Soldier, Come Home Read online

  He chuckled. "Music to my ears, baby."

  "But first," she said, shifting back and opening her purse. Between thumb and forefinger she held up several condoms. "I'm on the pill, and I haven't had sex in a long time, but I'm a sensible woman."

  He stepped to his valise, turned to her with a sexy smirk, and presented her with a box of extra large, extra ribbed. "I'm clean too, but we'll take it careful for the time being, huh?"

  "Yes, sir, now let's employ these bad boys. I believe I owe you, and it's long overdue."

  "I don't think we need to talk about..."

  She closed her hand around his cock.

  "...owing," came out on a strangled groan.

  "My God, you're big." She caressed him from tip to base and back again.

  "Well, if you really want to," he gasped.

  "I want—this." She squeezed. "I want you to take your clothes off." Her fingers began working on the buttons of his shirt as he shrugged off his suit jacket. Parting the material, she hissed, "I knew you'd be beautiful."

  He blew out a short, sharp breath. "Men aren't beautiful. You're beautiful." His shirt fluttered to the floor, and then his hands moved to her shoulders. He slipped her straps off. "You're driving me nuts. I need to suck your nipples, honey."

  "Well, what's holding you up?" She flicked her thumbs over his flat nubs.

  He groaned.

  "You like that too? Like I do?"

  "I don't know if men are supposed to." He growled deeply in his throat.

  "I don't know why not." She squeezed him and moaned, "Please suck mine."

  He unzipped her dress, pushed it to the floor, and swept her off her feet. Laying her across the bed, his hot gaze roamed every inch of her almost nude body. She wore no bra, just panties.

  "Pants." she ordered, indicating his trousers. "Off." She brushed her hands up her body, over her breasts, flattening her palms on her nipples. Closing her eyes, she whimpered, "Hurry, Jess."

  When she opened them, she was rewarded with the naked magnificence of his cock jutting out from its thick, dark nest. Her mouth watered to taste him, but, oh God, her nipples ached. She held out her arms. "Come here."

  His big, wide palm came down on her mound, on the silk and lace of her white panties. "Thong?"

  She nodded. He flipped her over to her stomach before she had a chance to think.

  "Jesus, look at you." Both his hands grasped her cheeks.

  She whimpered, her aching breasts forgotten for the moment.

  He flicked the elastic straps with busy fingers, traced under them, and followed the center, pulling it out of her crack.

  "God," she moaned, arching reflexively.

  "God," he repeated, playing, teasing, his fingers tracing the crease. "Get up on your knees," he ordered, his voice none too steady.

  "Jess—" Her body tensed.

  "Get up, baby."

  "I don't know…" she mewled even as she complied.

  "It's all right. I won't hurt you."

  She'd meant to take control and seduce him. How'd she end up ass in the air beneath him?

  He slid fingers under the elastic again and slipped her thong completely off. "You're so beautiful." He cupped, kneaded her ass.

  Oh God, he was kissing her bottom.

  He brushed moist lips over her skin. Over and over. Back and forth, licking and nipping at her.

  She wiggled, couldn't keep still.

  He grasped her hips.

  "Jess," she whined. "Fuck me, damn you."

  He slid his hand between her legs and circled her vaginal opening, his fingers slipping through her juices. "Baby, you're so wet," he groaned.

  "Uh huh," she whimpered her agreement.

  He tormented her clit, squeezing and stroking it, swept the wetness over and around it.

  She jerked her hips fitfully, aching for any sort of rhythmic thrust. He bent over her back, his body bathing hers in heat. She could feel his moist breath at her neck. His hand was between her thighs. Thick fingers speared inside her. Two fingers? Yes.

  She cried aloud. "Oh—like that." He flipped her again so she was on her back. Before she could even miss his fingers, he'd donned a rubber, and thrust inside her, filling her completely with lovely, thick cock. "God," she screamed. "Yes!" His beautiful, humongous cock.

  "My God!" She arched up, allowing him to embed himself all the way up, deeply inside her. She hugged his hips with her knees, her feet flat on the bed. It wasn't elegant and seductive, rather he took her in a fierce, hungry, elemental way. And that's the way she wanted it.

  With driving thrusts, he kept up the smooth assault, pounding into her steadily. "Put your legs around me," he ordered breathlessly.

  She did, her hips pumping against his. Yes, yes. "Keep going, don't stop, don't…"

  He didn't. He pushed her. He swiveled his hips.

  She cried out. Every inch of him stroked every inch inside her. She wanted it. Wanted it!

  His hand slipped between them, flattened over her belly, tracked lower, and his thumb pressed her clit. Just that. Pressed. Then stimulated. Circled.

  She flew. Off. She didn't know where. Didn't care. Her hips kept pumping. Her throat filled with the incipient scream, but it wouldn't come out. It was clogged there with her thudding heart.

  Just before his mouth slammed down on hers, he purred, "Scream now."

  Her scream was lost inside him. He took it, owned it. Owned her.

  It took forever to come back. Her arms had slipped off his shoulders. Her legs off his hips. She crashed flat to the bed.

  He sprawled flat on top of her.

  She didn't need to breathe. She'd die right here. That was okay.

  He rolled to her side.

  God, she missed his cock already. She felt like one big, aching, empty hole. She felt—out—

  ***

  "Jesus," Jess groaned. Drained. And exhilarated. What miracle had made it possible to find Lorren Samples again? "Thank you, God," he murmured.

  She moaned.

  He rolled to his side to face her. They'd both been lying on their backs, like beached whales, out cold to the world. "Jesus," he whispered again.

  She turned her face and slowly opened her eyes. They fluttered, and then stayed open while a satisfied smile crossed her face. "Hi," she murmured.

  "Hi," he mumbled back.

  "Are we dead?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure. Let's see." He flicked the closest nipple with a fingertip.

  She moaned, arching her chest.

  "I guess not."

  "No," she whispered, writhing under his now continuous flicking.

  "Do these still need kissing?" he wondered.

  Her eyes closed in what he supposed was bliss, but she indicated a negative, "Uh uh."

  "Oh really?" He drew one into his mouth, caught the tip gently between his teeth, and tugged. Her fingers combed through his hair, cupping his head possessively. Even in the air conditioning, their skin was moist with sweat.

  Chapter Eight

  Lorren opened her eyes and searched for the bedside clock. Four-ten on Saturday morning. Hell. She tried to move her legs, to sit up. This had been the most amazing night. Jess had done things, had taken her to places she'd never imagined. Levering out of bed as carefully and quietly as possible, she headed for the bathroom but stopped when she heard him cry out.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed next to his lovely, sprawled body, she saw his distorted face. He moaned. His arms and legs jerked fitfully. Something was wrong. She placed a hand on his shoulder to give him a little shake. "Jess? Wake up."

  He turned violently, jerking his body away from her. "Down," he shouted. "They're firing!"

  Firing? What the hell is he talking about? "Jess."

  "Hinton, get your fucking head down!"

  "Wake up. You're dreaming." She gripped a flailing wrist and found herself rolled to the floor with the man lying heavily on top, her breath almost knocked out of her.

  "Fucking idiot, I told you
to get down and stay down. And now you're dead!" He opened his eyes, stared at her as if he had no idea where he was or who she was.

  "Jess, what's going on? Are you all right?" She could barely breathe, but his hurt, confused eyes worried her more.

  He blinked several times, seeming to come awake slowly. After long minutes, he hoisted himself off her chest and sat up on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. He raised a leg and balanced his forehead on the upright knee. "Lorren, I'm sorry." His voice was weak.

  She sat up too but didn't say anything at first. Then when he didn't continue, she said, "Don't apologize. You were having a nightmare."

  "Yeah. Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

  "I'm okay. What happened?" She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but something told her to keep still and listen.

  He leaned against the bed, dropped his head back to rest on the mattress. "Nothing."

  "Nothing? You knocked me to the floor about nothing?" she responded gently.

  "I said I was sorry. What time is it?"

  She looked up at the clock. "Four thirty." Something was going on. He was completely different this morning from last night. He sounded distant. And cold.

  "You should go."

  "Pardon?" she said. "You want me to go?"

  "Yeah." His tone was brutal and didn't brook any arguments.

  Yeah? That's it? Her stomach lurched in anger. He came back for this and now it's over? Humiliation and disgust overwhelmed her. Climbing quickly to her feet, she looked around for her clothing. She was angry and hurt at his rejection, but he was obviously in some sort of pain. He'd had a nightmare. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  "Yeah," he answered shortly, his lips curled back in a snarl. "You'd better leave." He wouldn't meet her eyes.

  Stunned, she crossed her arms over her breasts, embarrassed now at her nakedness. Kicked out of a man's hotel room at four thirty in the morning? Silently she dressed, gathered her purse, and headed for the door.

  He didn't move from his place on the floor or even turn his head to look at her.

  Her heart beat so fast she was afraid she'd pass out. Talk about your it's over. What an asshole. A totally asshole experience. Get the hell out of here before you make a fool of yourself. Or any more of a fool. What could she say? There was nothing to say. She didn't understand what was going on, but it was clear he wanted her gone. She opened the door, closed it behind her, and left his hotel room without saying another word.

  ***

  "What happened?" Monica asked Lorren.

  "I don't know. I guess he was just being a man," Lorren responded with derision dripping in her voice.

  "He seemed kinda nice."

  "Well, he kinda wasn't." Monica and Lorren were having a drink after work at the bar at the Drake Hotel. Lorren refused to go back to anywhere she'd been with him any time soon. "He kicked me out. God, that's embarrassing to say. If you tell anyone, even Sally and Sonya, I'll beat you up."

  "I won't tell them. You don't have to threaten me."

  "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

  "I know you didn't. But he really did a number on you."

  "He was having a nightmare, a flashback, I think, to the war."

  "That's terrible."

  "I tried to see if he was okay, but he pushed me off. I felt bad, but when a man says to leave, you leave."

  Monica slid an arm around her friend's shoulders in commiseration.

  "I wanted to help, but he wouldn't let me," Lorren said. "Why the hell did he come back to find me just to—to blow me off?"

  "Now, Lorren, I'm not going to sit here and let you beat up on yourself."

  "I'm not doing that, I don't think. I was just taken in by his general hunkiness, cowboy boots, and Stetson. Who doesn't love a cowboy?"

  Monica tapped Lorren's hand lightly. "That's the trouble. Every girl loves cowboys. It'll be all right though," she assured her. "Let's get some dinner. Maybe you'll feel better."

  "Sure." Lorren wasn't sure she'd feel better for a very long time.

  ***

  Jess kicked himself for being ten kinds of fool as he paced his hotel room. He had too much time to think. And remember. He'd known from the minute he saw her again that he wanted her. What he hadn't known was how deeply she would burrow into his heart.

  Keep it light had always been his mantra. He hadn't thought he was ready to get serious with any woman. All he'd meant to do was fuck, thoroughly and emotionlessly. Well, the one with Lorren had been easy, but damned if he didn't get emotionally involved in the process. He'd hurt her when he kicked her out of his room. He'd been an ass, but he'd been out of it after the nightmare and had been afraid he'd hurt her physically. The nightmares got rough. He'd often found himself on the floor, pounding his fist against something hard when he woke up. He owed her an explanation.

  Jess called his dad to tell him he'd be staying over in Chicago for a while longer. "Pop," he said. "I owe Lorren an explanation."

  "She must be a special woman."

  "Yep, she is."

  "Are you sure it's not because she's the first woman you've gotten involved with since Afghanistan?"

  "I had one of the nightmares and scared the hell out of her. She didn't know what was wrong with me. I kind of kicked her out of the room."

  "Well, son, you know your own mind, and after two tours you deserve the best. If you think she's worth it, then I'm sure I'll like her."

  Jess headed to her new office at The Women and Children Foundation. Opening the door, he asked the receptionist if Lorren was in.

  "Lorren's at lunch right now. Did you have an appointment?" The receptionist, a woman of about sixty years, looked him up and down taking in the Stetson he held in his hand.

  "No, I'm a friend of hers from Idaho. Do you know where she might be? If I could just meet her at the restaurant or wherever she eats, I'd like it to be a surprise." He put on his Boy Scout sincere face to help her make up her mind.

  "Well, it might be kind of hard to find her. She's eating in Millennium Park with a friend."

  "How long's she been gone?"

  "Actually, you just missed her. She left five minutes ago."

  "How far's the park? I can try to find her."

  "It's a good ten minute walk, less by taxi."

  "Which way?"

  "Go east toward the lake. The main entry is on Michigan and Washington."

  "I appreciate your help." He jammed the Stetson back on his head. "I'll be back if I don't run into her. Thanks, ma'am."

  He took a cab, was dropped off right in front of the park, and he went on his scouting mission. His Stetson shaded his eyes from the steamy sun while he scanned the benches lining the walkway into the park. If she was there, he'd find her.

  Yes, there she was! Tourists swept by between them, but he looked his fill. Striding toward her, he smiled sheepishly, and said, "Hello, Lorren."

  She'd opened her mouth wide to take a big bite of her sandwich, and it was still open when she spied him. Closing it with a snap, she frowned up at him. At least it looked like a frown, sunglasses shaded her eyes. Eyes he wanted to see again.

  "Jess?"

  "Hi, Lorren."

  "What're you doing here?" She didn't sound happy to see him at all.

  Glancing at her friend, he thought he recognized her from that night at the Pump Room. He tipped his hat in her direction. "Ma'am, it's nice to see you again."

  The friend gazed at him appraisingly and nodded.

  "Why are you here?"

  "Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, plunking himself down next to her. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and twirled his Stetson in nervous fingers.

  "I'll leave you alone now. We'll talk later, okay?" the friend announced.

  "No, Monica, you don't have to leave. Listen Jess, we're having lunch here."

  "I didn't mean to interrupt, ladies."

  "It's all right, Lorren. I'll call you later," Monica said firmly.

  He stood to tha
nk her for leaving, then sat down again. "Lorren, I owe you an explanation."

  Chapter Nine

  "Yes, you do." She fidgeted anxiously, her fingers folding and unfolding the bag holding her lunch. She took off her sunglasses, stuffed them in the purse at her side, and then gazed quizzically into his eyes. "I don't understand what happened."

  "That's what I want to explain. Please let me," he said.

  She nodded.

  He settled back on the bench, balanced his hat on a knee, clenched his fists on his thighs, took a deep breath, and turned to her. "Two months ago I came back from my second tour in Afghanistan."

  "Yes, you told me," she whispered.

  "I'd been shot."

  Her eyes widened, she reached out to touch his arm.

  He let her. "We were scouting a mountain ravine and came under fire. Out of ten men under my command, only two came back, plus me."

  "Oh Jess, I..."

  "Came back alive, that is. I called in support, and we got out." His hands fisted so tightly that his knuckles were white.

  She covered one of his fists with her hand. Her small hand.

  "I was the lieutenant. They were my responsibility, and I lost them." He didn't need to close his eyes to see the scene again. His heart thumped sickeningly, his stomach rumbled.

  "I'm sorry, Jess."

  "I was shot in the thigh, twice. Not too serious but enough to send me home. I still have nightmares," he admitted.

  "I'm sorry, Jess. I understand. You don't have to explain any further."

  "You're the first woman I've been with since I've been back. Well, really since a long time before that."

  "You don't owe me any explanation, Jess. I understand," she said again.

  "I scared you. I can't say it'll never happen again. I certainly don't know when the nightmares are coming on."

  "Why are you here, Jess?"

  "I wanted—I needed to see you again."

  "But why? I'm no different from a hundred other women you must know."

  "But you are," he said. "You're what I was fighting for."

  She looked thunderstruck. Shook her head, opened her mouth.

  "No, don't say anything." He held up a hand. "No matter what your opinion is about the war, it was my job, and I had to do my best to survive. We all did."