It's Always Been You

by Jessica Scott

  She reached up, unzipping his jacket. Lifted his shirt to reveal the dark edges of the black ink that started at the seam of a wicked-looking scar. She wanted to ask. About the scar, about the intricate tattoos that wound over his shoulder and down his chest and the scars that looked like burns beneath the black ink. He could see those questions in her eyes and braced for them.

  But she didn’t. And he was grateful because he didn’t know what he’d say. Instead she pressed her lips to his stomach, just above the waist of his pants. Next to the narrow scar on his abdomen. Her breath stirred the hair on his belly. It tickled her lips and she nuzzled him there.

  His stomach tightened and he tensed at the tenderness of the gesture. Still, he didn’t move as she lifted her lips away from the sensitive skin near the scar and the ink. He couldn’t breathe as she unhooked his belt and flipped it open. Then the buttons. One by one, she opened his pants, pressing her lips to his skin, close to that damned scar that he hated and resented and wished he could carve from his skin.

  She ran her fingers over the hard edges of his hip bones and Ben’s control nearly snapped. He eased back, out of reach of her hands and her teasing lips.

  “We’re going to have a stunning disappointment to this evening if you don’t stop,” he said, taking her hands and lifting them over her head as he laid her back on the bed.

  “Coward,” she whispered, but there was nothing but sensual heat in her words as she surrendered to his touch.

  “Yep.” There was no shame in his answer. “My ego really couldn’t handle having a misfire right now.”

  “As opposed some other, more opportune time?”

  He laughed and pulled her jacket open. The zipper made a rasping sound as he slid it open, revealing the concave hollow of her belly beneath the same tan t-shirt he wore. “There really isn’t a good time for that,” he said.

  He framed her stomach with his palms, sliding them higher, higher, pushing her shirt up, exposing the edge of her bra. It was functional, pale beige in soft, soft cotton and he’d never seen anything sexier. He tugged and she shifted, rocking and twisting until she’d shrugged out of her uniform top and t-shirt.

  And waited.

  * * *

  Time was a frozen, shimmering thing as his eyes traced over the scars on her body, clearly visible now that she was stripped bare.

  Her breath locked in her throat and it took everything she had to keep from crossing her arms over her stomach.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her.

  Cradled her ribs gently in his hands.

  “Tell me about these,” he whispered.

  She pressed her lips together in a flat line, her eyes stinging as the memories struggled to escape.

  “My father,” she said. “He died from a mixture of painkillers and alcohol.” She looked away.

  “He hit you,” Ben whispered. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the pity in his eyes at her painful admission.

  The silence was heavy and thick and filled with so many questions. Neither of them moved.

  Then she felt it. The gentle slide of his thumb over the largest scar on her rib. A gentle kiss where his thumb had been. A shiver ran through her as he traced the scar with the tip of his tongue.

  She summoned her courage and looked down.

  Her gaze collided with his and the patient desire she saw looking back at her slammed into her. Her breath shook in her lungs. Trembled before it escaped.

  “That’s nice,” she whispered when she could speak. She scraped her fingernails through his scalp. She tugged and urged his mouth to hers. And she lost herself in the powerful arousal in that kiss.

  * * *

  When she kissed him, he forgot his own name. “Those pants have got to go,” she said, using her boots to push them down his hips.

  He wanted them gone, wanted to feel the sensual slide of skin on skin. Wanted to feel her thighs wrap around his waist as he slid inside her and watch her face as he started to move.

  The waist of his underwear caught on his erection. “Ow, stop!” he said with a laugh. He lurched backward, his body missing the heat from her skin. “I’ll do it. Before you unman me.”

  She sat up and laughed, unlacing her own boots and shucking her own uniform pants. It was strange sitting on her bed, pulling his boots off as she stripped off her own uniform. Everything about this felt surreal. Strangely rational and sexual all at once.

  He’d never imagined he would see her relax or that it would be his touch that pushed away her stiff exterior to reveal the sensual woman underneath. She was a live wire, complex and sinfully erotic standing there in her panties and bra. He had the sudden urge to see her in his t-shirt. He wanted to see the edge of the fabric brushing against her upper thighs. He wanted to push it higher, to reveal the sweetness at the center of her.

  Instead he simply sat for a moment, reveling in this soft and sexy side of Olivia Hale that unlocked something he’d thought he’d put away for good.

  This was something secret. Something special. This was something she would deny in the harsh light of day because it didn’t fit into her personal save-the-world narrative. But right then, Ben could live with being something secret.

  He wanted this woman.

  He leaned down to shuck his own boots. Her arms slid around his waist from behind. Her palms folded against his heart, beating its fierce, wild rhythm beneath her hands. His skin burned him where she touched him over the black tattoos that covered his heart, and he braced for the questions.

  They didn’t come. The intimate gesture was nothing more than a simple touch. A touch from one lover to another.

  Ben paused for a moment. Savored the feel of her breath on his back. The softness of her hair on his spine. The casual weight of her arms around his waist was an erotic comfort. There was a warmth in that touch that unnerved him.

  This was something powerful. And he’d be damned if he was going to screw it up.

  * * *

  His back was smooth and hard against her exposed skin, his skin hot against hers. She folded her hands together over his heart and rested her cheek against the solid wall of his back. He stilled. Then his hands came up to close over hers. It was a quiet gesture. A connection in the midst of casual sex that spoke of something deeper.

  Something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

  She pressed her lips along the edge of the black art that ran the entire line of his spine. Felt him stop breathing as her tongue flicked over a spot. She scraped her teeth over his back and his hands tightened over hers. A surge of power rocked through her as the man trembled beneath her touch. She licked again.

  He dropped his head back, exposing his throat. She pushed up onto her knees, licking his throat. She sucked gently at the edge of his jaw, then ran her tongue along the sensitive tip of his ear. A gentle tasting. He let her take the lead, let her set the pace, and she fell a little harder for the man in her bed.

  Monday at work would be awkward but she’d deal with that then.

  He released her hands as she slid around his body and into his lap. His hands scooped her bottom and pulled her closer.

  “No regrets, Olivia?” he whispered.

  She traced her fingertips over his cheeks. “No.” She bussed her lips against his. “I need this,” she breathed.

  He stood and crawled onto the bed, lowering her beneath him. He braced himself on his elbows. “I want to make this good for you.”

  Her lips curled of their own accord. “As opposed to just bending me over and having your way with me?”

  He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to hers. The laugh tore out of him and shook through his big body. “I cannot believe you just said that,” he said when he could breathe again.

  “You’re not the only one who can make jokes,” she said.

  “I like your sense of humor when you’re mostly naked,” he whispered. “It’s so fucking sexy.”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his fingers tracing her c
heeks. It made her feel cherished. Protected.

  Valued.

  “It’s better for me at work if people are wary of me.”

  “I think you’re scary at work.” He brushed his nose against hers. “But after tonight, I’m just going to picture you like this.”

  “As long as you don’t tell anyone.” She licked his bottom lip then captured it in her teeth with a gentle tug. “Can we stop talking?”

  He traced tiny kisses over her lips, her jaw. He captured her hands, sliding them up over her head. Held them with one of his hands while he explored her body with slow, languid strokes.

  Who would have known Ben Teague was a thoughtful lover? But somewhere along the line, thoughtful transformed to heat and heat to passion. Her blood sang with his touch. Arched beneath his lips as his fingertips slid down her arms and over her ribs.

  He slipped her bra free and lifted it away from her body.

  And watched his eyes darken when he saw the scars tracing over her ribs and down her right side.

  Her mouth went dry as his gaze took in the damage to her body. “I’ve thought about getting a tattoo to cover them,” she whispered.

  His fingers danced over the mottled flesh, the gnarled ramifications of a failed decision.

  “Tell me,” he said. His voice was deadly calm, steel beneath ice.

  She cradled his face in her hands. “It’s not important,” she whispered.

  He opened his mouth to protest and she kissed him. Claimed his tongue, his mouth, his breath. Stole coherent thought and the rage that she saw building in his eyes.

  They were new lovers. The anger in his eyes shouldn’t have been there. Not this quickly.

  But Ben had a strange sense of justice. He was the kind of man who would lie to let a kid get a benefit he’d been a few weeks from earning. It might have been wrong to the letter of the law but in Ben’s world, it was just.

  In Olivia’s, it was enough that he cared. For his men. For his unit.

  For her.

  There was care in his touch now as his fingers slid down her body, hooking in her panties and sliding them down her hips.

  He urged her onto her back, using teeth and tongue and fingers to coax her body to heights she’d never flown. And when he kissed her where she ached for him, she nearly came off the bed. He held her, his hands on her hips as he feasted on her body.

  It was only when she shuddered and tried to scoot away that he relented, a satisfied male smile on his lips even as he continued to stroke her slick, swollen heat. “Like that?”

  “Oh, you definitely know how to make someone forget a bad day,” she said, shivering when he slid one finger inside her. “Oh!”

  He kissed her as he stroked her body. Kissed away the darkness, the sadness, the sense of feeling nothing she ever did would be good enough.

  * * *

  He wanted this to be good for her. He’d known that when he’d agreed to follow her home. But as he slipped between her thighs, capturing her hands, threading her fingers with his as he found her center and slowly filled her, he realized he wanted more than just a casual encounter.

  She made sexy noises in her throat. He kissed away the pain she caused when she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. And he urged her to ride the pleasure. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “Let go.”

  She did. And it stunned him and dragged him under with her.

  * * *

  It was the tipping of the bed that woke her.

  Her body hummed with latent arousal as she came fully awake. The sheets were warm on her skin where they wrapped around her body.

  But it was the emptiness of the bed beside her that caught her attention.

  Ben sat on the edge. She didn’t have to see his hands to see that he was pulling his boots on.

  He glanced over at her when she sat up. He leaned into her and pressed his mouth to hers. No hurt. No acrimony.

  But something less than what they’d just shared.

  “I can’t sleep,” he confessed against her mouth. He lowered his forehead to hers. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. She lifted her hand to let it rest on his opposite shoulder. Where the black ink bordered on clean, hot skin. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” she asked.

  He looked away. “Yeah.”

  “I think I can cure your insomnia,” she said.

  He glanced back over at her. “Oh yeah?”

  Her breath caught in her throat as she let the sheet slip low over the swell of her breast. Her nipples peaked at the sensation. They were sensitive and sore from his mouth, his touch, but still she wanted more.

  He lifted one finger. Traced the outline of her nipple over the sheet warmed from her body heat.

  His gaze locked on hers as he continued to stroke her gently. He tugged the sheet down, down over the stiff flesh.

  She had never done this. Never looked into a man’s eyes with his hands on her body. Never watched his eyes darken and his breath catch as he touched her.

  He slid his thumb over the bottom swell of her breast. A teasing touch, meant to torment.

  It was Olivia who moved.

  Who crawled into his lap and straddled his uniform-covered hips.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered against his mouth.

  And then there was no further thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Olivia looked at the packets on her passenger seat and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long week. Maybe if she could get notes done up on all the cases, she could make a dent in the work. She didn’t know why she kept lying to herself. She was never going to get caught up. Wasn’t that what her old boss always said? Work will always be there.

  She smiled. She certainly didn’t have time for any more distractions named Ben Teague.

  He’d left later that night. For a little while, she’d forgotten—at least until long after he’d gone—the darkness she’d been hoping to avoid. He’d made her laugh. Who laughed during sex?

  Ben Teague, apparently. And now she did. She had no idea how he’d done it but he’d erased all of the darkness from her life with his tender, skilled fingers.

  And she’d enjoyed every minute of it. It had been a hard thing not calling him over the weekend. A terrible temptation she struggled to contain.

  And now she had to hide the sexual energy that prickled over her skin just thinking about him. She might as well wear a neon sign over her head that announced she and Ben Teague were lovers.

  As she walked into his motor pool, needing to touch base with him about Foster and a few of the other packets, she put the stunning night she’d spent with him in a box and locked it away. She could meet up with all of the commanders and catch up with any actions from over the weekend.

  She scooped up her packets and grabbed her hat as reality crowded out the memories of Saturday night and pushed away the lingering goodness of the memories.

  It hadn’t taken long after Ben had left for the hard reality of her job to come crashing back. She’d awakened Sunday morning, her sheets soaked with sweat from the fear that she might fail to convince the commander to act. Her scars throbbed with the memory. She focused and tried to not let her emotions get the better of her.

  She wasn’t usually nervous about cases but Ben’s words had haunted her into the night as she tried to chase elusive sleep. She took a deep breath and pushed away the memories of the nightmares and the anxiety. Olivia needed to get to work on the rest of the caseload stacking up in her office. She would not fail this time.

  She wondered about the woman’s child, the only survivor from that hellish nightmare years ago that Olivia had tried and failed to end. The little girl with huge brown eyes and a sadness that had shattered Olivia’s heart into broken, jagged pieces. Ultimately, these decisions weren’t hers. She wasn’t a commander; she was an advisor to the commanders, and there was a distinct difference.

  She built the cases and made recommendations. Guys like Ben had to make t
he decisions.

  But Ben had planted a seed of doubt and it wormed into her brain and nestled up to her ear, whispering insidious things.

  What if she was wrong about Escoberra? God, but she wanted to be. For Ben’s sake. For Hailey. God, she wanted to be wrong.

  She took a deep breath and wove through the vehicles in the motor pool until she found Bandit Company’s guidon.

  And in front of the company was Bandit Company’s commander.

  She had to admit that Ben, standing in front of his formation, presented a powerful figure. But it wasn’t just the power of his position that attracted her to him. There were scars on his body, scars on his soul that he hid with a quick smile and an easy grin.

  She’d wanted to ask but she hadn’t wanted to break the mood with a troubled jaunt down memory lane.

  And he’d let her dodge the painful questions, too. Ben was a good man. A smart ass, but the kind of man who couldn’t stand to see people around him hurting. She’d seen that side of him when he’d asked her not to turn him in about Zittoro’s packet.

  That took audacity, especially in the face of a battalion commander who wanted to clean out his formation. Ben was willing to stand on principle.

  Men like him were rare, too rare.

  She didn’t know what it said about her that she’d willingly fallen into bed with him just two short weeks after he’d first tried coaxing a smile out of her.

  She wondered at the man beneath the jokes, though. Standing in front of that formation, she saw him cracking comments to the skinny kid next to him. She smiled and shook her head. He never stopped.

  She wanted to know more, though, about the man who’d avoided responsibility but now seemed to be stepping into his new role well enough.

  “You’re staring, ma’am,” a deep voice said.

  She cocked a grin at Reza. “I thought you were with Emily today?”

  “I had an appointment earlier. Emily went with me. Now I’m at work, trying to get my feet back under me,” Reza said. He folded his arms over his chest as formation continued.

  “How’s that going?” she asked.

  “Slower than I’d like.” He sniffed. “I’ll get through it, though. You, on the other hand, might want to stop looking like you’re undressing Teague with your eyes. You’re so fucking obvious.”