* * *
His fingers pressed into her hair and angled her head so that their mouths could join completely. She gasped as his jaw scraped against hers and liquid need slid between them. Every touch reminded her of why she loved him, of why she’d waited so long for him to come back to her. And every touch brought with it a renewed intensity that refused to be ignored.
This was Trent. Trent who kissed her. Trent who brought this heat to life inside her and reminded her of all the reasons she loved him. Trent, who’d held her as she cried the last time he told her he was leaving.
Trent who was holding her now, making her crazy, one slow, sipping kiss at a time. She did the only thing a woman who loved a man could do when there were children running around in the house.
She leaned back, brushing his bottom lip with her thumb. “Tonight?”
She didn’t want to wait. But she also didn’t want the first time she touched her husband in almost two years to be interrupted by a child or two beating on the bedroom door. “We have to wait until the kids go to bed,” she said against his mouth.
“Can’t we tie them up in the bathroom or something?” His words were light. Teasing. Pained and heavy with arousal.
She laughed, then buried her face in his neck.
Chapter Thirteen
Laura set the bowl of broccoli on the table. “Ethan, I thought I told you no hamsters at the dinner table.”
Ethan puffed out his bottom lip, a sure sign that he was about to cry. She was getting ready to intervene when Trent crouched down to look his son in the eye. “Fluffy needs to get put away for dinner, tiny man. She needs her own dinner.”
“But Daddy, Fluffy hasn’t been acting right all day. See!” Trent flinched as the hamster was thrust into his face.
He grabbed Ethan’s wrist and gently pushed the animal back to where he could see it. Picking the rodent up, he turned her around in a circle like he was doing a detailed inspection. The hamster just hung there, her fuzzy belly exposed, looking at him as if to say, are you done yet? “Fluffy is fine. Go put her away, okay? And wash your hands.”
Ethan sighed dramatically and walked out of the room, his footsteps just barely shy of a stomp. Trent straightened and walked to the sink to wash his own hands. “Does that thing always smell so bad?”
“Hamsters go into heat every four days.”
“Dear lord, that’s terrible.”
Laura grinned as she finished slicing the top off of a loaf of bread before sliding it into the oven. “You’re the one who bought them.”
“I had no clue they smelled that bad.”
“They’re not usually this bad. We keep the cages pretty clean.” She turned to find that he’d snuck up behind her.
“I kind of left you in the lurch with them, didn’t I?”
“Hello, captain obvious. You bought two rodents, then left the next day for a training exercise.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. “But the kids love them so I’ll tolerate them.” She turned back to stir the potatoes she had boiling on the stove. “Has Patrick said anything else about the case?”
A long silence stretched between them. She glanced over her shoulder at Trent, whose strain was showing in his eyes. Laura breathed out deeply. She wanted to ask him to talk to her. Wanted to help carry the burden of his war, but she was terrified he would turn away again, leaving her with more unanswered questions.
“Funny you should mention that,” he said, and there was bitterness in his voice. “Turns out Story knew what was going on.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Turns out my lieutenant wasn’t the only one I shouldn’t have trusted.” She glanced over her shoulder to see him rub his hand over his mouth. “But he’s apparently sent a statement home to Patrick admitting to what he knew and testifying against Randall.”
“I still don’t see how Randall is going to beat this by dragging you into it,” Laura said. She knew enough about the case to know it was a disaster. Patrick had mentioned there was a flow chart somewhere outlining who they thought knew what and when they’d known it.
“Randall is going to testify that I knew he was selling weapons. I signed off on his reports without verifying them, so he’s going to use that against me,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him pull a beer from the fridge.
She set the spoon down on the counter. “How are you going to fight him on it?”
“My brigade commander taught me back in OIF 2 that commanders must only focus on the command. All else must be delegated. So Patrick and I are going to turn it back on Randall. He was my executive officer. He was supposed to be running the company so I could command it. I shouldn’t have needed to double-check his work. It will shred his argument.” He took a pull from his beer. “At least I hope it will.”
“It sounds good to me,” she said, offering a faint smile. A long moment passed before she sighed softly. “I know you’re pissed at him right now but I think Rebecca is cheating on him again.”
Silence greeted her. She wasn’t sure what kind of response she expected from him, especially not now after Story’s call. “I’m not surprised,” he admitted.
She frowned, watching him closely, well aware that this conversation danced a little too close to their personal situation. “Why not?”
“Story has been gone even more than I have. And Rebecca isn’t the kind of woman who does well on her own.”
Laura turned back to dinner. “What’s that mean?”
“It means some women need a man in their lives. Any man will do.”
“Just like there are some guys who need a woman in their bed,” she whispered, hating herself for dragging the rumors into their kitchen. But they could no more deny them than ignore them. It was better to lance the wound, draining the poison so that it had a chance to heal rather than fester.
He stepped into her space, cupping her face and stopping her need to be in motion. “Laura, I meant it when I said that I’ve never cheated on you. I’ve never even thought about it.”
“I know,” she whispered. She turned away before he could see everything that she could not hide. The agony of those rumors had burrowed deep, whispering a horrible explanation in her ear for every moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Laura.”
She closed her eyes, steeling her heart against the agony in his voice. She sucked in a deep breath and plunged ahead.
“The first time Rebecca hinted around that something was going on downrange, I didn’t believe her.” Her voice was raw, the emotion ragged. “But the rumors kept getting worse and worse. And you barely talked to me for months.”
She was ashamed of her lack of trust. She wasn’t by nature an untrusting person. But she’d failed. Failed at trusting her husband, failed at standing strong for him when he needed her most. His actions, his silence, had destroyed her faith not only in him but in herself, too. She’d walked away when things had gotten too tough and that single action had decimated the person she’d thought she was. “It chipped away at my faith in you.”
She saw it now, everything she’d done to help break up their marriage. She’d been cold on the phone when he’d needed her support. She hadn’t looked beyond the rumors. She’d focused on her own hurt, her own sadness, letting the silence on the phone widen the fractures between them. She closed her eyes, unable to let him see the depth of her shame.
His hands on her shoulders were gentle as he urged her to turn toward him. The heat from the stove warmed her back as his hands stroked her. His eyes were dark, rimmed with sadness. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t man enough for you to believe in,” he whispered.
Of all the things he could have said, an apology was the most unexpected.
There it was again. The quiet admission of everything that was wrong between them. The world tilted beneath her feet as her husband’s hands caressed her, bringing to life all of the emotions she’d locked away.
She leaned into him then, letting go of a litt
le piece of the hurt, another weight that bore down on her. He was home. He was working on things, a little bit at a time.
It was enough.
* * *
The kids were asleep. Tucked away in their beds, all hamsters accounted for; evening quiet settled over their home as Laura padded into their bedroom. Trent had been quiet since his phone call with Story, quiet but not unreachable. He did not pull away this time like he would have in the past.
She stood in front of her dresser in their bedroom and pulled her rings from the small jewelry box. Her fingers hesitated now over the cold golden rings, which stood for everything they’d once meant to each other. Everything about this evening had been so achingly normal. So beautiful and twisted.
She toyed with the rings, stopping just short of putting them on.
The significance of something so simple terrified her. She held them in the palm of her hand, remembering the first time Trent had slid them on her finger. She’d been terrified and excited and a thousand other emotions. She remembered looking into his eyes and seeing love looking back.
She’d believed then that they could make it through anything.
The bathroom door opened. Trent stood there in the doorway, watching her. His gaze flicked down to her hand. The muscle in his jaw jumped.
Then he walked toward her. Slowly, until he stood behind her in the mirror, their reflections close, their bodies closer. The scar over his heart stood out in stark relief against the crisp dark hair that dusted his chest. A starburst of damaged skin and bloodred memories.
She closed her eyes, remembering that horrible day.
On behalf of a grateful nation…
His chest radiated warmth and she shifted, leaning back into him. Just a little but it was enough. His arms came around her, his hands sliding down her forearms to cup her hands. His eyes darkened and warmed, but he said nothing. Instead he traced his index finger over her knuckles, their gazes locked in the mirror. He ran tip of his finger roughly against her, circling the rings she held there.
Her breath jammed in her throat as he lifted the rings, then turned her hand over. His body surrounded her, his heat penetrating her skin.
He slid her wedding band over her finger. A slight pop over her knuckle and then it was in its place. He lifted her hand until he could press his lips to her palm, then slid her engagement ring, a single solitary diamond, back where it belonged.
He held her then, his arms wrapped around hers, his eyes holding hers in the mirror. Slowly, he started to sway. His hips moved against hers, reminding her of an old familiar rhythm that had once been a normal part of their lives. He traced his hands over her skin. Her arms. Her collarbone. The pulse in her throat. All the while she watched him in the mirror. Watched her body as though it belonged to someone else.
He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, nudging her lips to part. She stood there, unable to move, wanting so badly to surrender to the racing need inside her, knowing that if she did, she’d be sacrificing everything she’d fought so hard to retain.
Instead she simply stood and basked in the warmth from his bare skin so close to her own. He scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin of her earlobe. She felt him, thick and hard against her buttocks. She arched into him, needing the intimate pressure.
* * *
Trent could not believe his wife was in his arms. Wearing her rings. He simply stood and held her, unwilling to do anything to break the spell that floated around them. An easy, erotic haze built between them as he watched her beautiful body sway with his in the mirror.
This woman awed him. Every day she stood with him, she taught him something beautiful about the world.
He slid his hands down her arms, threading his fingers with hers, loving the feel of her body arching into his. Slowly, so slowly, he lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck until she was arched in front of him. Her breasts were heavy and full against the thin tank she’d put on after her shower. He slipped his fingers down her ribs, marveling at the shudder that ran through her body.
With one index finger, he traced the exposed strip of skin on her belly. A tiny expanse but one begging to be explored. Hooking his finger, he dragged the soft cotton higher, higher until the soft scoop of her breasts was barely exposed. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, tracing his tongue over her ear. She trembled in his arms but didn’t lower her own. Her fingers tensed on the back of his neck.
He skimmed his fingers over the exposed underside of her breasts. Watched her nipples pearl beneath the thin cotton. Ached to taste her.
He slid the tank a little higher, flicking it over one nipple until the pink bud was puckered and exposed. Her breath tumbled from her lungs as he traced his thumb over the sensitive skin.
“I could do this for hours,” he whispered. “Just watching your body respond to my touch. I’ve missed you so much.”
She closed her eyes as he pushed her pants off her hips, then lifted her arms enough to slip the tank over her head. “Laura.” His voice a whisper. An erotic command. She opened her eyes.
She was naked. Exposed in his arms. He nudged her arms back around his neck, his hands skimming her waist to cradle her hips. He traced his thumb over her hipbone, his touch dancing closer and closer to where she ached for him.
“I want to touch you,” he whispered. She couldn’t look away from the intensity of his gaze. His hands were sure, familiar and strange all at once. “Can I touch you there?” he asked. He skimmed a single finger over the seam over her sex. Moisture spread beneath his touch. “Please, Laura. Let me touch you.” He scraped his teeth along her jaw. “Open for me,” he urged. “Just a little.”
He knew how to make her body sing. She knew it. He knew it. This was more than just sex. This was about power. About desire.
About healing.
She parted her thighs, just a little bit. Moisture glistened on the soft hair. She watched, entranced, as his fingers slipped over her body, caressing. Urging. Stroking her lightly until her thighs spread farther. She was completely open and completely lost to his touch. Desire spiraled wide inside her as his fingers danced over her swollen sex, tracing the lines of her body until she thought she’d snap if he didn’t give her what she needed. She arched mindlessly against him, begging with her body what she could not speak. She needed this man. Wanted him inside her, filling her. Completing the erotic dance with her.
Reminding her of all the reasons she loved him.
He slipped a finger inside her and she exploded. Her entire world shook as he stroked her, drawing out her pleasure until her body hummed and she felt boneless.
He laid her gently on the bed, amazed by the power of her release. She lifted her thighs, wrapping them around his hips as he found the place he’d missed more than anything: the loving sanctuary of her arms. He threaded his fingers in hers and dragged her arms over her head once more.
Waited until she met his gaze. Needing her to know, to be sure that this was what she wanted. “No regrets, Laura?”
He paused then, his blood pounding in his veins, needing to slide into the warm welcome she offered. But he wouldn’t. Not like this. Not until he knew she was sure.
She freed one of her hands, tracing it around his neck. “I need you,” she whispered, arching her hips to slide her body over the tip of his erection.
Trent was lost. That simple sensation, that slightest touch and he buried himself inside her. Her gasp was beautiful against his mouth, her taste the sweetest pleasure. He lifted her hips as she matched his rhythm, their bodies immediately seeking the synchronicity that came with loving the same person for so long.
Her heart might have forgotten what it was like to love this man but her body had not.
And when he shattered inside her, everything in her world was right for a brief, blinding moment.
Chapter Fourteen
“Where are the kids today?” Shane asked as Trent climbed into his truck.
“With our neighbors.” He slammed the door shu
t. “Laura figured it would be easier to pay for a babysitter than drag the kids around Austin all day.”
“Probably a good plan,” Carponti said from the backseat, where he was fiddling with his iPod. “If Nicole has her way with me, I’m going to end up in a furniture store for half the afternoon.” He glanced up, plugging an ear bud into his ear. “Though I suppose it’s better than picking out flowers and decorations after we go to the dress shop. Man, I never thought I’d see you emasculated like this. Did you forget to get your balls out of Jen’s purse? Oh wait, I forgot you had them rewired. Never mind.”
Shane didn’t respond to Carponti’s taunt. Instead, he turned the radio to the heavy metal station out of Austin. “First Sarn’t Story e-mailed me yesterday,” he said to Trent.
“Yeah, I talked to him,” Trent said. Just like that, the anger and the betrayal were back. He didn’t know how to tell Carponti and Garrison what Story had done so he kept it to himself. They’d find out soon enough.
“He’s at Camp Cooke in Taji,” Shane said. “He didn’t sound too happy. Man, some bad shit is happening there.”
Trent looked out the window, memories from the Triangle of Death rising up to torment him.
“Laura told me she thinks Rebecca is cheating on him,” Trent said quietly. “Do you think he knows?”
“Probably.”
“Why did he e-mail you?”
“To say he was sorry he can’t be here for the wedding.” Shane glanced over at him. “Did he get in touch to ask you about the hearing?”
“Yeah. I told him about Randall being here.” Trent frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and smothering the anger. “I hate that all of you are being dragged through this.”
Since Story had been Trent’s first sergeant when he was in command, he’d worked hand in hand with Trent to ensure that their troopers were prepared each and every time they went out in sector. In theory, he’d also worked closely with Lieutenant Randall. If Randall testified that Trent knew about the missing weapons, Story’s counter-testimony would hold a lot of weight.
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