Semper Mine

by Lizzy Ford

  “You leave in two days. Is this a two-day stand?” she retorts.

  Hearing the tiny note of distress in her voice, I kiss her and push the robe off her shoulders. I ache for her in a way that’s almost uncontrollable. Her scent is all over me, and her light flavor is such a turn on, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kiss her again without dragging her to bed.

  Her soft, firm body melts at my touch in a way that makes me want to learn new ways of making love, so I claim her every way possible. I glide my hands down her perfect curves and pull her against me.

  Katya plants her palms on my chest and pushes me away, breaking the kiss. Her face is flushed, her eyes sparking with fire. Her body is pliant, her breathing off.

  “Two days,” she repeats.

  “It’s what I wanted to talk to you about over coffee,” I reply, nuzzling her. “Do you want me to stay longer?” I capture her lips once more. It’s not possible to have her naked body in my arms and not make love to her, not after everything we’ve been through and how deeply we plunged into each other’s hearts last night.

  Her hands travel under my shirt and push it up. I lean back enough to take it off.

  “Yes,” she says. “I do.”

  The sensation of her breasts pressed to my chest adds to the fire racing through my blood.

  “I can stay a couple of weeks,” I say as I strip out of my pants. Her cool hands roam down my hips to my straining erection.

  “And then … what?” she asks.

  “Trust me, Katya,” I grunt.

  If last night was hot, this morning is like being a Crayon melted in the sun. Katya’s passion pushes past any restraint I can muster. I pick her up, taking her to the bed once more.

  Settling on top of her, I enter her quickly this time, with urgency, my mouth devouring hers hungrily as her thighs clench my hips and fingernails rake down my back. She’s so hot and tight and slick, her kisses and passion consuming. I let her carry me away with her desire and hunger.

  Two weeks … a lifetime isn’t long enough for me to be satisfied with her. I’m not possessive of women, but I could be with her from the sheer amount of need and emotion burning me up from the inside out.

  I want to be yours.

  Fuck! I’ve wanted her to be mine for months, to cart her off and prove to her how good we could be together.

  I get lost in her body, in her sighs. The breathless way she cries my name before she comes, the softness of her skin. My god, I’m intoxicated by the sweet, addictive taste of her core. On her back, her belly, her side, doggy-style, cowgirl … on the bed and off … I can’t get enough of her and feel my self-control sizzle in her fire as I try. I need to explore every part of her body, to memorize each curve and hollow, so that, when I do return to Iraq, I have something to tide me over until the next time I see her.

  She’s wild, uninhibited, as up for a challenge in bed as well as real life: From the way she touches me and holds my gaze when she swallows me when I come, to her throaty moans of pleasure and how she pushes me, as if not wanting to give me the chance to recover my restraint.

  It takes another three hours before we’re sated enough to stop, and I lower myself on top of her after another powerful climax. Sweating and utterly relaxed, I kiss her jawline. Her breathing is ragged, her fingers trailing down my back and arms light enough to tickle. Her inner thighs are trembling against my hips. I plan on fucking her until neither of us can walk at some point over the next two weeks, maybe when I’m better able to control my desire.

  Like that will happen. The attraction is too intense for either of us, always has been.

  Wrapping my fingers through her curls, I close my eyes, unable to remember a time when I was so relaxed and content.

  She traces my hairline with a finger and idly scratches the back of my neck. I know if I look, her features will be radiant, sexy beyond belief. Still inside her body, I can’t recall sex every being so intimate or noticing how warm a woman’s skin was, how much I love hearing her whisper my name with such need, I never want to leave her bed. I’ve never wanted to give up my self-restraint or thought I’d find someone who made me want to ditch it.

  “I never thought we’d be here like this,” she whispers. I feel some of the same awe she expresses. “Sawyer.” She cups my cheeks and lifts my head. “What happens in two weeks?”

  I can see her fear. Smoothing hair from her face, I offer a small smile.

  “I go back until April,” I reply honestly. “After which I’ll rotate back.”

  “What does that mean for … us?”

  “You’re still mine, baby, even if I’m away.”

  She smiles at this.

  “I’m career military,” I remind her more gently. “I’ll have many more deployments and will likely move around every few years. It’s not an easy life, Katya, and I can’t afford a place big enough for all your shoes.” I really can’t get over her shoes. Petr says she collects then donates them to charity. I guess that qualifies as a hobby for someone this wealthy, but how many pairs of shoes can one person own?

  She chews her lower lip, pensive.

  My heart is hammering at her hesitation. But I’d rather have this talk now, before things get serious.

  Things are already serious, for me at least. I knew when I showed up for coffee last night that I’m already looking twenty years into the future. I’m not sure she’s thinking of what it really means to be with me. I’m not confident she’s willing to give up a mansion for officer housing.

  When the fuck did I go from sleeping with her one night to marrying her? I don’t exactly know how coffee turned into something more. I can see us being together like that, though. It’s way too natural for it not to be a real possibility.

  “We’ll just enjoy the two weeks together,” I say when she doesn’t speak. I drop my forehead to the pillow and breathe in her scent. “Do you want to go out and visit Mikael?”

  “Yes.”

  I swallow emotions I don’t want to feel, mainly the pain of rejection that’s starting to form. I’m going to spend my two weeks with her. If she doesn’t want anything else, then I’ll go.

  “I’ll take a quick shower.” I withdraw from her warm depths, feeling a little cold inside, and kiss her quickly on the forehead.

  There’s a stone in my lower belly, one that makes me wonder if I made a mistake coming back.

  No. She’s worth it. Whatever time I have with her, I’ll value. The ache at my core is one of regret and sorrow. She’s the kind of girl you never get over, no matter how much time passes. I know that now.

  I take a hot shower. It’s long for me, about fifteen minutes. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to stay in for thirty like she does. It feels good, though, and I relax and let the scalding water wash over me.

  When I get out, I pull on jeans and leave the bathroom. At first, I don’t see her anywhere. The door is closed and locked from the inside, so I stop and listen for an indication of which of her closets she’s in.

  Rustling comes from her shoe closet. I walk to the doorway and lean against the frame, arms folding across my chest as I watch her curiously. She’s dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and appears to be rearranging her shoes.

  Is this what she does when she’s upset? I have no idea. There are two pairs on the island at one end of the closet.

  “Is Petr going to be upset that you’re disrupting his system?” I ask.

  She shoots me a dirty look. “They’re my shoes!”

  I love her fire. It moves me in ways that are too primal to name, compels me to take her in my arms and temper those flames with some hot sex. “What’re you doing?”

  “I’m deciding which ones to take with me.”

  “Where?”

  “What do you mean, where?” She faces me, puzzled. “Where do you go after Iraq?”

  “Quantico.” I start to smile. “That’s not for four months.”

  “It’ll take me that long to pick them out.”

  �
�So … you were quiet because you were thinking of what shoes to bring?” I ask doubtfully.

  “No. I had to remember where I put these.” A flash of defiance crosses her face. She places a set of white shoes on the counter and plants her hands on her hips.

  I wait for her explanation, leery of the kind of dare someone like Katya can throw down.

  “I was thinking that these are the shoes I’m wearing to the wedding.” The challenge on her face tells me she’s waiting for me to squirm.

  “I know nothing about shoes, but they look nice,” I reply calmly. “You have a date picked out?”

  “June third.”

  “Guest list?”

  “Twenty people, give or take.”

  “Dress?”

  “I’ll hire someone.”

  “Honeymoon destination?”

  “Seychelles.”

  “Does your groom get to vote on that?” I ask.

  “Nope. And I want three kids.” She’s glaring at me, getting irritated, upping the ante, expecting me to flinch.

  You won’t win this one. “Two and a dog.” I’m struggling to stay stoic. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach is gone, replaced by lightness and hope I’ve never experienced.

  Pursing her lips, she falls quiet, frustrated with me.

  I hold her gaze. “You know Marines don’t live in castles like this.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “And that I’ll be in the middle of a war you don’t agree with?”

  “I beat you there!” she exclaims triumphantly.

  “How so?”

  “You go off to war and break people. I use my charity to fix their lives when they get back.” There’s a light in her eyes that tells me she’s found her calling.

  “So we’re good,” I assess, unable to help my smile. I’m fairly certain it’s the only middle ground we’ll ever reach on the issue of war.

  Her hands drop to her sides. She approaches me, a familiar glimmer in her eyes as she takes in my bare chest. When she’s close enough, she reaches out and runs her hands down my shoulders.

  I drape my arms around her, clasping my wrists at the small of her back. She seems pensive once more as her palms trace the muscles of my upper body.

  “I figured we could have coffee. Talk things through,” I say, tilting her chin up to see her gorgeous eyes. “Get to know each other better. Though I told you more about my background than anyone else knows.”

  She smiles. “I think I know what I need to. The rest we’ll learn together.”

  “So do you want to be mine or not?” I challenge.

  Taking my face in her hands, Katya kisses me with her usual passion. I hold her while we kiss slowly, leisurely, taking the time to savor her taste and the velvety depths of her mouth.

  “You know I do, Sawyer.” She drops back onto her heels, gaze on me. “But I do have one question.”

  “Shoot,” I reply. “Ask me anything.”

  “Are you serious about June?” A flush accompanies the hesitant question.

  “How far we take this is up to you.” I rest my forehead against hers, speaking gently. “If you can live with a Marine, then tell me when and where to be on June third. If not, I’ll come home to you, until you tell me not to.”

  The words are difficult for me to say. I’m not accustomed to letting go of control over my life, especially not with something this serious.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I’m not entirely certain what that means. I don’t ask. It’s a lot to think about on day one, and I’d rather know she was certain.

  “You do understand it’s not easy, right?” I ask again.

  “Yes. And I know you’ll be in danger.” A tremor works its way through her body. “I’m really glad you came back, Sawyer.”

  “Me, too.” I kiss her forehead and release her. “Want to walk out back?”

  She nods, the thoughtful expression remaining.

  Whatever she’s thinking, whatever she eventually decides, I know I’m committed. It’s out of my hands. Surprisingly, I’m not uncomfortable or uneasy about it. I suspected last night how this would go, from the moment she showed me her scars, and I’m confident it will unfold the way I want it to.

  I dress quickly, and we walk hand in hand towards the snow-topped hedges of the family cemetery. It looks far different than I recall, the roses and flowers gone for the winter. It’s still peaceful, and the stone walkways winding through the garden are clear of snow.

  “Can I have a minute with him?” Katya asks.

  “Of course.” I let go of her hand and hang back as she approaches Mikael’s tombstone and kneels.

  This place gives me mixed feelings. It’s hard for me to recall that nine months ago, I was standing in this same spot, watching one of my men being buried after the worst experience of my life. It’s difficult to digest how far Katya and I have come, how much pain we both went through and how that shadow of Mikael’s death will always linger.

  But it’s not all pain here. I feel a deep sense of gratitude towards her brother. While I’d change his death if I could, I’m also aware that he brought Katya and me together. I don’t know that either of us would’ve gotten the help we needed or would’ve ever been able to take a chance on letting someone else in, had we not met here at Mikael’s funeral.

  Nine months ago, I owed him my life, and today, I owe him my heart. I never knew the appeal of having people who cared for me, a true family. Petr and Katya changed that this year. I can’t stop thinking about what life will be like with her.

  Eventful. That I know, but in the quiet moments when we’re alone, it’s more peaceful than I’ve ever known. I love that she’s so passionate and speaks her mind and even that her way of beating me and showing up the war effort will end up helping out service members who need it.

  I love how good she is and how much sweetness she hides from the world. These are my secrets, and it’s a privilege to be one of the only people in the world who knows this about her.

  She stands and waves at me.

  I approach and slide an arm around her waist.

  Katya leans into me, nestling her head beneath my chin with a deep sigh.

  “This is where we met,” she whispers.

  “I know.” I circle my other arm around her, enjoying the weight of her body against mine. It’s an honor to be the one she seeks support from, one I will cherish for as long as she’ll have me. “He would be so proud of you, Katya.”

  She’s silent. Her breathing is uneven, a sign she’s crying.

  I hold her, and we stand quietly.

  My Katya recovers quickly and moves away from me. Whispering a farewell to her brother, she entwines her fingers with mine and wipes her tears away.

  We leave the cemetery and are halfway to the house when she takes a deep breath and eyes me.

  “You’re not even going to really propose, are you? Just assume I’ll give you a place and time to show up?”

  “Pretty much. I figure when you’re ready, you’ll let me know.”

  “You really are serious.” Her eyes widen, and she faces me.

  “Yeah.”

  We gaze at one another. I’m trying to gauge her reaction. There are too many emotions to know what’s going through her mind.

  “You won’t change your mind?” she whispers.

  “No.”

  Another minute passes with her studying me. “I’ll have to tell Petr what to wear. He’s got no fashion sense,” she murmurs.

  “Or you could let him choose his own clothes like most full-grown men do,” I reply, amused.

  “If you want me to tell you where to be, we’re doing this my way,” she retorts. Her eyes are glistening with tears despite the fiery response.

  Out of principal and for her brother’s sake, I should probably object. But she’s about to cry, and I’ve never been able to stand it when she does.

  “Okay, Katya,” I whisper and cup her soft cheeks with my hands. “We can do it your way.
You’ve got plenty of time to think things over, too. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  “I don’t need to. Sawyer …” She stops, her voice trembling. “I would be really … honored to marry you. I know I want to be yours forever. I already own you, so we might as well make it official.”

  I laugh. I can hear and see her emotion. Despite her attempt at a joke, her declaration pierces through me, the same way her passion does, and my throat tightens. She’s trembling, and I hug her to me tightly.

  “You have a family now,” she adds so quietly, I barely hear her.

  “I know.” It’s an overwhelming thought. Holding her, being with her, feels so right. So perfect, natural and peaceful.

  We hold one another in the serene setting, the tender moment as intimate as making love to her. When she’s calmed, she eases away and wipes her face free of tears. Her features are lit up for a different reason this time, one that pulls a smile from me.

  She’s happy. I’ve never seen her like this, and I love it. Taking my hand, she tugs me towards the house. If the spark in her eyes is any indication, she’s plotting.

  “I think my father is going to want a word with you,” she says, amused. “And then Petr. And while you’re being interrogated, I’m going to wake up Riley and Carson and let them know I will hunt them down if they let anything happen to you overseas.”

  I chuckle.

  “Then we’re going to my room, because you promised to make love to me until we can’t walk.” She glances at me with a grin. “Think you can hang with me?” The challenge is in her gaze again, along with hunger.

  “Absolutely. Why don’t we start there?” I reply casually. I stop walking and pull her into my arms. “Sound like a better plan?”

  She nods, and I lower my head to hers, capturing her lips for a deep kiss. She melts into me. I steady her.

  After a lifetime of dedicated solitude, I’m humbled by the knowledge that I somehow managed to find the woman in my arms.

  I could definitely get used to coming home to her.

  I look forward to the chance and to our future.

  “Hey, get a room!” Petr shouts from the deck.

  Katya breaks off the kiss with a laugh.

  A glance towards the house reveals Petr standing at the edge of the deck with a wide smile.