Solitary Soldier

by Debra Webb

  “Don’t drop me,” she cried with his same urgency.

  “Never.”

  Her body trembling, Rachel focused on the powerful hand gripping her forearm. She had to trust him or she was going to die. He wouldn’t let her fall. Her eyes met his again and understanding passed between them. Rachel released the limb. Her weight sagged in Sloan’s hold. Then he was pulling her upward. Over the ledge. Into his arms as he sat back on the ground.

  “You scared the hell out of me.” His hands were moving over her body. Checking for injury, assuring himself that she was unharmed.

  Rachel slumped in his arms. She felt weak with relief. Her arms felt like overcooked noodles. She had almost fallen to her death, but Sloan had saved her. Now, as she sat safe in his arms, the pain of leaving Josh enshrouded her once more. She wanted to cry.

  “You’re okay now,” he murmured near her cheek. The firm, warmth of his mouth caressed her skin.

  Rachel didn’t want to move. But he was lifting her. She wanted to close her eyes and forget this whole night.

  “We have to hurry,” he soothed as if feeling the need to explain why he couldn’t keep holding her that way.

  Somehow she was on her feet, his right arm around her waist, supporting her. She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his lean waist. After all she had been through tonight she needed that simple pleasure.

  RACHEL COULDN’T BE sure how much time passed, but she felt the change in the terrain beneath her feet. They had descended the mountain and were back on level ground, she decided. At least as level as the sandy earth and occasional clump of desert scrub got around here.

  The wind whipped angrily against them, making their forward progress slow. Rachel huddled close to Sloan’s big body for protection. They were walking directly into the wind, its force making each step a challenge now. Surely it wasn’t far to the house. Rachel had no idea how far they had traveled or for how long.

  “Wait.”

  Rachel looked up at Sloan, his face lost in the darkness created by the thickening clouds. He withdrew something from his pocket. A handkerchief. He folded it into a triangle and tied it around her mouth and nose. Before she could ask why, the wind slashed them, sand stung her eyes.

  “Keep your head down,” he shouted above nature’s fury.

  She lowered her head and pressed closer to his body as they started forward again. He shielded her as best he could from the angry wind and blinding sand. His body was warm and inviting. He felt hard and amazingly male. Despite everything, her own body responded to his. The warmth and protection he offered had been sorely lacking in her life for so very long that Rachel couldn’t help but want it when she finally found it.

  What felt like hours later, but was probably only minutes, they reached the gate. Sloan entered the code and the huge iron bars opened. They stumbled through it and moved toward the house. The gate closed behind them with a teeth-rattling clang. The wind roared like a ferocious beast. Rachel shivered, thankful they were nearing the safety of the house.

  Once they were inside Sloan ushered her to her room. “Get out of those clothes and get in the shower. Rinse your eyes,” he ordered.

  His tawny hair was tousled and sand clung to his skin wherever it was bare. His eyes were red. He had told her to keep her head down, but he’d had to watch where they were going.

  “You need something for your eyes.” A doctor was her first thought. The sand could damage his eyes permanently. She touched his cheek. “Is there a doctor we can call?”

  He backed away from her touch. “I have eye drops.” He nodded toward the bathroom door. “Take a shower.”

  He turned away before she could answer and strode out the door. Exhaustion weighed down on her then. Every step she had taken crossing that mountain manifested itself in her trembling limbs. Determined to follow his orders before she collapsed, Rachel trudged to the bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water heated she stripped off her sandy clothes. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and grimaced. Though her eyes weren’t as red as Sloan’s, she looked a fright. She blinked, noticing the gritty feel for the first time. Her hair was a mess. Sand added new texture to her scalp and skin.

  She stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to work its magic. She had a feeling it would take plenty of soap and shampoo to wash away the layer of grit. But nothing would erase the dizzying emotions whirling inside her. Leaving Josh behind. Touching Sloan. Needing his touch.

  She sagged against the tiled wall. She was hopeless.

  SLOAN TOWEL-DRIED his body. Pain radiated through his right shoulder and he grimaced. He twisted at the waist to see in the mirror what he’d done to himself. It wasn’t that bad. Just a scrape. He’d live. He tugged on clean jeans, but didn’t bother to fully fasten them. Instead, he reached for the drops that would hopefully provide some relief for the fire in his eyes. He tilted his head back and dispensed two drops in each eye. His eyes squeezed shut, he waited for the medicine to do its job and for the new kind of burn to subside.

  He tossed the drops on the counter and blinked to adjust his blurred vision. He threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing the damp mass away from his face. Muttering a curse, he flexed his right shoulder. Though Rachel was a featherweight, pulling her up with one arm while holding on with the other had taken its toll. He slung the holstered weapon over his left shoulder. Angel or his watcher could show up anytime.

  And this time Sloan would be ready.

  Leaving the pile of sandy clothes on the bathroom floor, he padded barefoot into his bedroom. He needed a shirt, then he would check on Rachel. She’d gotten a little sand in her eyes, it wouldn’t hurt for her to use the drops as well. The thought of her falling into that canyon still ignited fear inside him. The call had been too close for comfort. A soft knock jerked his gaze to the open doorway.

  Looking uncertain and entirely too vulnerable, Rachel moistened her lips. To Sloan’s irritation, his body responded instantly.

  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she said hesitantly.

  He closed his eyes for a second and let go a weary breath. Maybe he had imagined her. When his eyes opened again, she was still there. What the hell was she concerned about him for? He didn’t need her concern or anything else she had to offer. The arousal growing in his unfastened jeans defied his mental declaration.

  “I’m fine.” Sloan gave her his back and strode to the closet. He blocked the image of her standing in his doorway wearing only a T-shirt. Heat rushed through him at the memory of what lay beneath that thin cotton. Her pink nipples would bud at his slightest touch. He clenched his jaw and squashed the thought.

  “You’re hurt.”

  She was across the room and right behind him before he could turn around. “It’s nothing.” He faced her, denying her access to his injured shoulder.

  Her gaze narrowed in challenge. “If it’s nothing, then let me see.”

  “I said—” he leaned intimidatingly nearer “—it’s nothing.”

  “Liar,” she retorted with a defiant lift of her chin. “I’m not leaving this room until you let me check it out.”

  Sloan breathed a four-letter word that made her eyes go wide. He abandoned the shirt he’d started to take from its hanger and turned his back to her.

  “Damn.” Her soft fingers traced the area near his right shoulder blade and down to his side beneath his arm. “This is a good deal more than nothing.”

  “It’s just a scrape,” he growled. Why the hell didn’t she go to sleep? She had to be exhausted. The feel of her warm fingers was playing havoc with his ability to think clearly. “It’ll heal without any help.”

  “Where’s your first aid kit?” she insisted, ignoring his argument.

  Slowly, deliberately, Sloan turned to face her. He glowered down at her, unable to completely mask the desire mushrooming inside him. His defense cracked when faced with the naive desire staring back at him from her big brown eyes. “Look,” he began bluntly,
“maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m as horny as hell. And you’re only making things harder.”

  The startled look that claimed her expression told him he had hit his mark. She visibly faltered. But his triumph was short lived when her gaze slid slowly down his body, paused at his half-open fly, then widened as a little hitch disrupted her breathing.

  Sloan swore, another four-letter word that jerked her gaze back up to his. “Go back to your room, Rachel, before you get more than you came in here for.” Lust thickened his voice, but that couldn’t be prevented. In about five seconds he was going to be beyond reasoning.

  She danced back a step. Crimson bloomed on her cheeks. “The first aid kit,” she mumbled. “If you’ll just tell me where it is I’ll get it.”

  He had to face the fact that she wasn’t going to give up on playing doctor. Sloan heaved a disgusted breath. He supposed she felt some sort of compulsion to attend to his injury since he’d kept her from falling to her death.

  “Fine.” He planted his hands at his waist and allowed his gaze to travel slowly over her scantily clad body. “The first aid kit’s in the kitchen under the sink.” She turned to scurry away. “But—” she glanced back “—don’t say I didn’t warn you about keeping your distance.”

  She blinked, uncertain, then hurried from the room. Sloan shook his head. He was an idiot. He wanted her. He raked his fingers through his hair. He would have her if she set foot back in his bedroom tonight.

  And tomorrow they would both regret it.

  Chapter Nine

  He had warned her.

  Rachel hesitated outside Sloan’s bedroom door. She shifted from one foot to the other, an attack of second thoughts throwing a damper on her enthusiasm. Gripping the first aid kit like a shield in both hands, she blew out a shaky breath. He meant what he said. She hadn’t missed the fire in his eyes. A fire that burned for her. She chewed her lower lip. God help her, she wanted him, too.

  She wasn’t supposed to, she knew that. Sloan frightened her beyond reason on a level that had nothing to do with her physical safety, yet he drew her on so many other levels that she simply could not ignore the need. With each day that passed the desire to know him fully grew stronger.

  She had to be crazy.

  If she walked back into that room…this was insane. Rachel turned to go, but hesitated. The memory of the intensity in his eyes halted her. The promise that he would keep her safe when he reached for her as she hung on for her life, her legs dangling in thin air. The understanding in his eyes when she spoke of how Angel had seduced her…Sloan understood as no one else could. The pain in those same eyes each time he looked at Josh, but Sloan protected him just the same. Rachel had never known a man as selfless. She admired and respected him…as much as she had the only other man who had made her feel safe, her father.

  But this man wanted the woman in her.

  Just like she wanted the man in him.

  If she never did anything else right in her entire life, she would do this. She knew deep in her heart that it was right. He needed her…much more so than even he knew. She understood that. The bitter indifference was nothing but a suit of armor he wore to protect his heart from further damage. Though Rachel was well aware that they had no future together, because of Josh…and what Angel had done, she could give Sloan the only thing she had to give. Her complete trust in the most intimate way a man and woman could come together. If that one act could make him feel again, could make him see that he could care, that he could give himself that way, then it would be worth it.

  Rachel almost laughed at herself. What was she thinking? She was no savior. Hell, she had been too busy running for her life to even be a Good Samaritan these past five years. Besides, she reminded that part of her that wanted to reach out to him, Sloan had never once said he wanted to be saved. She drew in a deep, bolstering breath and released it slowly. But he did want her, physically anyway.

  Before she totally lost her courage Rachel squared her shoulders and strode through the still open door. Across the room the French doors were open. Sloan stood, his back to her, staring out at the dark night. His long, tawny hair, still not completely dry, fell around his broad shoulders, curled around his nape. Her mouth parched as her gaze slid over that perfect butt she had admired on more than one occasion the past few days. She honestly could not recall ever having fixated on a man’s butt. Not until Sloan.

  He turned around and Rachel’s heart leaped. His gaze skimmed her body, making her feel suddenly naked and entirely too warm. Electricity flowed beneath her skin when her own gaze moved over that beautifully sculpted torso. He took one step toward her. Just one, then waited.

  Could he possibly feel a glimmer of the trepidation she felt right now?

  “I found it.” Rachel displayed the first aid kit like a prize. It was her acceptable excuse for entering his room again despite his warning. “It…it was right where you said it would be,” she rushed on when he took another step.

  His gaze never deviated from her. He simply watched while she mentally squirmed.

  And she burned because of it. Burned for his touch, for the sound of his voice…

  She gestured to one of the chairs flanking a table in the center of the room. “Sit down and I’ll—” she blinked at the intensity now aimed directly into her eyes “—I’ll tend that…nasty abrasion.”

  Unable to hold his gaze a moment longer she crossed to the table and opened the first aid kit. Its contents spilled across the shiny mahogany surface. Her cheeks flaming, she picked through the items as if contemplating the selection. At least this way she wouldn’t have to look at him, and she would have something to do with her hands. He was closer now. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. What did she know about reaching out to a man like Sloan?

  He moved up behind her and Rachel could not prevent the shiver that raced up her spine. His wide hand closed over hers, stilling the fingers fishing through the scattered contents of the well-stocked kit. His thumb caressed her palm making her heart lurch.

  “You’re not afraid I’ll make good on my warning.” The fingers of his other hand threaded into her hair, then allowed the length of it to slip through them.

  Rachel closed her eyes and savored the sensations that washed over her from his slightest touch. She shook her head in answer to his question. She was many things, unsure of her fate, unprepared for his impact to her heart, not certain of her ability to please him, but she was not afraid of him in that way. Not any more. Maybe she never was.

  He released her hand only to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close. The feel of his hard male body against her buttocks was almost more than she could bear. Her breath fled her lungs when he moved her hair aside to kiss her neck. Firm and hot, his lips teased her neck, made a path to her ear.

  “Is this what you want?” He pressed her more firmly against his undeniable arousal.

  Rachel couldn’t contain the little sound that escaped her, half moan, half gasp.

  He inhaled deeply against her hair, then hummed a note of pleasure. “You smell nice.” His fingers splayed on her abdomen, pressing her closer still. His tongue traced the shell of her ear, she shivered. “But, I have to tell you,” he rasped, then nipped her earlobe, “I’ve never been overly fond of virgins.”

  Rachel whipped around in his hold. She stared at him, stunned that he would say such a thing. “You know that’s not true.” Why was he doing this? Was he trying to push her away? Or simply playing some sort of game?

  A wicked smile tilted one side of his full mouth, making her pulse skip. “I’ve read your file. I know everything there is to know. Not to mention that I undressed you.”

  Her cesarean section scar. She’d been in labor too long, Josh had gone into distress. But that didn’t lend credit to his calling her a virgin.

  “But Angel and I—”

  His expression turned savage so fast that Rachel drew back from the fierceness of it. “I have my doubts as to whether he did the job
right.”

  She shook her head, suddenly uneasy. Nothing he said made sense. “I don’t understand.”

  He lowered his head, his gaze intent on hers. That fiery desire was back in his eyes again. “You will,” he murmured before taking her mouth.

  His kiss was greedy. He left no question as to what he wanted. The heat of it filled her so fast that she felt lightheaded. Her arms found their way around his neck. He lifted her against him and want arrowed straight to her feminine core. The feel of his chest against her breasts even through the thin cotton of her T-shirt made her weak with desire. His tongue slid over the seam of her lips, urging her to open for him. She opened instantly, unable to do otherwise. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and her thighs quivered. His hands moved beneath the hem of her T-shirt and squeezed her bottom, lifted her more firmly into him.

  The groan that sounded could have come from either of them. Rachel didn’t know nor did she care, she only wanted to feel more of him. Her fingers tunneled into his long hair, and she reveled in the silkiness of it. She had known it would feel like that. The rigid angle of his jaw, the corded length of his neck, then the smooth contours of his awesome chest. Her fingers learned them all. The taut ridges of his abdomen, his lean hips, the tight feel of his butt. Anticipation zipped through her, urging her seeking hands over his bare back, down his muscular sides. She wanted to touch him all over.

  He ushered her into the chair behind her, then dropped to his knees between her thighs. His mouth left hers only long enough to drag the T-shirt over her head. Then he kissed her even harder, his tongue delving, touching, teasing, his hands circling her waist. He showered a trail of kisses down her throat, lingering at the pulse points, tasting her, making her crave more.

  “Sloan,” she whimpered.

  His mouth closed over her breast and her inner muscles convulsed. She cried out, wanting to encourage him, but unsure how. The exquisite torture continued. He nibbled, licked, then suckled until she wanted to scream with the need building inside her. She wanted more, needed more, but more would only make the sweet agony last longer.