Muscling In

by Lily Harlem

  “It must have been so hard.”

  “Yeah, it was, but it was something we couldn’t resist.” He dragged me close. “Passion is like that, isn’t it? When someone is too damn tempting, not just their body but the whole person, everything that they are, it’s just impossible not to give into yearning.” He kissed me hard and pulled me close. His cock thickened beneath his jeans. My breasts pressed against his chest, only the thin t-shirt between us.

  “Before breakfast?” I asked.

  “Yeah, before breakfast.” He stooped and swung me into his arms. “With you in that wicked top it has to happen before anything else.”

  Next thing I knew he was stomping up the stairs with a glint in his eye that told me I was going to get it good. Real good.

  ****

  Breakfast turned into brunch and we added smoked salmon to our scrambled eggs. I figured it would keep us going most of the day until we went out with Ed that evening. I pondered on what to wear. Should I keep it demure and elegant? Or perhaps super-sexy so he wouldn’t be able to resist and I’d keep Coben on the edge of his seat all night too? Maybe the best course of action was sophisticated yet with a risqué edge. A formal blouse unbuttoned one too many and with a necklace resting in my cleavage? I had a skirt that was of respectable length but super-tight. That might work with the blouse. Mmm…I had some new black stilettos with silver spiked heels—too much?

  “What are you thinking about?” Coben asked, looking up from his book. He was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace and looked all relaxed and gorgeous.

  “Nothing.” I chewed on the end of my pencil. I’d been sketching some new designs for the shop, something to offer clients that was just a little bit different. But I was struggling. I kept sketching out motorbikes, wings, linked hands, waves—the things that were in my mind.

  “Spill,” he said.

  “I was just wondering what to wear tonight.”

  He smiled. “Whatever you wear you will be beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How are your designs coming along?”

  “Not too bad.” I shrugged and placed the pencil and pad on the paper. “Could be better.”

  “It’ll come to you.”

  “Yes, I know. Ed’s tat is unique, isn’t it. Lots of personal things on it that he’s built up over the years.”

  “Yeah, and it’s expanding. Some of it I get, some I know are to do with missions, but only I’d get that, or someone military anyway.”

  “Don’t you think they’d put him at risk if he was captured or something?”

  “Nah, they’re very subtle and well hidden. He’s got enough other stuff going on in there for it to be safe.”

  “Did you expect there to be a C?”

  He shook his head. “Not for a minute.”

  “Were you pleased?”

  “Kind of, nice to know I was special enough for him to want me immortalized on his skin but…” He paused and rubbed his brow. “I hate that I broke his heart.”

  “Sounds like you broke each other’s.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged a little. “Yeah, I guess, but I found you.” He smiled suddenly. “You patched mine up, made it as good as new. Falling in love with you made my life perfect, complete.”

  “Yet Ed never found anyone?”

  “Helen, he talked of Helen, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, and it’s sad that he ended it but maybe it was for the best.” I paused. “Do you think he’s planning on always being alone?”

  “Until he leaves the service.”

  “But that could be years, ten, twenty. That’s a long time to be lonely.”

  “Mmm…”

  I stood and went to the window. It was a little overcast. We’d chosen the best day to go to the beach. The road was full of parked cars. People off work, visitors, the holiday meant most of our neighbors were just taking it easy. I flicked the curtain to one side and opened a small top window. We could do with fresh air. We’d been sitting for ages reading and sketching.

  As the breeze came in, with it arrived the low rumble of an engine. It sounded like Ed’s bike but it was hours before we were expecting him.

  Even so I glanced to the top of the street.

  Heading my way was a big black bike being driven by a rider all in black.

  It looked like Ed.

  I waited another few seconds. The rumble became a roar, then quietened as it pulled into a gap right outside our house.

  I let the curtain fall back into place and turned to Coben.

  “Ed’s here.”

  “What?”

  “That motorbike, it’s Ed.”

  “But?” Coben set his book, fan-shaped, on the arm of the chair and stood.

  “He’s here…” I gestured to the window.

  Coben strode to my side and glanced out.

  Ed had dismounted and was tugging at his helmet. He wore a serious expression.

  “Why do you think he’s come round now?” I asked.

  Coben shook his head. “I hope it’s not what I think.”

  “What do you think?” A feeling of dread went through me.

  “Let’s wait and see.” He kissed the top of my head, then headed out of the room.

  I followed him, a million reasons why Ed was here blustering through my mind. Had he decided he didn’t want to take us out for dinner? Maybe he regretted last night and had come to tell us he never wanted to see us again. Perhaps our threesome fun wasn’t fun for him.

  Coben opened the door before Ed had even pressed the bell. “What is it?”

  Ed hooked the helmet through his arm and stepped into the hallway.

  Coben shut the door.

  “I can’t stay,” Ed said.

  “Your leave has been cut short, hasn’t it.” Coben hadn’t spoken as if it were a question.

  “Yeah.” He half shrugged. “I’m sorry, there’ll be no meal out tonight.”

  “What do you mean cut short?” I asked, winding my hands together.

  “I’m back on duty at eighteen hundred hours.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He managed a small smile.

  “But can they do that? I thought you had more time off?”

  “I have, I do, but yes, they can do that.” He stepped up to me and stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek. “It’s the nature of the game.”

  “But…”

  “Can’t argue with the Crown and I serve my country every day, whether it’s a holiday or not. I’ve been sent orders, I’m needed, so I go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  He pressed his lips together and tilted his head.

  He wasn’t going to tell me. “Will we see you when you get back?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” I asked.

  “If you still want to.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He half smiled and smoothed his finger down my cheek again. He stepped up to Coben. “I’m sorry, this kind of shit always fucks plans up.”

  “Can’t be helped.”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “Just be really fucking careful, okay. I’ve just got used to the fact you’re alive and well.”

  “Can’t promise I won’t pick up a few scars and stuff but I’ll do my best.”

  “Do more than your best. Come the hell back to us, soon.” Coben reached out and grabbed Ed’s face. He pulled him close for a hard, fast kiss, then set his forehead on Ed’s. “No risks.”

  “There’s always risks.”

  Coben chuckled but it held no humor. “Well okay, can we just agree calculated ones, then.”

  “I’ve promised you that before.” Ed reached for Coben’s wrists and pulled them away. “I have to go. I didn’t have time to call in here but I wanted to tell you both face-to-face.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “And don’t worry.” He looked between us. “I’ll be fine. Not as if I haven’t done this crazy shit a hundred tim
es over.”

  “Saying don’t worry doesn’t help.” Coben folded his arms and shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Look after this one for me, Sian,” Ed said, jerking his thumb in Coben’s direction. “He always did worry too much.”

  “I will.” I stepped up to Coben and wrapped my arm around his waist. “I always do. And we’ll be waiting for you when you come back.”

  “Thanks for everything.” He shoved on his helmet. “Memories of last night will keep me going for months.”

  “You’ll be months?” I asked, alarmed at the suggestion.

  “No idea.” He opened the door. “I’ll be back when the work is done.” He stepped out and stomped down the three steps to the pavement.

  Coben stood stiff and silent at my side. I kept my arm wrapped around him, my body pressed against his.

  Ed didn’t look at us again. He climbed onto his bike, revved the engine, then burned to the end of the street and turned the corner.

  We waited until the sound of the engine had faded completely before stepping into the house and shutting the door.

  “Fuck,” Coben said, leaning his back on the wall and clenching his fists at his sides.

  “It’s okay.” I smoothed my hands down his shoulders. “Really, it will be fine.”

  “It’s not okay and how do we know it will be fine?”

  “He’s good at his job, trained. He’s done it before.”

  “But it’s so fucking dangerous out there with those bastards. Those scumbags that just want to blow up good men, chop them up, treat them like shit.”

  “We don’t know he’s going somewhere like that.”

  “Not for definite but it’s a pretty good guess.”

  I reached for his right hand and uncurled his fingers. “Guessing won’t get you anywhere, and remember what Ed said about imagination being worse than the reality.”

  “Yeah, well I’ve been in those real situations, remember. I know how fucking dicey it gets.”

  “That was years ago. Things have changed. You don’t know for sure what he’s doing. He might be in the camp just giving orders.”

  He huffed. “I really don’t think so.”

  I reached for his other hand and uncurled that too. “Relax. He’s still in bloody London.”

  “But not for long.”

  “And what are you going to do? Be a ball of tension for the next few weeks, month, however long it is? You’ll give yourself an ulcer.” I pressed against him, drawing him into a soothing hug. “And that won’t be good.”

  He sighed and some of the tension left his body. “I could do without an ulcer.”

  “You certainly could.” I kissed his cheek. “I need you well. Ed will want you well too, when he comes back. Which he will, soon. He’s just gone to work, that’s all.”

  “But—”

  “And someone has to be out there fighting on the front line for Queen and Country. Might as well be the best of the best.”

  Coben managed a weak smile.

  “And when he comes back, when he has leave, we’ll be able to make sure it’s extra special for him, like we did last night. A soldier fighting for the freedom of our country, risking his life, shouldn’t have boring leave. His time off should be packed with awesomeness.” I giggled, the emotions in my chest—the worry, the disappointment that he’d gone, the anxiety of seeing Coben so distraught—burst up and out in an over-loud laugh. It was almost hysterical, though I wasn’t prone to that.

  “Shh…you’re right,” Coben said, stroking my hair and cupping my face. “We’ll just have to make sure he knows how appreciated his efforts for his country are.” He kissed me, settling my nerves and calming my thoughts.

  It would all be all right. It had to be.

  Chapter Ten

  The next week went by in a daze for both Coben and I. There were times I wondered if I’d imagined Ed, that his presence in our lives had been a dream. But then I’d spoken to Coben about him, or saw Coben frowning as he stared into space and I knew he’d been very real—so real his presence was still here even though he wasn’t.

  I went into work and created some wonderful designs, one a portrait that Drake photographed to frame and hang on the wall. He was really impressed with the intensity in the eyes and I wondered if it was because my own emotions were spinning. I cooked in the evenings because I knew I needed to, not because myself or Coben were particularly hungry but eating was essential. I spoke to my mother about the fete but didn’t really listen to the response and felt so bad about my distraction I sent her a bunch of flowers the next day.

  My mind was on the other side of the world. The normality of routine no longer normal because I knew it wasn’t the case for Ed.

  Coben was quiet but not moody or short-tempered. He was just worried. I found myself repeating things to him, ordinary things—I’m sure he did the same to me.

  But we were very much together despite that distraction and we lingered over kisses and cuddles and spent the evenings wrapped around each other on the sofa as we watched TV. It was as if our joint worry had drawn us even closer, brought us together in our thoughts. We found comfort in each other’s embrace and I understood how Helen would have turned herself inside out with worry, being on her own multiplying the fear. With no one to talk to, bounce that anxiety onto, someone who “got” it, then I too would have been on the edge. Not being able to tell people why she’d been distracted and worried must have just doubled the intensity of Helen’s terror. She’d had to keep it all locked up inside and act as if everything was perfectly okay in her world.

  On the eighth night of Ed’s tour of duty a segment near the end of the ten o’clock news caught my attention.

  “In Syria today a British hostage was freed from the clutches of armed militia claiming allegiance to IS.”

  An aerial picture of a dusty street showed shadowy figures rushing from a square building. Just as they turned a corner the building exploded in a puff of sandy clouds.

  “Brenda Doll had been working with the Red Cross and taken hostage three months ago when handing out food to refugees. A statement of intent to murder her by the end of this month was issued last week on YouTube if three senior militants weren’t released from a French prison. The official statement is that British Special Forces were sent in when the situation became volatile and negotiations collapsed. One injury to a UK serviceman has been reported. Ms. Doll’s family have expressed their gratitude to the British Foreign Minister and all those involved in her release.”

  The screen panned to an elderly couple sat in their flowery living room, the woman clutching a tissue. The names Ethel and Derek Doll slid over the bottom of the picture. “We just want her home,” the man said. “Home with us and safe.”

  “Bloody hell.” I sat up from where I’d been leaning on Coben. “Do you think that’s Ed’s regiment?”

  He frowned and pushed to the edge of the sofa. “Probably.”

  “Wow, I mean…success, then.”

  “One injury.” He shook his head.

  “Injury not fatality, that’s good, and this Brenda Doll is free, so it was a success.” I shuddered as a tingle went up my spine. “Poor woman must have been terrified for the last three months.” Instinctively I rubbed my throat, thinking of the awful things that had been on the news in the past.

  “Yes.” He pushed his fingers through his hair that he still hadn’t gotten around to getting trimmed and shut his eyes.

  “What?” I asked.

  “A unit of six, one injured, no details if it’s critical—”

  “They would have said. One serviceman critically injured. That’s what they always say on things like this. One injury might be a broken arm or leg, cuts and bruises, nothing life threatening.”

  “Mmm…”

  “I’m right.” I glanced at the screen. The weather was on now. Brenda Doll had only been a small mention at the end of news that was full of politics and election campaigns—her freedom wasn’t as excit
ing as NHS cuts and the promise of a referendum on Europe despite those who’d risked their lives for her. “He’ll be fine. I can feel it.”

  “Can you?” Coben half smiled.

  “Yeah.” I wriggled against him. “And if that’s mission accomplished he’ll be back in London to finish his leave soon, won’t he?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And we can go out for that meal.” I smiled too. It felt good. My cheeks balled and my lips stretched in a way they hadn’t for a while. Worry had made my smiles few and far between, if there’d been any.

  The corners of Coben’s mouth twitched.

  “He hated that Helen worried herself silly about him,” I said. “I know we’ve been worried too, desperately worried, but we have each other. We can be strong together. There’s no secret about what’s on our mind and no reason to try and hide it.”

  “We can support one another.”

  “Yes.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “We can, and when he comes back we’ll be here for him, solid and strong and not be wrecked with worry.”

  “He’s good at his job.” Coben nodded at the screen.

  “Yes, so we need to have faith.”

  He looked at me intently. “You’re right,” he said. “As usual.” He grinned, a gorgeous full-wattage grin. “He’ll be back after a debrief. A few days maybe.”

  “Good.” I kissed him and pressed my breasts against his chest.

  “Is it bed time?” he asked.

  “Well I’m not especially tired.” I felt light and floaty and also in the mood for sex.

  “Me neither.” Coben stood and held out his hand. “Come on, Mrs. Wright, I want you naked and under me.”

  I giggled. “So romantic.”

  “Yep, that’s what the military taught me about romance.”

  “Not much, then.”

  He swatted my ass as I stepped past him. “Bloody cheek, I took you to Paris six months ago.”

  “So when is my trip to Venice, soldier?”

  “I’m taking you to Heaven first.” He flicked off the light, then wrapped his arms around my waist as we climbed the stairs. He kissed my neck, his lips hot on my skin.