At His Command

by Karen Anders

  * * *

  Chris snapped out of his reverie and stared at her. His eyes sharpened. He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand, wiping away the telltale tears.

  He looked at the computer and gently closed it. The image of the jets winked out.

  He wondered if his heart could take any more. If he could, as he had said so many times, move past this source of pain and guilt in his past, in her past. He wanted to let loose the feelings that were still locked up in his heart, but he was afraid of the consequences of her rejection.

  And the sight of those two jets so close in the air. Milliseconds away from disaster. Facing death each time he jumped into his cockpit had been easier.

  Easier than looking into Sia’s eyes and seeing her pain, her loss, seeing that she was holding on to something so desperately her knuckles were turning white. And deep down it hurt that she needed his exoneration, needed to have a reason to believe he wasn’t to blame for Rafael’s death.

  And sometimes, he wondered if it really mattered. Rafael was dead. Dead and gone. But they were here, warm, living flesh. He wanted her. As unreasonable as it might seem, he wanted her. Still.

  He went to pull his hand away, not sure if he could offer her any comfort she would accept. When her hand quickly rose to curl around his, his heart twisted with a painful longing that had multiplied for six long years.

  “Don’t,” she said softly.

  He could feel the tremors in her as the tears fell freely from her eyes and he wasn’t sure if they were now for Rafael or for all they had lost.

  Her hand rose along his arm, to his shoulder as she leaned in closer to him. With a soft, low cry, her trembling lips met his, and then covered them, moving gently, sweetly.

  Chris was drowning in hunger, fighting a need that rose swiftly, was banked ruthlessly. He didn’t want her to just react to him. A ragged sense of honor kept him motionless when instinct dictated he haul her into his arms. It was the memory of the pain in her eyes only a moment ago that kept him from giving in to those urges, that had shouted clearer than words that she was still conflicted about him.

  Her mouth moved to his jaw, and he clenched it, hard, when her lips dragged over the stubble. His lungs dragged in the scent of her in a guilty, greedy swallow, and his muscles quivered with the force of his control.

  She didn’t need this. The thought hammered in his head, keeping rhythm with the pulse in his veins. He didn’t know what drove her, but he knew she was vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself in a long time. Knew that even her well-worn defenses must have limits.

  And, he had to admit, so did his.

  And he was equally certain given time they’d be firmly back in place. She was still reeling from all the memories this case had brought back and adding him to the mix only made it more complicated. He tried to remember that as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, bit down gently. He had to admit this would be folly for both of them. Keeping their relationship professional was the wiser choice, but where Sia was concerned he seemed to lose his focus, set aside his own pain. But there’d been emotion in her answer, in just that single word. And it was apparent in her kiss. Each touch crumbled his control a bit further.

  Her fingers skimmed over his chest. His muscles jumped beneath her touch, quivering. His hands went to her hips, intending to put her away from him. In a moment. This must be a special kind of hell reserved just for him, for offenses committed.

  When her mouth touched his again, his arms slipped around her waist, and he kissed her back with a crushing desire that should have worried her. Should have had her pulling away. Instead it served to scorch them both.

  His fingers tunneled in her hair and he held her head still, consumed her mouth. And he imagined just for a moment what it would be like to make love to her without fearing the inevitable moment when her defenses would snap back into place. Keeping him out and the memories locked away.

  No barriers existed between them now. The certainty shimmered between them, tempted with a heated promise. And the knowledge was sweet, perhaps made more because he knew how rare the moment was.

  He could feel her heart race, keeping pace with his. His tongue pressed at her lips for entrance, and they parted in a provocative way that made him groan. He dragged her closer, one hand sliding beneath her serviceable khaki shirt, skimming over her smooth back. She arched against him, and the last remnant of his control gave way under the weight of his need for her.

  After so many years apart, he took his time, reveled in the freedom to touch and savor her. He snagged the hem of her shirt, drew it over her head. Skin against skin, warm and vibrant, made him unravel a bit more. The silk of her bra against his chest was sensual, charging his blood to a torrent. The smooth skin of her shoulder beckoned his mouth, his muscles tense. Breathing hard, he paused to get the surging passion under control.

  The bunk was close enough that he could add just the right amount of pressure. They would end up where he wanted her, where he could explore her to his satisfaction, every inch of their bodies touching. They could give their passion free rein, forget all thoughts, all doubts.

  He bent, scooped her up in his arms and laid her on the bunk. When he followed her down, it was with passion held in check, and something far more dangerous rising to the surface. He loomed half over her, tangled his hands in her long, curly tresses, rubbing the strands against the sensitive pads of his fingers, moving the mass away from her striking face. An aching path of tenderness carved through him. Her bruises were like a badge of courage against her golden skin, a reminder that life was so fleeting. His lips brushed over the marred skin, one warrior paying homage to another.

  Sia froze under his soft mouth, aware that something had shifted in his rhythm. Uncertain of her response, she felt his mouth move to the places on her body where she’d been hurt, sensually identifying each of her injuries, soothing each. His tenderness made the myriad of emotions locked inside her clamor for release. Again he was offering her something she didn’t know how to accept, or return. She only knew he tangled her emotions into unidentifiable knots. Wreaked havoc on her system. The minutes stretched, encased in silver.

  Chris took his time relearning the contours of Sia’s body, saw her eyes, glazed but wary. And understanding rocked him, so sudden and hard he shivered with the knowledge. Walls worked both ways. Barriers were erected and served to protect what was inside, but also worked to keep everything out. He wondered if she knew his defenses seemed to be made of sand.

  Their mouths collided, tongues tangled. Passion still sluiced through his veins, but tempered for the moment. He teased her with supple, lingering kisses as his hands played on her flesh, languid and dreamy. And when he felt her body soften against his, heard her breath hitch slightly, he knew this was what he craved. What he’d always craved. To feel her melt with bliss. To feel her hands frantic on his flesh. To know with every gasp and moan he drew from her she thought of him. Only him.

  His hands drifted over her breasts, impatient with the silk barrier. Deftly he reached behind her and released the clasp. Freed, the soft globes gleamed in the light, tipped with tight pink nipples.

  His fingers circled one nipple, flicking it with his thumb. Her breath hissed in and she reached for him, her fingers clutching his shoulders, skating over his chest. A thousand points of flame burst beneath his skin, and she pulled his head down to her. With a soft moan of pleasure, he drew her proffered nipple into his mouth, savagely satisfied to hear his name tumble from her lips. Cupping her other breast in his hand, he fondled it until the dual assault had her body twisting against him.

  A haze seemed to have formed over all thought, all reason. There was only Sia, her flavor tracing through his system, her scent embedded in his senses. Light from the single lamp in the stateroom slanted across them, illuminating their skin and making it glow. Her fingers were fumbling with his pants, and each slight brush of her knuckles against his abdomen was the most exquisite form of
torture.

  Desire rushed through him, made a mockery of his control. Stepping away, only a fraction, he stripped the cloth barrier away from his body and kicked it away. He donned protection and pulled her to face him until they lay together, side to side, so that every inch of their bodies touched. Finding the pulse at the base of her throat, he stroked it with his tongue. Restlessly, she drew her leg sensuously up the length of his leg and across his hip.

  His breath heaved out of his lungs. The time had passed for slow and easy. His hand kneaded the satin of her thigh, felt the whisper of muscle beneath the silky skin. It was always an erotic delight to rediscover Sia’s softness. His fingers trailed closer to her core of heat, and he thrilled as her body twisted with need.

  She forgot to breathe. He gave her no choice but to feel. Sia gloried in the choice, even realizing it came with risk. But right now there was only his body close to hers, smooth flesh stretched over padded muscle. Her fingers traced over him, where sinew and bone joined to leave intriguing hollows. Each begged to be explored with soft lips and swift hands.

  Longing battled with doubt. He traced the crease where her leg met her hip and she stiffened, her lungs clogged. He was moving down her body, painting flesh with his tongue. Her blood turned hot, molten, and chugged through her veins like lava. Her world, her focus, narrowed to include only the two of them.

  Need, Chris was finding, was a double-edged sword, one as painful as it was pleasurable. And, poised on that razor-edged peak, he was as primed as she for a fall. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. His mouth found her moist warmth and her back arched. He slipped his hands beneath her hips, lifted her to devour. The soft, strangled sounds tumbling from her lips urged him on, to take more. To give more. And when she shot to release in a wild shuddering mass, she cried his name.

  Sia fought to haul breath into her lungs. Her limbs were like liquid. And for the moment at least, she felt utterly tranquil. She felt the bunk move, and her eyelids fluttered open. Tranquility abruptly fled. Here was the danger she’d forgotten, in the primal masculine man bending over her. Her hand rose of its own volition, curved around his neck and brought his mouth to hers.

  His breath heaved out of his chest as her teeth scored his skin lightly, nipping a path from his shoulder to his belly. His restraint unraveled a bit more with each soft touch.

  The light illuminated their thrashing bodies, spilling on the bunk. Chris’s gentleness had vanished, hunger raging. His vision misted, but his other senses were alert. Achingly so. The sweet, dark flavor of her tongue battling with his. The silkiness of her hair brushing against his skin and the sexy, tight grasp of her hands as she explored him where he was hot, hard and pulsing.

  The teasing was gone. Gentleness was beyond him. His arousal was primal, basic and immediate. His hands battled hers, and he rolled her to his side, drew her leg over his hips. Testing her readiness with one finger, he watched her eyes, shadows of emotion and desire moving through the soft, dewy brown like comets.

  He moved into position, his shaft barely parting her warm cleft, and stilled. He eased into her, her eyes directly on his, now bare and vulnerable, opening more than just her body to him. She twisted and moaned against him as he moved in tiny increments, not satisfied until he was seated deep inside her. Then he took her mouth with his own, savagely aware every inch of their bodies was touching. Inside and out. And still it wasn’t enough.

  He withdrew from her only to lunge again, each time deeper, harder, faster. They were caught in a vortex, spinning wilder and wilder. Out of control. He saw her face spasm, felt the clench of her inner muscles, swallowed her cry with his mouth. And then, only then did he let the tide sweep him under and dash him up and over the edge.

  Minutes, or hours, later he stroked a hand along the curve of her waist before settling it possessively on her hip. Each beat of her heart echoed with his. Their breathing slowed, and eventually reason intruded. He started to move away and her fingers tightened in an automatic reflexive response. Reluctantly he ignored it. The protection he’d used was fast losing its effectiveness. He took care of it and rolled back to her. To please himself, he pushed the heavy tangle of her hair away from her face and skimmed his fingertips over her shoulder and down her arm.

  It would be easy to stay like this, to cuddle and make love, but they were much more than simply lovers. He knew from personal experience it would be wonderful to fall asleep cradled in her arms.

  Once before he’d thought they’d forged a bond, until Sia had ruthlessly cut him out of her life and the distance had yawned between them like a deep chasm. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. She would have to come to terms with him, and that was something he couldn’t help her with.

  Sia could see the change in his eyes and she hated the emotions and the feelings locked up inside her. The sheer satisfaction of being this intimate with Chris was something she cherished, but the past hung between them like a specter. “We both know this doesn’t settle anything, it only makes it more convoluted and complicated. Until we work through our past, it’ll be the white elephant in the room. Is that something you want, Sia?”

  He picked up her hand and measured it against his. She could see the emotions dance like flame in his eyes. Without conscious volition, her fingers locked with his. He couldn’t know what he was asking. She wanted to get past it all, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have answers yet. Even as she mourned their relationship and all they had lost, she felt locked in her decision.

  She hated this. Trying to quench the lick of panic in her veins, she moved closer to him. She didn’t want to deal with the jumble of emotions, the mingled doubts and fears. Far better to end this now. Again. Before there was a sticky tangle of recriminations and disappointments to assuage.

  But as he drew her chin up to meet his eyes, she couldn’t, so she changed the subject. “What was it about Washington’s accident that bothered you?”

  It took him a moment to change gears and she could see the disappointment in his eyes, but he let it go for now. It was just a reprieve. She knew that. Maybe when she had to make a final decision about Chris, she would have more answers.

  “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. But something about his landing is bothering me. It’s been a while since I landed on a carrier at night.”

  “It’ll come to you. Try not to think about it too hard.”

  He nodded.

  Sia slipped out of the bunk, unabashed about her nakedness. It fueled her to know Chris was looking and admiring. She pulled a T-shirt and shorts out of her locker and put them on. Her dark hair obscured her vision of Chris lying on his side in the bunk watching her. With a small smile, she scooped up her laptop and opened it. When it woke, the screen was still on the jets. With a pang, Sia minimized it. “As soon as McBride finishes with that research, I’m sure we’ll find Cotes was aboard the McCloud when Rafael died.”

  “Sia, it’s best to draw conclusions only when we have evidence that is the case.”

  “That’s true, but I have a feeling about this. It’s going to clear his name. I just know it.”

  Chris hadn’t moved from the bunk, nor had he donned any clothes. The sheet was draped over his groin, but his well-muscled chest and every other part of his fine body was displayed. It was hard for her to concentrate.

  “Investigations aren’t about feelings. Don’t let your emotions override your logic,” he said as he shifted with a ripple of muscle to his side to pillow his head on his arm.

  “I’m not. I’m just stating what I think is the truth. Why are you being so negative? Don’t you want to be exonerated?”

  He sat up, his face pulling into a frown. “I lost everything that was important to me six years ago, Sia. I’ve made a new life and moved on. But I can see that you haven’t. We can’t live in the past.”

  Sia stood and came over to the bunk. “I know that. But this isn’t about moving on. This is about justice for my brother. Justice for you. If someone tampered wit
h your radar or drugged you, then it’s our duty to bring that person to justice. There is no statute of limitations on murder!”

  “Sia,” he said, grabbing her hand when she went to turn away, “I know you want this more than anything, but you have to be prepared for whatever the truth is going to reveal. I don’t want you to set yourself up for disappointment.”

  She extricated her hand from his. Her overloaded senses only distracted her from her anger. “Maybe this doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me. I’ll never stop trying to prove my brother wasn’t at fault that day. I just don’t believe it.”

  “But it’s easy for you to believe I was. To blame me. You and your family ostracized me. I was already handling a load of guilt, yet I couldn’t even get any peace at Rafael’s funeral. Your father attacked me.”

  “He was hurting. He wanted someone to blame.”

  “And you sided with them,” he said, his voice harsh and raw.

  “They were my family.”

  “You said you loved me, Sia. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Yes, it does. But I couldn’t go against my family.”

  “No, because you wanted someone to blame, too.”

  The air crackled between them and Sia’s eyes flared with emotion and anger. “I wanted to support my family, Chris. That is the bottom line. My parents were devastated. My father turned to the bottle and my mother lost her will. I saw her lose the battle with living every day.”

  “How are they now? Have they moved past—?”

  “You don’t know? They didn’t move past it, Chris. They died five years ago in a car crash because my father was drunk.”

  Chapter 8

  Chris lay quietly, listening to his roommate complete his morning ritual. It was dark in the stateroom except for the dim lights over his bunk. Chris guessed it was only about four o’clock or four-thirty.

  He turned over until he faced the wall. Sleep had been elusive and fitful since he left Sia’s cabin. His shock at the news of her parents’ deaths had hit him very hard, right in his heart.