Breaking Point: A SEAL Team Heartbreakers Novella

by Teresa Reasor

  “Michaelson was really good. He had a natural way with the kids, was respectful of their rules surrounding women, which meant you didn’t speak directly to them or even look at them, and you certainly didn’t touch them. And he’d picked up enough of the local lingo to be able to communicate.

  “He hung out with the kids and played ball with them. He umpired Little League games all through high school, and even had a baseball scholarship to a good college, but he enlisted instead.”

  “He gave us the info he picked up from the older children that panned out again and again. So we got the idea to requisition some balls and baseball bats so he could leave them behind for the kids.”

  He ran a hand over his face to hide his pain from her. “Bad idea. It left a trail through the villages we’d visited, and gave the terrorist assholes ideas.”

  “We stopped at a small village, and while we were meeting with the head men, Michaelson got his baseball thing going. He had a group of about ten kids, right in the center of the village, playing. We heard a commotion and a single gunshot. Everyone bailed out of the meeting to see what was going on.

  “There were four kids down. One’s arm was broken, and another’s head was bleeding. The biggest one, about seventeen, was dead from a gunshot wound. Michaelson had to take him out to stop him from beating the younger kids with the bat. The other one, Michaelson had taken another bat from him and pinned him to the ground. We took that kid into custody and interrogated him, and then turned him over to the locals.

  “Al Qaeda had intimidated the older boys. Threatened to kill their families if they didn’t do as Al-Qaeda instructed. They told them that if we showed up, they were to attack the children Michaelson taught to play ball, because he was corrupting them with his western ideas. It was a message for the village chief and elders about cooperating with us.

  “Michaelson carried the seven-year-old with the head injury back to his mother, tears streaming down his face. He had to cup his hand under the back of the kid’s head because his skull was crushed. The child never saw it coming. He died in Michaelson’s arms.”

  The mother’s wails of grief cut them all like a knife. They all felt responsible for what happened, even though it was terrorist assholes responsible for that kid’s death.

  “It hit us pretty hard. Those of us who had kids in particular. And it pointed out to us one more time that we were dealing with people who would do anything for their cause. No sacrifice would be too much.

  “The next village we went into, Michaelson refused to interact with the kids. When his unit commander tried to order him to, he told him if he did and another kid was killed, it made us no better than the terrorists, because it meant we were willing to sacrifice innocents for intel. He told the commander that if he was willing to do that, he’d have to do it himself.”

  “He didn’t get into trouble, did he?” Trish asked.

  “No. I had a talk with his commanding officer, and we agreed he had a valid point. I sent the remaining bats and balls to different units to be used for PT.”

  “Why would you carry this, Langley? It wasn’t your fault, any more than it was Michaelson’s that the little boy was killed, or the older one decided to kill him.”

  He remained silent for a moment. “I was the one who ordered the balls and bats, Trish. It was my idea for Michaelson to talk the kids up.”

  Her features crumpled in sympathy, and she wrapped her arms around him, offering him comfort. “You couldn’t have known, Langley.”

  He shook his head. But it didn’t ease the pain or the weight of responsibility he carried, and it didn’t take away the memory of that innocent seven-year-old with dusty bare feet being carried through the village by one of their men. A man who was only eighteen himself.

  “Michaelson will never find joy in playing ball again, Trish. He refused to play with the other troops. Refused to even listen to a game on the radio. He’ll always associate the thing he loved the most with that dead child. Because of my fucking bright idea.”

  And Michaelson would never forget the teenager he had to shoot.

  “You can’t know that. Maybe he’ll find healing in it, if he’ll let himself. Is he home now?”

  “I don’t know. I think he probably is.”

  “Why don’t you contact him and talk to him about it? You may be able to help him and yourself, so you can both lay this down.”

  It wasn’t how they normally dealt with things. But he might give it a shot.

  Chapter 8

  The black dress Trish wore to dinner followed the slender contours of her body and made her skin look pale and soft. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked country-girl beautiful. He was aware of several of the other men in the dining room checking her out as he guided her to a table.

  Whatever she’d done to tone down the blotchy look around her eyes and nose from crying had worked.

  He’d never thought of his wife as fragile, but her waist seemed very narrow as he rested his hand against it. He was both concerned and aroused by this new Trish, who knocked him off-balance.

  He loved her, but had taken her for granted, and she had every right to be angry with him.

  But since their conversation, she seemed more relaxed with him.

  The room glowed with subtle overhead lighting and lit candles on each table. Trish ordered chicken cooked with mushrooms and wine sauce, wild rice, and grilled asparagus. He ordered a medium rare steak, a salad, and a baked potato with the works.

  She filled him in about families who had received orders to transfer to the East coast or Hawaii, and a couple of new babies. They talked about Tad’s new obsession with robots, Anna’s lack of interest in dolls, and Jess’s penchant for getting up at three in the morning and playing for an hour before going back to sleep, which was largely responsible for Trish’s sleep deprivation.

  He drank two glasses of the red wine the waiter poured for him, and Trish seemed to enjoy the white wine they served with her meal. She shared a few bites of her chicken with him, but refused a taste of his steak, which was cooked to perfection. He signed the tab to be added to their room bill.

  They went outside to walk off some of their food. He caught Trish’s hand, and they walked in easy silence for a while.

  She broke the silence as they paused atop the platform next to the pool that looked out over the vineyard. “I’ve been offered a transfer to a different department. I’d be working with at-risk families, and I’d be able to make a difference in a lot of children’s lives.”

  It sounded like more stress and work to him. He was more worried about her taking on too much. She seemed stretched thin already.

  “You know I’ll always support whatever you want to do, Trish.”

  “It would mean more money, too.”

  “There are more important things than money. I’d like to see you look around for something you can feel passionate about, even if it doesn’t bring in more money.”

  “I think this might be it, Langley.”

  She supported him, though he risked his life, and she’d gone through hell all alone to do it. He had no right to say a word against anything she might decide. “You could give it a shot and see if it’s what you want.”

  “I’m still thinking it over.”

  At least she was including him in the discussion, which she rarely got from him. There were so many things involved with his job that cut his family completely out of the equation.

  God, he was a selfish asshole, and he didn’t understand at all why Trish stuck with him to begin with. All those shortcomings were being driven home at once.

  “You could book a massage for tomorrow,” he suggested. “You need to take advantage of everything you can while we’re here.”

  “I think I’ll just hang out at the pool with a glass of wine. I’m beginning to like it.”

  Langley laughed. “The red I drank at dinner was pretty good. Are we going to go to the brewing demonstration?”

  “I’d rather si
t with you and talk.”

  That sounded both good and bad, in light of their most recent discussion.

  Trish leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. He turned to rest back against the railing and hold her. Every month they’d been apart rose up and grabbed him, and his body responded immediately to the feel of her against him.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch to you since you got home. I missed you, Langley. Missed the sound of you snoring as you fall asleep. Missed how you are with the children. Missed how you spoon with me while I go to sleep. Missed the way you wake me up in the mornings, kissing the back of my neck. I never stop missing you or worrying about you when you’re gone.”

  “Thank God.”

  He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she laughed. “I feel like I’m just now beginning to understand you. In the nine years we’ve been married, you’ve never shared your thoughts and feelings with me like you have today.”

  He was running scared, but he couldn’t admit that weakness to her. “I know you’d probably be better off if you kicked my ass to the curb and went it solo, or even found someone who’s always around to share this journey with. I know you’re alone too much, and I’m pretty much MIA every time you have to deal with major shit. But if you can stick it out for the next three years, I really will apply for a change of assignment, where I might possibly be home more.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to be someone different than you are, Langley. You’d eventually resent me for it. The person you are is who I fell in love with when we first met. But I love you for the offer. I love you for sharing your memories with me, though it hurt you to do it. It’s helped me put things in perspective a little.”

  He rested his forehead against hers, brushed his lips against her brow, then kissed her. A surge of relief rushed through him as her lips and tongue responded to his, first with tenderness, then with a building passion. She tasted of the wine she drank with dinner and her.

  Every time he returned from deployment and they kissed, touched each other, or made love the first time, it was like it was all new again. It was both familiar and precious, exciting and comfortable.

  She was trembling by the time the kiss ended, and he was painfully hard.

  “It’s been too long, Langley,” Trish murmured. “Let’s go to our room.”

  The elevator was full of guests returning to their rooms from dinner and the winemaking demonstration. Langley tugged Trish to the stairs, and they walked up the two flights.

  He scanned for cameras in the stairway, and seeing none, stopped her on the landing to kiss her again, his lips and tongue fervent. He slid his hands beneath her little black dress to cup her bottom and bring her up against him.

  Trish stood on tiptoe, hooked one leg around his hip, and moved against him in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t going to last long.

  He groaned against the intensity of the kiss. “It’s been too long for me, Trish. Nine months is a hell of a wait, honey.”

  “We don’t have to wait any longer,” she murmured against his ear, and sucked his ear lobe into her mouth at the same time she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper down.

  They did crazy things like this when they were younger, but not after nine years of marriage.

  Her hand slid into his briefs, wrapped around his erection, and stroked. He bit back a groan, so turned on he had to visualize breaking down his M5 rifle to keep from giving in to the pleasure.

  He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties and eased them down. Trish gave a wiggle and stepped out of them.

  The sound of the door downstairs opening had them both freezing. Trish looked like a guilty teenager.

  “We better go,” Langley whispered.

  She laughed and bent to scoop up her panties, drawing his attention to her behind. Knowing she had nothing on under that dress had another surge of desire zipping south. He’d barely gotten his pants zipped when two guests appeared on the stairs behind them.

  His belt jingled as he jerked the door open for Trish, and they hustled out into the hall.

  Trish laughed as he let her into their room. “I wish you’d seen your expression, Langley. It reminded me of that time I was giving you a blowjob and your mom walked in on us. I had to pretend I was looking for a lost earring under the bed.”

  He remembered it well. Thank God his back had been turned to the door. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind his mother knew exactly what was going on, but had chosen to ignore it. “What was she going to say? We were married.” He nestled up against her from behind and let her feel his erection as he gathered up the skirt of her dress and stroked her bare butt, then kneaded it.

  “Oh God, it’s been nine months since you’ve touched me like this.” She rubbed against him and reached back to stroke up and down his thighs.

  “You don’t have to remind me, honey. I’ve been without you as long as you’ve been without me.”

  He bent his head to find the curve of her neck with his lips and cupped her flat belly. Trish guided his hand down over the soft hair covering her pubis. He found her with his fingertips, wet and ready. He murmured her name.

  She turned against him and he found her mouth with his. Her hands got busy unfastening his pants again. His hands shook as he unzipped the dress and peeled it down. She had no bra on, and the fabric fell to the floor, leaving her naked, except for her black high heels. For the first time he saw the bright pink scar, low down on her belly between her pelvic bones, where they had cut into her and removed her uterus.

  She covered the scar with her hand. Langley went to his knees, pulled her hand away and placed his lips against the mark. If they wanted more children later, they could adopt.

  But they would have to talk about that when need wasn’t thrumming through his entire body. The scent of her arousal made thinking impossible. He parted her and found her small, rose-blushed clit and laved it with his tongue.

  Trish gripped his hair. She parted her legs more, and her hips slanted toward the touch of his tongue. “Langley—” Her voice sounded husky and weak.

  After only a few moments, she backed away, kicked her shoes off, and wiggled back on the bed. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could hear her breathing, fast and unsteady. She parted her legs, exposing herself. She was glistening with moisture and deep pink with arousal. “Hurry.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. Trish laughed as he shucked his clothing, tossing his shirt and pants toward the dresser without looking. He crawled up on the bed and between her thighs.

  She gripped him and caressed his hard length before guiding him inside her. They both made a sound—part relief, part pleasure—as he pushed inside. She tilted her hips, seating him deep, and they rocked together.

  Trish cupped his face in her hands and brought his lips back to hers. “If I could hold you forever, it wouldn’t be long enough, Langley.”

  Every time they came together after being apart, he wondered how he could have ever done without her for so many months. They both remained hollow until they filled each other up again.

  His long, slow strokes were a form of familiar torture that held them on the edge. Trish’s restless caresses up and down his back, her feverish kisses against his throat, his shoulder, wreaked havoc with his control.

  When her breathing began to catch, he knew she was close, and the anticipation unraveled his control. That and the nip she gave his shoulder.

  He pumped hard once, twice. Trish’s familiar sound of release drove him over the edge, and his own climax rolled through him.

  He smoothed back her hair from her cheek and kissed her again.

  “Don’t move yet. I just want to be close to you like this.” She ran her hands up and down his back, then lower. She brushed her fingertips over his buttocks. “Remember that old movie Tad liked so much, where the guys get their clothes stolen and they run away from the lake bare-ass naked?”

  “You’re not supposed to talk about another man�
��s bare ass while you’re touching mine, Trish.”

  She laughed, her eyes alight. “No other man’s ass can compare to yours, Langley, I promise.” She gave his tush a light squeeze, and he started to harden again. “Tad was watching the movie again the other day, and he thinks it’s the funniest thing. He made the comment that one of the men had a fuzzy butt. He wanted to know why his wasn’t fuzzy.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him when he got older he might have a fuzzy butt, too.” She chuckled. “He said, ‘No I won’t, I’ll use Daddy’s electric razor and shave it off.’”

  Langley snickered. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “You have a few years yet before you have to worry about it, I think.”

  She raised her hips, drawing him in deeper, and just like that, discussion of family went right out of his head.

  He nuzzled her cheek, then sucked on her earlobe, and she made one of her sounds—a cross between a catch of her breath and a hum—that made him hard as a rock in a nanosecond. He cupped her breast and kneaded it.

  Trish turned her head, and her mouth caught his. She no longer tasted like wine, but of her. Their lips clung again and again until he thrust his tongue forward and she sucked on it.

  He thrust deep. She moved beneath him in reply, and murmured his name. He set a slow, easy pace this time, drawing their lovemaking out, pausing to kiss her, caress her, taste her skin with parted lips, and drink her in. He paused to look down into her passion-flushed face, and it was like seeing her beneath him for the first time.

  It was manna, the hungry way she caressed him, kissed him, and her hips rose to take him in. She reached between their bodies to cup his balls and at the same time put pressure on the underside of his penis, so when he moved, her velvet-wet heat gripped him harder with every thrust. When he came this time, his hips jerked again and again as he spilled himself into her.

  She smiled up at him and stretched, their bodies still sealed together by their release. “I’m so glad you’re home, Langley.”