Intimate Honor

by D. C. Stone

  “Okay,” Chris continued. “Good girl. Now, has he been like this long?”

  She went to shake her head.

  “Don’t move. Heel, Delta!”

  Samantha squeezed her eyes closed and clenched her fists, her entire body pushing toward the counter and bracing for impact. It never came. Breath punched out of her mouth and she may have whimpered slightly, which she abruptly shut off as soon as DA’s growl began again.

  “Sweetheart, open your eyes. Look at me.”

  Chris sounded close, and when she opened her eyes, it reaffirmed that he had moved closer and stood on the other side of the counter directly in front of her. “Hi.” He smiled.

  He. Friggin’. Smiled!

  She bugged her eyes and his smile grew wider. If she hadn’t been held hostage, and her heart not in her throat, she would have reached for her camera and taken a picture. It was a sight to behold. Little lines bracketed around his eyes, which were framed with thick, dark and curled lashes. Upon closer inspection, she could now see the familiar color, one closer to her favorite whiskey, Jameson. Life really wasn’t fair. How a man could be blessed with such perfection? Women paid good money to replicate what he had naturally.

  “Let’s try this again. Don’t move. Just blink once for yes, twice for no. From what I suspect you were doing earlier, I take it he hasn’t been like this for long, right?”

  She blinked once.

  “Is he on any medication?”

  She blinked twice.

  “Do you know what brought this on?”

  She blinked twice.

  “All right. I’m going to come around slowly, okay?”

  She blinked once.

  “It’s unlocked, right? The door right there?”

  He must mean the latch that separated the office from the public. She blinked once.

  The side of his mouth tipped up. “You doing okay?”

  She blinked twice.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry, Doc. We’ll get this sorted in a jiffy. Just stay real still. If he lunges, tuck your head down and put your arms over it, okay.”

  Her eyes bugged again.

  “I don’t think he will, but then again, like I said, I’m trying to figure out who he is.”

  She took a deep breath. He turned to the latch door, paused, and looked at her again. “Oh, and Red?”

  She lifted her brows.

  “Not for nothing, but you sure are looking pretty today.”

  With a wink, he pivoted and disappeared from her view. Seriously. Who was this man?

  “Delta Alpha, heel.”

  The click of doggy nails on her tile alerted her he was no longer behind her. Samantha let her breath out in a whoosh. Her shoulders relaxed and her head fell until her chin rested on her chest. The curtain of her hair slid forward until it shadowed the sunlight streaming in from the front of the shop.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, trying to control her breathing by concentrating on pulling air in and out of her lungs with measured breaths. The whisper of movement behind her followed the brush of a hard chest against her back and she lifted her head cautiously. She didn’t see anything in front of her besides the dark curtain of red hair. In her peripheral, though, two strong arms with very defined muscles were in her view. She drew in a shaky breath. Yup, that was a male behind her, a very broad and wide-chested man if his immovable form said anything.

  Manuel used to trap her into tight corners, getting a rush out of watching her squirm. He’d draw out the anticipation of what would come next: a punch to the face, a kick to her back, taking her without her permission. He got his jollies off on making her guess.

  And despite being trapped between a counter and a man who was practically a stranger to her, she didn’t think any of what Manuel had done to her would come next. No, it was the oddest thing…

  Awareness hit her like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t known Chris for more than a week, barely met him face-to-face last night, had just been held hostage by his killer dog, and here she was, alone in her shop with both of them. Good God, though, she still felt the simmering sexual attraction to him, which heightened as his deep voice spoke from beside her head.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  They were so close, so intimate, in a position she hadn’t let herself have for years.

  Rather than feeling completely uncomfortable being semi-spooned by him, she shrank closer to the counter and turned her body to answer. She opened her mouth and paused, as he didn’t move. Not one single bit. She frowned, but pushed to ignore it, and instead gave him a hint by raising her brows as she tried to turn completely to face him.

  The side of his mouth quirked, but he still didn’t move. His eyes never lost their seriousness, their concern. But his mouth said he received her message and understood but refused to follow orders. Some military man he was…

  “What … what was that?” she asked, and much to both her delight and despair, managed to turn completely around to face him, only to have her knees brush against the tops of his thighs. Her face flushed with heat, and she tried to pull back from the intimate position, but the counter dug into her back.

  Chris dropped his head between his shoulders and turned toward the room where Delta Alpha must be for his crate was empty. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me. Something must have spooked him.” He turned back to her and glanced up beneath dark, thick lashes. “Like I’ve said, Red, I have no clue who that dog is right now. What happened?”

  She frowned furiously, mulling over the few minutes before she heard the growling. “I was researching PTSD in dogs and treatment options. I got fed up with the suggestions, as it seemed that no matter which option we took, it’d either set him back a step or cause undue emotional harm. I tossed the iPad on the counter, and … maybe,” she said and sighed as realization set in, “actually that could have been it. The iPad probably sounded loud to him. It was quiet in here this morning. Oh, poor DA.” All of the fear of the past few minutes rushed out and, in its place, sadness and guilt overtook her. She’d done something so stupid after he’d been through so much.

  Samantha shifted to toss a leg over the stool, intent on going to check on Delta Alpha and apologize to him. Chris stopped her by stepping forward and laying a hand on her hip. She froze, the intimate position they’d been in minutes earlier completely PG compared to what they were in now. His hips were between her legs, his hand resting in the crease of where her hip met her thigh, and the setting entirely something it shouldn’t be between what amounted to as two practical strangers.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathy. She winced at the sound and cleared her throat.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing, although from that look on your face I can guess. You need to give him a few minutes, Doc. Let him calm down.”

  She darted a glance to the room and back. “Alone? Do you really think that’s best right now? After everything he’s been through?”

  Chris’s eyes softened, and he reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. Her skin tingled where his hand met and she shivered, resisted the urge to rub at the same spot. “He’ll be fine. We’ll give him a few minutes, then I’ll go in first, and when I give the okay, you can come in, too. I want to make sure he understands who’s in charge here, even when I’m gone. I hate to think of what would have happened had it not been me who walked through that door.”

  She scoffed and tried to ignore where he stood by leaning back a little bit. The counter once again dug into her back and she winced in pain, knowing full well there’d be a bruise there later. Chris’s expression said he saw it all and got a thrill out of making her squirm.

  Once again, the thrill he seemed to get was nothing like the thrill Manuel would get. She didn’t know Chris and had no idea what he was capable of, so she had no idea why she knew he’d never hurt her. It didn’t make sense.

  She glared at him. Move back.

  He smiled. No.

  She scoffed. �
�No one else is exactly busting down my doors for business just yet. I’m not even due to open for a few more days seeing as I got put behind.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “Do you mind?” she asked as he leaned in more.

  His grin grew. “Not at all, Doc.”

  “You’re not moving, Mr. Gonzalez.”

  He turned, looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her and came in closer, his face only a foot apart from hers.

  “I thought my pop was here, you calling me Mr. Gonzalez.”

  “Maybe he should be here to teach you some manners.”

  He chuckled. “Manners? Like?”

  “Like getting in people’s personal space and touching them,” she huffed and threw a pointed glance at his hand still on her hip.

  He threw his head back and laughed. Samantha sat frozen, mesmerized by his throat muscles working fluidly and the beautiful sound coming out of his chest. He recovered quickly, removing his hand and replacing it and the other one until he caged her between him and the countertop. His face hovered inches away, and unable to do anything else, she stared at his mouth. Her knees cradled his hips. Despite everything, a heavy ache started between her thighs. Geesus.

  “Who do you think taught me everything I know, sweetheart?”

  “Chris,” she breathed. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t deny it, Samantha. There’s something here, like an ache that needs to be rubbed. An itch that needs scratched. Something. I don’t know what it is, but it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this, much less been around a woman, any woman, especially one who looks like you.”

  “Eeep.”

  He lifted the side of his mouth in that same sexy, lopsided grin again.

  “Oh, shit.”

  His chest shook. “What’s wrong?”

  “I said that out loud, huh?”

  He chuckled. “Sure did.”

  She groaned. “So it’s true? What they say about military men being away from women for so long?” Why, why did she ask that?

  He looked as if he were trying to figure out the answer to the universe with how deep in concentration his face was. Twin brows settled in a deep V and his gaze settled on her mouth.

  “I think you’re referring to sailors being out to sea for so long,” he said, taking a step closer.

  “And?” she asked with a hitch in her breath.

  “I’ve been around women, just not women like you. There’s something…”

  There’s something…what? She desperately wanted him to finish that last sentence but instead, he cradled her face gently in his palms, the move so light and careful that it went against everything he looked to be. Big, bad, military guy with those dark, troubled eyes. She sat captivated.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “I’m going to kiss you, Red. That all right with you?”

  What? Seriously? Who was this guy? “I … I think this is highly … inap—”

  ****

  Damn straight, Chris kissed her. He dipped his head, cradled her jaw, and fused his mouth to hers, both to stop her denial as well as finally get an answer to what she’d taste like. Samantha, with her dark-red curls, bright, hazel eyes, and pouty, plump lips. A woman begging to be kissed. Sort of like how some people were made with a permanent scowl, a resting bitch face as he liked to call it. They usually looked as if they searched for a fight, constantly scowling, their expressions as if they wanted to scream at the world. Those people looked for trouble.

  Samantha, however, looked like she begged to be kissed.

  He was all too willing to answer. Something that kind of surprised him. He didn’t accost women like this, but since the moment he spoke to her over the phone last week, he’d been unable to get the vision of him kissing her out of his mind. She could punch him for all he cared, because after this he would damn well deserve it, but he had to have a taste.

  She went stiff against him for a beat but then reacted. They both inhaled air together, their chests rising and pressing against one another. He inched forward, gentled his mouth, and brushed his nose against the crescent of her cheek. Her breath whispered shakily over his mouth.

  Adjusting his grip to tunnel his hands in her hair, he gave a slight pull, angling her face more for the position he wanted. Her mouth trembled, not in fear, which he could tell by the way her hands gripped his shoulders, how her body curved into his, and how her lips parted in anticipation. Oh, she wanted this as much as he did.

  The tension built between them, and his blood heated.

  He dipped his head again and nibbled a path across her lips before plunging his tongue inside and twining it with hers.

  His actions shocked him a little. He didn’t take what wasn’t freely offered. But something about Samantha Eagen put him in a position he couldn’t deny. If it earned him a stinging cheek, so be it. He would apologize profusely and offer himself up to Dumb Ass as a chew toy.

  Samantha moaned against his mouth, signaling the last thing he’d get was a slap for this kiss. He took in a deep breath, breaking away from her mouth for a moment to adjust before he’d dive back in.

  A muted, agonized whine pierced the air behind him. He immediately recognized it as DA from the other room.

  Samantha went stiff, her fingers tightening on his shirt, her mouth freezing against his.

  Chris pulled back and sighed before dropping his forehead to hers. They both breathed as if they’d run a marathon, but he was anything but tired. He wanted to take her up the stairs and find out what color her panties were … before he took her to bed.

  He wanted to blame this attraction—this lust—on the fact that he’d been away from civilization and women for months, but a little voice in the back of his head argued that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t a saint. He had friends who he met up with when he was home, who wanted the same thing he did—no-strings sex. Just raw, and, the-dirtier-the-better, sex.

  The whine continued, steadily getting louder.

  The sound tore at his gut and he pushed away from the counter and out of the arms of Doctor Eagen. He did an about-face and headed for his dog.

  Several minutes later, he was down on all fours, talking and giving affection to him when she walked in. He and Delta Alpha glanced up, and he continued scratching behind his dog’s ears. His hind leg kicked up and matched the scratches. Chris grinned.

  “It’s times like this that I believe he can fully recover,” he said, hope running through him.

  She sighed but said nothing.

  He wanted to kick himself. Of course, she’d know exactly what the military planned to do, and what Chris or Dumb Ass couldn’t do. Meaning, be partners again out on missions. There was no passing go on that little idea.

  “Look,” he started, wanting someone else rooting for DA. “I know he won’t ever go back to the team. I get that.” He scratched his dog beneath his chin. DA’s tongue lolled out of his mouth and Chris swore he saw the hint of a doggy smile. “I know he’ll never go back to the military, but that still won’t stop me from wanting him to have a full recovery. To be healthy and happy, not a shell of who he used to be.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she responded, her voice firm but soothing. “Delta Alpha broke his orders, and he did it for a reason. Call it fate, call it acting on his gut, whatever it is, he saved your life. I’m sure he’d do it again. You can’t continue to blame yourself for what happened.”

  Chris didn’t look at her, but curiosity won out. “Fusko tell you that?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But even if he didn’t, I would have been able to figure it out all by myself from reading his file and injury report.” She pushed away from the wall, ambled into the room, approached his dog, and held out her hand. He was a little amazed that she’d risk interacting with DA so soon after almost being bitten. Her attention stayed on the dog, but she kept her body language nonaggressive, an act that spoke of being open and taking the next step in their doctor-patient relationship.
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  DA gave a quick whiff, then, as if apologizing, licked the side of her hand. She chuckled and sat on the opposite side from them, cross-legged on the floor. “I sure hope he wasn’t getting a sample of what he’ll bite later.”

  Chris chuckled. “Nah, this guy will be fine, right, buddy?”

  “His dressings need changed. Can you get him to sit still?” she asked, and at his nod, grabbed more gauze and a small pair of silver scissors.

  She began to cut away the old bandages, some spotting with blood, but the sight of it was nothing compared to all the crimson fluid they had to soak up on the plane ride back from the mission. How a dog held so much blood in his body was amazing. He’d always been told they could carry six or seven quarts, but it had seemed like so much more.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

  Chris nodded and continued to watch DA move his little doggy eyebrows back and forth in curiosity. He flinched every once in a while, but his ears stayed up and he didn’t look frightened or aggressive.

  “Why isn’t Delta Alpha recovering in a military vet office?”

  He hated how this would sound. Hated why he wanted to mince his words. Even though he’d been told several times over on what the outcome with DA would be, he still felt as if he needed to champion for him. Instead of trying to tiptoe around it, he got to the point.

  “Military working dogs are tools, not living beings in the military.”

  “Okay, I get that, but I’m sure they are an important tool.”

  “That may be. But what happens when a tool stops working and you can’t fix it?”

  She paused, her gaze snapping up to his. A few beats of frozen silence ticked by. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He wished he was. “I’m afraid not, Red.”

  She looked back at Delta Alpha’s lower back, paused for a few moments as if trying to get her thoughts in order, and then continued to wrap fresh gauze. “That’s horrible.”