still wanted you. I needed you. And I loved you."

  She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. His skin was warm under her fingertips and her nerves tingled pleasantly when he entwined his fingers with hers. Tears of compassion filled her eyes and she blinked furiously. He'd see it as pity, something he never wanted.

  "I watched the news every day.” She couldn't stop the hitch in her voice. “I wondered where you were—if you survived."

  His fingers tightened on hers. “It wasn't the work, the job. That was pretty normal.” He paused as though searching for the right words. His voice was gruff when he spoke again. “Suddenly, it wasn't enough. All I had were memories. The memories weren't enough—not when I was alone in my quarters.” He trailed off.

  "When you were home?” Laurie prompted, breathless at his personal confessions. The uncertainty in his eyes put a quiver in her heart. He seemed to struggle with the words.

  "I'm no good at this,” he stated and jerked his hand.

  She tightened her grip and held on, saying huskily, “You're doing fine so far."

  His stark gaze bored into her. “I was never home, never quite managed to come home, until I came back to you."

  Though harsh with raw emotion, that simple statement slipped into her heart and lodged there. Extremely touched, her heart over-flowing with love, Laurie didn't try to stop the tears that trickled over her lashes.

  "Jesus,” he muttered, letting go of his wine glass. “I didn't mean to make you cry."

  He stroked her cheek as she gave him a shaky smile. “It's okay. I just—I love you so much. No one has ever said anything like that to me."

  He drew his hand back in a slow caress of fingertips on her skin. A warm glow spread through her, heart and soul. His slow smile lit his face and his eyes. She went mushy inside.

  "Dinner is going to get awfully cold if we don't eat it,” Damien said with a light chuckle as he topped off their glasses.

  He lifted his glass toward her. “My family,” he said quietly. “It's my only mission in life now."

  "Our family,” Laurie corrected gently as she clinked her glass to his.

  He smiled again and Laurie locked her gaze with his over their glasses. He meant every word he said but she wondered if the adjustments to civilian life would be as easy for him as he believed. He was so determined to succeed that she didn't want him disappointed. She wanted him to be happy. And that was all that mattered. But could he be happy without the SEALs?

  "I can almost hear you thinking,” he interrupted her thoughts.

  She swallowed a bite of sweet and sour pork and glanced at him. “Why were you gone so long? You said you'd only be gone a few days."
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br />   Listening to herself, she winced at the question that indicated a lack of trust.

  His dark eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Why do you ask?"

  Shocked by insecurities she had not realized she had, she inhaled and took a long swallow of wine to fortify her courage.

  "I missed you,” she admitted softly yet with a wealth of emotion that darkened his eyes as he read it.

  Her breath caught in her throat and choked her but she forced herself to continue. “I started thinking that you might change your mind about me, about us. That you wanted to stay in the Navy without the complication of a family. That maybe you agreed to one last mission."

  Her eyes filled with tears again. The depth of her insecurities surprised her. She was mortified but she loved him. And, he was far too perceptive to hide the truth. But she smiled through her tears as she watched him across the table. “No one's ever loved me. I was wrong. You cared enough to come back."

  Looking stunned, he put his fork down and stared blankly at her. “You thought I didn't? Jesus, I asked you to marry me."

  "Look at me,” she uttered in a self-deprecating tone. “I would never inspire a grand passionate love in anyone."

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. He reached across the table and took her hands in his. “You did in me,” he said with quiet intensity.

  As his thumbs slid lightly over the backs of her wrists, the love in his eyes warmed her. He could have any woman in the world but he had sacrificed his career and the last twelve years of his life for her though she never asked or wanted him to do that.

  "I never thought of myself as insecure,” she said. “But I've never been in love before either.” She grinned sheepishly. “Part of me thought it was too good to be true. Stupid."

  "No, it's not. I love you.” His gaze held hers for several seconds and he tightened his grip on her hands. “I will do anything for you."

  "I know,” she acknowledged softly, echoing in her mind what her heart already knew. “You've done more than I ever expected or wanted. I love you."

  His smile put a sparkle in his eyes and lit up her world. She slowly pulled her hands from his in a gentle caress. The glide of his rough skin along hers sparked her nerves to life. She released him and picked up her fork.

  "Let's eat. I'm starved.” Hungry, she dug into her food.

  With her heart soaring, she didn't care about the cold food. She didn't taste it as her gaze lingered on him. She could look at him forever and never tire of the image.

  "I ran into an old friend,” he said after several bites form his plate. “Justin Carpenter. I've known him for years. I asked him to be best man."

  "I wondered who you would ask,” she responded, pleased.

  "I would have asked Neal but he's going on a mission.” Regret seemed to flash in his eyes but disappeared so fast Laurie thought she imagined it.

  She smiled. “What did you do while you were gone?"

  "Discharge only took a couple of days,” he said. “But there were other things to take care of. I arranged to have my stuff shipped to your place. You don't mind, do you?"

  "Why would I mind? It'll save you a trip to pick it up some place else."

  He shrugged. “I didn't want to be presumptuous."

  "Presumptuous?” she echoed, puzzled. “Why would you hesitate to send your stuff to the place you're going to live?"

  "Well...” He stopped and grinned. “I guess it was stupid to worry about it. Do you have room in your office for another computer?"

  Her lips twitched. “I think we can figure something out."

  They finished dinner and the wine amid light-hearted conversation, lingering glances and touches, and then drove home in pleasant silence. Despite the awkwardness of bucket seats, she leaned close to him, her hand resting on his thigh. Once the car reached highway speed, Damien took his hand off the gearshift, slid his arm across her shoulders, and held her as close as possible. As her lashes lowered, she let her mind drift languorously during the smooth ride home.

  When Damien parked in her driveway and shut off the engine, she opened her eyes and peered drowsily at him. He turned his head, leaned over, and dropped a light kiss on her mouth. After a pleasant, intimate evening, just that simple caress of his lips on hers ignited a fire in her. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him, her lips moving seductively under his.

  He froze. Squirming closer, she boldly traced her tongue over his lips until he fisted a hand in her hair and kissed her with that familiar drugging intensity. He parted her lips with the conquering thrust of his tongue and she let out an utterly feminine groan of need. His eyes gleamed hot and hungry when he finally pulled back and looked down at her.

  "Inside,” he suggested huskily.

  Her lips curved in a wickedly enticing smile. She slid her hand over his chest, flicking buttons in a teasing gesture. He clamped his hand over hers and stopped her strokes.

  "Keep that up and I'll forget where we are,” he growled, his mouth hovering just above hers.

  "Never had sex in a car before?” she teased, flexing her fingers under his hand.

  "Not since I was a teenager,” he muttered thickly and tightened his grip on her hand.

  She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and jerked him closer.

  "I want you,” she whispered. Her lips grazed his with every word. He swallowed hard but gently removed her hand from his shirt and stared steadily into her eyes.

  "I'm not a kid anymore,” he stated, tender but firm as his eyes stayed on hers. “I'm not making love to you in this car like a guilty horny teenager hiding from my girl's parents.” He gave her an unrepentant grin. “Race you to the house."

  Thus challenged, Laurie fumbled with the door handle until she shoved the door open. On a burst of playful excitement, she jumped out of the car and kicked the door shut. The sharp thud barely penetrated the roar of blood in her ears. Damien beat her to the front door, opened it, and pulled her in with him. He turned but she darted past him and up the stairs. Chuckling, he followed but let her beat him to the bedroom. He closed that door behind him then leaned negligently against it, watching her.

  Heart thudding rapidly, she looked back at him and wondered what he was waiting for. But he only watched her, his gaze stormy and unrelenting.

  Abruptly and inexplicably nervous, she shot a haphazard glance around the brightly lit bedroom. He straightened slowly off the door and moved, slow and steady, toward her. As she read his intentions in those dark stormy eyes, dark thrills spiraled through her. He plowed his fingers into her hair and tugged gently so she remained caught in his gaze.

  "Now,” he said softly.

  Dangerous hunger glittered in his eyes. She swallowed hard but shivered in the fierce grip of anticipation. His fingers combed through her hair, his palms sliding over her shoulders as he smoothed the straps of her dress aside. She tugged her arms free of her dress. His hands worked thrilling magic on her flushed skin. The lower edge of his palms pushed emerald silk further down. In a scant second, only her strapless bra, thin enough to see through, covered her breasts. He swept his thumb over her rigid nipples as if the thin swatch of silk didn't exist.

  Caught in the dark storm of his fierce stare, she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hands beneath the fabric. Crisp chest hair tickled her palms and sent delicious tremors through every nerve ending. Her fingernails flicked his nipples. She relished the catch in his breath as she shoved his shirt and jacket over his shoulders. Leaning closer, she stroked her tongue over his salty skin, tasting him. That taste exploded in her mouth and senses. On her toes, she dropped her hands to his belt buckle. His stomach quivered at the light strokes of her fingers.

  The rush of pleasure that swamped her had her pressing her mouth eagerly to his. A low deep groan erupted from him. She savored the heat, her own flash of triumph, as he took charge. Pressing his tongue deep into her mouth, he shoved the dress over her hips so it puddled on the floor around her feet. Fumbling, she unbuckled his belt as she ste
pped out of her dress and her heels.

  He stepped back, his hungry eyes devouring her as he stripped. A slow flush crept over her at the frank appreciation in his eyes but her avid stare followed his every move until he stood gloriously naked in front of her.

  "Take it all off.” His order was a husky growl in her ears.

  Staring at the floor, she hesitated for a brief moment then lifted her gaze boldly to his as she slowly removed her bra and panties. This was nothing like the striptease she had done before. She had been teasing him, provoking him. Now, she blushed furiously and wanted to crawl into bed and cover herself.

  "Beautiful,” he murmured huskily, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Come to bed with me. Make love with me."

  Staring into her eyes, he held his hand out to her. Captivated, mesmerized, she put her hand in his and let him pull her flush against him. Shyness and uncertainty vanished, as it always did when Damien touched her. Passion smoldered then blazed in his eyes. He teased her ear with the moist warmth of his tongue. Delicious pleasure swirled low in her gut. She moaned and squirmed in his arms. His naked arousal scorched her.

  As though sensing her eagerness, he whispered, “Slowly—there's plenty of time."

  He trailed fiery kisses from her ear to her chin, and then captured her mouth with the staggering force of his unleashed passion. His arms clamped around her and he plunged his tongue between her parted lips. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Their mingled heavy breathing filled the air but she smiled up at him. This was where she belonged, loved and secure in Damien's arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sharp buzz of the alarm clock jerked Laurie out of sleep and erotic dreams. She slapped the snooze button, slid over, and wrapped her arms around the man who had changed her life. Damien shifted, drawing her even closer to his warmth. A dreamy smile curved her lips. Her life was perfect. She would wake up next to him for the rest of her life.

  Though it was late May, a ferocious wind roared around the house and rattled the windows in the dim light of early dawn. Damien grunted and rolled to his back, one arm still curved loosely around her and the other over his head. Laurie crawled out of bed and watched him sleep as she dressed. She stared at his bare chest and her mouth watered. She didn't have to move the covers from his waist to know his underwear molded to that lean body like a second skin.