by Skye Taylor
Me, too, she wanted to say, but didn’t. A heartbeat later, he was inside her.
She gasped at the sudden stretching fullness.
He was bigger than she remembered. How could she have forgotten? On that last night together, when he’d pushed himself into her and asked her if that was how she wanted to remember him, she’d thought she would never forget. But she had.
The muscles in his arms flexed as he supported his weight and began to move. He’d stopped looking into her eyes. He was looking down at the place where their bodies joined. Driving into her with deliberate, hungry thrusts. Making up for all the lost years.
She pressed her hands into the mattress and lifted her hips, meeting every urgent plunge. Her climax came swiftly, and she called out his name as she spiraled out of control.
Philip threw his head back and uttered her name in a low keening groan. He plunged into her twice more, then collapsed as his big, hard-muscled body shuddered with release.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him as the tremors gentled and finally stopped. He pressed his face into the sweat-slick skin of her neck and slid his arms beneath her.
“I love you, Elena.” He tightened his embrace. “I should have told you fourteen years ago.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. She clung to him, not caring about the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. They’d both wasted too much time.
WHEN ELENA WOKE as Philip rolled off the bed, she was astonished to discover they’d slept for over an hour. Never once had she fallen asleep with Eli still inside her. Or with his weight pinning her to the bed. Everything about Philip was different. Excitingly, enormously different.
A little self-consciously, she tugged the covers out from under herself and slithered between the sheets. The toilet flushed, then the water ran in the sink. Embarrassment began to invade the feeling of contentment. She’d behaved with such heated abandon. What must he think?
Then Philip strode back into the room, and she stopped wondering.
He was magnificent. Tall, muscular and magnificent. He was all loose-limbed grace as he came back to the bed and sat next to her. She reached out to touch a tattoo she hadn’t noticed before.
Slashing angrily across his hip just above the fleshy part of his butt was a vicious yellow bolt of lightning. On one side in black, 9/11 contrasted starkly against his pale untanned skin. Along the other side, also in black, Payback is a Bitch. The artwork was crude and nothing like the other two tats he bore.
“When did you get this one?”
“On the Peleliu. The officers who might have forbidden it turned the other way.”
“Why?” she asked, holding the covers up so he could join her.
He rolled onto his back.
“Why did they pretend we weren’t doing it? Or why did I get it?”
“I guess I understand why you got it. You were angry.”
“Damned right, I was angry. We all were. That was my promise to all those men. The cops and the firefighters who charged into hell to save lives and paid for it with their own. It was in honor of the courage it took those guys on flight 93 to thwart the hijackers and fly that plane into the ground in Pennsylvania, too. And the lives lost at the Pentagon. Those bastards brought their evil to us, and I wanted payback.”
His face echoed the fury he must have felt. Even more than most Americans, those who dedicated their lives to defending America must have been champing at the bit to seek revenge. “Do you feel like you got it?”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
This was obviously not something he wanted to talk about. At least, not right now. Maybe he’d share when he was ready. Or maybe not. She regretted having brought the subject up because now he was a million miles away. His body was rigid, his fists balled tight at his sides.
“Some,” he finally admitted, opening his eyes to look up at her. “I got some payback. But they’re still out there, and they’re still plotting our downfall. It’s not over.”
He relaxed his hands and lifted one to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. “But surely there are better things we could be spending our night doing than talking about payback.”
“How about I give you a massage?”
A smile grew, stretching his generous mouth until his eyes began to twinkle. “That would be outstanding.” He folded his hands behind his head. “Have your way with me, ma’am.”
Elena reached into the bedside table drawer and retrieved a bottle of body lotion.
“Roll over, Gunny.”
He laughed and complied. “My therapist even makes house calls,” he mumbled into the pillow.
She began with his shoulders and worked her way methodically down his back, past his buttocks to his thighs and finally his calves and even the soles of his feet. He murmured his appreciation as the tension drained out of him.
When she set the lotion aside and he rolled onto his back, he looked relaxed and pleased. And hard.
“Come here,” he beckoned, urging her to straddle his hips.
She complied, leaning forward and resting her hands on his chest.
“My turn to pleasure you.” He cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. He lifted his head off the pillow and latched onto one nipple, sucking and teasing until she whimpered.
“I remember now, how much you like that,” he said, chuckling in approval, and moved to the other breast.
“Mmmm,” she agreed. Renewed excitement streaked through her. She wrapped her hand around his arousal and deliberately rubbed her thumb over the head, mimicking what his tongue was doing to her nipple. He grunted and dropped his head back to the pillow.
When she rose up onto her knees to guide him inside her, he grabbed her hand and stopped her. She frowned at him in surprise.
“I haven’t got any more condoms. Do you?”
She wanted him, and she didn’t care if he wasn’t wearing a condom. But apparently he did.
“I don’t care,” she said, refusing to let go of him.
They froze like that for a long tense moment. His hand over hers, their bodies just millimeters from connecting.
“I don’t care,” she whispered.
Slowly he removed his hand from hers. “Then neither do I.”
Chapter 29
April 2015
Camp Lejeune, North Carolina
PHILIP BURROWED his face under Elena’s hair and kissed the back of her neck. “Please say you’re going to let me stay the night. I want to fall asleep holding you like this and wake up with you still in my arms.”
She wrapped her arms over his where they circled her waist and spooned herself in until her perfect little butt pressed against his crotch. “I’m glad you aren’t the kind of guy who hates to cuddle afterward and can’t wait to be gone.”
“Never,” he murmured, hugging her a little tighter. He had been that kind of guy for the last fourteen years. He’d disappointed more than one woman who’d wanted him to stay—all night or for a lifetime. But Elena was different. He had no idea what time it was and felt too lethargic to lift his head and check the alarm clock.
But as drained as he was physically, his mind didn’t want to shut down right off. Elena’s breathing smoothed into sleep quickly, and she didn’t even stir when he cupped his hand around her breast, just because he could and because it was so temptingly close.
He’d meant to give her pleasure with his mouth and his hands. He could have made her come over and over and gotten his own gratification just watching her writhe with the intensity of it. He hadn’t meant to have unprotected sex, but once again, she’d taken things into her own hands. Literally.
It had been years since he’d come inside a woman without the protective barrier of a condom, and the sensation had blown his mind. S
he was slick and tight, and she’d ridden him hard, her head thrown back and her breasts thrust out, her nipples engorged and beautiful. He’d never felt anything like it. No woman he’d ever been with had been so gloriously uninhibited or so utterly satisfying.
He squeezed her breast gently, running his thumb rhythmically over the smooth round surface.
“If you got pregnant, I promise I’ll marry you,” he whispered into her hair. “Hell, I’ll marry you even if you aren’t pregnant.”
He kissed her again. “I love you, Elena Castillo. Don’t ever doubt it again.”
WHEN PHILIP WOKE, disoriented and alone, Elena was gone. It was still dark outside. He peered at the watch on his wrist, swore, and jumped from the bed.
He was due at his desk in twenty minutes. Barely time to drive from here to there, never mind stop at his quarters and scramble into a uniform.
He found his clothes folded neatly on a chair, and began pulling them on. Elena appeared in the doorway holding a traveling mug in one hand and a small bag in the other.
He shoved his feet into his shoes without untying them. Then he straightened and crossed the room.
He pulled Elena into a hug. “I wish yesterday was Saturday,” he muttered before he kissed her upturned face. “Then we could do Sunday all over again.”
She freed herself from his embrace and handed him the mug. “I was going to wake you up, but I made you coffee and some muffins and let you get a few extra winks instead.” She pressed the bag into his other hand.
“Thanks.”
They stood by the bedroom door a little awkwardly, neither sure what to do next.
“I’ve still got an appointment with my therapist this afternoon. Right?” he asked. Maybe she would confess to her boss and get him reassigned.
She nodded. “Of course. It says Gunny right there next to four o’clock.”
With his hands full, he couldn’t hug her again. Which was probably a good thing because he had to be gone, and hugging her might lead to other things. He kissed her instead. “Can I take you out for dinner afterward?”
“I thought I’d fix you dinner here.” She looked shy and uncertain. Elena was not a shy sort of person and this new diffidence filled him with a feeling of protectiveness.
“I’d like that.”
She turned and led the way out of the bedroom. “You’d better hurry. You’ll be late and Captain Clueless will give you a bad fitrep.”
“Ah, Elena, I don’t deserve you.”
Her expression clouded, but he didn’t have time to ask why. Tonight, they would talk about their future. Tonight over dinner. Followed by more mind-blowing sex. Tonight, he’d remember to set the alarm on his phone so tomorrow morning wouldn’t be this hurried.
Tonight, he’d propose to her while she was awake. His heart jerked at that thought. Apprehension? Maybe she didn’t want marriage. Maybe this uninhibited week of sex while her daughter was away was all she wanted from him.
He kissed her again, taking his time in spite of his need to be gone. He loved her, and he intended to make up for lost time, starting now. She had to give him a second chance.
Elena pulled back first and opened the door for him.
If only he could blow off the Captain and the stack of work on his desk.
“See you at four,” he said, reluctantly stepping out onto her porch. Then he bolted for his borrowed car and the responsibilities that awaited him.
HURRYING INTO THE Physical Therapy department after an appointment at the hospital that had gone longer than expected, Elena was running late for Philip’s session. Julie would be admonishing her about her tardiness, but Philip seemed to take it in stride.
She expected to find him sitting on the bench, shirt off and waiting patiently for her. But he wasn’t. She dropped her jacket and the folder she’d brought back in the office and returned to the therapy room. She stopped when she saw him.
He squatted in front of a man in a wheelchair, speaking earnestly, gesturing with one hand. His other hand rested on the arm of the wounded Marine’s wheelchair. The man slumped in his chair, his chin nearly touching his chest, but now and then, he lifted his head and nodded slightly at something Philip said. The other Marine was not one of Elena’s patients, but she knew him. He’d been spiraling into depression, and his apathy had begun to impact his treatment.
Philip stood and bent to give the other man a hug. They slapped each other’s back a few times before Philip gripped the man’s shoulder for a moment and turned away. He caught her watching and came toward her.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
She felt suddenly shy and a little awkward. Did what had happened last night show on their faces? Or in their posture? Could anyone looking at them guess they’d been naked and passionate just a few hours ago?
“One of my boys,” Philip answered briefly. He sank onto the bench and looked at her, his eyes almost level with hers. “He’s having a tough time getting accustomed to the prosthesis. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She did feel fine. A little embarrassed, maybe. Okay, a lot embarrassed. She’d invited him in and there hadn’t been any doubt about what she wanted from him. And now they were back to being therapist and patient, and it felt awkward. “Mark’s lucky. He’s got the best they make.” She tried to divert her thoughts into safer waters.
“He doesn’t feel very lucky,” Philip growled.
Elena sat down on the rolling stool and looked up at him. She wanted to touch him, put her hands on his knees and make contact, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t trust herself.
“That’s what the shrinks always tell them,” Philip went on. “They’re alive. Some guys don’t make it back at all. They have the best care in the world. You name it, the shrinks all see the positive stuff and they don’t really get the other stuff.”
“What do you mean, they don’t get it?”
Philip didn’t seem to have any problem leaving what had happened between them the night before outside the PT room. He seemed completely focused on Mark and his issues. She, on the other hand, almost vibrated with the tension his closeness caused.
“The problem is that when guys with boots on the ground are getting shot at and blown up, the shrinks are studying in safe places a long way from the war. Guys that have been there don’t always trust them because they’re convinced the doctor can never really understand,” he explained.
Philip sounded a lot like Meg. It was a fraternity they both belonged to and she didn’t. “But there are some really good doctors who care a lot. They can’t help if they haven’t seen combat. But they can still make a difference.”
Philip relaxed his defensive posture. “There are good shrinks. But the good ones don’t keep on about how good a guy’s got it. They just listen. They’re patient and they’re good at asking the right questions and letting the guy figure it out for himself.”
Elena wondered if Philip had ever seen a counselor.
“The doctor Mark is seeing . . .” Philip jerked his head in the direction of the place where the man in the wheelchair had been sitting moments ago, “just keeps telling Mark he needs to focus on what he does have instead of what he lost. But that’s a little hard to do when the bastards blew both Mark’s legs off and left him impotent, and then his wife leaves him because she wants to get pregnant and he can’t get it up.”
“But she is pregnant. I saw her here just a couple of weeks ago. She was definitely pregnant.”
“Not by Mark.” Philip bit the words out. “He wanted kids as much as she did. He’d have let the world think the baby was his and pretended her infidelity didn’t hurt, but now she wants a divorce, too.”
“Oh, Philip.” Elena’s heart broke for the man. She’d watched the woman caressing the barely noticeable belly bump with a satisfied look on her face, but she’d as
sumed they had successfully navigated the tortuous route of IVF. For a woman to turn her back on a man she’d promised to stick by in sickness and health the moment he needed her most was despicable.
Philip planted his palms on the bench and pushed himself to his feet. “Mark isn’t going to off himself tonight. He’s over that hump for now. So let’s get my workout done and get out of here. Get that gadget out . . . the one you measure strength with. I’ve been exercising with a tennis ball, and I want to show you how good I’m getting. Then we can get this session over with and blow this place.” He winked.
Elena didn’t argue. The thought of Corporal Dickey even considering suicide would probably come back to haunt her later, but at the moment, the promise of spending another night with Philip precluded worrying about a man she could do nothing to help. She’d mention Philip’s insinuation to Rob Cullen when she got a chance, but right now, her job was Philip and what she could do for him.
She hurried into the office and pulled open the drawer to retrieve the gadget he’d referred to.
“Were you and the Gunny talking about my patient?” Rob Cullen sat back with his feet on his desk reading a recent copy of Advance.
“We were,” Elena agreed. She hadn’t expected to run into Rob so soon, and she felt color rush into her cheeks as the realization that he’d been watching her and Philip sank in.
“Anything positive?”
Apparently their extracurricular activities didn’t show. Thank God! “Depends on what you call positive. Philip said Mark wasn’t going to commit suicide tonight. But I guess he’s pretty depressed. His wife left him. Did you know that?”
Rob dropped his feet to the floor and set the magazine down. “I didn’t.”
“She’s pregnant. But it’s not Mark’s baby.”
“Christ! What’s wrong with women? A man goes off to fight for his country and they can’t wait to jump into some other guy’s bed?”
