A Broken Christmas
Page 6
Kyle dragged his mouth away from hers and reached behind his neck to grab the collar of his shirt. He doffed it in one yank and tossed it aside, giving her hands room to play across the hard planes of his chest. She curled her fingertips into muscle, reveled in the feel of his warm skin. God, how she’d missed him. How she’d missed this.
As a smile touched her tingling lips, he dipped his head, and grazed the side of her neck with his teeth. Heat rolled through her veins, igniting sparks of ecstasy that tripped down her spine all the way to her toes. She arched her back, slid her hands to his shoulders, and let out a quiet moan. Kyle.
He brought his mouth back to hers, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh of her lower lip. She sensed his urgency, understood the frantic need for all-consuming contact. They’d been too long apart, their mutual needs too long ignored, and now, they came together in one cataclysmic burst of spontaneous fire. Aimee’s hands entangled his, got in the way. His awkwardness thwarted her attempts to push down the waistband of his sweats. With a frustrated groan, Kyle broke their kiss and braced his weight on his good arm as he took charge of undressing himself.
Aimee followed suit, unfastening her robe and shimmying out of her flannel pajama bottoms. She kicked the cloth off her ankles, then reached for Kyle, urging his heated body into hers, craving the feel of his skin flush with hers. When he yielded and sank into her embrace, the hot hard length of his cock nestled between her moist nether lips, teasing her with the promise of absolute fulfillment. She spread her knees in willing welcome and glided her hands down his back to squeeze his buttocks. Lifting off the floor, she rolled her hips into his.
Kyle’s hard breath rasped against her cheek. A shudder rocked his shoulders. For one frightening moment, he went utterly still. Aimee’s thoughts careened, nearing the verge of panic. He couldn’t be retreating. She’d crack into pieces if he pulled away from her and locked himself in that dark place she couldn’t reach. Stay with me.
Opening her eyes, she took in the tight lines around his mouth and the way his teeth pricked his lower lip. Not stopping—no, he fought for control.
Control she didn’t want him to find.
She speared her fingers into his short hair and urged his mouth to hers once more. Kyle’s hips drove forward, his erection slipping through her slickened flesh. As she suckled at his lower lip, she flattened her feet on the floor and rubbed against his swollen shaft. A low groan rumbled in the back of Kyle’s throat, the sound matching her pleasured mewl.
He pulled his hips away, and on one forceful thrust, slid deep inside her.
****
Aimee’s sharp cry barely registered in Kyle’s mind. The wet heat of her willing flesh eradicated all ability to consider her comfort and sent him barreling headlong down the path of unchecked desire. For fourteen long months he’d done everything he could to convince himself he didn’t want Aimee. Bent over backwards to convince her of the same. But the need he felt for her refused to die the death he wished upon it, and the warm grip of her inner muscles as she gloved him tight was the homecoming he’d fantasized about every night in the hospital beds in Germany.
He no longer cared about complications. No longer concerned himself with what came after. All he knew was the brush of Aimee’s lips against his, the jagged fall of her raspy breath, and the absolute ecstasy of sliding through her flesh.
Pleasure soaked through him. He shook with the force of his need and clamped his teeth together to keep from spewing nonsensical murmurings he wouldn’t be able to explain later. What mattered was here and now. Feeling her around him. Savoring the way she lifted her legs and locked them around his waist, taking him even deeper. Shit, he wasn’t going to last long. Not like this.
Then again, he didn’t care. Aimee had provoked him. She refused to listen to what he tried to tell her—her fault if he spent himself before she was ready. Though, strangely, she didn’t seem at all offended by his callous quest for release. She met his hard thrusts with her own insistent counter rhythm. Angled her hips so each deep plunge stroked the sensitive nub between her legs.
He pulled in a short breath and drove in deep, until he touched the mouth of her womb. Her inner muscles contracted around his throbbing erection, and she let out a low, guttural moan. Ecstasy pounded at his senses. She surrounded him, dominated his awareness. The sweet fragrance of her perfume carried him to a place of innocence, a place where Afghanistan and Denton couldn’t touch him.
Aimee offered him forgiveness he didn’t deserve yet he desperately needed.
Lost to a tidal wave of indescribable pleasure, he shifted his weight to his good arm and glanced down to where they joined. The sight of his hard flesh, slick with her arousal, slipping in and out of her was like an electric current to his already overcharged body. He ground his teeth together against a surge of sweet pain and thrust into her feminine depths once more.
Aimee keened. Her nails bit into his shoulders, the painful pinch erasing the last of his awareness. Release rocketed through his body, and on a hoarse groan, he pumped once more, then spilled himself inside her. She held on tight, her feminine flesh pulsing in time with his cock, milking him dry. His body slowly stilled, and Kyle lowered himself into Aimee’s sated embrace.
How she could have possibly found pleasure, he couldn’t explain. Yet, she had, and the part of him that couldn’t carve her out of his heart took a modicum of relief in the fact he hadn’t completely failed her.
He glanced down at her swollen mouth and heavy eyelids, and that same part of his soul kicked him in the chest. Christ, what had he done? He’d let her push him where he didn’t want to go. Where he couldn’t go again—right back into her arms.
Disgusted with himself, Kyle pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his cropped hair. He snatched his pants off the floor, stepped over her as she panted for air, and locked himself in the bathroom. Both hands braced on the countertop, he stared at his reflection. He didn’t recognize the insensitive bastard looking back at him. That man had turned into a savage animal. One who sensed willing woman, and without a single thought to consequence or how Aimee might interpret sex, he’d selfishly gone after his own pleasure.
Only a monster could treat a woman who’d never been anything but tender with that kind of disregard. He’d fucked her for Christ’s sake. Aimee deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.
Chapter Seven
Aimee slowly dragged herself to a sitting position then eased to her feet. Muscles she hadn’t used in over a year twitched with exhaustion and strain. But making love to Kyle was worth every moment of the dull aches that would come later. Sure, he’d used her body as an outlet, she didn’t try to fool herself into believing what just happened in her hallway was anything less. Beyond that obvious truth, however, lay something deeper—she’d connected with Kyle on a level they both understood. A plateau no one else could infringe upon or influence.
She glanced at the locked bathroom door as she pulled on her pajama bottoms. Kyle needed that connection. She couldn’t count the number of times he’d returned home from a mission and dragged her into bed the minute he walked in the door. Not just because he missed her, but because something he couldn’t talk about drove him to seek out the living, the reality of life, not the horrors of war.
The same underlying need filtered through moments ago, despite his rough hands and even rougher body.
Pipes shuddered as Kyle turned on the bathroom sink, and Aimee retreated into the privacy of their bedroom where she stripped out of her clothes. Red splotches on her inner thighs from his hipbones marked flesh that would inevitably bruise in the next few hours. Not what she wanted denim rubbing against. Instead, she tugged on a pair of heavy cotton workout pants and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over her head.
She’d leave him to his solitude—time to tackle that Christmas list she’d put off for far too long. With two shopping days left, she couldn’t piddle around any longer and hope to find a decent selection in the stores.
Silence answered.
Aimee shrugged. Let him lock himself away physically. He would have to confront her eventually.
She pulled open the front door to discover big fat snowflakes falling from the sky. A thin layer of white blanketed the tips of the surrounding trees, and a hush had descended on the sparse woods. Grey skies overhead promised significant snowfall. She smiled. From the looks of things, they’d have a white Christmas after all.
A twinge of melancholy settled around her shoulders. Christmas had always been their favorite holiday. Kyle brought home a tree if he was home. They decorated together, she hanging all the ornaments save for the star, which Kyle placed seconds before they turned the tree on. Without fail, they finished at nightfall, and while she poured them both a glass of wine, he lit the fire.
When he wasn’t home, she put up the fake one. She left the star off and didn’t light the tree until he came back and they could complete the tradition together. Had he noticed the spindly pine still lacked its topper? For that matter, had he noticed the layer of dust that had accumulated since last December?
Probably not. He was too busy wallowing to observe little things like that. Even if he had noticed, he wouldn’t say anything—mentioning the missing star would open the door to discussing why he filed for divorce a month later. It would mean explaining why he told everyone but her and Conner that when he deployed three months earlier, he didn’t intend on returning. Maybe he’d legitimately changed his mind, but when he left, he was every bit as in love with her as she was him.
She let herself into Kyle’s four-wheel drive Jeep, backed out of their driveway, and headed down the narrow road that wound through the woods. As she drove, she took in the tall pines and trekked through memories of the first Christmas they’d spent in this secluded house. Newly wed, they’d been snowed in with her mother, forcing them to entertain for a week when all they really wanted to do was break in every corner of their new home. At times, the disaster became almost comical—her mother trying to ignore the fact they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, the way they disappeared a little too long to do some chore easily accomplished solo. No three people had ever been more glad to part ways when the road crews finally made it down the back roads, giving her mother the opportunity to return home.
With an amused shake of her head, Aimee chuckled. That had seemed like a tedious holiday. This one, however, put their first year to shame. If only she could solve things with a snowplow this Christmas.
She nosed out onto the main route and turned toward the mall. No plow would uncover the man she had married six years ago, and all the salt in the county sheds wouldn’t de-ice Kyle either. She couldn’t repair her failed marriage with sex alone. The key to unlocking Kyle was to get him talking, and to accomplish that, she needed answers. Catch-22.
Unless…
Aimee flipped a u-turn at the wide intersection. She’d seen the photos, knew where to start. State secrets be damned, she didn’t need to know details. A general idea would help, and there was one person she hadn’t tried to pry information out of.
She glided into Major Renfield’s driveway and shut off the engine. Friday morning—the Major would be in his office. Betty, his wife, however, was at home.
Aimee jumped out of the Jeep. Squaring her shoulders, she approached the door. If luck was in her favor, all the times she’d volunteered to help Betty with this function and that event still carried weight, despite Aimee’s divorced status. Her hand shook as she pushed the doorbell.
Betty answered through the intercom, “Who is it?”
Clearing her voice, Aimee thumbed the white button. “Betty? It’s me, Aimee Garland. Do you have a moment?”
Either Betty had been standing on the other side, or she’d moved from her usual pre-lunch place in the kitchen in record time—the door swung open in seconds. “Aimee! My goodness, it’s good to see you. Come in.” Gold hoop earrings bobbed as she stepped aside and beckoned Aimee inside. “What brings you over here?”
Aimee stamped her feet on the entryway rug. Her smile wobbled. “It’s about Kyle, Betty. I’m…worried about him.”
Ushering Aimee to the white couch in the wide front room, Betty nodded in understanding. “Wilson is, too. Is he bad off?”
“He’s not good.”
Betty sat on the edge of the chair across from Aimee and folded her hands delicately in her lap. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t realize you were still in contact with Kyle.”
So she did know Kyle had cut her off completely. Which meant Major Renfield had probably told her about Aimee’s numerous trips to his office as well. Nothing that particularly surprised Aimee—but a subtle reveal that warned her this wouldn’t be easy. She forced more strength into her smile. “I’m trying to help him get back on his feet.”
“Oh, good then. You’ve got so much more strength than me. I don’t think I could bring myself to help Wilson given the same…circumstances. But then, you two have been through some tough times together, haven’t you? I mean…with your…loss and all. I don’t know how you do it, Aimee.”
Good grief, why couldn’t people leave the miscarriage alone? Yes, she’d spent two months grieving to the point she lost her own sanity. Yes, she’d needed another month with some counseling. But she had moved on. It was time everyone else did.
She changed the subject. “I need to know what Wilson’s told you, Betty. I found pictures of a man, an Afghani man, that Kyle tore up. I can’t help him unless I understand.”
Betty’s mouth pursed into a hard line. “I…can’t. I’m sorry, but the little I know—” She shook her head. “You understand these things. You’ve been through six years of it. Before that, you served six years of your own. Things went wrong. That’s all I can say.”
Standard freaking party line. Aimee resisted the urge to scream. She tempered frustration by standing up and crossing to the stone mantel to inspect Betty’s elaborate nativity scene. Fingering a delicate miniature sheep that stood amidst slivers of sliced straw, she said quietly, “Kyle’s crippled, Betty. Who knows if he’ll ever heal fully. I’m a nurse, and I can’t fix what’s damaged on the outside. But I might be able to fix what’s broken on the inside, if someone will give me something to work with.”
“Aimee, I’m sorry. If you two were still married… You aren’t even enlisted any more. You can’t expect me to—”
She dropped the sheep and spun around to face Betty once more. “Don’t give me the rank and file lecture! Right now, he’s facing the loss of his career—for Kyle that’s devastating. There’s something else though. Whatever that is, it’s more destructive than his injuries. He needs help.”
Betty’s face flushed with chagrin, and she looked down at her stylish heels. “I could speak to the chaplain. He would know what to say to convince Kyle speak to a therapist.”
“A therapist? Come on, Betty! I spent one month in counseling. I lost a baby at 19 weeks. I gave birth on a stretcher in my driveway and buried my son the next day.” As anger fueled her response, Aimee’s voice rose. “I didn’t suffer a job-related tragedy and people still side step around me because I couldn’t handle it. You know what would happen to Kyle. Slap a PTSD label on him, and no soldier will look him in the eye again!”
Betty wrung her hands together. She lifted her gaze, her flush deep crimson. As she nervously glanced around the room, she opened her mouth to speak, then quickly snapped it shut with a shake of her head.
“Tell me. Tell me how to help Kyle.”
Her hard exhale stirred the blonde bangs framing her face, and Betty looked at Aimee, once more the cool, reserved, Major’s wife. “If you want to help him, get him to talk to Walsh. They were there together. Meanwhile, there is one thing I can tell you.”
Relief surged through Aimee, easing the building
tension in her spine. She gave Betty a jerky nod. “Please.”
“His career is only over if he chooses to leave. Wilson offered him another position. He’d stay with Sind Krait, but in a strategic capacity. He would lead through intelligence analysis, source assessment, asset management, and essentially everything he’s doing now, but in a capacity that doesn’t depend on physical capabilities.” She smoothed her long wool skirt down her thighs. “He has until Sind Krait deploys again to make a decision. If he doesn’t respond, Wilson will assign someone else to the position, and Kyle will have to submit his resignation.”
Aimee blinked. Although the tidbit Betty imparted was nothing along the lines of what Aimee had hoped to achieve, it helped. Kyle wouldn’t forfeit his career. She knew the idea of a desk job gave him the heebie jeebies, but if she used the right angles, she could make him see the merit in Major Renfield’s offer. He still had a duty to do. Still had professional purpose. She just needed to make him realize it.
“Thank you, Betty,” she whispered.
A warm smile drifted over Betty’s mouth. “I’m sorry too, Aimee. For not being able to tell you more…and for sidestepping, as you call it.”
Nodding, Aimee went to the door. “Thank you for seeing me. I’ll let you get back to cooking.”
“You could stay for a cup of coffee, if you’d like.”
No way, no how. Aimee shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have some Christmas shopping to do.”
Rising to her feet, Betty crossed to the door. “Then come and visit with me soon. It really is good to see you.”
“I will. Thank you.” Aimee flashed her another forced smile and let herself out.
****
Sitting on the couch, Kyle stared at the empty hole on the top of the Christmas tree where the star should have rested. That barren patch of dark evergreen only made him feel four times worse than he had before Aimee left. It symbolized the gaping hole inside him, the incompleteness of his life. Like the box resting on top of the television that held the gold tinsel topper, everything he needed was right in front of him. Waiting for him to put things back together the way they were supposed to be.