Back to You

by Jessica Scott

  He walked back toward the fitting rooms, hoping to catch her before she tried on the next monstrosity.

  “Jen, I think this might be the one,” Laura called from behind the curtain.

  He paused near the opening to the fitting rooms, unwilling to interrupt them. He held his breath as the curtain moved aside. Nicole stepped out first, followed closely by Laura.

  He didn’t even see Nicole.

  In that moment everything in his world centered on his wife, her body draped in shimmering silver that hugged her curves and made his palms ache to touch her. The gown pooled at her feet, a cascade of fabric that looked like it had been made just for her.

  He shifted then, his skin feeling too tight. The movement caught Laura’s eye and she met his gaze. He swallowed and lifted his hand to push his glasses back up.

  She offered a hesitant smile, the barest turn of her lips.

  Hope soared inside him again. Maybe, just maybe, they’d find their way through the darkness. Together.

  * * *

  “So are you going to spill or are we going to have to pry it out of you?” Nicole asked. She handed the delicate silver dress to the clerk, who had just rung up Laura’s purchase.

  “Spill about what?” Laura asked.

  “We’d have to be blind to miss the sparks between you and Trent,” Jen said. Her wedding gown was already sealed in a black fabric zippered bag, protected from the elements and prying eyes. “You two are getting along.”

  Laura smiled, more to herself than to either of her friends. “Yeah.”

  She looked up to find Jen studying her. “This is a good thing, right?”

  Laura lifted her shoulder. “It’s not a bad thing, if that’s what you mean.”

  “But?” Nicole prompted.

  “But nothing.” She paused. Her body tightened as she remembered the feel of his hands on her skin, his breath on her ear. “Things are good.”

  “That’s really great, hon.” Jen squeezed her hand. “Are you okay with everything?”

  “Yeah. I am. I’m just… things haven’t been this good in a long time.” She bit her lips. “I’m afraid I’m going to wake up tomorrow and it’s all going to be over.”

  Nicole accepted her receipt from the cashier and lifted the sleek black garment back over the counter. “Look, I love you and I love your husband. You can’t live like the rug is going to get yanked out from under you tomorrow.”

  “But it could,” Laura said. “All of this could end tomorrow.”

  “Then you’ll have had today. No one knows what tomorrow is going to bring,” Nicole said. “But enjoy today while you have it. Hold on to these good memories because there will be plenty of dark times when you’ll need them.”

  Laura smiled, lifting her own dress. “I know.”

  “It takes a strong person to do what you’ve done,” Jen said. “Trent’s a fool if he throws this away.”

  She walked outside, her thoughts drifting back to the feel of her husband’s hands on her body. The feel of him inside her. The drape of his arm over her waist as they’d fallen into sleep.

  She looked up as the men stepped out of the coffee shop. Her gaze landed on her husband’s broad shoulders. His hands.

  “Hey,” she said as he approached.

  “Hey.” He slipped the dress from her hands and fell into step with her. Nicole and Carponti and Shane and Jen paired off and headed to their respective vehicles. “You’re being awful quiet,” he said.

  She smiled over at him, unwilling or maybe unable to give voice to the needs swirling inside her. She didn’t know how to ask him for what she wanted, what she needed.

  “We’ve still got a couple of hours before we have to pick up the kids,” she said. Her lips were dry. She traced her tongue over her bottom lip, entranced by his gaze dropping down to her mouth. “We should take the long way home.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She offered him a smile. And let an idea take hold. “Yeah. I think I am.”

  * * *

  Laura was being quiet. She hadn’t said a thing since they had picked up his truck at Jen’s house and turned toward home. Every so often, he would catch her watching him.

  “You looked beautiful today,” he said after the silence grew too heavy.

  “Hmmm.” She shifted, a lithe tension running through her. He didn’t dare hope that he was reading her body language right. There was no way she was getting ready to explore a dark erotic fantasy.

  But that couldn’t be. Right? His blood hummed as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. The subtle part of her thighs. The slight arch of her back. The barest parting of her lips.

  Everything about her made his body ache with sexual awareness. He’d wanted this woman for so long and touching her earlier, watching his hands move over her body today, he ached. Wanted things fixed between them. Back to a normal that would have involved him pulling the car over and taking her fast and hard in the backseat.

  “Is something wrong?” he finally asked.

  Laura looked at him for a long moment, her golden eyes dark with promise.

  Then she unbuckled her seatbelt as Trent attempted to hold onto the fragile remnants of his sanity, as all the blood rushed out of his brain to somewhere decidedly more primitive. He had to be dreaming. Had to be.

  Trent stilled, his blood hammering through his veins at the sight of the heat in his wife’s eyes. He swallowed, his lips curling into a faint smile as he tried to focus on watching the road. “What are you doing?” His voice was thick. Tense.

  “Communicating?” Laura leaned close, pressing her lips to the edge of his jaw. Her thumb traced the line of the scar there, scorching the sensitive flesh.

  “Ah…” There were no words for the force of the arousal that slammed into him at the brush of her lips against his skin.

  She didn’t kiss him. Her lips curled like a cat drinking fresh cream as she urged his free hand onto her thigh, then higher to where she was… “Holy shit.”

  He yanked the car into the wooded turnoff of an unsold plot of land. Away from the country road and anyone who might happen by.

  He cleared his throat, his fingers sliding into naked, hot, wet heat. “When did you take your panties off?”

  “Do you like it?”

  He glanced at her, his mouth dry.

  “Do you like it?” she repeated. Before things had gone terribly wrong between them, they had always been passionate lovers, but this was new and exciting. The risk of getting caught thrummed through his veins, wrestling with his arousal, sharp and deep and primitive. He didn’t know when she’d gotten the idea for this, but he wasn’t about to argue. The way she was looking at him was driving him wild.

  “Ah, yes. Yes, I do.” His voice was rough.

  “Then don’t ask questions. Just touch me.” She pushed her skirt higher up her thighs, giving him access to her intimate flesh. His hands fisted in the material and she shifted, opening for his touch. There was no hesitation as his fingers stroked her slick heat. She moaned deep in her throat, igniting a brilliant, liquid fire that coursed through his veins.

  Trent savored the moment, simply touching his wife. Freely. With no restrictions. She made beautiful sounds as she writhed against his fingers, driving him slightly insane with the tiny movements of her hips. Her sweetness slipped over his fingers and he wanted so badly to be inside her. He drank in this intense rush, this violent passion here and now. He would not question the severity of her response or the force of his own arousal.

  He reached across her, tipping her seat back as far as it would go. He leaned over, pressing his lips to her thigh, grateful that the design of the car didn’t impede his access to her secret swollen flesh. He slipped his hand beneath her hips, urging her to lift, just a little.

  And then she was there, her swollen sex exposed and open, glistening with arousal. He looked up to find her watching him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parted. Her breath a quiet gasp as she waited for his touch.

&nb
sp; He slipped his tongue over her and savored the sound of her ragged gasp. In the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen if they were caught. If a policeman happened by. The risk added a sinful urgency to his touch. He stroked his tongue over her sweet center until she arched her back, coating his fingers with slick wet heat. He slid a single finger inside her as he suckled her and she was lost, twisting and vibrating as the orgasm ripped through her and tore her to shreds.

  Trent was lost in her pleasure. He could never feel better than now, at this moment. He could spend a lifetime feeling her coming beneath his fingers, his tongue. He had so much to atone for. She made sexy, mewling sounds deep in her throat as he slipped his fingers from her body, kissing her fiercely, needing her more than he’d ever needed her.

  Laura gave everything she was to him in that kiss. She wanted her confidence with him back. Wanted to feel the power of his arousal under her touch.

  She leaned over, sliding her hand down to stroke the hard ridge of his erection through his pants. Trent went absolutely still, his body tight. “Laura.”

  “Hmm. Shhh. Watch for cars?”

  “Laura…” His voice held a plea.

  “Not another word,” she whispered, squeezing him gently.

  He held his breath as her fingers found his zipper, freeing him from the confines of his pants. Watched her eyes darken as she stroked him, slowly, slowly, until his breath was nothing more than a harsh gasp and he had to fight the urge to close his eyes.

  Trent could die a happy man. He glanced down to see his wife’s beautiful fingers wrapped around him, bringing to life every fantasy he’d carried with him over the long dark nights he’d spent without her. When she leaned over close enough that her breath floated across his erection, his cock went impossibly hard.

  “Laura—” He slid his hand through her hair, wanting what he dared not ask for.

  Her fingers were soft and cool on his skin. She squeezed him, her breath flitting over the swollen head, a vicious tease. He was hard as stone, and it felt like every ounce of blood in his body throbbed in his cock. The blood pounding in his ears guaranteed he wouldn’t hear a damn thing until it was too late.

  “Hmmm. I dreamed about doing this,” she murmured.

  “Right now?” He could barely speak.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her lips softly against the tip and he flinched at the gentle torment. “I’ve had a long time alone to dream things up.”

  Trent barked out a laugh, but the sound strangled in his throat when her soft mouth closed over the tip of him. She slowly slid her mouth down the hard length of his cock, caressing him like he’d dreamed about a thousand times before. He threw his head back and fought the urge to fist his fingers in her hair. Her hand stroked him while she used her mouth on him and damn him, he wasn’t going to last. Pleasure built deep in his belly and he went infinitely still, praying he’d hold off.

  And then he glanced down at his beautiful wife with her mouth on him and his entire world exploded.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Laura wasn’t sure what she’d expected to happen when they got home, but a quick tumble in the bedroom had been high on her list of priorities.

  Instead, they paid the babysitter, checked on the sleeping kids, and made sure the rodents hadn’t escaped again. Then she went to the bathroom to get washed up. When she came back to the living room, he was sitting in a chair, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he rubbed the scar on his chest.

  He didn’t see her. He couldn’t.

  Trent was watching the news. Images of a battle that had been raging for three days north of Baghdad flashed through their living room. Explosions punctuated the silence of their home.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead, and stress was visible in the rigid set of his jaw and the harsh dark line of his mouth. She stepped into his view, the movement catching his attention, breaking the spell. Trent’s eyes focused on her face even as an acute sadness creased his lips.

  He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a long inhale. He winced and she wondered if it physically hurt when he expanded his lungs. His jaw and his shoulders tensed, and his hand flexed as though he were cradling the barrel of his weapon.

  Fear licked at her soul. He’d said it himself—he didn’t really know why he felt compelled to leave home again and again. But he couldn’t help it. And the next time he left, everything they’d rebuilt together would be destroyed.

  She did not speak, did not dare to voice the unspoken question jammed in her throat. Instead, she walked over to the arm of the chair where he sat, and leaned down until she was spread across his lap. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

  He clicked the television off. Silence wrapped around them once more.

  It was a long moment before his arms came around her shoulders.

  And when he spoke, he opened part of his soul to her.

  “I was just remembering the feel of the fifty-cal machine gun when my gunner laid down covering fire.”

  “Would you deploy again?” she whispered, terrified of the answer.

  Laura’s fingers twined with his and she looked up just as he opened his eyes. The emotion she saw there was ragged and raw, the fear a relentless, writhing thing. “I don’t know,” he said.

  His honesty hurt but she shut it down, needing more to talk to him, to hear what he was saying instead of only hearing what she wanted to.

  “I used to think it was where I belonged,” he said. He leaned forward, slipping his glasses off and setting them on the coffee table. “But I look at everything I’ve given up, everything I’ve lost…” He looked over at her, his eyes tortured. “It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth nearly losing you, it wasn’t worth missing all the time with the kids.” He scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “I gave the army everything I had and now I’m being court-martialed.”

  “Was that so hard?” she whispered, hating the hope that blossomed inside her, knowing that it could be crushed so easily. He had never shared with her before. Tonight? It was simply enough that he hadn’t pushed her away.

  He squeezed her hand, threading his fingers with hers. He couldn’t meet her gaze. “You have no idea.”

  A lump blocked her throat, and it felt like a weight had lifted, just a little, from around her heart. His hands slid up her arms, stopping to stroke her neck. His palms were hot against her skin, his thumbs tender where he stroked beneath her ear.

  “This isn’t easy for me, Laura. Talking about it doesn’t make it any better.” His voice was harsh. Ragged. She wondered if there would ever come a time when he wouldn’t get angry when he talked about the war.

  “Avoiding it—avoiding your family—doesn’t make it any better either.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “I can’t help you if you’re not here.”

  She met his gaze and the legion of dark emotions churning in his midnight black eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to poison your life with the war.”

  “It’s too late for that.” Heat from his skin pulsed against her palm. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty,” she added quickly. “I’m just saying that the war has been in our lives since the day you died. Not being here has only made it harder on all of us.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He licked his bottom lip a moment before he swallowed.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  A sliver of heat drifted through her blood as she remembered how much she loved him. Oh God, but she remembered. Being with him made her feel so good—like a flower reaching for the sunlight after a long, dark winter. The knowledge hit her again with increased certainty.

  She still loved this man.

  The war had done nothing to change that.

  His kiss was hesitant as he touched his tongue to her lips, a feather light caress. A burst of pleasure rushed through her as his tongue slid across her lips.

  His fingers threaded through her hair and angled her mouth to open for him. Desire seared through her veins like a fire banked too long a
nd suddenly exposed to fuel. She felt his breath, warm and soft against her skin. She closed her eyes and felt the ragged vibration of his breathing as he lifted her easily, carrying her to their bedroom.

  “I can’t do this right now, Laura,” he whispered as he nestled against her body. His chest moved against her back, his breathing slow and easy, belying the thick emotion in his voice.

  Tears blocked her throat as she lay with him. His quiet words didn’t surprise her but they still hurt.

  He shifted her until she was beneath him, then he kissed her so fiercely that her body begged for his touch. Instead, he merely framed her face with his hands, his body rough against hers. “I want to.” One thumb stroked at her temple. “But I can’t do it right if I still hear the war in my head.” He nuzzled her nose with his.

  She smiled then because she couldn’t stop herself. “Your noble notions of sacrifice were strangely missing in the car earlier.”

  He laughed and she felt it rumble deep in her belly before he lowered his forehead to hers. She cupped his face, needing to chase away the shadows she saw creeping back into his eyes. “It’s okay.” She waited until he met her gaze once more.

  “Really?”

  “No.” She kissed him then to show him what she could not say. She understood his racing thoughts. Understood that there were times when he couldn’t turn the war off in his head. She wanted to push him onto his back and make him forget forever everything about Iraq.

  Instead, she simply curled into his body, her soul at ease for the moment, content that they were together—that her husband was back in her bed.

  * * *

  “Incoming!”

  Laura opened her eyes abruptly, her body shaking. The darkness around her echoed with the sounds of a scuffle.

  Laura flicked on the bedside lamp, sending pale light casting into the darkness. Trent had tossed one arm over his head, his fists bunched around an invisible weapon. His brow was drawn into a tense frown, his features twisted with hate and violence.

  Common sense held her back when instinct urged her to wrap her arms around him and pull him from the nightmare that haunted him. He shouted again and rolled to his side, his arms rising up like he was holding a weapon only he could see.