Читать книгу Special Ops Rendezvous - Karen Anders - Страница 13

Chapter 4

Sam started awake, standing in the middle of his room again. His chest was heaving as if he’d been running. His skin was slick with a cold sweat, his shoulder throbbing. He felt sick with fear, the taste of it like bile in his mouth. He was shaking as if he were freezing, but it was warm in the room. Waves and waves of pain, that’s all he could remember. Unending. When he reached for some remnant of the nightmare, there was nothing there.

There should have been.

Plenty.

These bits and pieces of what had happened to him were almost more torturous than actually remembering. Maybe.

The blank place where his memory should be was a wall of darkness.

A black freaking hole.

He walked on shaky legs back to his bed and sat down. Sam eased in a steadying breath, reaching down deep inside himself for calm.

He hovered on the edge of panic and he didn’t know why.

He wanted to call Dr. Owens. He had even risen to go look for his cell when he stopped and...felt that panic inch a bit closer.

“Damn!” he said into the quiet room. Maybe it was because his defenses were down or it was because he needed Dr. Owens, but tears pressed on the backs of his eyes. He wanted to rip out the heart of the person who had stolen Dr. Owens’s life. If he ever found out who that was...and if it was because of him...that was something he would regret for the rest of his life.

The panic intensified and Sam thought he was going to jump out of his skin. Then deep brown eyes flashed in his memory. Then that caramel hair and that soft, kissable mouth. He took a deep breath and the panic receded a little bit more. Olivia’s curves. How she had felt against him, her shapely butt pressed against his groin, the warmth of her skin beneath his forearm. He took another breath and more of the panic retreated.

He went into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and he wasn’t sure if this was from the fear, the memory of Olivia or his nightmare.

He turned on the shower and stripped off his shorts, soaked with sweat. The warm water felt amazing. As amazing as Olivia’s hands running over him, giving him relief from the pain. His skin was sensitive as he soaped up and rinsed himself off, the memory of his reaction to what he couldn’t remember being replaced by thoughts of Olivia, thoughts about her wet and soapy against him, her delectable mouth on his, his hands all over her.

He got hard and lost in the fantasy, desperate to push his failure to find peace, to understand what had happened to him, and to make a damn difference away from him. Unable to help himself, he cupped his raging erection and leaned one hand against the wall as he imagined himself deep inside Olivia. He bit his bottom lip as the pleasure built, wondering, imagining how she would move, how she would feel, slick and warm. He came hard, grunting with the spiraling pleasure. Damn, that woman turned him on and she’d been what he needed to push back the darkness.

Outside the shower, he toweled himself off, still vibrating from his powerful orgasm. He went to his dresser and pulled out another pair of army-green cotton shorts with Army Strong stitched into the hem.

He walked out into the hall and then into the kitchen. He pulled a cold bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrewed the cap and downed the whole thing in a few gulps, then grabbed another one.

“Sam?”

He started and spilled water down his chest, grimacing and gasping as the cold liquid hit his hot skin.

She blinked in the light from the kitchen, her expression apologetic. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Olivia?” Her hair was tousled around her face with a half-lidded sleepy look that said she’d just rolled out of bed. The thought of her all warm and soft against him arrowed right into his groin. She looked luscious in his oversize shirt. It fit her like a dress. He liked that she wasn’t at all self-conscious around him.

That heated fantasy came back to him and he reached for a towel, dragging his eyes away from her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry I woke you. Just a nightmare.” He wiped off his chest, displacing his dog tags as Olivia’s eyes followed his movement. Was she looking at him or what he was doing? His blood surged.

“I thought I heard running water.”

“I took a shower.”

Her eyes traveled over him and he got his answer. She was looking at him. Definitely. In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated in making time with a woman. But this was Dr. Owens’s sister and...well... He rubbed the back of his neck. Hadn’t he just jacked off thinking about her? He was an idiot and, on top of it, he was so messed up. All he could allow himself to do was think about it. But his mind went there anyway. He knew that reality would be much better than his fantasy.

“Did it help?”

He hid his smile. “Yes, it did.”

He rolled his shoulder to try to alleviate the dull throbbing there.

She came into the kitchen when she saw the expression of pain on his face. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

If he said yes, she would probably offer to help, and he couldn’t quite hold on to his resolve. His family was great as usual, but with all the turmoil in his professional and personal life, it was nice to think about a beautiful woman giving him some measure of comfort. The fact that it was Dr. Owens’s sister was ironic.

“Yes, it’s 24/7, honey.”

She gave him a wry look at the flippant endearment. “Come into the living room and I’ll work it for a bit.”

Without giving him any time to answer, she took his wrist and pulled him into the living room. He’d met some forceful women in his life, and his mother was at the top of the list, but he’d had yet to meet one he’d let drag him around by the nose or his dick.

But he was beginning to reassess that whole thing since not only was Olivia steal-his-breath beautiful, but her assertiveness was a turn-on.

She sat down and with her hands on his hips, turned him so his back was to her. “Sit.”

He chuckled as he complied. “Yes, ma’am.”

She slipped one of those silky bare arms under his armpit and around his shoulder joint to hold him steady as she began to knead the muscles connecting to his shoulder.

He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“You can lean back if you want, Sam. I’m not a delicate flower.”

She pulled him toward her and he sank into her, her chin just over the shoulder she was working, her breath warm against his skin. The wisp of her exhale sent a shiver of pleasure along his nerve endings. He was glad he took the edge off in the shower, because this was pure sensual torment.

“Wow, you’re still a bit tight. Have you thought about seeing a chiropractor?”

Reclining against her now, listening to her voice, which managed to be both soothing and no-nonsense, and breathing in her enticing scent, he could barely register what she was saying.

“Sam?”

“Huh.”

“Chiropractor?”

“Um, no. I hadn’t,” he said, sighing again as the pain lessened with the pressure of her warm, insistent hand. “How do you know all about this therapeutic massage?”

“I was actually a massage therapist. In fact, I’ve had a number of jobs that have now come in quite handy as a P.I. A jack-of-all-trades makes it easy to fit into any kind of job you might need to carry out your client’s wish. I did once have certification but faked it this time to get the job. They might have discovered it eventually, but it was only a temporary situation. Or so I thought.”

He dropped his head back against her shoulder and looked up at her, into eyes that easily held his own when challenged.... Yeah, he was finding his rationale a little harder to hang on to.

His body was finding it even more difficult. He had to chalk that up to being a man, one who didn’t hesitate to take what he wanted most of the time. Her hair smelled good and he breathed deeply of her scent, the strands tickling his cheeks.

“You need to do it.”

Those words immediately evoked the image of him on top of her doing it. “Huh?” he said, feeling drugged and sluggish with the intoxication of her.

She laughed softly, “The chiropractor? Are you getting sleepy?”

No, he was getting turned on even more. This close he could see that her eyes were a deep brown, like melted chocolate. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Was that a yes to the chiropractor or yes to being sleepy?”

“You are very pushy.”

“Ha! Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black, Sam?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a hard look. “Don’t patronize me.”

He chuckled and her face softened, her eyes roving over him. Ah, damn, he didn’t need her looking at him as if she was thinking any of those same things in return or getting turned on by him. Temptation, in this case, was not a good thing. He had enough to handle just trying to keep his head on straight—make that both his heads.

He couldn’t afford to be noticing things, or noticing her noticing things, either.

But her gaze stayed on his face and then dipped boldly down to his mouth.

* * *

Olivia had never been one of those coy women. She had always dealt with men just the same as she’d dealt with women. They needed to be handled differently, of course. Men were action-oriented, relied on logic and concise communication. Say exactly what you meant around a man and he would get your meaning every time. Even Olivia found that read-between-the-lines crap some women liked to peddle annoying.

So her reaction to Sam was intense. Much more intense than it had been with any man she’d dated. His looks aside, he was intelligent, compassionate, tough, obviously courageous and had a good sense of humor.

She liked so many things about him, which was good and bad. Like where she was right now, taking his weight against her, touching all that tanned, gorgeous muscle.

She pressed harder into him and he groaned softly, and that had a very volatile effect on her, sizzling her nerve endings. “It will feel better in a minute,” she promised.

“No pain, no gain?”

“Something like that.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, his dark, impossibly thick eyelashes like half-moons on his cheeks. “That feels great,” he said. “You might not do this for a living, but you’re good at it.” The stubble shadowing his jaw accentuated his mouth. She really, really needed to stop looking at that mouth. But the stubble gave him a rugged edge, emphasizing all the more those beautiful lips of his.

She shifted and he tensed. “Don’t move,” she said as she slipped out from behind him, leaving him to recline against the cushions. “Let me work it from the front.”

She dug in again and her hands trembled. She braced her hand beside his head, intending to use her elbow to get at the muscle in his joint, but she lost her focus and her damn mind in the beauty of Sam. Instead of continuing with the massage, she leaned all the way down, bracing her hand on the other side of his head. Fleetingly, she thought this was such a bad idea for so many reasons. But the impulse came over her and she couldn’t seem to help herself. He seemed so alone, so isolated, she wanted to comfort him in a more intimate way. She brushed her lips across his.

His eyes flashed open and he looked up at her with those stark blue eyes. She held his gaze for what felt like forever. She could feel the power of his personality in that gaze even while she could read nothing of his thoughts. She started to draw back, but he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth against his with a soft groan. His movement gave his dog tags a sexy, musical jingle.

The touch of his mouth made her want so much more, that bottom lip, so sensual, so full she couldn’t help using the tip of her tongue to savor the taste and feel of him. His open mouth was so inviting as he groaned again at the slide of her tongue. His chest heaved against hers, the thin T-shirt no barrier against the heat of his broad chest. Her breasts ached, her nipples tightening and hardening. Both of them panting, she took his mouth again. His fingers caressed the back of her neck when she opened her mouth, and the kiss just got hotter.

Warm, moist lips met hers, still open and so inviting, offering. He slipped his tongue inside, tracing slowly around the inner edge of her lips, then slipped deeper, probing, exploring. Olivia tried to catch her breath, but he kept stealing it every time his mouth moved over hers.

The heat flowed down over her, followed by Sam’s hands. He ran his hands down her back, sending shivers, setting off new ones, sliding lower. Desire swelled inside her, pushing aside sanity, blazing a trail for more instinctive responses. She arched against him, losing herself in the kiss and in the moment.

She slid her hand over his dark brown cropped hair, soft and smooth against his scalp. She molded her palms over the curve of his head and slanted her mouth across his as needs took over with a burning edge. His hands slid over her buttocks, kneading, stroking. He caught the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up, his knuckles skimming over the taut muscles of her back, skating along the side of her rib cage. The skin just below her breasts and on her stomach made hard, searing contact with his, and it was her turn to groan.

He was so silky soft and sizzling hot against her. He jerked the T-shirt more and her tight nipples made contact. His whisper of pleasure vibrated against her lips. She felt as if she were tumbling through space, dizzy, hanging on tight to her only anchor. Then suddenly she was on her back looking up into the blazing, passionate eyes of Sam. He dipped his head, focusing on her breasts and she arched in reaction to his gaze.

Then he was at her breast, his tongue grazing against her nipple, his lips tugging gently. The sensation was incredible, setting off a flutter of something wild inside her.

A car alarm close by went off and they both jolted at the sound. Sam lay against her for a moment, tense and alert. Then he sighed when the alarm abruptly cut off.

He looked down at her and swore vehemently as he pushed off her and sat back.

For a moment she let the regret wash through her as his eyes caressed her still. Reluctantly she pulled down her T-shirt and sat up.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Olivia...”

“I know. There are so many reasons why this would be a bad idea.”

He nodded. “But I want to say the hell with all those reasons.”

“But you’re worried. About me.”

She was trying not to fool herself. She knew he was a stranger, but that kiss...she’d melted into him, disappeared inside him and had been more with him than she’d ever been with anyone in her life. Right or wrong, the feelings were there and they were real.

She just wanted to bury her face in the curve of his neck and start all over again. She didn’t get embarrassed about her feelings like other women, and she sure as hell didn’t get them hurt often. She was methodical about who she chose to date.

Sam...was an American hero, a military man. Normally that would suit her. Gone a good bit of the time was okay in her book, but when she thought about Sam going anywhere, she didn’t like that idea.

He stood and moved away from her as if he didn’t trust himself. “I’m so messed up, Olivia. So messed up. I don’t even know if I’ll ever be right again. Normal. If I am, it’s back to Special Forces for me. Uncle Sam is all I really know.”

“In the short time that I’ve known you, you’ve never sounded so unsure about anything.”

He rubbed his hand over that short sexy hair, and Olivia just wanted to get her hands on him again.

“I don’t really know you, but it must be a trait that runs in your family, because I’m close to spilling my guts and I’m not used to that. I barely talk to my family. In Special Forces showing any weakness is unacceptable. But I can’t go back to my unit until I figure out what happened to me.”

“Sam,” she said, rising and going over to him. “If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I won’t ever betray your trust. It has to be ironclad if we’re going to weather all this.”

He backed away from her and ran his hand over his head again. That was fear she saw in his eyes, and she suspected that he’d had plenty of that in the six months he’d been back in Raleigh. She figured he was tired, too. The kind of tired you didn’t get from one difficult day. Those nightmares must be awful if the look on his face when he had woken on the table was any indication.

“Talk to me.”

She shut up then, deciding to let him find his own way into the conversation they both knew they had to have.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow. She was a bit worried he might hyperventilate, but she held her tongue and let him work through it in his head. Men like Sam powered through fear, and the courage it must have taken for him to seek out her brother humbled Olivia.

He brought his head down and opened his eyes, then settled back a bit more. He released a shaky breath, his eyes dark and tormented. He tried to speak, but his voice gave out on him. His face contorted in an agony of emotion. Finally he said, “Do I feel freaked out because your brother is dead?” in a hushed voice. “Yes. I have a tremendous amount of guilt about it. And that’s bad enough, but he can’t help me anymore. And, Olivia, I need that help. I’ve got to unlock what’s inside my head. That’s where the answers are, but it’s just blank. Like a black wall.”

As she watched him, an enormous need unfolded in her. A need to comfort him, to assure him, a need to simply wrap her arms around him to let him know he wasn’t alone. But she sensed he wasn’t open to that right now, the muscles along his bristled jaw tensing. “Then we should find someone else to help you.”

He shook his head, his eyes stark. “I can’t....” Folding his arms across his chest, he didn’t move for the longest time; then he let his breath go in a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes, swallowing hard. Finally he spoke, his voice gruff. “I can’t trust that what I might have said to your brother somehow got him dead. I can’t see another psychologist and put anyone else in danger. I don’t even think you should be involved.”

She shifted and looked directly at him even as he gave her an exasperated look. “We’ve already discussed that and I’m not changing my mind about that, Sam. Especially now.”

Letting his breath go in a ragged sigh, he pushed off the wall and said, “Why? Because you feel sorry for me? Olivia, I can take care of myself.

“I don’t doubt that, Sam.” He just stared at her with the look of annoyance on his face. “I don’t. I understand that this is risky and dangerous, but I’m not leaving you. I think you’re under surveillance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

“Because you’d had enough last night and I can’t be sure. It’s a gut feeling, but I haven’t been able to pinpoint who might be watching you. I took a lot of footage when I was following you. I just haven’t had a chance to look at it all. Whoever they are, they’re pros, slippery and elusive, very good at what they do.”

“I must be really off my game if you were following me and another set of people.” He sounded so weary. “I’ve had this prickly sensation ever since I got home. Where is this footage?”

“In my camera at my apartment. We can pick it up tomorrow when I get my things.”

He nodded. “That’s at least something.”

“We should get some sleep, Sam. We have a lot going on in the next few days.”

He nodded and they headed toward the back of the house. As she drew closer to him, she noted the compressed lines around his mouth and the tension in his body. She hated the thought that while she would sleep well, there was no guarantee that Sam would. Was that what was causing him this tension or was it her and what had happened between them in the living room? She touched his arm and he hesitated. “We’ll figure it out, Sam. We’ll work at it until we do. Try to rest if you can. We can take...everything slow.”

He turned to look at her, and a genuine smile released some of the strain on his face. “Babe, if we ever decide that we want to move forward with what happened on the couch, it won’t be slow. Believe me, it was the best part about this whole screwed-up situation we’re in.”

Unable to drag her eyes away, she stared at him, her heart fluttering, an unexpected longing clogging her chest.

The men of her past faded away. Right now there was no one but Sam. He had that certain aura about him, the stamp of unadulterated masculinity, of sexual intensity, that somehow magnified his physical strength. But it wasn’t his looks or his rugged body that made him stand out in the crowd. It was his quiet assurance in spite of his fears and doubts. He was a man very secure in his own masculinity, whose strength of character had shaped and molded his life. There were no half measures in him. He handled everything all the way.

“I can see why John was so keen on you and so adamant that you deserved the attention. And as for what happened on the couch...let me say you know what you’re doing very well in that respect.”

He leaned down and whispered softly, “You’d better get inside your room, babe, before I forget why I stopped kissing you in the first place.”

“You like giving out those orders, don’t you, Captain?”

“Hup to it and march, Olivia.”

“The more I get to know you, the more I like the man you are.”

They shared a grin before she did as she was told, not because she wanted to, but because at this moment it was prudent. Would it always be so? No, she didn’t think so. The attraction between them was volatile and she wasn’t sure whether, when it exploded, they could keep it in check.

After closing the door, she leaned against it. Sam Winston wasn’t just some client now; he was more.

She just wasn’t sure what that was exactly.