Desert Exposure

by Zoë Normandie

  Hot tears spontaneously rolled out of her eyes as she inhaled his forbidden scent, reminding her how much she already missed him. Goddamn, she’d grown so emotional. She wished he were there with her, holding and touching her, and then felt angry with herself for feeling that way. But no matter how hard she tried to push the desire away, it kept coming back.

  The master chief’s words came to her as she curled tighter into a ball on the cot, reminding her that he had placed his trust in her. He didn’t trust easily. He was trusting her because he believed in her. She would do the right thing. She was his answer. He’d shifted his load and allowed her to share in it. She felt the weight of his trust, the burden. The privilege.

  As her emotions shifted from lonely to introspective, a deep fury burned inside her chest. After everything Ryder had done for his country, his troop, his men, what did he have to show for it? She couldn’t fathom the audacity of the commander to force his second in command into such a position.

  And that’s when Olivia knew she had no other choice. He had made it clear—he depended on her to do the right thing. And wasn’t that the whole point of her being in the Sahel?

  Before she was cognitively aware, her body had sharply risen from the cot, and she stared outside the submarine-sized window. There would be no better time. She had to take action. Mission focused, zoned in, the brunette fixed her high ponytail and threw on her business attire.

  With what was becoming a familiar feeling, Olivia purposefully crunched her way down the dirt path between the small metal buildings that peppered the compound. Though it had dissipated, the rain had soaked into the ground, leaving pools of water here and there. The new morning sun had already dried the top layer of dirt, creating a caked-on mud motif on her wedge-heeled boots.

  As Olivia closed in on the open door to Lieutenant Commander Fuller’s office, she knew it was go time. It was time to be strong, no matter how deeply she had grown to hate him and what he had done to a man she cared deeply about.

  “Sir.” Olivia spoke with purpose as she peered around the doorframe into his office. “Can I have a word?”

  The commander leaned back slightly, confident yet surprised. “Olivia—of course. Have a seat.”

  He motioned stiffly in front of him, and Olivia moved into the snake pit. The tone of his voice rubbed Olivia the wrong way every time. It sounded like an infectious poison that was slowly killing her. Slowly killing Ryder. Shudders ran up her back with every inch she grew closer to the disgusting man, and his intimidating, bloodshot eyes narrowed on her in return.

  “How is the project going?” The commander’s foul smile beamed at her, and she smelled old chewing tobacco spit out into a can somewhere. The thought drove her nausea into high gear.

  “The project is fine.” Olivia choked back the urge to vomit and suppressed the violent image of what this man had done to Ryder.

  “Then how can I help you today?”

  She took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice. No matter how grossly intimidating the executive SEAL commander was, she dug deeper and deeper to find her inner strength. She didn’t want him to perceive any weakness in her, especially not while she was alone with him.

  In a stiff, businesslike tone, she stated frankly, “I have what I need at this time. I will finish my work in Washington.” She would get Ryder’s words out there, and then he could come home to her. They could fix it all—and find a way to be together.

  And she could protect him from this terrible man that she hated from so deep within her soul.

  The commander raised an eyebrow, toying with his pen. “You mean go home? Now? You’ve only been here for three weeks.” He appeared unmotivated.

  She nodded curtly at the war criminal, keeping her tone even and firm. “Yes. Now. Please arrange for my transportation to the airport.”

  A brief pause made the walls feel like they had closed in slightly, but she refused to break eye contact. Had it been three weeks already? Time had really flown. She did not miss how Fuller’s shoulders flexed and squared, or how he leaned forward, baring his teeth.

  “Aren’t you due to spend more time here? Why leave now?”

  She knew he would press, so she had prepared strategic talking points. Points that did not touch on the truth that everything was closing in on her. Her unavoidable attraction and passion for Ryder. His own safety on the deployment. Her report that wasn’t going in the direction her firm—or the client—wanted.

  So, keeping her cool, Olivia provided what she had rehearsed. “My contract stipulates that I am free to come and go as required for the work.”

  “I see.” He tapped the pen incessantly, challenging her. “And, now that you are ready to leave, you must have found something worth noting?”

  “I have some organizational suggestions relating to how overtasking has had negative impacts on culture.” She kept it brief, not overexplaining, continuing with answers that she believed would placate him. “However, my report remains classified until reviewed by my firm. It’s our policy.”

  The commander grinned slightly as she spoke. He saw an avenue to go in for the kill. It seemed that she had made her first misstep in their game of chess. He tasted blood in the water.

  “I’ve been told that there are many more people for you to interview.” His eyes locked on her and he licked his lips. “How can you have suggestions, and write a report on them, without interviewing everyone?”

  What the fuck does that mean?

  Olivia leaned back intuitively, her head cocking back. As she narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth parting in disgust, deep-seated outrage found its way to the tip of her tongue. The game between them quickly changed, and his blatant challenge threw her.

  “I’ve done what I deem best.” She clenched her teeth, defending her professionalism. Professionalism that she’d compromised as quickly as she’d allowed Ryder to be dishonored.

  “I’m sure you have.” The commander grinned sarcastically. “Yet your choices have dramatically diverged from our previous discussion of your methodology for this report. And I’m sitting here, wondering: what, or whom, has changed your mind?”

  The thought of Ryder touching her, kissing her, fucking her rolled to the front of her mind again.

  And then Olivia paused.

  She’d been traveling for almost a month, including the days that it took to get to Mali.

  A month?

  The nausea.

  Holy fucking shit.

  “I apologize if I have been unclear, but I have decided to leave,” she said expeditiously, through a tight jaw and deeply troubled eyes. Never before had she felt so deep a need to get the fuck out.

  Because suddenly it was about more than just protecting Ryder. It was also about protecting Ryder’s child—the one that, in all likelihood, she was carrying.

  “Tell me, what have you come to base your report on?” The commander’s tongue continued to roll on his lip.

  “That’s classified.” Olivia sucked in her breath, standing to her feet. Without averting her gaze, without showing weakness, she stood strong. Unmovable. Indignant. She wouldn’t get baited into defending herself against the accusation. She knew it was a trap.

  “Interesting, because the only SEAL that I’ve authorized to speak to you is the master chief.” He stood up from his desk, his insinuation clear. “So I wonder what he has said to you.”

  Olivia’s lips parted in disbelief, but she remained silent.

  “You will stay.” He gritted his teeth. “And you will bring your report to me for review.”

  “What?” Her breath came quickly, and her pulse rose. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t force her to stay. She was a consultant, for god’s sake. She wasn’t under his command—was she?

  Rule number six: Deployed civilians are expected to respect rank structure, and will report to the officers in charge on mission as required.

  She realized that this was exactly why Ryder had made her promise to stay away from the commander
. And she’d disregarded his warning.

  Looking up, she saw Fuller was well over six feet tall, and in as good a shape as any SEAL, despite his executive status. His presence loomed, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a chill up her spine, with matching goosebumps. Despite her anger and outrage, she felt very uneasy. The man’s energy felt similar to Blackshot’s: edgy, twitchy, unpredictable.

  What else is he going to do?

  “I wasn’t sure before if I should listen to the rumors—but now I’m damned sure. There’s something I don’t like going on between you and Ryder, and I’m going to find out what,” he snarled. “Now move aside. I’m late.”

  Olivia watched as he found his way to the door. Approaching him was the worst decision she’d made since her arrival. Now they were fucked.

  All she could think of was how to find Ryder and warn him.

  She needed to get them both out.

  26

  Ryder slammed open the small metal door of the interview room. The anger dripped off of him. He was visibly outraged and hurting.

  “What the fuck did he do to you?” he demanded as he stomped in, securing the door behind him.

  Olivia stood over the side table, shakily pouring herself water, and Ryder reached her in two steps, lifting her up with his hands and planting two long kisses on her mouth. She’d had little time to process the revelations of the day, and had no idea how to tell Ryder what she suspected had taken root inside her body.

  “Tell me what he said to you,” he said again, deeply concerned.

  “How did you know that I talked to him?” Her voice cracked as she searched for a way to explain what she had done. How she had compromised them.

  “Blackshot approached to me at the gym, talking about how Fuller threatened you.” He was furious, obviously ready to kill the man. “You went to talk to him… alone. What the fuck happened, Olivia?”

  She looked into his dark eyes that begged her for answers. “I went to see him and asked to go home.” She allowed the painful truth to flow out. “To finish my work.”

  “What the fuck?” Ryder’s tone reached a crescendo of ire. “Why didn’t you talk to me first? I told you not to go to him alone. Not to engage. No one knows that snake better than me. His alternate agendas have alternate agendas. The man is a dangerous, conniving son of a bitch.”

  “I had to.” She shifted, admitting it all. “Because we can’t keep our hands off each other! We can’t seem to stop, Ryder. I don’t want you strung up on fraternization charges when I should be getting your words out there.”

  “Olivia, I get what’s in your head, but what you did was the wrong fucking move,” he said flatly. “If he had suspicions about us before, now he has confirmation.”

  The words stabbed her through the chest. She felt his anger. It was old anger, built up from years. His face was a mask of pain. She realized then how much she’d come to mean to him.

  Her tears flowed. “Ryder, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “What did he say about us?”

  She exhaled regretfully. “That he thinks something is up.”

  Ryder rubbed his giant hands over his face, like he was making sure he was still alive. “Fuck, Olivia. And I came here, straight to you. Fuck. That’s why Blackshot approached me so quickly. This is a fucking trap.” He groaned, shaking his head. A flush came over his neck and cheeks.

  “I did it for you.” She felt the tears pouring over and beginning to run down her cheek. “I did it because it’s possible that I’m…” Tears choked her up. As she sank into his deep gaze, she saw the weight of an entire troop on him. Weighing him down. Now was not the time to tell him that she could be pregnant.

  “We can’t stay in here.” Ryder looked around the small supply room. “You went behind my back, Olivia, and you’ve put us both in danger.” He was desperately explaining why her choice was terrible. And she was beginning to understand why. She was in such a bad position, and she seemed to have put him in a worse one. “Now there’s a fucking target on our backs. If he does anything to you, you know I’m going to have to kill him,” Ryder said. “And believe me, he will try. Don’t you realize how easy it is to do that here—in a fucking war zone, where people die every day?”

  “But it isn’t your fault. It’s not your responsibility to protect me,” she cried.

  He gave her a completely baffled expression. “Are you high? How many drugs have you been smoking? It is my fucking job to protect you,” he growled, with all the self-righteousness in the world.

  “But that’s exactly my point—we can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t you think that ship has sailed?” He looked at her with an expression of disbelief. “We have to leave here. And I have to go have a conversation with that asshole before he tries anything. I don’t give a shit anymore if he knows I’m talking. All I care about now is what he’s going to do to you.”

  Olivia knew then how dire the situation had become. Ryder was bound and determined to throw himself into the line of fire to protect her. They had been so careless. The whole affair was poorly thought out.

  “Ryder.” She reached out for him, but he pulled back. It was the first time he’d ever pulled back from her. Recoiling like she had broken him.

  Like she had lost the trust he’d once given her.

  “No,” he snapped. “It’s time to go. I need to get you somewhere safe.”

  “Please,” she cried, needing just one more moment with him.

  And then his whole body went tense and stiff. He was retreating into his shell. A frozen shield encapsulated him, fully sealing him inside. He became untouchable.

  Betrayed.

  Olivia recognized his emotional defense mechanism when she saw it. There was nothing she could do.

  “Pack up your things,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

  With two feet of ice between them, she stood squarely, facing him. He crossed his arms. The hyphen that had become his mouth was tightly bound.

  She was losing him.

  And though the danger of the trap they were in was obvious, she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t explain how it happened, or why. But her feet started working without her permission. She found herself closing the distance, desperate for his touch. His taste.

  “Ryder.” She leaned into him, placing her head on his chest, her voice regretful. “Please understand…” She couldn’t live, knowing he felt betrayed. If he could only understand she was trying to create a distance between them to protect him.

  “You said you were mine. You said I could trust you. But you’ve proven otherwise.”

  His words issued from a stiff and cold mouth, but her hands moved down to his belt and underneath his shirt anyway, feeling the tight core she’d admired with more than just her eyes. She trailed her fingers down to the top of his leather belt, feeling how he sucked in his breath with every touch.

  He was cold, but not dead.

  Her fingers swooped underneath the belt line and felt the hardness that had quickly grown there.

  Of course he was hard. She was wet. Just being next to him was enough to get her going, and the feeling was mutual.

  As hard as his eyes were, his emotions on lockdown, his body betrayed him. She dropped her hand further into his black pants, and his member was unbelievably happy to be caressed by her. Deftly unclasping his belt, he let out a few heavy breaths as she pumped his cock up and down and pushed his pants down for better access.

  But his body remained frozen. Frigid. Watching her.

  She couldn’t keep her hands off him. “This is why I have to leave this fucking place,” she breathed, growing more aroused by the second. “Because I can’t not do this.”

  “This is why we need to get out of this fucking room.” Ryder gritted his teeth. “Because he’s looking for proof.”

  Unable to tease him into awakening, she couldn’t do anything but take him inside her mouth. It was all she wanted anyway. Just to feel him. She wante
d Ryder to make her feel like everything was going to be okay. But as she slunk down his body, he abruptly stopped her. His arms finally unfurled and caught her, bringing her back up.

  “Just one last time,” she begged like an addict.

  “No,” he said with authority.

  Olivia’s heart nearly broke with the rejection. She knew there were serious questions of trust and betrayal between them, but she didn’t know that all had been lost.

  “Please, Ryder. Save me from myself.” She sound like a she’d never been before.

  A person desperately in love.

  Ryder must have recognized it as well, because as soon as he had her back on her feet, he pushed her back on the small tabletop behind her, thrashing aside the tea station. Again, her teacup teetered and smashed to the floor. Surely there would be no teacups left in Mali by the end of the month.

  “Fuck, Olivia,” he growled as he looked down at her. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

  “I don’t know,” she cried.

  Passionately, furiously, her lover ripped off her pants, leaving them dangling off one leg. His roughness drove her wild, promising everything she wanted. The intimacy. The care. The need.

  He spread her legs without hesitation, and watched her with furrowed brows. She moaned with his touch as he traced the slit up and down, feeling its wetness.

  “Is this what you want?” he said, betraying none of the pain he kept within.

  She nodded as tears continued. She wanted it very much. But she shouldn’t have it.

  When she closed her eyes, her tummy felt a mess of longing, needing, and anxiety. When she reopened them, she noticed that he had rope in his hand, stolen from one of the supply shelves. Looking at her, his face emotionless, she watched him carefully and quickly tie her arms above her head and affix them to the table. Soon, she was immobile—a fitting metaphor for how she felt inside. Tied up, held down, she lay before him like a feast. It was apparent that he loved holding her down and being rough, which was all well because she liked being controlled by him.

  “This is a bad idea.” He gazed upon her body in a way that nearly brought her to climax.