Wyn Security

by Dana Volney

  Waiting for news on a hostage was something he never wanted to go through again. Especially when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Thirty hours. That was how long he’d had to wait to know if his wife was dead or alive.

  When the call had finally come in that the boat had been successfully taken and she was alive, he’d paced until she’d arrived at the base. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t sleep. He’d needed to hold her in his arms, check her over, and look into her eyes.

  He hadn’t done any of that.

  He’d seen her bruised arms, swollen eye, bloodied clothes and lost it—he’d been mad and scared and plain damn terrified, and he’d yelled. Not at her but about the situation, although he may as well have been yelling at her, because she’d never said a word in the few minutes they’d had before she’d been taken away for a debriefing. He’d thought he’d get to see her again that night, but instead he’d gotten orders for another mission and had to leave. He’d never been able to say he was sorry and kiss her lips. She was gone. Safe. But gone.

  A week later, Louis called Felix into his office in southern Afghanistan, but only Arabella was there, alone, her arms hugging her chest. She’d healed, but not all of the marks were gone.

  The sight of her, her presence mere feet away, had damn near brought him to tears. He hadn’t wasted a second scooping her into his arms and holding on as tightly as he’d thought was comfortable for her—cracked ribs didn’t heal in a week. She’d buried her head in his chest, and he’d breathed in her warm scent, kissing her temple. She’d tipped her head up and pressed her lips into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he’d whispered in her ear. “I can get leave. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Actually”—she’d pushed back from him and raised her head to meet his gaze—“I’m on my way to another assignment.”

  “You need time—”

  “No. I don’t.” Her stare had hardened and his blood had run cold. “I can handle myself.”

  Then she’d stepped out of his embrace completely. He could still feel her warmth leaving his chest and her cotton shirt sweeping past his fingertips.

  She could handle herself. Of that there was no doubt. But sometimes a person’s luck just plainly ran the fuck out. What if next time she didn’t make it back? The notion that always sat in the back of his mind moved to front and center last week. He wasn’t willing to attach himself to a person who might not come home. He couldn’t.

  “I came here only to tell you we’re done.” Warm and loving Arabella had disappeared, and Nox had taken her place—the cold and calculating woman who could see every angle and use it to her advantage was the one who faced him then.

  He raised his eyebrows. He had no words. Done? What the fuck does that mean?

  “Take care of yourself.” She walked past him, not looking into his eyes.

  He’d never wanted to relive that moment. He’d pushed it down until all that was left was the anger and not the hurt. That mission, and subsequently their relationship, had gone to shit only months before half of his team was killed in Afghanistan. To say that all of those incidences had put him over the edge and caused him to quit the military would be an understatement.

  “I should’ve known about the weapons deal.” His quiet voice, his quiet heart . . . there was a sadness from that night, from his army buddies being killed, that he hadn’t yet been able to overcome.

  She didn’t move in the recliner, and he was relieved. He wasn’t ready for her to see his guilt and pain. “Your team was supposed to be the best.”

  Knife to the chest.

  “We missed a leg of his business deals. We didn’t know he operated with Isaac. We didn’t send you in there only to put you in danger.” There were so many small-time weapons smugglers it was hard to nail all of them down. It wasn’t an excuse, just a miserable fact. One that he’d paid for every day since. He and Arabella were good in bed together and that was it, and what other proof did you need than that disastrous mission?

  She nodded, but it was one of disbelief. God, he hated she thought he’d knowingly put her in danger.

  “You think I would give you bad intel or leave something out that was important to your survival?”

  “I trusted you. I should’ve known you’d just follow orders.” The grimness to her lips hit him right in the gut. He was one ornery sonuvabitch if she truly believed he’d sell out his own wife.

  “What orders?”

  “Governments can be shady.”

  “There were no orders. I plainly failed. It should’ve never happened. Not to you.” They’d seen each other in passing once in a while since that night, but nothing had ever been the same. Their version of same anyway. A divorce was the next logical step so they could both put the past firmly where it belonged. “I’m sorry.”

  Her head snapped up and she stared. He’d never said those words before, never told her how sorry he was that he put her in that awful position, that she had the memories of a kidnapping to contend with along with the other shitty parts of humanity she’d seen.

  She stood and walked to him, cupping his jaw with her hand, and gently rubbed her thumb over his stubble. “I got out of it with some bumps and bruises, but that’s all.”

  That wasn’t true. Nox was in control again. He’d overheard her yelling at the person taking her statement the day she’d been rescued, saying she thought she was kept out there for more intel, followed by a lot of curse words. She’d believed he’d kept her in danger for a mission—that clearly hadn’t changed.

  Her hand slid over his jaw, down his neck, and rested on his pec. She leaned into him, laying her head next to her palm. Warmth radiated from the places she touched.

  “Really.” She put her other hand up now.

  He closed his eyes. He’d probably wait forever to hear her forgive him.

  The only thing he had power to do now was help her. Which, let’s face it, wasn’t exactly in his control when she rubbed up against him like that. Nox was one savvy manipulator, and surely she kept a list of all his weaknesses. Her name being at the top.

  “I’ll help you.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

  She smiled; he could feel the apple of her cheek grow on his chest. He rubbed his fingertips over the side of her ribs and leaned his cheek on her forehead. Having her absent from his life and gone from the world were two very different realities.

  Holding her in his arms, feeling her hot skin next to his—blood pumped to the areas she aroused. He wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t such a good idea. They had work to do. They had to figure out what to do next.

  Her big, mesmerizing eyes searched his—not frantically, but with a longing he hadn’t seen in way too long. He loosened his grip.

  Fuck it.

  Their lips collided, kissing and gripping and searching. Her palms grasped at his sides before sliding to his back as she pushed her body against his. His hand roamed up her back to her neck and tangled in her long curls. He kissed her to say he was sorry; he kissed her because he wanted her more than air at this moment. And by her heavy breathing, she was getting the message.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and licked his bottom lip before capturing it with her teeth. She trailed her lips up his jawline to his ear.

  “Take me,” she whispered.

  He cupped her ass and hauled her up so she could wrap her lusciously long legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom. His dick was so fucking hard that he might come just from the friction carrying her caused. He laid her on the bed, careful to keep their bodies close. Feeling her breath, hearing her soft moans, he couldn’t take much more, yet he wanted it to last forever. Right now they didn’t have any problems. Right now they were the only two people in the world.

  He let his lips devour her—trailing kisses to her collarbone, down her shirt, over her breast, and to her belly before standing up to take off his shirt. She sat up, watchin
g him, smiled, and slipped out of her boots and rid herself of her shirt.

  A deep breath did nothing to calm the excitement that stirred in his chest. It had been too long for them. He’d let their silence go on too long. They communicated a hell of a lot better with their naked bodies anyhow.

  She stood and undid the top button of her pants, but he held up a hand for her to stop and pointed to the wall. Walking with her fine-ass hip swing, she whirled around and backed up against the wall with no window in his bedroom. She licked her top lip, and by mid smile he was pinning her to the stucco with his body.

  She opened her lips to him, and he took every part, swirling their tongues and breathing her in. He was desperate for every part of this woman—he wanted to explore her all over again and drive her wild.

  He slid his hand down her side, skimming his thumb over the side swell of her breast. He didn’t stop at her pants; he merely ducked his palm under the trim, grazing her hipbone then finding the edges of her panties. Her tongue caressed his gently, and she moaned as she opened her mouth and pushed her lips harder against his, egging him to continue. His arm, palm, and fingers acted without reservation at every grip, nail dig, and pant. His body did whatever the hell it pleased when Arabella was around—and it always aimed to please.

  His hand cupped the apex of her legs as his middle finger slid in between her folds. She gasped into his mouth as his finger glided inside of her again. Fuck, she was wet and tight and now so were his pants.

  He pulled his lips from her and moved his head back a couple of inches as he set a steady rhythm of filling her and pulling away. Without warning, he slid his index finger in too, and watched her eyes widen and a small smile briefly grace her lips before the heat in her eyes returned. She moved her hands to his arm, clenching his forearm and bicep. She tried to kiss him again, but he moved his head to the side. He wanted to watch her. His other palm wrapped around her hip and held her in place. Her breath quickened. She could never resist a little domination. He moved faster, using his thumb to rub her clit. Her head pushed against the wall and she came. Pleasure pushed her shoulders forward, her mouth fell open as her moans escaped, and every skin cell he had yearned for her. For every single part of her.

  When she opened her eyes, there was a satisfied lift to her lips. And it wouldn’t be the only one tonight.

  He pushed her pants to the ground and did the same with his boots and cargos. No one in this room was going to need clothes until the morning light.

  • • •

  Arabella’s breathing went back to normal, but not for long. She was naked and he was kicking off his pants. His arm and ab muscles were defined even in the dim light that shone from the hallway into his bedroom. And his legs. The man had not given up time at the gym, that was for damn sure.

  He struggled with the last pant leg, and she giggled, pulling back the covers to his bed. She crawled in, sure to give him a sexy show of her ass. His erection was a sight she’d waited too long to behold, and it made her wet. Again.

  “Come here.” She took out the black band that held her hair in a ponytail and shook her head slightly to let her hair down. She knew Felix loved when her hair was messy, and it made her feel sexier.

  He was by her side in a flash, hand on her cheek, tongue meeting hers. His groan sent tingles straight south and pinged her center.

  She sat on top of him, coaxing him back against his headboard.

  He captured her breast in his mouth, sucking hard on her nipple then flicking his tongue over it before she put one palm on his chest, used her other hand to glide him into her.

  Her fingers crumpled in, scratching his chest as she swore under her breath. Felix leaned back with a deep groan, and his grasp on her hip tightened.

  She leaned in, wanting more of their skin to touch as she moved her hips up and down, slowly.

  “Ah, fuck,” he muttered with his eyes closed before gazing back at her with his cool blue stare filled with desire and lust and a whole lot of pleasure. Exactly what she liked to see.

  She couldn’t prolong the pleasure. Her release was building already. Her hips moved faster, taking him in—the desire increasing with each drive.

  She kissed his lips and felt his tenseness; his release was coming, and the anticipation of her own gratification heightened.

  “Come in me.” She uttered into his mouth before capturing his bottom lip with hers.

  “God, yes,” he ground out. “Arabella.”

  His hips flared and her back arched at the orgasm, amplified by his release, too.

  “Holy fucking shit.”

  She pressed into him as she laid her chest on his, letting out her own satisfied moan.

  His arms wrapped around her, his fingers splayed on her back.

  You never really knew what you missed about someone until they were gone. And sometimes you never realized what you missed until you got it back. A tear threatened to roll off her cheek and onto his chest. What she’d missed most was the desire in his blue eyes.

  • • •

  Arabella woke to sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. That was the best sleep I’ve had in years. They’d slept on and off, finding comfort in each other’s body.

  Being loved by Felix was intoxicating. And addicting. If she wasn’t careful, she could forget their past and think they had a future.

  She turned her head up on his chest to watch him sleep. His face kept its serious set, and she had to smile. The edges and planes of his square face were sexy, but it was the plump in his cheek that she loved the most. When he smiled, his face lit up and the dark sexiness about him became handsome and boyish.

  His eyes opened, and he looked down at her, the ends of his lips pulling up into a grin.

  “Good morning, lover.” She kissed his chest, filling her lungs with his woodsy scent.

  “Hey.” His fingers trailed down her arm and onto her belly. “What time is it? We forgot to set an alarm.”

  “I don’t think we forgot to do anything last night.”

  He lifted her up onto his chest on a laugh. “You know, I think you’re right.” He gently kissed her lips. “I’ll make breakfast.” He swung the covers off, stood as he swiped boxers from the floor and stepped into them, and then turned back. “Why wasn’t there a suitcase in your hotel room?”

  “Habit.” She shrugged. When had he been in her hotel room? “You never know where you’ll end up at the end of a day. I packed up and put it in the car when I changed out the Jeep.”

  He nodded. “Where are your keys? I’ll get it if you want to get in the shower.”

  “Pants. Left leg pocket.”

  He jingled the key against the rental tag and paused mid smile. At first she thought he was going to say something or come back to bed and make good use of their nakedness. But he didn’t. He just paused. Then she saw it, the small movement—the sinking of his smile, the realization of what their day was going to bring. Reality. Reality stopped his smile from brightening his eyes and looking at her like she was the best thing in his life.

  “I’ll get in the shower then.” She didn’t have to see disappointment on his face to know it was coming.

  When she got out of the shower, her suitcase was sitting on his made bed. She dressed in pretty much what she had on yesterday except all black. The smell of bacon beckoned her out to the kitchen—she couldn’t stay and hide in his room all day.

  “Smells good.” She sat on a stool at the island.

  “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Is there coffee?”

  He put a pod into his Keurig and pushed the blue button, lighting the biggest cup.

  Felix wasn’t looking at her; he hadn’t made eye contact with her since she’d appeared from his room. Maybe he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going to help, and the big breakfast was just his way of sending her on her way. Shit. What am I going to do now?

  She knew what she’d do—it had always been plan F. She’d arrange for a meeting with Darek and then
try to kill him. F wasn’t a well thought out level of planning. But what did she have to lose? She glanced at Felix as he set a white coffee cup in front of her. Nothing. She had nothing to lose.

  He slid a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of her and stood across from her to eat his.

  Now that he was looking at her, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “I’m going to help you, as I said last night, but I have one condition.” His gaze was steady and there was no hint of a smile on his lips.

  She nodded and set her piece of bacon back on her plate. With Felix the caveat could be damn near anything.

  His lips turned down and her belly flipped. “We’re going to sign divorce papers.”

  She always expected regret to fill her after their steamy encounters, but it never did. Ever. There was not one kiss, touch, or moan she’d ever take back where Felix was concerned. In an alternate universe, they would’ve settled down in a taupe house with a white picket fence and be on child number four. Sometimes she dreamed about that universe—sometimes the picture of it made her tear up. And other times she thanked her lucky stars they’d never given the whole marriage thing much of a try. They hadn’t lasted long in bliss.

  Their problems never stemmed from lack of emotions; it was the opposite. They had too many. She always worried about what danger he had put himself in the middle of. It was hard to love someone who might be lost to this world forever at any given moment. A loss you might not know about for months. Being apart had proved to be too much for them to sustain a marriage. For both of them. They’d drifted, not ever wanting to say the words.

  She blinked.

  But was he really telling her he wanted a divorce? Legal and everything? They would be done. They wouldn’t find each other anymore.

  “Deal.” The word passed through her lips before she debated her answer to death and showed weakness. She’d have no future if Felix didn’t agree to help her. But was it worth gaining a future if she had none?