by Leah Kent
Sometimes, from out in the hall of the makeshift hospital, she'd peep through the door and see how they ogled her coworkers. All of them were traditionally pretty women, some tall and elegant, some short and cute, some edgy but feminine, and all of them slender. Hilary was the only one out of them with curves, and she was the only one out of them that none of the men turned to for eye candy. It wasn't as though she'd come all the way across the ocean to find a man, but with the soldiers as starved for female attention as they were it was a hard reality to escape. In the break room she heard the other nurses complain about the soldiers’ advances, or laugh off flirtation, or whisper about how they might be falling for one of the handsome patients they cared for. Isolation back home had been bad, but this new kind of isolation rivaled it. Hilary wished she could join their conversation, but she found she had nothing to say.
That was, until John Cassidy was assigned to her wing.
The team’s Humvee had run over a mine. Two soldiers had died, another two had sustained serious burns and multiple fractures, and somehow John alone had come out of it with a sprained wrist and a concussion. No one understood how he'd dodged more serious injury, but people were whispering that it was God's work. And to top it all off, John had pulled the rest of his team out from the mangled, burning wreckage of the Hummer. Without him no one would have survived. If anyone was a hero in that entire hospital it was John Cassidy. Hilary quickly decided that not only was he a hero, but he was also remarkably handsome.
John Cassidy. He couldn't be much older than thirty, but there was a gritty look to his face that spoke of experience. When he came in dark stubble lined his jaw and neck, and his face was covered in dark soot. Still, his blue eyes had peeped across at her like sapphires set against coal. Maybe it was due to the heat of the moment and the panic of the hospital staff over the condition of his team mates, but Hilary could have sworn that the look lingered, and that John smiled at her. John's gaze anchored in her gut and rooted inside of her, and after the chaos of admittance and emergency service was over, it lingered in the back of her mind. Hilary considered herself level headed when it came to guys, but there was something different about John, like he'd reached out and touched her soul. It was just the attention, she thought to herself. The dark haired, well-muscled hunk had looked at her when others hadn't, and she wasn't used to it. In time the feeling would fade.
But deep inside, Hilary hoped that it wouldn't. John's attention brought light into her otherwise dreary world, and even if it was only a smile it felt like something real that she could cling to. Maybe life out in the desert wouldn’t be all that bad after all.
Chapter Two
The explosion came out of nowhere. One moment the Humvee had been navigating its way over the rocky, unpaved road towards the outpost, and the next they'd been flipped up into the air as an ungodly sound ripped through their eardrums. There was barely time to scream before the vehicle crashed back down, one side crumpled. The front had caught fire, and John knew that if he didn't act fast everyone inside would be toast.
The mighty blood of lions ran in his veins and strengthened his body, leaving John less injured than the others. Being a lion shifter had its perks, but heritage was the last thing on John's mind as he kicked out the window and dragged Merguez' body out of the vehicle with him. The rest had been a blur. John knew he'd gone back in and pulled all of them out. He knew that an airlift had arrived. There were hands on him, and then the tough material of a stretcher beneath his back. They were back at base, and he was in the hospital. The flickering overhead fluorescents and the women in scrubs told him that much. American woman, all of them. John blinked hard. Some of the soldiers in the barracks were women, but they were the hard kind of women that didn't take shit. These ladies, they were different.
And then he saw her. Soft, he thought. Rounded cheeks, big beautiful eyes, downy blonde hair, full, unashamed curves. She'd moved to his stretcher to fuss over him, taking his pulse and checking other vitals he had no clue about. What rare beauty. John couldn't hold back his smile. She caught his eye and he didn't look away. Today it was a treat to be alive, and John wasn't going to deprive himself a good, long look.
But then she'd moved away to another stretcher as others around them shouted orders and questions, and John was wheeled away into a sterile white room to wait whatever fate would befall him. Soon the sounds of chaos had faded away, leaving him to murky thoughts and his weary body. Sleep came fast and dragged him down deep.
Nurses. He dreamed of nurses. There was something about a woman with an expertise that turned him on, and there was something in particular about that curvy chick that had hit all the right buttons. He hoped his dreams weren't the last place he'd see her.
Chapter Three
Several hours had passed since the five men caught in the explosion had been brought in, and only now that the two in critical condition had been stabilized did Hilary have a chance to get to Specialist Cassidy. No other nurse had made the rounds before her, all of them caught up in the emergency situation, and so when she walked into his room she found him still covered in soot and grime.
"Excuse me, Specialist," Hilary said from the doorway. John's blues were closed, but often patients didn't sleep deeply on lumpy hospital beds. It seemed John was the exception. "Specialist, this is Nurse Lucev. I've come to get you settled in for your stay."
Lazily he opened one eye and gazed at her, and Hilary felt pinpricks run along her skin. She’d forgotten just how blue his eyes had been. They were gorgeous.
"Just when I was getting to the good part," he murmured, stretching his arms out and arching his back. "But at least you're a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing out in the desert, Nurse Lucev? A face like yours deserves to be back home in the land of the free."
The look and the smile when he’d been freshly wheeled in hadn't been her imagination. Hilary felt her heart skip a beat as he addressed her. Still, she was on the job. Professionalism had to come first.
"My face doesn't pay the bills, Specialist. Now, I need to get you prepared to see the doctor. What I need you to do is--"
"I'm filthy," the words cut her sentence off, but Hilary found she didn't mind. The way John looked at her more than made up for it. Hilary had seen the lustful way some soldiers looked at her coworkers, but she didn't see any of that same greed on John's face. He looked at her like she was beautiful, like she was made to be appreciated. "Do you have to clean me?"
Until that moment it hadn't seemed like such a big deal. Hilary paused, looking him over. Yes, she had to clean him. Until a doctor formally assessed him and gave the green light, he wasn't supposed to leave the bed. But now the thought of running a washcloth over his nude body hit her hard and brought red to her cheeks.
"Yes. I've got to get you out of your uniform, get you cleaned, and then get you into a hospital gown."
"Just tell me what you need me to do," he told her, hitching a dark eyebrow, "and I'll do it."
How many patients had she sponge bathed since she'd started working as a nurse? Back in America she'd washed old and young alike, men and women, and never had it been a problem. Now, thinking about undressing the wounded soldier had her next to paralyzed. Hilary nodded her head and ducked back into the hall to draw in the cart with the materials she needed. Buckets of warm, soapy water. Buckets of clean water for rinsing. Towels. Washcloths. A hospital gown. When she entered the room again John was waiting for her, a hint of a grin on his face. He was enjoying this.
"I need you not to get up," Hilary told him, trying to remain professional. "First, I need to get you out of your dirty clothes. As long as you don't stand and you take care not to move your head in excess, you can strip on your own. You'll need to put this on for me." From the cart she withdrew the blue hospital gown and laid it near his side, easily within arm's reach. John nodded.
"Yes'm." And without waiting for her to close the curtain around the bed he began to disrobe. Hilary's had intended to give him privacy, but i
t seemed like John had little need for it. "Your husband must miss you since you're all the way out here in this hellhole."
They weren't encouraged to speak about their lives with the patients, but there was an easygoing quality about John that put her at ease and disarmed her. Still, Hilary hesitated before she replied.
"I'm single. No husband, no boyfriend." Beneath the combat shirt, John's body was tone and muscular. It was the kind of body most men only dreamed about having. Hilary had a hard time keeping her eyes from the contours of his pecs and abs and the line of hair that ran thin down his stomach to plunge beneath the line of his pants. Pants that he was presently removing.
"That's not right," John replied. Both heavy boots hit the floor next to the hospital bed, followed by his grimy pants. He was left in only a pair of fitted boxers, the bulge beneath generous even if flaccid. Hilary swallowed and tried not to consider it. "You're a pretty girl, Nurse Lucev. If you were my girl I wouldn't want you out here where it's unsafe. Do I need to take off my briefs?"
"Yes. But um," he was already reaching down to pull them free, "you can put on the gown first if you want and take them off from underneath."
"I don't see why I would," his eyes locked on hers, and Hilary felt the heat rise to her cheeks again. His gaze was serious, cutting, as though he challenged her, "I don't have any part of my body that I'm ashamed of, and I have a feeling you won't be disappointed by any part of me, either."
The elastic waist dipped below the bulge, and Hilary caught her first sight of his cock. It had begun to harden, and for just a second she allowed herself to revel in its length. From how John was talking there was no question in her mind that she was the one who'd stirred desire in him. He made no effort to put on the gown.
"You should get dressed," Hilary said, lifting her eyes from his cock to drink in his toned body before settling on his face.
"You're going to bathe me anyway, right?" John asked. He tucked both arms behind his head, fixing her with his stare. The challenge had never left his eyes; he was fighting her for dominance. Hilary had never been an advocate for violence. "I'll just stay naked. It makes your job easier."
"I..." It was against regulations, but how could she resist? One of the most handsome soldiers who'd ever visited her wing of the hospital was flirting with her. More than flirting. Before her, hardening as they spoke, was the proof that he wanted to do more than flirt with her. "I guess it's okay. But afterwards you will dress in the gown and I won't take any other excuse."
"Good girl," he purred. There was something languid and deep about the words that made her shiver. To distract herself, Hilary plunged one of the washcloths into the basin of warm soapy water and wrung it out.
"I'm going to start with your arms, Specialist Cassidy," she told him, approaching the bedside. He held out his arm to help her.
"John is fine," he replied. God, how was he so under her skin? Hilary lifted her eyes to find him watching her. With care she ran the washcloth along his arm. Most of the grime was on his face, neck, and hands, but he'd still sweat up a storm working beneath the sun and amongst the fire of the wreckage. There was an undeniably masculine odor, not yet rank. Heat spread through Hilary's sex as her thoughts lingered on it. "What can I call you, Nurse Lucev?"
"Nurse Lucev works just fine," she whispered. As she washed she could feel how tight the muscle was against his skin and just how strong he really was. Did John spend all of his free time at the gym? His body was flawless and powerful.
"C'mon, a beautiful girl has to have a beautiful name. Tell me."
"Hilary." She gave into him without a fight. The washcloth met the soapy water, where she left it. Instead she grabbed another cloth, this time dipping it into the clear water. With the same care she rinsed the suds from his body.
"I knew it would be beautiful," he said.
She was only at his arms and already the sponge bath felt way too personal.
Chapter Four
John had awoken from dreams of his curvy nurse to find her standing in the door to his room. In his dreams she'd been on her knees, nuzzling at the recently descended fly of his pants, when reality had come back in focus. Now the real flesh and bones woman had asked him to get naked. John couldn't resist.
There were still a few more years until he was expected to settle down and find a mate, and he'd intended to keep living his life to the fullest. Over the years he'd shared his bed with many women, never serious about any of them. Nurse Lucev, Hilary, was supposed to be another milestone. John had never found himself attracted to curvy women before, but there was something about her that captivated him and made him desire her. He'd have her.
But when she'd run the washcloth down his arm, the desire changed. Even though he'd flirted with her and lowered her defenses, she touched him with gentle tact. Every woman he'd bedded thus far had been interested in him for his appearance, and they'd tumbled rough and hard before he'd thrown them away. They'd thrown themselves at his feet and begged for his touch. With Hilary it was different. There was no greed. She didn't objectify him. As she worked the washcloth along his collar and down his chest, John realized just how different she was.
"How long have you been out here?" he asked. At first he'd asked questions to get under her skin and make her vulnerable, but now he found himself invested in getting to know her. The erection resting against his stomach did not wane.
"Just a few weeks. I graduated with my degree and started working as a nurse two years ago."
Skilled hands worked down his chest and to his firm stomach, and John felt his control over the situation slipping. The touch, as innocent and subdued as it was, felt good. A twitch ran through the length of his cock. How was she doing this to him? No woman, not even the most headstrong and dominant, had thrown him off his game.
"How long have you been enlisted?"
"Since I was eighteen," John replied. "I'm twenty-eight now. Ten years, I guess. It doesn't seem like all that long."
Hilary turned away and rinsed out the rag, and when she came back with clean water John found himself looking forward to her touch. The conversation crawled to a stop. She cleaned the suds from his chest and stomach and he could take it no more. One of his broad hands gripped her wrist.
Their eyes met. Hers were a shade of blue close to his, deep and soulful. The touched of her skin sent sparks down his fingertips and through his arm, and John let his lips part in quiet shock. The connection. It happened so rarely to shifters that he'd heard it was nothing more than a legend, but what he felt had to be something more than just coincidence. Hilary's soul spoke to him silently as their skin met, and John's heart raced.
He'd been banking on a few years before he'd settle down, but now he wasn't so sure freedom was what he wanted after all.
"What..." Her voice was soft and confused; she'd felt it, too. For a moment they remained frozen like that, his hand on her wrist, before she drew closer. He could see the gleam of the gloss on her lips and the curve of her breasts beneath her scrubs.
"I'm not supposed to get up," John whispered to her from the flat pillow on the bed, "or else those lips would already be mine."
It was the right thing to say. The hospital bed groaned just slightly as her weight joined his, and then their lips met for the first time. John's heart hammered in his chest, excitement he'd never felt before rising up to lock around his soul, dragging him down into its depths. There was no escaping it.
Whatever forces had brought the two of them half way across the world to meet each other left both of them longing for more. Her lips, so full and soft, trembled just slightly against his. She was afraid, and she had every right to be. This attraction, to her, was unexplainable. She was putting her job on the line to listen to instincts she'd never felt before. The lion in him had stirred her; there was no fighting against the urge to take a life mate.
Hilary's hand dipped down his freshly cleaned chest and stomach, fingers toying along his tight skin. He had a hand on the back of her head,
affectionate and loose. Had she the will, she could pull away at any time. He didn't think she would want to. Her fingers continued to dip downward until they toyed with the base of his shaft, and John groaned against her lips. The sensation was incredible. He'd slept with women talented at sex, but the connection his soul had established with Hilary made the touch electric. He wanted so desperately to breed her.
Eventually the toying turned into stroking. The flat of Hilary's palm trailed along his shaft, bringing him higher. Perhaps he had died in the explosion; Hilary brought him heaven in everything she did.
But just as things heated up between them, a mighty crash broke the silence. The whole room shook, and John thought he might be back in the Humvee during the explosion. The tray with the towel and the water wobbled and clattered, then promptly fell over. Hilary screamed, and right as she did the whole room went dark. The torrent of air hit him hard, kicking up dust and debris and blinding him. Before he shielded his own face, John found Hilary and turned her away from the source. Smoke filled the room. John had enough combat experience to know what was happening.
