by M. S. Parker
“I was one of the volunteers the night your plane went down. I was working with Roman.”
“Ah.” A deprecating smile curled her lips, and she glanced down at her arm, then at my wrist. “Roman mentioned that his partner had gotten hurt. I guess it was a rough night for both of us.”
“Yeah.” Feeling awkward, I looked away. “Actually, I’m out here hoping to speak to Roman. Is your husband at home?”
Her lids flickered. “My…” Something flashed through her eyes. Pain, I realized. Pain and sadness. “My husband?”
“Ah…yeah. Roman.”
This time, her reaction had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with amusement. She broke out laughing. “Roman is not my husband.”
Now, I was confused. “But…” I stopped, realizing how odd it would be for me to point out that I’d seen a picture of them – a wedding picture.
She saw the confusion and her laughter faded away, replaced by a gentle smile. “I was married to Roman’s twin…Ryan. He died a few years ago.”
An odd twist of emotions whirled through me. Relief but also sadness for this woman. “Ah…his twin?”
“Yes.” Cass nodded, her smile dying. “He was killed on a mission. It was supposed to be his last one. He was due to re-enlist but had already decided he was leaving the army.”
Wow. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I wasn’t laughing at you, by the way. It’s the idea of me with Roman…” She made a face. “The two of us are like brother and sister. Do you mind if I ask why you need to speak with him?”
The line around us shifted, and I moved forward to the counter, paying for my coffee before stepping back toward her.
“It’s about the night we were out searching for you.” Guilt bubbled in me as I thought of how I told Roman to leave me alone when he’d come to see me at the hospital. I needed to apologize.
“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “But you won’t find him at my place, and I have no idea if he’s home or not, although he probably is.”
She paid for her gas, and the two of us moved toward the big, double glass doors. I held it open for her, and we moved to the side.
“I don’t suppose you could tell me where he lives, could you? I spent most of yesterday trying to track him down and thought I’d finally located him – by searching for you.” Talk about a wasted day.
She grinned at me. “I can give you his address. But be warned – he’s been a bear since that night. His mood is practically toxic.”
I almost asked if that was a new thing, considering how acerbic he’d been when we were together, but decided I’d already stepped in it enough.
Seventeen
Roman
Exhaustion had my brain going hazy and my body numb as I brought the hammer down on the post in front of me.
The fence needed repair, but if I’d been smart, I would have started the chore on a day when I wasn’t so exhausted.
I wasn’t smart, though, because I was plugging away at the task, and after a face-cracking yawn, I brought the hammer down and hit off-center of my target…and smashed my thumb.
“Fuck!” I shouted. I hurled the hammer and straightened, staring at the injured digit. It was already red.
Pissed off, I kicked the post, and it creaked ominously.
That just pissed me off even more, but I managed to restrain the urge to just kick the damn post all the way down.
Turning my back, I headed up toward the house.
Inside the kitchen, I grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, then went back outside, dropping down on the porch. If I stayed inside where it was warm, I was likely to fall asleep.
Maybe I needed to do just that.
I’d been awake for more than twenty-four hours, and before that, I’d only managed to grab an hour or two of sleep. Going long periods without any decent rest was something I was used to – being a Ranger required it. But I wasn’t running high on adrenaline in the middle of a clandestine op. I was just pushing myself, and after too much time without more than an hour or two of sleep, it was clouding my brain and affecting my reflexes. And my aim. Scowling, I looked down at my throbbing thumb and decided I was done working on the fence repairs for now.
Weariness beat at me, and without any conscious thought, I leaned against the nearby post and closed my eyes.
I had no intention of falling asleep.
I hadn’t intended to smash my thumb though, either.
She was whispering my name.
I had to be dreaming, because I knew Lexi wasn’t here talking to me.
She said my name again, louder, then she touched me.
I turned my face into her palm and dragged my lids up.
“You’ve got to get up, Roman,” she said, reaching down to take my hands. “Come on, big guy. You need to get up.”
“Why don’t you c’mere instead?”
She shook her head. “Get up, Roman. Now.” Her words were urgent, and that more than anything, pierced the thick cloud of sleep.
She tugged on my hands. “Move your ass, Roman.”
“You’re really here,” I said slowly, trying to make sense of it.
“Yeah, I’m here, and you’ve been outside so long, you’re probably hypothermic. We need to get you inside. Stand up. I can’t drag you in. You’re too heavy.”
I was about to argue with her, but I realized how heavy my limbs felt and the drugged-like haze of my thoughts.
I didn’t feel cold, which was a bad sign.
I should feel cold.
It took far too much energy and concentration to simply get to my feet, and I had the humiliating thought that I might not have been able to do it without Lexi’s help.
Once I was upright, she nagged, bullied, and urged me inside the house, through the kitchen and into the living room.
She nudged me back onto the couch and grabbed a blanket, threw it around my shoulders before crouching in front of me to take my boots off. “I can do that,” I said. The words came out slurred and rough, almost intelligible even to me. Dimly, my brain kicked itself into gear and reminded me that the slurred speech was another bad sign.
I was most definitely hypothermic.
Once she had my boots off, she grabbed another blanket, a quilt that my mother had made not long before she died. She wrapped it around my feet and lower legs. Some part of me wasn’t too keen about the fact that my mother’s prized possession was now swaddling the lower half of my body, but the energy to do something about it eluded me.
Lexi was mumbling to herself, and I looked up, focusing on her, on the bright, red-gold beauty of her hair. She crouched down in front of the fireplace and in what seemed like a blink, she had a fire crackling.
She shoved a chair closer to the fire, then came over and took my hand again.
I resisted, too tired to move, but once again, she bested me when it came to the stubbornness department. I grunted in aggravation as she propelled me closer to the chair.
Once I sat down, my irritation faded, though. The warmth from the fire felt good.
She went and fetched the blankets. Soon I was tucked back in under them, and she brushed my hair out of my face. “You’re a hard-ass, Roman. You know that?”
“Am I?” The idea puzzled me, but my thoughts were so fogged and weighed down, I couldn’t figure out why.
My lids drooped down, and my fogged, exhausted brain went dark.
The familiar sound of gunfire raged around me.
I saw a brilliant flash, the muzzle flare of an enemy weapon. Without hesitation, I aimed in the direction where the flare had been and fired. The suppressed sound of my MK Scar L hadn’t even faded in the air before I heard a loud, pain-filled scream.
Shit.
Hadn’t delivered a kill shot.
I moved closer, aware of the rest of my team as we closed in on the target area.
We were taking heavy fire.
From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the guys cut around the doo
r where I’d seen the muzzle flare, and in short succession, there were two more bursts from a silenced MK Scar.
One of the guys had taken out the hostile there.
I pressed on, locked on the house in front of us, staring at it through night vision goggles as I searched for any sign this might be a trap.
I neared the far end of the block, relying on the shadows of the nearby buildings to help hide my presence.
I looked across the road, my eyes already seeking out the other half of the team. One of the men flashed me a thumbs-up and a wild grin. That grin was an echo of my own, worn by one Ryan Sayer. My twin brother and best friend was leading the secondary assault team, and once we gave the signal, the units providing support for the team would move into play.
I looked back at the target, carefully lifting my foot. Before I could put it down, the world exploded around us.
I slammed into the building at my back, knocked off my feet by the blast from the unseen IED.
Screams shredded the night air.
Hands shook me.
A voice shouted my name.
Jerking upright, I lashed out, grabbing the person in front of me. Without thinking, I moved forward, then down. I didn’t stop to look or even think about what I was doing, not until I had my forearm shoved under her neck.
Her neck. Her slim, pale, fragile neck.
Lexi.
Her eyes stared up into mine, wide with shock.
I pulled my arm back and shoved upright, kneeling in front of her. Covering my face with hands that trembled, I gulped in air. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. My heart raced and raged like a freight train while blood roared in my ears.
“Hey…”
Her soft voice made me shudder.
I’d thrown her to the ground like a madman.
She brushed her fingers down my arm. The light touch made me flinch, and I practically fell on my ass in an effort to get away.
She just followed me, shifting onto her knees. She reached out, brushed her fingers down my cheek, holding her cast tight against her chest.
“You were having a nightmare,” she said.
I didn’t need the update. I’d had the nightmare so many times, I’d lost track.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut.
After a long pause, she asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I looked up at her and told myself to send her away. It was the best thing, considering my frame of mind.
She inched closer. Covering her hand with mine, I reached for her with my other one, not even thinking about what I was doing.
I pulled her up against me with one rough tug, and she practically fell into my lap. Her soft, surprised cry was cut off as I covered her mouth with mine.
Eighteen
Lexi
My head was spinning.
It had started doing that in the seconds it had taken Roman to pounce on me and trap me beneath him, and it was still doing it now as he swept inside my mouth with keen, urgent hunger.
Although I’d been terrified just seconds earlier, the rush of adrenaline flooding me now had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with pure, undiluted desire.
I curled my arms around his neck and wiggled around until I was straddling him.
He caught my waist in his hands, and I shivered, already anticipating the feel of his rough hands on my skin.
He didn’t leave me to wait long, either. He tugged me in closer, then slid both of his hands upward, dragging my shirt along as he went.
He broke our kiss only long enough to finish stripping me of my top.
I whimpered as he pulled me back against him. Through the waffle-weave material of his thermal shirt, I could feel his heat. It was hard to believe that just over an hour ago, he’d been out on the porch doing his best imitation of a human popsicle. Now he was hot and demanding and greedy.
I didn’t mind a bit.
In fact, I wanted more, so much more.
Reaching out, I hooked my left arm around his neck, digging the fingers of my right hand into his bicep, desperate for more of his heat.
He slid his mouth along my jawline, then down. He raked his teeth down my neck, sending a shiver of sensation through me.
Big, warm hands cupped my breasts through my bra, and I pushed against him eagerly.
He pushed my bra strap down.
As he closed his mouth around one nipple, my head fell back. My bones seemed to dissolve, and I groaned. He circled my nipple with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from my throat.
He shifted, and the room spun around me as he tucked me on the floor underneath him.
My pussy clenched as he settled between my thighs, shoving himself against me. I felt the pulse of his cock, and it was enough to drive me almost insane.
He worked his way down my body, going to his knees when he encountered the barrier of my jeans. With quick, efficient movements, he dealt with both my jeans and my boots. My thighs fell open for him as he stretched out between my legs. He kissed me through the barrier of my panties. I shoved my hand into his hair and fisted it, pressing him tight against me.
I thought I just might die from the pleasure of it as he tugged the band of my panties and exposed me to his mouth. He licked me, stabbing his tongue into me, an echo of what I really wanted from him.
Not that I minded him going down on me – at all. Still clutching at his hair with my uninjured hand, I pressed him closer.
He sealed his mouth over me and kissed my cunt, the exact same way he’d kissed my lips, with devouring, devastating hunger.
I writhed under him, desperate to climax.
Just when he had me almost to the brink, he pulled back.
I stared at him and arched my hips. “Please.”
“I want to be inside you when you come,” he said, voice hard, tight and flat. He shoved his jeans out of the way and came over me again, reaching between us to steady his cock and aim it right at the heart of me. I cried out as he filled me, stretching me and burning me and marking me.
I wrapped my arm around his neck, trying to trap him as close as possible.
He made no attempt to put distance between us, and I shuddered in ecstasy as he thrust inside me, again and again and again.
I shuddered under the onslaught.
His lips rubbed over mine.
I opened for him, catching his lower lip between my teeth and biting him.
Roman tensed against me.
Without thinking, I did it again, sinking my teeth into his lower lip, then sucking the full lower curve into my mouth.
He shuddered. A few taut moments passed. He shoved up onto his hands, weight balanced between his upper and lower body…and centering on the connection between us.
He continued to hold still, and I opened my eyes, gazing up at him.
He caught my right knee in his hand and pushed it up, holding it flush against his hip. It deepened his possession of my body. Thrashing under him, I clung to his bicep with my good hand while scrabbling under him and working against the heavy, thick ridge of his cock.
He pulsed inside me. I was acutely aware of it, of every ridge, every jerk of his cock.
He pulled out until we were barely connected.
Then he slammed into me.
Again and again, and soon, I was shouting out his name, my voice almost hoarse.
The smooth wood of the floor scrapped against my back.
His fingers slid up and squeezed my ass.
He sank his teeth into my neck.
The climax exploded inside me.
A split second later, Roman withdrew.
Dumbfounded, I stared up at him as he pushed onto his knees and wrapped his hand around his cock.
His naked cock.
He began to pump and understanding dawned.
I was overcome with a deep, vicious urge to push his hand away and replace it with my mouth, but I was a bit compromised at the moment. I couldn
’t have found the strength to move if the house had burst into flame in that very moment.
So I lay there, shuddering in the aftermath and watching as he worked his cock until he came, the thick wet jets splashing down onto my belly.
“How much trouble are you in?”
Nearly an hour had passed since Roman pulled me up off the floor and led me to the stairs.
We took a shower together, each of us taking turns to wash the other. Now we lay in his bed. We hadn’t talked much and his question sort of caught me off guard.
I hitched up a shoulder and focused my attention on the window. Evening had come and gone, and night had settled around us, bringing with it a heavy, steady downpour. Rain beaded on the windows. I stared at the glass so hard, my eyes started to blur.
“What’s that mean?” he asked, voice rough with drowsiness. “No trouble? You don’t know? A little trouble?”
I lifted my head and peered at him through the darkness. “I think that might be the most words you’ve ever spoken to me.”
“Talking is overrated.”
I thought I caught a hint of a smile from him, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
I sighed and snuggled in closer to him. “I don’t know yet,” I told him truthfully. “I tried to go in on Monday but was told to go home. I’m on unpaid leave while they work this thing out.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I could tell by his tone that he meant it. Nodding, I resumed my study of the window, watching the rain bead and collect on the glass.
“What’s the deal with that Stilwell guy? Is he just a natural-born asshole?”
That startled a laugh out of me. “I’m going to have to assume it’s his natural, God-given gift, Roman.”
“He has it out for you, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah.” I blew out a breath and tried to ignore the tension trying to creep back into my body. “He has, almost from day one. Doing petty-ass things, like calling me Alex and making sure to always be somewhere else when I need his help with one thing or another.” Making a face, I added, “For some reason that I can’t quite figure out, I’m paired to work with him more than anybody else at the park.”
