“I don’t, either,” Mike said, kissing her hair. She had just washed and made love with him in the shower. The thick, dark red strands of her hair were not easily dried. Mike had spent time with her afterward, helping with the hair dryer. The deep scarring on her back prevented her full range of motion upward, so he held the dryer while she did the combing and brushing. They were a good team. He felt her tension and trailed his fingers down her upper arm, her skin warm and velvet.
“We’ll be able to come back again. There’s always an open door for us here at Khalid and Emma’s home,” Mike added. He felt Khat take a deep breath. “Do you want to come back when we can?”
“Yes,” Khat murmured, feeling his solid heartbeat beneath her palm. “You keep my life interesting in the nicest of ways.” Mike was so masculine, so confident of himself, he lured her, intoxicated her senses and made her want him twenty-four hours a day. After two nights of sex with him, she found him to be a consummate lover, always wanting to please her first, gratify her and share their love with one another. Khat had never met a man like him. It made the reality coming tomorrow morning much more excruciating for her.
Mike had awakened her body from dormancy. He’d introduced her to pleasures that could be shared between a man and woman, some of which she’d never known before he’d dropped into her life.
“Like making love in the shower?” Mike teased and pulled away just enough to see her shadowed face in the near darkness of his bedroom. The glint in her eyes told him everything. He wanted to keep Khat’s mind off tomorrow and frankly, he didn’t want it to arrive, either, for different reasons. He felt her laugh, her breasts pressed suggestively against his chest. Khat could arouse a man from the grave with that sinuous body of hers.
“I’ve never made love in a shower before. It must be a SEAL thing. Water, maybe? Being a frogman?”
A laugh rumbled through his chest. “No, sex in the shower isn’t a US Navy thing, Angel. Lots of people do it, and they aren’t in the military.” He shook his head and grinned. In some ways, Khat was so damned American, but having left at age eighteen and spending the rest of her life in the military, most of it in Afghanistan, shortened her personal life experience. It had protected her from growing up in the States and learning from different life situations everyone took for granted. In a sense, she’d been socially and personally marooned. By age twenty-nine, she had been fully shaped by the military world. As a teen, she was a young American girl on the verge of womanhood. Walking into the military at eighteen had honed her life as a woman in different ways.
Mike prayed that he’d get a chance to teach Khat about the many ways a man could love his woman. It sure as hell wasn’t confined to a bed, but for now, Mike was okay with it. After six years of celibacy, about all Khat could handle was something tamer and within her limited and accepted experience.
However, the episode in the shower was new. And it made for a lot of laughs along the way because she simply didn’t know how to participate. That was all right, he got to show her, and he had fulfilled her. At least for a while, and he smiled. Khat would never make it as a nun. She’d been celibate because of the choices she’d made.
He’d met his match, that was for sure. She was strong, assertive and certainly as far away from meek as a woman could get.
His body warmed once more because he liked her fire, her fearlessness beneath his hands and body. Mike got to thinking that many men would have been threatened by the power of her fierce womanhood, but he wasn’t.
“I want you,” Khat whispered, nibbling at his ear, moving her hips suggestively against him.
Mike turned his head, meeting her gaze. Oh, there was no question there was arousal in her shadowed eyes. “I get the feeling I’m being stalked.”
She laughed softly, rising up on her elbow, kissing his chest, moving her hand lower until he tensed and groaned as she wrapped her fingers around his erection. “You are,” she said softly against his ear, watching his eyes close, pleasure coming to his face. There was a power swirling within her, understanding herself as a woman and how she could tease and influence Mike as an equal. She’d never experienced it before him, but Khat found it empowering, and it spurred her sexual appetite to even brighter life within her.
“Now, be careful,” he rasped.
“Why?” Khat licked his lower lip, feeling him tense. Moving her fingers teasingly up and down his erection, she saw him clench his teeth. There was something magical being able to have a man become malleable within her exploring hand. “I am stalking you, Michael Tarik.” She met his mouth with passion, moving her tongue against his lower lip, going on the offense. He groaned and gripped her shoulders, pulling her away. Surprised at his strength as he lifted her over him, and Khat found herself straddled across Mike. Her thighs settled against his narrow hips. What was even more wonderful was her damp core gliding against his thick, warm erection. That sent earthquakes of fire tremoring through her, wiping out her mind, and her objectives melted away. He was experienced; she was not. And somehow, her youthful attempts to stalk him, please him, had turned out differently.
As she opened her eyes, her palms resting on his shoulders, she gave him a feral smile. “You don’t play fair.”
Mike gave her a slow, heated smile. “Never.” He relished the arousal gleaming in her eyes. Sliding his hands down across her hip, he rasped, “Angel, we’re both winners. I can feel you, and you’re so wet.”
His words made her clench her thighs, and Khat pressed downward upon him, a sheet of skittering fire lacing up through her, making his belly spasm with need. She was going to say something, but his roughened hands caressed her breasts, his thumbs moving teasingly across her hardened nipples. A small cry echoed in her throat, and she moved forward, wanting more of the wild, shocky sensation that flowed hotly through her core. He thrust deep inside her.
Her lips parted, head tipping back as he filled her, triggering every sensitive spot within Khat. A choking sound of pleasure tore from her lips. She was paralyzed with the excruciating, scalding sensations he was creating by holding her captive against him. Another sound of raw satisfaction tore from her as he leaned up, suckling deeply upon each of her nipples. Her world started flying apart. She felt his deep thrust, felt her channel become heated, the fluids within her saturating him, building toward orgasm.
Mike released her nipple and wrapped his large hands around her hips, grinding her firmly down upon him. Her fingers spread in sudden ecstasy across his chest as he moved his hips, angling them, moving so deep she couldn’t breathe. He maintained the hungry rhythm, triggering her core. The wild pace made her cry out, white-hot pressure built and consumed her. It was as if she were riding a beautiful stallion, her body glowing hotly, being held in the perfect position, giving her continued, indescribable, electric sensations.
The cauldron of pressure exploded within her, and Khat felt faint as the orgasm rolled throughout her like a tsunami. Lost in the heat of the powerful orgasm, his strength carrying her, he milked her willing body of every last vestige of hunger. Khat eventually collapsed against him; her breath came in pants as she heard Mike rasp her name and then surge into her, taking her, claiming her once and for all.
Khat could do nothing, so weak and spent. She closed her eyes as he filled her with his power, his thrusts deep, an animal growl rolling out of his chest as he spilled into her and made her feel claimed as never before. Mike could be a tender lover, but tonight…well, tonight was like the Fourth of July. Only, Khat thought, lost in the lust haze of sexual fulfillment, their bodies had created the delicious fireworks between them.
Mike smiled, gratified, as Khat lay limply against him. Finally, she was no longer hungry, and neither was he. He ran his hand lightly across her damp back, the scars much softer and more pliable now beneath his exploring fingertips. Her head lay on his shoulder, her breath moist and uneven. He absorbed the way Khat draped across his body, feeling a sense of possession of her in every way. Moving his hands down her
damp flanks, he took the greatest chance of all. He whispered, “I love you, Khatereh. You’re mine. We’ve always belonged together, my sweet desert woman.” Mike had never told another woman he loved her, and he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be to his admission.
As he moved his hand over her silky, dry hair, a fierce sense of wanting to protect her overwhelmed him. He had no idea if Khat loved him, but she was going to know how he felt toward her and let the chips fall where they may.
Khat moved her lips, feeling incredibly exhausted. Mike had spoken to her in Pashto, her language. His desert woman. Her body glowed in the aftereffects of orgasms that he’d triggered deep within her. Mike loved her. The words moved sweetly through her, building a new pathway into her frantically beating heart, twining around her, filling her in a new and radiant way. Khat moved her cheek against the damp hair on his chest, unable to think or speak. All she could do was feel and then feel some more.
Mike waited patiently, knowing she’d heard his admission. Finally, she eased off him and moved beside him, sliding her arm across his chest.
“I’ve never been in love before,” Khat whispered, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
“Neither have I,” Mike admitted, her husky voice riffling through him. He took his fingers, taming her thick, crimson hair across her shoulder. “I never expected to fall in love.” And then his mouth thinned. “Especially in a combat zone.” And not with a woman who was in the military.
Lifting her lashes, Khat propped herself up on her elbow and studied his shadowed face. She saw concern in his expression as he turned to hold her gaze. “I don’t know how this works, Mike.”
He shrugged. “Our time isn’t our own. We’re military.”
Pushing her hair away from her face, she saw his love for her mirrored in his narrowed eyes. This was as real as it got, Khat realized. “I like what we have. I want to go forward with it, Mike, but God, it looks daunting from where I stand.”
Wasn’t that the truth? Mike nodded. He slid his hand across her arm that lay on his chest. “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, Angel.” He could almost feel Khat thinking, weighing and juggling her life, her old world against this new one they’d created together. Which was more important to her? The call of her Afghan blood to protect her father’s Shinwari villages? Or their new, fragile, softly unfolding love? She couldn’t have both, and Mike knew it. The stress, the choice, weighed heavily in her gaze. Could his love for her make up the difference?
Mike had never wanted anything more than her. Khat deserved a chance to live, not merely survive. And where she was at right now, Mike knew he could lose her if she was allowed to return to the routine she’d known for so long. People who had PTSD, when pushed beyond a certain line within themselves, became distracted. They didn’t know it, but an outsider looking in could easily spot it. And he knew distraction would get Khat killed sooner or later. It wasn’t if, it was when it would happen.
“We live day to day,” Mike told her, holding her warm gaze, feeling her love for him. “It’s not going to be easy, Khat. But we have maturity under our belt. We’re adults, and we’ll handle it.”
“I feel so torn, Mike. I’ve just found you. I love what we have.” She pursed her lips, looking off into the darkness, thinking out loud. “My life isn’t my own.”
“Your life is your own,” Mike said. “You control what your priorities are, Khat.” He wasn’t going to let her slide on this one. For too long, she’d followed her fervent Afghan blood, allowed it to run her, not the other way around. He saw her frown and consider his words. “What you feel is most important is where you’ll make your choices,” he added more gently.
Hanging her head, her hair a curtain around her, Khat whispered, “I understand it more than you realize, Mike.”
Feeling an icy hand move around his heart, he heard the strain in her voice. “Maybe,” he said, rolling onto his side and sliding his arm beneath her neck as he eased her onto her back. “You need to make some personal decisions. Maybe our meeting and falling in love is a new chapter in our lives, Khat. Maybe the way you’ve been living needs to be reassessed? That you deserve some good things coming into your life.” He felt the tension rise in her as she considered the two choices. And they were choices.
“I feel,” she said, searching his somber-looking eyes, “that I’m being selfish, Mike.”
“What? Falling in love with me is a selfish thing?”
“My priority has been what I do. If I’m not out there…then those villages are at risk. People will die…”
“Falling in love is not a selfish thing to do, Angel.” Mike leaned over, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled brow. “It’s one of the beautiful things about life.” He felt terror taking deep root in his heart. How anyone could see loving another person as selfish had never occurred to him. But Khat was single-minded. She’d blocked out the rest of the world of possibilities for herself.
Until just now, with him.
As he looked deeply into her confused gaze, Mike saw the battle she was wrestling with. Loving him or loving the crusade that she’d undertaken to protect the people of her father’s tribe. Which did she love more? It was a hell of a choice, and he wasn’t at all sure which one Khat would choose in the end.
Closing her eyes, Khat muttered, “I just never expected to ever fall in love, that’s all.”
Mike heard her pain and confusion. He knew Khat was recalling her torture and the words her angry father had filled her head with—that no man would ever love her after her disfigurement.
Mike held back his anger, understanding the context of her words. He kissed her lips softly, feeling her immediate response. “Well,” he said, his voice low with feeling, “hold on to what we have, Khat. Love doesn’t happen often, and it needs to be tended by both people’s hands and hearts. We can surmount any challenge as long as we lean upon one another, Khat. We can use our love as a support and not choose something that will tear us apart instead.”
*
KHAT WAS MET by Travis Cooper as she walked into the SEAL HQ with her duffel bag. Mike was right behind her.
“Hi, Travis,” she greeted. “How are my mares?”
He opened the door for her. “Well, we’ve got a problem with your one mare, Mina.” He nodded hello to Mike.
Khat opened the door to her room and placed her duffel bag on the bed and came out where Travis and Mike stood in the hall waiting for her. All the happiness she’d felt in the past three days dissolved. “What’s wrong with Mina?”
“Well, ma’am, why don’t we mosey on out to the corral, and I’ll show you the issue?” He settled the black baseball cap on his head and opened the door for her.
Mike saw Khat’s immediate reaction. Worry. What the hell was up? He was going to see Mac, but that could wait. Travis knew horses, and he wondered what had happened to Mina. She was Khat’s main mount. Zorah was her backup replacement.
Khat saw her mares in the corral. When they saw her, both nickered and came over to the fence to greet her. Travis opened the gate and gestured for them to come in. She moved into the corral, petting her horses. They looked sleek, well-groomed and happy.
“What did you find?” Mike asked as Travis crouched on the left side of Mina, his long, spare hand around her upper front leg. Khat walked around, leaning over Travis’s shoulder.
“Ma’am,” he said, twisting a look up at Khat, “are you familiar with a horse popping a splint?”
She shook her head. “No. Tell me.”
Travis moved his hand down below Mina’s left knee. “At my father’s ranch, we have quarter horses. Some are cutting horses, and their job is to cut a cow from the herd. It requires a lot of athletic ability, and it puts plenty of stress on the horse’s cannon bone. That’s this bone.” He ran his hand down Mina’s lower front leg. “There’s a smaller bone beside it called a splint bone. It lays up against the cannon bone. When a horse is doing some serious, hard turns, fast stops and starts, really using their front le
gs to move, twist and turn, then it can tear the splint bone away from the cannon bone. What you get as a result is puffiness in the affected leg. And lameness if you don’t catch it and do something about it in time.”
Khat crouched down next to Travis. “And this has happened to Mina?”
“Yes, ma’am, it has.” He moved his fingers lightly and showed her where the splint had torn away from the tissue that held it against the cannon bone. There was a small, hard knot where the splint had appeared. “Right here. Run your fingers downward. And then feel Mina’s right cannon bone and make a comparison. That splint is still attached. You’ll feel the difference. One is smooth to the touch, and the other has a hard bump on it.” Travis unwound from his crouched position and moved aside so that Khat could feel the injury for herself.
Mike frowned. Travis stood beside him, hands on his hips, waiting for Khat to discover the difference. The look on her face turned worried.
“I feel it,” she said, looking up at Travis.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s a pretty bad splint. That’s why her leg was always puffy below her knee. I discovered it right after you left for Bagram. I’ve been putting an oatmeal poultice on it daily, and it’s reducing the inflammation real well.”
“What does this mean?” Khat asked, standing, her hand across Mina’s back.
Travis pushed the cap back on his head. “When my father’s best cutting horse popped a splint, it meant giving him a long rest. Maybe two weeks to a month. What happens is when the splint is torn away from her cannon bone, her body is gonna produce calcium to fill the space between the cannon bone and the splint bone. It takes a number of weeks or a month for that to happen.”
Taking Fire Page 18
