Enemy Zone: Enemies-to-Lovers Standalone Healing-Love Military Romance (Trident Rescue)

by Alex Lidell

  I shrug one shoulder. I’m not sure how any of that makes it okay to be disrespectful to your friends, but this isn’t the time to discuss it. Especially not with the serious face that Cullen turns toward me.

  “Understand me, Reynolds. There is no gray zone in training with me. You do what I tell you, when I tell you, for however long I tell you. Or you tell me you’re done with this endeavor and we go home and never do this again. There is no in-between. You can say stop any time you want, but that’s about the only opinion you get to have. Got it?”

  Sounds like being engaged to Jaden. “Got it.”

  I follow Cullen out onto the trail, the SEAL setting a brisk pace uphill that has my muscles going from warming up to burning within minutes, though the calm of nature offsets the discomfort as it always does. Gambel oaks, spruces, and cottonwood trees streak by on either side, filling my nose with clean wilderness freshness. A pair of squirrels keep pace with us for a bit before losing interest. By the time we’re two miles into the run however, and still heading away from the studio, I begin to worry.

  Another mile and I no longer care for the beauty of the oaks, spruces, or cottonwood trees, my breaths coming in painful, ragged bursts, my lungs aching from the exertion that seems to bypass Cullen completely. When the man comes to a stop atop another hill, I fall unceremoniously down to my knees and gasp for breath.

  “On your back, legs six inches from the ground,” Cullen orders harshly. “If you want to roll in the dirt, we might as well use it.”

  I grit my teeth but do as I’m told without complaint—a fact that Cullen neither notices nor acknowledges. By the time he’s had me do thirty burpees, bear crawl through a puddle, and sprint up the next two hills, however, my good humor has reached its limit.

  “Move, Reynolds,” Cullen shouts as I trip over a root, barely recovering without falling flat on my face. At the edges of my vision, the trail seems to shrink into darkness, my eyes unable to focus on anything not right in front of my nose. Cullen comes up behind me like a wolf herding his prey. “Move.”

  “I am moving,” I snap back at him, my silent endurance at its blazing end.

  Something dark flashes across Cullen’s face. A warning to keep my mouth shut and…and what? Throw up? Fall down in exhaustion? We’d agreed for me to learn self-defense, not join Cullen’s do-it-yourself boot camp.

  My head comes up, my body not backing away an inch even as ragged breaths threaten to rip my lungs to pieces. “Why are you being an asshole?”

  Cullen cuts in front of me, blocking my path, his muscular body silhouetted against the glorious sky. “You think that was being an asshole? You know what I think? That you aren’t even trying. Work or quit.” He bares his teeth. “And I think you should quit.”

  Fury, a burning inferno of fury, rushes through my blood. My feet hurt. My lungs feel like someone has taken a knife to them. My muscles tremble from the effort of keeping me upright. And after all that, now the asshole wants me to quit?

  Or is that what he’d wanted all along? To punish me for arrogantly pursuing my dreams instead of following his orders like some mindless soldier?

  My jaw clenches, my eyes flashing as they meet Cullen’s moss-green gaze. He never liked the idea of me training, of me doing what investigative journalism requires, and has finally found a perfect way out. Make me turn back. Run me into the ground until I’ve no choice but to crumple and admit I’m not good enough.

  Shows how much he knows. In my mind, I picture Lincoln Drive again. Imagine holding Zack in my arms. Tell myself I must run to keep him alive. And so I do. I put one foot in front of the other and push on, pouring everything I have into keeping ahead of the bastard who has a foot of height and years of training on me.

  For a while, it works, my body moving even as I can no longer keep track of where I am. Twigs crack underfoot, my breaths filling my ears. I’m on another muddy uphill slope as I stumble again, landing on my shoulder, searing pain taking what little breath I have.

  “Get up,” Cullen hollers. “Get up, get up, get up.”

  I don’t know if it’s the extreme fatigue of my joints and muscles, the damage done to my shoulder and arm, or just the fact that Cullen is being so unfathomably cruel, but I lose it. Without warning, tears well in my eyes and stream down my cheeks. Climbing painfully to my feet, I pull back my fist and jab my knuckles into Cullen’s chin.

  To my utter surprise, the man takes the shot.

  Ironically, the force of the impact sends me backward, my foot slipping on the muddy slope. My precarious balance gives way, and I have half a heartbeat to realize that I’m going down. That the pain I felt moments ago will be nothing compared to a full tumble down the rocky slope. Half a heartbeat, and then I fall.

  A large, muscular body wraps around me, Cullen twisting us so he takes the brunt of the impact, his powerful arm securing my injured shoulder like a splint. As we come to the bottom of the mudslide, to the point where I expect Cullen to shove me off him, I feel his arms tightening around me instead.

  “I’m…not…quitting,” I try to yell at him, my sobs punctuating the vowels. “I’m—”

  “Done for the day,” Cullen responds gently. Shifting me in his lap, he settles my head into the groove of his shoulder, his free hand rubbing a quiet circle along my trembling back. “You did good, Reynolds. We’re going to make a warrior of you yet.”

  “What?” I scrub my face, but the treacherous hiccupping breaths won’t stop coming. Cullen’s words wash over me, the potent mix of relief and confusion making my head spin, his praise filling me like a drug. “But you… Is this what you wanted from me? Tears?”

  “I don’t care one way or the other about tears.” Cullen brushes my sweat-soaked hair away from my face, his large hand stroking my head. “Or about how far you can run just now, or how many pushups you can do. This was about fighting.”

  I shake my head, not understanding him at all.

  Cullen sighs. “From what I saw in that Lincoln Drive yard, when you get hit, your only instinct is to shield yourself from more punishment. No one wins a fight that way. I needed you to learn what your body can do, to keep your wits about you, to know that a bit of pain is not a reason to surrender. And you didn’t.” Cullen leans down, his forehead touching mine. “You didn’t stop, Reynolds. Didn’t surrender. Hell, a week ago, you cowered when I raised my voice—and now you took a shot at me instead. And I’m more proud of you than you can imagine.”

  “I’m not sure about the wits part,” I whisper, savoring the heat of Cullen’s body as he holds me against him, his spicy scent mixing with the fresh scent of earth.

  A corner of his mouth twitches, which makes his severe face soften into something rare and vulnerable. “Well, can’t lose what you don’t have. There is that.”

  My lips part, Cullen’s mouth lowering to cover mine softly, his tongue slipping between my teeth as if seeking permission. Pleasure and warmth spider through me, my mouth yielding to Cullen’s just as my body sinks fully into the kiss.

  The tension magnifies, the kiss morphing from gentleness to something more primal. More needy. More wild. My breath catches, my hips rocking against Cullen’s to register his erection expanding beneath me, my panties dampening at once.

  I shift my position, directing the friction between us to where I long for it most, as Cullen lowers his head to nip the side of my throat. Tiny prickles of pain spice the pleasure, and it feels so good that I moan.

  The noise seems to excite him. The nips morph to long delicious suckles that snake down my skin to the hollow beneath my left ear.

  “Yes,” I pant, my eyes closing so I can absorb all these sensations at once.

  Adjusting my legs so I’m straddling him fully, Cullen lets his hands knead down my back, his strong fingers digging into sore muscles beneath my shoulder blades. Each press sends a rush of pleasure through me, making my thighs clench around the man’s taut, hard waist.

  Running my hands through Cullen’s short blond h
air, I find the thick strands much silkier than I would’ve imagined. So much about this man is a dichotomy. A set of Jekyll-and-Hyde contrasts that defy logic and reality.

  Just like what we’re doing now, in the middle of the vast Colorado forest. Holy hell. What are we doing? The sobering thought sends a shiver through me, even as my body keeps rhythm with his, refusing to break the tantalizing sensations. A mistake. I know this is a mistake. But it’s a mistake I really, really want to make.

  Cullen’s fingers weave deeper into my hair, removing the elastic band to set the strawberry strands free. For a moment, he buries his nose in its waves, inhaling my scent with primal urgency, before his palms lower to my waist. In the next second, his thumbs have worked their way beneath the hem of my yoga shirt, peeling the snug spandex right off my body. I feel the air on my newly exposed skin, but the uncontrolled shiver is from far more than the chill. In fact, with how desperately my sex clenches over the emptiness inside it, I’m certain I’m about to combust.

  Laying me down on a nearby patch of grass, Cullen buries his face in my cleavage, nuzzling along the zipper of my sports bra before closing his mouth around my straining nipple and sucking it through the cotton. Hard.

  “Oh God.” I buck beneath him as arousal rushes through me, making my breasts and back and thighs ache with need. Wrapping my legs around Cullen’s waist, I feel his own desire iron hard between my legs. My brain engages just long enough to wonder if I’ll survive this, before deciding that it doesn’t much care.

  Grasping Cullen’s wet shirt, I struggle to yank it from him, the promise of inked skin beneath my touch turning my movements into desperate jerks. Everything inside me suddenly aches to explore the expanse of man I’ve seen and slept beside, yet never, ever touched.

  Removing his shirt obligingly—because it’s clear to us both that I lack the coordination and strength to wrestle anything off Cullen—the man snakes the delicious cotton beneath my head. As soon as that’s done, he unzips my bra, flinging it away with predatory intent.

  My breasts fall free, the nipples peaked in the chill, my breaths coming fast and shallow as my legs tighten around him.

  Taking each of my breasts in his hands, the pressure just enough to ride the edge of pain to make it transform into molten pleasure, Cullen leans his upper body toward mine. The contradictions of cool air and warm flesh, hard muscles and soft earth assault my body, playing off each other in a dangerous cascade of sensation.

  My breasts ache. My sex and thighs need more more more as I press myself against his throbbing erection.

  With his chest bare, I see his rapid pulse beating in the soft hollow of his neck, just a hand width above the collarbone. Raising my head, I run my tongue over the spot, savoring its spicy, clean scent as Cullen flinches but holds still. I feel as much as hear the man’s breath quicken as I pursue the sensitive artery, scraping my teeth along the delicate skin.

  “You’ll pay for that,” he promises, his voice as strained as his cock, his arms trembling as he braces himself on either side of me.

  “Mmm,” I murmur, feeling all the pent-up fury I’ve ever felt for the bastard transform into heady passion. Into a craving that must be sated. Catching sight of Cullen’s tattoo, I do what I’ve longed for since first seeing it—trace one finger along the tribal ink that swirls around his arm and up to his shoulder, pausing to outline the eagle before dragging the edges of my teeth across the top of the shield. And then I bite into him, not bothering to be nice.

  Cullen jerks beneath me, a groan escaping his mouth.

  I lean up to whisper in his ear, “You deserved that.”

  “Agreed,” Cullen sounds low and dangerous and so damn seductive that my arousal soaks through my yoga pants. “But you’ll pay for it anyway.”

  25

  Cullen

  Cullen was losing his mind, the fierce meeting of lips and skin and bodies driving him beyond logic. The floral smell and the sweet honey-like taste of the woman in his arms made him want to devour her in a single gulp. He ground against her, savoring the way her hips swiveled, pressing up against his stone-hard cock. Cullen’s vision narrowed, the damn world narrowed, until all he could see was the single pinpoint that was Skylar Reynolds.

  His seeking hand found a tender spot just on the inside of her hipbone, and he tugged her skintight yoga pants down enough to suck that skin into his mouth.

  She cried out at this, her musical voice catching with arousal even as she squirmed. Sliding his hands under Sky’s backside, Cullen gripped her hips and kept her in place as he continued pulling on her flesh until a raspberrylike mark blushed over the milky skin.

  “Cullen…” Sky gasped, her hips trying to undulate beneath his unyielding hold.

  The sound of his name on her lips lit a new blaze inside him, the flame searing his skin. She liked being held down, and fuck, Cullen loved doing it. Loved watching Sky’s blue eyes glaze with desire as he stroked her over the juncture between her thighs, the pads of his fingers detecting a noticeable wetness soaking through the stretchy black material.

  Whatever thin thread of restraint he’d been holding onto snapped. Sliding his thumbs into her waistline, Cullen seized both the pants and the panties beneath them off her in one swift motion, exposing her to his view. She’d shaved herself utterly smooth and, as he opened her legs wider to put her pink and glistening center on display, he nearly came without any further provocation.

  Sky’s thighs pressed against his hands, her face turning the same pink shade as her sex. A sweet, innocent embarrassment that begged to be conquered. Holding her open, Cullen dropped his mouth to her center to stroke his tongue between her folds until the woman vibrated deliciously beneath him. A moan escaped as he traced the tip around her hood, brushing her clit just enough to make her buck in his hold.

  “Cullen! Please!” Sky’s words melded together, her sex dripping thicker and thicker the more she struggled against Cullen’s tight grip, her attempts to hide her sex from him fully forgotten. “I can’t… I need—”

  “Wasn’t I going to make you pay for something?” Cullen murmured right at the level of Sky’s clit, his breath tickling the swollen bud. “Ah, yes. That bite.”

  Enjoying her distressed whimper, Cullen lowered his face toward Sky’s deliciousness once more, this time flicking the tip of his tongue all around that sensitive swell until the whimpers gave way to uncontrolled moans and then a desperate, needy keen. Ah, there it was. Smiling to himself, he put his mouth over Sky’s apex and sucked.

  The woman’s back arched as she screamed into the forest’s stillness, her muscles tightening over and over through a desperate climax. Christ, she came beautifully. Gorgeously. Releasing his iron hold on Sky’s thighs, Cullen gathered the woman in his arms, savoring her softness and warmth as he held her through the final grips of orgasm.

  For several moments, she lay limp and blessedly bare in Cullen’s arms, the most intimate parts of her moist from his attention and his tongue. He could get used to seeing her like this, her glossy reddish-blonde hair sex tousled and flying freely around her shoulders, her lips kiss swollen, and her skin glowing with a satisfied flush.

  His cock agreed, twitching so painfully that he nearly gasped. Shifting Sky to relieve some of the pressure, he studied every line of her face before reaching impertinently between her thighs. She yelped in indignation, but the moisture flowing from her gave him all the information he needed.

  She wanted more. Was ready for more. And holy hell, so was he.

  A feral and animalistic craving seized Cullen at once. His blood rushed south until any other thought became impossible. He had to have her. Now. Setting her down on the mossy ground, he struggled free of his shorts and hauled himself on top of her.

  She softened beneath him, open and welcoming, the feel of her making everything inside him demand more. Dropping openmouthed kisses along her neck and shoulders, he tasted the heady saltiness coating her skin as the head of his cock lined up at her slick entrance.r />
  Fuck, she felt good. Too good. It took every remaining brain cell Cullen still had functioning to shift off her long enough to find his shorts again. Digging almost frantically through his back pocket for his wallet, he secured the foil packet.

  Sky, meanwhile, had recovered enough to skim one sharp fingernail along his pectoral muscles.

  Cullen growled a warning.

  Sky smirked right back at him, and it was all he could do to keep from slipping her onto her belly and slapping that cheeky ass a time or two before burying himself inside her.

  Tossing the packet to her instead, Cullen gripped the woman’s eyes with his own. “Put it on me.”

  Sky sat up, her chest heaving, her swinging breasts pointing their nipples right at him. After tearing the packet with her teeth, Sky removed the latex and then… And then, instead of rolling it down his length, the little minx leaned down and swirled her tongue all around the head of him.

  “Sky,” Cullen warned, his voice low and full of gravel.

  Grinning slyly, Sky swallowed him down in one fell swoop.

  Cullen groaned, the sound shifting to a stream of profanity that would make any sailor proud. Pushing her head back right before he hit the point of no return, he snatched the foil packet from her fingers and sheathed himself, yanking her beneath him the moment that was finished. Shoving her thighs apart, he pinned her wrists to the ground in a way he knew would make her eyes widen and her channel slicken, and slid his way home.

  Christ, she was tight. And hot. And perfect. Using all his hard-won restraint, he paused above her, letting her body adjust to the intrusion before starting to move. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, plunging himself in Sky’s heat with a desperate thrust thrust thrust of his pulsing cock. Beneath his hold, Sky’s body undulated, taking him deeper and deeper, while their heaving breaths formed a low rumble beneath the songs of morning birds.

  Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.