by Lori Foster
Ham fetched a box that he’d left on the table in the foyer. Sitting beside her, he opened it and pulled out the framed photograph on top.
“This stayed on your dad’s desk, in the lefthand corner. It was as much a part of his office as his chair and bookshelf.”
Liv recognized the five-by-seven photo as one Ham had taken of her years ago. It was only months after her mother had passed away. She’d been baking, determined to make her father a “welcome home” meal that he’d never forget. Long curls, damp with sweat, hung in her face, and her clothes were limp and disheveled.
“That night, Daddy told me I was as good a cook as my mother.” She smiled, remembering one of the good times. “He didn’t even complain that the meatloaf was dry or the rolls a little burned.”
“He bragged to me that you were one hell of a fine cook.”
Laughing, Liv said, “I bet that’s exactly how he put it, too.”
Ham’s arm slid around her shoulders, comfortable and familiar. “Word for word.”
Liv challenged him with a teasing look. “Is that why you had it framed for him?”
Caught off guard, Ham stalled, and finally rolled one shoulder with a guilty grin. “He liked the photo. Whenever anyone came to his office, they’d look at that picture and ask about it. Weston would hold it with pride and tell everyone that you were his daughter.”
Desperately, Liv clutched at this small proof of affection. “Did he talk about me much?”
“Truthfully? He wanted me to court you.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out. “Court me?”
“He considered me worthy of his one and only daughter.” Ham pulled out another photo. “This one sat on his bookshelf. He’d always point out what a handsome couple we made, and believe me, your dad didn’t have an ounce of subtlety.”
Skeptical, Liv accepted the smaller, three-by-five shot of her with Hamilton at a military function. She smiled at the camera, but Hamilton stood in profile, his absorbed gaze on Liv’s face. Seeing the picture, and his expression, actually made her blush. “I don’t recognize this one.”
“I have no idea who took it. But it’s been in your dad’s office for years.”
“What did you tell him when he…well, talked about us?”
Stretching out his long legs, Hamilton settled back in the couch and took the picture from her, examining it in minute detail. “I told him the truth. That he’d soured you on the military.”
Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t.”
“Not in so many words. But I explained that you weren’t interested in an officer. I told him you wanted a regular nine-to-five kind of husband. One who came home every night instead of being gone months, sometimes years, at a time.”
Fascinated, Liv prompted, “And he said…?”
“That you were just like your mother.” He tore his attention from the photo and settled it on her instead. “He said that a lot, honey. Always with affection, never complaining. He loved her, just as he loved you.”
That left Liv speechless.
Ham smiled. “And then he’d tell me I should damn well work harder at convincing you.”
Before Liv could dwell on that too long, Hamilton drew out a variety of medals. “I figured you’d want these.”
“They’re all his?”
“All the ones I could locate before flying here. He might have more tucked away in his quarters. I’m sure he has more ribbons.” Ham pulled out five Meritorious Service Medals, four Air Force Commendation Medals and a Bronze Star.
He gave her a long look. “In all my years in the air force, I’ve only known two Bronze Star recipients.”
New emotions swelled inside her, crowding out the resentment. In a reverent whisper, she quoted, “Given for acts of heroism and meritorious achievement.”
Holding up the medal, Ham said, “Weston was definitely a hero.” He laid the small badge in Liv’s hands, curled her fingers around it. He, too, dropped his tone to one of solemn respect. “Your dad did some pretty impressive things during wartime. He wasn’t always there when you and your mother needed him, but a lot of soldiers relied on him and he never let them down.”
Liv held the medal to her heart, overwhelmed, touched, forgiving.
Watching her, Ham flattened his mouth. “Plenty of men are willing to risk their necks to save the people they love. But Weston did it for people he didn’t even know.”
Liv absorbed the enormity of her father’s contribution, how important he’d been to so many.
And Hamilton was no different.
He didn’t think twice about the risks he took. Instead, he embraced them gladly, determined to serve the country he loved, the people who relied on him, without ever seeing himself as a hero.
Her heart expanded, and with it, her love. She put the medal back in the box and laid a hand on Hamilton’s forearm. “I should have understood.”
“Maybe,” Ham said, “but Weston should have included you as one of his priorities. He didn’t make it easy for others to get close to him. He was always reserved, very self-contained. Some men are that way, whether they’re career military or not. Some women, too, I imagine.”
Liv stared at him with new eyes. He was so selfless, so caring of others, that he didn’t realize her new understanding extended to him. “You’re right, of course.”
“You knew my parents, Liv. They weren’t very caring, but neither were they military. I keep telling you, one doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Her smiling agreement finally registered, and his brows pulled down with suspicion. “What did you say?”
Liv laughed, a little giddy, a lot in love, more at peace than she’d been in years. “I’m sorry. Now I’ve confused you, haven’t I?”
His mouth opened, but then slowly closed. He surveyed her warily. “I would never deliberately hurt you, Liv. You have to believe that.”
“I know.”
Neck stiff, shoulders rigid and eyes direct, he added, “But I can’t leave the air force.”
Accepting, Liv nodded. “I know that, too.” She lifted the box of medals and photos from his lap and set them on the table.
“Liv…”
Rather than hear whatever he planned to say, she rose to her knees, leaned into him and cupped his face—and kissed him silly. It wasn’t often that she took the initiative, but for once, she wanted to put what Ham wanted, what he needed, first.
She’d been incredibly selfish, but no more.
At the prodding of her small tongue, he groaned and gave in. Gathering her across his lap, he returned her kiss with enthusiastic heat. Until she pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans.
Breathing hard, he rasped, “Hold up, Liv.”
“No.” Slipping both hands beneath the material, she stroked his hot, hard flesh, the crisp hair on his broad chest, over his impressive pecs. He felt so good, so much a man. Her man. Being with him felt right.
It always had. “Hamilton? What time is it?”
He went blank, a little dazed, then he glanced at his watch. After clearing his throat, he growled, “Nineteen hundred…”
Laughing, Liv caught his wrist and turned it so she could see the dial. “A little after seven o’clock. Hmm.” Slanting him a coy look, she said, “Close enough to bedtime.”
And truthfully, he had to be tired. God only knew how much running he’d done since the report of her father’s death. Knowing Hamilton, he’d probably moved heaven and hell to arrange things to his satisfaction. The emotional toll was tough enough, but he had to be physically exhausted, too.
He held himself very still. “Bedtime?”
“Yes.” Working up her nerve, Liv spoke straight from her heart. “Make love to me, Hamilton.”
He squeezed his eyes shut—then caught her hands and held her still.
“Ham?”
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”
“I know what I want to do to you.”
Her heart beat so hard, it made her tremble. “Everything…meaning?” Did he want to marry her?
“Tell me you love me.”
Emotions warred against one another, hope and tenderness, disappointment and desire. She wanted to tell him, she really did, but the words strangled in her throat.
“Admit it, Liv.” And then, almost desperate he implored, “Tell me.”
What did it matter? He obviously already knew. In the long run, it wouldn’t change anything. As he’d said, he couldn’t leave the air force, and she couldn’t survive as a military wife, alone and lonely, always filled with worry.
But in the short run…?
They could make memories hot enough to carry them through the endless winter nights to come. At the moment, that’s what she wanted most. Tomorrow, next week, next year—every long night that she spent without him—could be dealt with later.
Meeting his fierce gaze, Liv nodded. “Yes. I love you, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Wulf.”
The change in him was astounding. One moment she was on his lap, and in the next, he’d blown out the candle and stood.
Holding her in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, he asked, “What about Jack?”
The dog stared up at them anxiously.
Even now, with lust bright in his eyes, Ham had the consideration to think of her pet. Could there be a more big-hearted, strong, compassionate man anywhere?
Liv wanted to melt. She wanted to change the future so she could have him forever. She wanted him over her, inside her, loving her as much as she loved him.
“Jack often sleeps under my bed when it storms. Of course, I’ve never had a man sleeping with me while he was under there, but—”
Hamilton squeezed her for that admission, his expression wild with possessiveness. “C’mon Jack,” he ordered in a voice rich with haste. “Time for bed.”
The dog bounded up and loped after them as Ham strode for her bedroom. She’d had several years of buildup to this moment, which left her already primed and anxious and prepared.
Teasing Ham’s neck with her fingertips, she asked, “What if he won’t settle down with us doing…you know?”
Ham watched her with deep concentration while his long strides drew them nearer and nearer to her bed. “He might as well get used to me now.” And then, after a firm kiss, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Liv started to object, to explain that the dog didn’t need to get used to him because he’d be heading back to the air force in two weeks—back to his duty, and out of her life.
But Ham took her mouth again, and didn’t stop kissing her until he stood beside her bed. He laid her flat on her back, took precious seconds to rid himself of his boots and socks, and then his weight pressed her down and his hand slid inside her sweatshirt, boldly cupping a breast.
Liv forgot whatever she’d wanted to say.
PRESSED BY URGENCY, by the endless fantasy and unrelenting desire to make her his own, Ham covered her breast…and groaned. God, she felt good. His thumb found her nipple, already peaked, achingly tight, and he gently stroked, aware of the ripple of pleasure that ran through her. He felt almost violent in his need.
He deepened his kiss, savoring the taste of her on his mouth, the moist silky heat of her curious tongue. His hips pressed down and in and she gave a high, female moan of pleasure.
“Open your legs.”
She did, anxiously spreading them wide so that his hips settled between and he could feel her heat cradling him. She lifted up, increasing the pressure, moving, stroking him.
“God almighty, it’s too much.” Eyes closed, he strained his upper body away from her, wedging his lower body closer.
“Ham,” she said on a near wail, her fingers knotted in the coverlet, her head tipping back.
He loved seeing her like this. Hot for him. Nearly out of control. Rocking his hips in a rhythm that complemented her own, he watched her face and reveled in the heightened signs of desire and pleasure. Heat flushed her cheeks, and another moan broke past her parted lips.
He wanted to strip them both naked right now. But if he did, if he saw her bare and open to him, accepting him, he’d be inside her in seconds. She wasn’t ready, no matter how far gone she looked. Their first time deserved special care.
Liv deserved special care.
Coming back down over her, he nibbled on her ear, kissed his way to where her neck met her shoulder. Sucking the delicate skin of her throat in against his teeth, he marked her with satisfaction, primal in his need to lay claim.
Her spicy scent—not perfume, but Liv, all woman and now all his—filled his head.
The storm outside abated, softening to a steady rain. Jack did indeed crawl beneath the bed and apparently, he slept, because he made no objection to Ham’s presence.
Shifting his hold, Ham slid one arm beneath her, raising her back. With his other hand, he shoved up her sweatshirt. “I want to kiss you everywhere, Liv.”
She held herself still, watching him, her breath suspended.
In the dim room, her pale breasts gleamed opalescent, shimmering with her nervousness and excitement. Seeing her taut nipples made his erection ache and throb. “I’ll start here,” he rasped, and closed his mouth around one small nipple.
The second his tongue touched her, Liv arched up, groaning raggedly. Ham sucked, not hard, but languid and easy, curling his tongue around her, suckling her with gentle deliberation.
Frustrated, she tried to pull off her sweatshirt while panting and gasping. Ham jerked it up and over her head and tossed it to the foot of the bed.
When he started to return to her, she fended him off with both hands flattened to his chest. “Now you.”
Blood thundered through his veins. His testicles were tight, his cock full and heavy. She wanted him. Finally. He nearly ripped his T-shirt getting it off. And still she held him back, her hands now moving over him, exploring him.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” she murmured, her eyes a little dazed, her voice thick with need. “You have the most perfect body, and there’ve been so many nights when I’ve imagined getting to touch you, to kiss you.”
She came up on one elbow, and put her soft, damp mouth to his shoulder. Her tongue came out, tasting his flesh. Her open mouth administered a soft, wet love bite.
“You taste—” her nose brushed up the side of his throat to his ear “—and smell even better than I’d ever imagined. All hot. All man.” She licked his ear, along his jaw to his mouth. “Delicious.”
The sexual connotation of that one word stole his breath. Hamilton prided himself on his control, on his iron resolve to do everything the very best that he could. He would make this good for Liv. But in order to ensure that, he had to take charge before she obliterated his already fractured patience.
The flannel pants she wore had a loose elastic waistband that made it easy for his hand to get underneath, onto her silken belly. “Let me enjoy you, honey.”
Her eyes darkened. Stroking her skin, he teased his way lower and lower, and with a deep breath, she settled back onto the mattress.
“Are you wet yet, Liv?”
Her breathing stilled. Eyes wide with shock locked on his. Ham knew she’d be blushing, but he couldn’t see it in the dim interior of the room.
“I—”
“Let me see.” Touching her, sliding one long finger over her pubic curls, and farther down between her swollen lips, Ham whispered, “Yeah. You are.”
As his finger moved, stroking, sliding, her eyelids grew heavy and she bit her bottom lip. Breathing fast and hard, she watched him, their gazes a connection beyond the physical. Ham felt it deep into his soul, just as he’d always known he would. He was the man who’d have Liv. Period.
“How’s this feel, honey?” He pressed in, not far, just deep enough that her innermost muscles clamped around him.
“Ham…” she said raggedly, trying to li
ft her hips to take more of him, but he held back.
“Getting wetter, Liv. And hotter.” He kissed her shoulder, her chest, and drew her other nipple into his mouth. Forcing himself to remain slow and steady, he suckled her, fingered her, licked and stroked, alternating his attention from her breasts to the slick, swollen flesh between her thighs, gradually gaining urgency, driving her closer to the edge.
When she cried out in dissatisfaction, Ham pulled out his finger, only to stroke two back in, fast and deep.
Her nails bit into his shoulders. Her head tipped back, her neck straining, her hips lifting.
“That’s it,” he encouraged against her wet nipple, feeling the start of her contractions, and so damn excited he wanted to shout. He found her clitoris with his thumb and carefully manipulated her, pressing, fondling in a steady rhythm, pushing her—and with a deep, raw groan her entire body bowed, damp in sweat and fragrant with lust, she came.
Ham wanted to savor the moment, to hold her and ease her, but he couldn’t. Violent need shook his body. He’d wanted her too long—all his life it seemed. Waiting now would be impossible.
He knotted a hand in her hair, turning her toward him. Her mouth opened under the force of his. When he sank his tongue in, she sucked on it.
He needed out of his jeans—now.
Thrusting himself away, he went onto his back and raised his hips. Jerking open the snap of his jeans, easing the zipper down the bulge of his hardened cock, he freed himself.
Sated and limp beside him, Liv whispered, “Finally.”
Damn it, she didn’t help with her verbal prodding. It felt like he’d explode if he didn’t get inside her soon. He had enough sense left to grab a condom out of his jeans pocket before tossing the pants, with his underwear, aside.
While he tried to ready himself, she kept touching him, and she said, “I wish the electricity hadn’t gone out.”
Hands shaking, Hamilton rolled on the rubber and turned to her. “Me, too. I want to see you.”
