After the War

by Jessica Scott

  He released her arms from around his neck and slid the blouse down her arms until it snagged at her wrists. He left it and left her arms trapped behind her.

  He stood behind her, completely clothed in his dress uniform. The contrast between her nearly naked skin and the dark blue uniform struck her even as he surrounded her, his heat, his scent. This was his place. His home. She twisted and moved, trying to free her wrists from the confines of her blouse.

  Her breath hitched as his hands settled on her shoulders, a feather light touch. She closed her eyes as his fingers kneaded the soft skin just there at the edge of her bra. She hadn’t thought of seduction as a possible outcome to the night’s activities. At least, she hadn’t actively considered it.

  But Sean’s hands skimmed over her shoulders and down her arms in a teasing light caress. He barely brushed his fingers over her waist and she shivered, sucking in a shallow breath that didn’t even come close to satisfying the need in her. For air.

  For Sean. Just Sean.

  * * *

  He tipped his head and scraped his teeth over her shoulder, near the strap of her bra, and smiled as she bit her lips together. He was already hard, already entirely too aroused to maintain this breathtakingly slow pace for long.

  He traced his fingers around the band of her skirt where it hugged the soft curve of her hips. Found the delicate snap and the fragile zipper. He wanted to feel her skin slide beneath his touch as he dragged the skirt down her legs.

  Her eyes, dark as pools of midnight, fluttered closed as he stroked her stomach, her ribs, drifting higher until his touch encountered the softest satin barrier. He was suddenly aware of the rough skin on his hands, made hard from years at war.

  She smelled so good. Clean and warm and heat all bundled into one delicious flavor begging for him to taste.

  He nipped at her earlobe as he freed the hooks at the arch of her back and felt a pulse of satisfaction at her tiny gasp. This. This was what he wanted. Her. Naked. Aroused.

  His.

  He could claim her tonight. Mark her as his own. He wanted her to remember tonight. Despite anything that might happen still between them, he wanted her to know that tonight, she was his. His to care for. His to cherish.

  His to love.

  The thought struck him with the force of a fifty cal striking a still-beating heart. He loved her. He slid his hand around her ribs, toward the soft curve of her breasts, all the while watching her in the mirror. Watching the soft rise and fall of her breasts with each quick breath she took.

  Her lips parted as his palms cradled her curves, still not completely cupping her. She shifted, her arms still trapped behind her and her bra lifted, barely covering her. The image in the mirror was incredibly erotic. Those beautiful curves filling his dark hands. Her head tipped back and resting on his shoulder.

  Desire bolted through him as he cupped her, stroking his thumbs over her nipples in one smooth movement. Another soft gasp as he touched her, finally caressing her sensitive peaks.

  He shifted and forced her back, arching her body against his. The bra fell away and she was exposed and vulnerable. Erotic with the curves of a woman now.

  * * *

  “Perfect,” he whispered before suckling her earlobe. Sensations rocked through her, whipping her pulse to a fevered pitch. Liquid arousal slid through her veins, making her soft and pliant beneath his touch. “I want to taste you.”

  The promise held in those words shivered over her skin. She closed her eyes against the image of herself and him in the mirror. Never in her entire life had she done something so erotic.

  His eyes went dark as he pushed the bra down so that it hung across her stomach, draped on her arms. She wanted to be free from the confines of her clothes. She wanted to feel his chest against hers. The contrast of his thighs against hers.

  She felt like a woman. Not a mom. Not just a wife. A woman. A woman with need making her soft and silky and shockingly wet. She clamped her thighs together, hoping to make the ache ease back. She whimpered at her frustration. She wanted…

  He teased one of her nipples as he slipped one hand beneath the loosened fabric of her skirt. Beneath the edge of her panties.

  He cupped her heat and the ache exploded like brilliant stars as his touch gave her what she craved. She couldn’t move as he stroked her to pleasure, deep and dark, never parting her slick heat but giving her a taste of what he could do.

  * * *

  He felt her throbbing against his palm, already wet, slick with her arousal, and the urge to taste her pleasure nearly undid him. He rocked against her even as he stroked her heat, her gasps and whimpers sending erotic hunger through his blood.

  He shifted then and parted her heat with a single finger beneath her panties. She cried out in surprise and something more. She was swollen and hot and unbearably wet.

  “Naked,” he whispered near her ear, watching her, always watching her in the mirror. “I want you naked.”

  God but the picture they made was stunning. Her eyes were barely open, dark with pleasure. Her arms caught behind her, her back arched, thrusting her breast into his palm. One arm dipped into the waist of her skirt, stroking her.

  He didn’t know how she would react to what he wanted. He didn’t want to ask and risk her denying him. He moved and peeled the remainder of her clothing from her body until she was naked and beautiful in front of him.

  The scar stood out against her thigh. He laid her on his unmade bed, slid his palms over her skin. Cradled her. Watched her, his eyes locked with hers, as he pressed his lips to her wound. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Soft words brushed against her mouth.

  Her curves were softer, her thighs stronger. And the scars she wore on her skin were nothing compared to scars on her soul. He covered her with his body, his uniform scraping against her sensitive skin. He kissed her and she surrendered to his weight. Her wet heat pressed against his still-clothed hips and he rocked against her, reveling in the feel of her lifting her hips in a silent offering.

  * * *

  The solid weight of him between her thighs drove the desire inside her higher. Hotter. She wanted him. Wanted the ache satisfied.

  He moved before she could react. One moment he’d been kissing her, his taste deep and smooth and utterly arousing. The next he’d draped her thighs over shoulders still covered by his uniform and parted her heat and licked slow and deep. The heat from his tongue speared her and she surged up, her surprise tearing from her throat. She pushed at his shoulder but he wrapped his arms around her thighs. He suckled her and she thought she might die.

  His hand slid up her belly, urging her to lie back. She watched him taste her before her pleasure coiled tighter and she closed her eyes. He nuzzled her thigh before a deep, slow lick drove her closer to that dazzling edge.

  She fisted her hands in his short hair, not sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. “Sean. Please.”

  He paused, caressing her swollen opening with his fingertip. “Come for me,” he murmured before he slipped his finger inside her.

  Sensations burst like a rainbow as he stroked her. As she shattered beneath his touch and he tasted her pleasure exploding all around him.

  She barely opened her eyes to watch him undress. Awareness returned as she noticed again the jagged scar on his forearm. The puckered silver pale hole on his shoulder. And the changes that nearly a decade had made on his body. His shoulders were wider, stronger. The hair on his chest darker.

  He covered himself without her asking and she watched as he rolled their protection into place. He was bigger than she remembered. Thicker. And when he knelt on the bed and his erection stroked against her heat, she realized that he was not the same man at all. There was a care to his touch now, a deliberate search for her pleasure.

  He sought her hand, threading his fingers with hers. The intimacy of the gesture sparked tears in her closed eyes as she felt him near her. Just at the entrance of her aching sex.

  “Open your
eyes.” He dragged his teeth over her neck. “Sarah.” He whispered her name against her lips. “Say my name,” he urged as the tip of his erection pressed against her.

  She gasped at the sensation and shifted, lifting her hips. “Sean.”

  He nudged a little further inside her, nibbling at her lips. “Mmmm, that sounds good. Say it again.”

  “Sean.” A gasp.

  His fingers twisted in hers as he slid inside the sweetest, tightest heat. He felt her pulse around him even as his own reaction was close to sending him over the edge. He thrust deep, slow and smooth inside her and knew he was lost.

  Nothing had felt as sweet. Nothing had felt as right as this exact moment, on the edge of pleasure, complete and filling. His blood pounded in his ears as he lost his rhythm and when she shattered beneath him, she took him with her. Her orgasm quaked around him even as she cried his name softly in his ear. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she met his strokes even as she continued the sweetest movements beneath him.

  His release stunned him, slamming from the depths of his soul with a force that destroyed him.

  He rested his forehead against hers, listening to the sound of their racing heartbeats and ragged breathing.

  In the silence, she whispered his name again, pressing the softest kiss against his shoulder.

  And he was lost.

  Twenty-One

  “Your apartment is quiet,” she said, holding the comforter against her stomach as Sean lay wrapped around her. His body surrounded her now in ways it never had when they’d been young. One arm was draped over her ribs, holding her against him. She felt the rough hair on his chest and thighs against her back and rear and wriggled closer until he nuzzled her neck.

  “No it’s not. You can hear cars at all hours of the night.” His breath teased her skin and she shivered. A moment later, he dragged the thick comforter over her shoulder and pressed closer.

  “That’s not it. It’s just…no kid sounds. It reminds me of Iraq in the CHUs when you could hear people walking by on the gravel.”

  “Hmmm. Let’s not talk about Iraq,” he said, brushing her hair from her face and kissing her ear.

  “I have to go soon,” she said, her words breaking the silence.

  He wanted her to stay. She knew that. And if she’d been single, she might have. She twisted until she faced him. Her nipples tightened as his chest hair brushed against her. She brushed her lips against his, wanting to put voice to everything that was churning against her heart.

  Not once since she’d lost her husband had she thought of another man. Not once had she considered sleeping with anyone else. She dragged her fingers against his cheek and already felt the scrape of his beard against her fingertips.

  “I—”

  He kissed her. Deep and hard and with everything that matched those things unsaid within her. He brushed his thumb over her lips and shook his head. “This wasn’t a one-night stand for me, Sarah.” He slipped his thumb aside to brush her cheek as he kissed her tenderly.

  Sean pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled her against him, wrapping her tight and strong in his arms. She breathed in his scent and felt the strength that surrounded her. Protected her.

  And she had no idea what to do with those feelings.

  Time passed too quickly. Too soon, she found herself standing in Sean’s doorway, wearing her skirt with no stockings, her blouse with no jacket. Her hair was down and she’d tried not to see the image she made in the mirror.

  She looked like she was coming from a man’s bed. Her entire body throbbed with awareness of Sean. With the memory of Sean’s touch.

  He’d walked her to the door wearing nothing but a pair of old Army sweats. They hung low on his hips and her gaze kept traveling down his muscled stomach to where the trail of hair disappeared beneath the waistband.

  “Keep looking at me like that and I won’t let you leave,” he murmured, backing her up against the door and pressing the lean hard length of his body against hers.

  “Then you should put on some clothes and stop distracting me.” She was stunned by the intensity of the emotions rolling through her. By the pure pleasure she felt from his touch. By the ache in her heart at the thought of not seeing him until Monday.

  She looked into those pale blue eyes and for the first time, honestly believed him. Truly felt like they might have a second chance.

  Pretty stupid of her to sleep with him before she’d come to that realization, she thought, curling her fingers into his skin as she kissed him goodnight for the final time. He kissed her, deep and smooth, and she was stunned when her blood filled with renewed longing. Oh, but the man could kiss.

  “Good night.” He brushed his nose against hers.

  “Night.”

  And she left, closing the door quietly behind her before she was tempted to stay any longer.

  * * *

  He lay in bed, his body humming with a desire still coursing through his blood like the remnants of a drug. Her taste lingered on his lips, her scent still filled him. His bed smelled like her now, like warm vanilla and oh-so-hot sex.

  Her response had been uninhibited. Not awkward. Not like they were strangers but like old lovers, reunited.

  For the first time, the years of animosity and hurt had felt like a distant memory. For the first time, Sean felt hope. Hope that they might be able to make this work. Hope that his life might once more feel complete, the way he’d felt with her once before and never again since.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the overhead fan hum through the silence. The room felt empty without her.

  He rubbed his stomach and rested his other arm behind his head, stretching the tight tendons beneath the scar tissue.

  The scars hadn’t freaked her out. Then again, he’d had more than a few women ask him about the ones they could see beneath the edge of a T-shirt.

  He glanced toward the side of the bed and made sure his phone was in arm’s reach out of habit. He hoped tonight might continue to buck the trend of the constant arrests and phone calls. Maybe with Kearney at the barracks, Sean would actually be able to sleep.

  When sleep finally did reach up to pull him down, he went willingly into the dark depths, for once not fearing the memories and nightmares of war. For once, he fell asleep dreaming of soft sighs and warm arms wrapped around him, holding the nightmares at bay.

  Twenty-Two

  His phone rang, jarring Sean from a dream of a soft and willing Sarah moving her hips beneath his, her fingers gripping his. He opened his eyes to the still dark bedroom and swore into the darkness even as he reached for the phone. His body throbbed; his cock was achingly hard and unless it was Sarah on the other end, he was pretty much guaranteed to need a cold shower after this one.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sir?”

  “Kearney?” Sean sat up in his bed, his comforter wrapped around his hips, instantly alert to the fatigue in his sergeant’s voice. Thoughts of Sarah faded fast until Sean was focused only on the trouble he heard brewing beneath what Kearney didn’t say.

  “Yeah.”

  “You okay? What time is it?”

  “Four thirty. Listen, I just wanted to, you know, thank you. For not throwing me under the bus.”

  Sean frowned and scrubbed his hand across his face. Maybe he’d been imagining something there when in reality, he’d just been otherwise distracted. “Is there a really good reason why we’re having this conversation at four thirty in the morning?”

  Kearney’s laugh eased some of Sean’s irritation, but not nearly enough. “Yeah. Haverson dropped by tonight and we were talking about you.”

  “Again with you not answering my question. What’s wrong?”

  Sean heard Kearney snort. “Caught that, huh? Just thinking about everyone we lost that day. Haves is the last one out of our platoon still around.”

  Technically, Haverson and Kearney weren’t the last. Garrison was still around. So were a bunch of the officers, but they were spread out
around the division. But as far as the men, the soldiers, were concerned? Yeah, Kearney and Haves were it. The other men in Sean’s original platoon were scattered, both around the US and around the Army.

  “I’m sure he’s just glad to get out of here,” Sean said quietly.

  “Yeah. Do you think he’ll be all right?”

  The million-dollar question. What could Sean say? If he said yes, he was flat out lying. If he said no, it could send Kearney off the five days of not fucking up that he’d just had. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

  Silence ticked by with the counter on Sean’s clock, sending worry skittering over Sean’s spine. Something was wrong. Kearney didn’t just call for a chat at four-thirty in the morning. Ever. “You okay?”

  Kearney didn’t answer. And didn’t answer. There was no sound on the other end. Not the rustle of cloth. Not the other man’s breathing. “Have to be, don’t I?”

  This time there was the silence of the dead line. He looked at the phone and saw the call had disconnected. Sean swore and flopped back onto his pillow, dragging the comforter over his stomach against the cold air of the A/C.

  There was more to this late night phone call but Sean was too tired to riddle it out.

  His brain, however, wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. He closed his eyes but failed to push the worry about Kearney from his brain. There was something there just at the edge of his thoughts. Something that he was missing. Something had started in Iraq between Kearney and Smith and had just kept growing until they’d gotten to where they were last Sunday.