Her smile told him he hadn’t bored her, which made him glad. He wanted to kiss her in the worst way, but he was going to let her set the pace. “What about you, Megan?”
“I came from one of those families most people envy. I don’t know what’s worse, never having experienced it or having it and then losing it.”
She unhinged her fingers from his, sat up straight, adjusted the clip in her beautiful hair, and stared out the window at the snowy scene outside. “My little brother, my mom, and my dad were killed in New York during 9-11. I was a freshman in college. All three of them had taken a trip to New York, and Dad’s attorney was in the World Trade Center. Everything changed for me. I was robbed of my family and have had to live with that memory ever since.”
“Your grandparents were there for you, then?”
“Yup. Wonderful people. I was lucky, I guess. I lived in books. Books were my sanctuary.”
“And that makes you good at what you do. Made you strong,” he whispered.
Back at the lodge, T.J. privately let Rory know he could have the room, “Not that you’re thinking about that or anything,” the big SEAL said as they both watched the wives encircle Megan. Lindsay was telling a story that had them all laughing.
Eventually, Megan’s eyes found him and there was that spark again, the unspoken question, the request for alone time, for intimacy. Something in her past had made her cautious with men, and he’d known she was inexperienced but had chosen to take a big gamble with him. Normally he’d be cautious too, but this was something different.
The room was on the fourth floor of the lodge with a view of the slopes lit up at night. On a normal night, he’d have to unfold the blackout shades in order to sleep, but tonight he didn’t mind the filtered blue lights coming from the outside. Large snowflakes floated past the window silently.
He began executing his plan, removing her glasses and her hair clip. Then he pulled off her cotton top, unfastening the silky beige bra underneath and kneeling to help her off with her jeans. She wore red, white and blue starred panties, which made him chuckle. The girl had obviously had a mission of her own in mind, and thank God, it involved him.
She crawled up on the bed naked, and then slipped under the covers. She watched him remove his clothes.
The cool cotton sheets were delicious as she wrapped her legs around his waist and they kissed lying sideways, her soft breasts pressed against his upper chest. From nowhere she produced a foil packet.
“I want you to do it,” he said.
She opened the packet and gently slid the pink condom over his junk, squeezing his balls. Her fingers worked to smooth the latex and then she pressed her breasts around him, allowing him to root there.
His fingers found her opening and he dipped his head between her legs and feasted. Her arms flailed at her sides as he lapped her nude little sex. Then he slowly advanced on her and pressed against the length of her warm lithe body as they lay on their sides. She undulated her hips, wrapping her legs around him again, and pressing against his erection. He kissed her, found delicious little places to lick, nibble, and suck. Her faint female scent was driving him wild. Her little sighs and faint groans making him need her urgently.
Then he was in. Pushing slowly against and through her opening, he rotated their bodies so she was beneath him. He pressed his palms to the sides of her face, spread her hair to the side and angled his hips to fill her deeply. She arched her body, presenting her nipples to his hungry mouth. Back and forth he worked his way in and then out, slowly at first.
When their speed increased she was covered in a fine layer of sweat that glowed in the light from outside. Her flawless porcelain skin looked like marble. He felt the vibration coming from her core, the way her muscles clamped down on him, telling him she was spinning out of control. As she gave herself up to her body’s orgasm, he angled slightly, pulled her left leg over his right shoulder, and rammed deep. Holding still while she dug her nails into his back, he filled her with everything he had.
In the aftermath of their lovemaking he watched her face as she drifted off to sleep. He’d lived for his country, for his brothers. And now he had someone soft and female, someone of his very own, whom he could live for, protect, and defend with everything in his soul, making him a better man, if he didn’t fuck it up like he did everything else in his life.
He was grateful. Barring something unforeseen or the world exploding in all Holy Hell, he’d do anything to make this succeed.
Chapter 10
‡
Megan woke up feeling sore all over and suffering from lack of sleep, but the feeling in her belly, that nervous-butterflies-new-love-feeling, was there. Rory had once again spoken to her heart in the way he made love to her. He was patient, watching her arousal build, adding to the flame and keeping her spinning. She was deliciously exhausted, yet the feel of the muscled body spooning her backside, his possessive arm over her hip and belly, gave her new energy.
She hadn’t been sure he’d react so favorably to her visit. She’d prepared her heart for a letdown in case it came to that, but she considered this to be a good strategy for self-care. If it was bad news, get it over with. If it was good news, well the day would be magic so no need to prepare or plan.
Was it her imagination, or was the sun especially bright this morning? Could she hear the snowflakes fall outside? Everything seemed like it was in slow motion without anything urgent to get up and do. Her whole world was secure in this man’s arms and in the knowledge that he was real and not hiding a past, let alone another wife. Either that, or they all were lying. The likelihood of that?
Nil.
She heard his crisp whisper in her ear, sending a vibration all over her body, traveling down her spine at the speed of light. “I still want you. Can’t seem to get enough.” He pressed her into the mattress and let her hear his ragged breathing, the aching moan of a little boy, now a man, with strong needs and a heart as big as the ocean.
Megan picked over her eggs. She’d never sat so close to someone who watched her eat, fascinated by her every movement. He’d slipped into the booth at the diner, scooting beside her and pushing her all the way to the wall. Her arms barely had room to move. He wanted to feed her, asked her constantly if she wanted something else, and helped her hold her coffee cup. One muscled arm came over the top of the red tuck and roll design, his hand resting on her shoulder. She’d been kissed at least fifty times during the meal, and she was beginning to get self-conscious.
Their waitress was an older lady who had probably seen young lovers thousands of times. Her appreciative smile widened as she presented them with the bill.
Outside, Rory had arranged to meet up with T.J., Brady and even Fredo so they could get a few good runs in before heading back to San Diego. The idea was to ski or board until noon and then call it a day.
The slope wasn’t well populated yet so Megan watched Rory wave and return up the hill several times. She was reading one of her romance novels when Lindsay and the beautiful Mia joined her.
“You want something?” Mia asked through the tangle of her long dark hair.
“Ice water! Love some water.” She watched Mia strut to the vending machines, the eyes of every unattached male and half the attached ones following her every move.
“Looks like that’s a pretty good book,” Lindsay said.
Megan showed off the cover of the dark vampire male with the nude muscled chest. “They always do that. It does sell books.”
“Hubba hubba,” Lindsay said flashing her glasses up and down on her nose. “Wonder if Brady’ll mind me reading one of those.”
“Have him read it to you. He won’t mind at all. Trust me.” Megan had a roommate in college who was a third generation romance reader, and she’d caught the bug from her.
“Are you riding home with Rory, then?” Lindsay asked. She wiggled her sultry dark eyebrows for effect. Her sequined frames glittered in tandem.
“He asked me. He has to reposition T
.J. and Ollie. But it shouldn’t be a problem.
“I think Brady and I can take them.”
A siren sounded as the two Ski Patrol snowmobiles took off up the slope, pulling a stretcher packed with equipment. People in the lodge were drawn to the large windows, watching the slopes for loved ones. Megan placed her fingers over her mouth and stood with them.
One by one, the SEALs arrived at the bottom. All except Rory. Brady crashed through the front door and grabbed Megan’s upper arms.
“Rory’s had an accident. They’re getting him stabilized, but he’ll be airlifted to a trauma center.”
Lindsay spoke up. “Why don’t they just take him to the Naval base?”
“Can’t. He’s really bad.”
“What happened?” Megan asked, her lower lip quivering and her eyes beginning to tear up.
“He crashed into some guy. Or the guy crashed into him. No one saw the collision really. They’re both in pretty bad shape, and they’re worried the older guy might have a heart attack.”
They turned to watch the two litters descend. Two ambulances were ready to transport them off-site.
“Where? Where are they going?” Megan asked.
“T.J.’s going to go with them. He’ll let us know.”
“Can I go see him?” Megan stood on tiptoes to see over the tops of several other guests of the lodge. She watched the tall SEAL standing behind the paramedics, watching everything they did.
Brady put his still-gloved paw on the backside of Megan’s neck, drawing her forehead to his as he whispered, “He’s unconscious, sweetheart. He doesn’t know any of us are around.”
Chapter 11
‡
Rory heard someone screaming, and he knew they were in a firefight. His throat was irritated and he couldn’t breathe. Golden flames flickered in front of his eyes which he could not get to focus. Someone was pulling him by the left leg, making his body jerk. He was freezing cold. They had captured him. Someone tried to strangle him, restraining him by a firm grip at his shoulders with thumbs pressed against his windpipe. He heard the crack of his palm against someone’s face. He gripped the soldier’s glasses and sent them flying.
“Get me out of here,” he screamed, but his voice sounded distant. They were fiddling with something on his face, perhaps giving him a gag to stop him from calling for help. “I’m going to burn alive, get me out.”
The flickering continued, but he could not see anything clearly. A mask was placed over his mouth and nose even though he’d batted it away several times. He smelled the chemical-laced air as they hooked tubes over his ears to keep the mask in place. He tried to hold his breath against the poison he knew was coming his way, but his will collapsed and he was forced to inhale, expecting his lungs to explode. Spots began to form at the edges of his vision. Just before it turned black, he saw a team of blue-smocked doctors with masks bending over him. One had on a pair of glasses with the distinctive star-shaped pattern of a shattered lens on one side.
As he lost consciousness the screaming returned, and he realized it was the sound of his own voice.
When Rory awoke, he felt like he’d been in a rugby match with a team of three-hundred-pound Samoans. His ribs hurt. His mouth hurt and the split lip he’d gotten the night before had worsened. Someone had stitched it up. His arms felt heavy and he had a splitting headache.
He vaguely remembered being wheeled down hallways with bright fluorescent lighting which nearly blinded him and bumping into the doorway with the gurney on which they were transporting him. When they tried to lift him in the sling they’d devised, the pain caused him to pass out.
He was nearly flat on his back, with his left leg in a small traction device. Suddenly he realized he couldn’t feel his other leg. He wiggled the toes of his right foot, trying to arch up to look for movement under the thin sheet and blanket that covered him. They were there all right. He could just barely see movement under the covers.
Thank God! He let his head plop back into the pillow as he inhaled and thanked his lucky stars he was not a paraplegic. He stretched his arms and wiggled his fingers.
That’s when he realized he wasn’t the only patient in the room. The beds on either side of him were separated by white hospital curtains hanging from a track fastened to the ceiling. The guy to his right had the window side and was out cold, snoring like a frog pond.
The patient to his left was watching TV and had a smoker’s cough.
A wave of nausea hit Rory, and he tried to move to the side to throw up on the floor, but he missed and the vomit trailed down the crisp white sheets and snaked its way down his backside and between his butt cheeks.
“Fuck!” he yelled out.
Immediately, the guy to his left adjusted his TV monitor down. “Hang on there, son. I’ll buzz the nurses for you. Everything okay?”
“No, I’m not fuckin’ okay. I got something nasty and bright orange down my back and my ass.”
The patient in the bed on his right began to stir. He was mumbling something.
Great. They have me stuck in a funny farm. “Nurse!”
“Hold on. I already called them. You just quit your complaining and lay back there. Nothing you can do about it until they come.” The door burst open and two uniformed attendants appeared, a small Indian-looking man and a very large black woman.
“You in any pain, Mr. Kennedy?” She was adjusting an I.V. drip he hadn’t noticed was stuck in his arm.
“Where the fuck am I?”
“You’re at Mercy Emergency Trauma Center in Big Bear. You’ve just had a long surgery after your accident.”
Accident? “What about the fire?” he yelled at her. Did they think he wouldn’t remember that fire?”
“No fire, Mr. Kennedy. I think maybe you had a vivid dream with all that anesthetic. But I assure you, there is and was no fire.”
“Nurse!” The man in the bed to his right woke up and was trying to climb out.
The big nurse with hands the size of basketballs swore under her breath. She left Rory’s side and caught the man as he fell backwards and would have landed on the floor. The small Indian attendant stood idly by, wringing his hands.
“I don’t know what kind of stuff they gave you guys in surgery today, but it’s been a long time—” She hoisted Rory’s roommate in a backwards bear hug under his armpits, setting him back down on the bed without being very gentle. The patient howled in pain. She grunted, satisfied the man wouldn’t be a danger to himself or others. “Been a long time since I got this level of ornery on my floor, and here they goes and put you two together in my room on my shift.” She straightened her uniform and glared at the Indian orderly.
“You go tell Dr. Thomas they’s both awake and I need instructions in a hurry.”
The orderly hesitated. In his singsong accent he told her, “I think Dr. Thomas went home.”
“No, dummy. He went downstairs for dinner. You’re gonna interrupt his dinner whilst I babysit these two.”
The orderly quickly departed.
The nurse addressed the attempted escapee. “What kind of dumbass thinks he can get up and walk after surgery? Mr. Corrigan, you got pins and rods and so much metal in you, you gonna set off alarms wherever you go.”
He started to say something, but coughing overtook him.
“You warm enough?” she asked, addressing Mr. Corrigan.
“No. I’m freezing my butt off in here. Can you bring me a warm blanket and some slippers?” he returned hoarsely, peevishly.
Rory couldn’t see much of the patient except for stiff greying hair that stood up like cornhusks on an aging scarecrow. The nurse’s rear end was easily the full width of the bed. Just before she turned, she admonished the patient. “You hold tight there, Mr. Corrigan. We got no slippers, but we got some nice scratchy brand new blankets and I’ll go unwrap one for you.”
The man grunted.
“Now you don’t try anything foolish, or I’ll chain you to the bed. Don’t think I won’t.”
When she left the room, Rory could finally breathe. He examined the profile of the tanned face to his right. The man suddenly gripped his wrist and touched his left ring finger. “Goddammit. Thieves. This place is crawling with thieves.”
Rory was feeling the effects of the drip the nurse had adjusted and was jumbled up inside, trying to piece together the facts, but unable to think clearly or do anything about any of it.
“You miss something, gramps?”
“They took my watch and my ring. It was my great-grandfather’s ring and I want it back.”
Rory turned his head horizontally as if to consider whether the man was out of his mind. It was an odd sensation. The drugs made him curious.
Again, the door burst open and Rory recognized the face of the doctor who had treated him in surgery. In addition to the shattered lens, the doctor had taped the bridge of the glasses with white surgical tape. Nurse Ratchett was right behind the doctor.
“Mr. Corrigan, we understand you are to be transferred to another facility in a couple of days after you stabilize a bit. In the meantime, I suggest you lay back, just relax, and let us pamper your every whim. Of course, if you do anything foolish, I have already given the approval to secure you to the bed and gag you, if necessary.”
He nodded to the nurse who spread the blanket out over the lower body of Mr. Corrigan. Dust and fuzz blew all over the room. She was sporting a wide grin.
“Do we understand each other?” He delivered it in his best Jack Nicholson accent.
“Crystal,” Mr. Corrigan answered in a mock Tom Cruise imitation.
“Sir,” the doctor nodded as he walked right past the end of Rory’s bed.
“Hey!” Rory shouted. “What am I? Did I just get the nosebleed seats in this game?”
The doctor gave Rory a smirk and sat down on the edge of the bed. “No, sir. I’m not done torturing you. You have more surgeries in your future. Places I can still stick pins that will make you scream and wish you’d never set foot here.”
SEAL My Home: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Book 2 (SEAL Brotherhood Series 9) Page 6
