Just One Night Together by Deborah Cooke

Ten

It was official.

There was no one like Haley.

All Damon had to do was convince her to stay.

Actually, he thought he had to convince himself to let her stay, but he’d worry about that after he’d given her the biggest orgasm of her life. He wanted her to always associate great sex with him, to think of him whenever she felt desire, to come to him whenever she wanted satisfaction.

Because he would always give it to her.

He was realizing that was a responsibility he’d never tire of fulfilling.

She surrendered to him so completely, closing her eyes and parting her lips, opening her legs to him and welcoming everything he offered to her. Her nipples were as taut as her clitoris, and she was wet, so gloriously wet. He couldn’t wait to be inside her but he wanted her on the cusp before he moved. She squirmed as he ate her, her muscles tightening as she enjoyed the bit of confinement. He was inundated by her scent and could think only of her pleasure, carefully learning exactly what pleased her best. She liked it slow, but with little spurts of action, as if he was really going to gobble her up. The occasional brush of a tooth against her clitoris nearly sent her to the moon and he knew that when it was time, he was either going to nip that bud or pinch it.

And he wasn’t going to let go in a hurry. He wanted her to come and come and come, to come until she had no more to give, to come until she was exhausted and limp and collapsed in his arms.

It wouldn’t be long. He kissed her and flicked his tongue over her, feeling how she arched her back. Her pulse was racing and there was a sheen of perspiration on her skin. Her nipples were even tighter and her breath was coming quickly. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, and whispered his name with a desperation that could have sent him to the moon.

“Now!” she begged. “Now, now, now.”

He moved, intent upon giving her what she wanted, and reached for the condom. She pulled it out of his hand and flung it across the floor, then caught his face in her hands and kissed him hungrily. “All of you,” she murmured between kisses. “All of you, now. I love the feel of you without that.”

It wasn’t humanly possible to resist her. Not when she was so sweet, so hot, so wet, so determined to obliterate any other plan than her own. Damon was over her, then inside her, sinking home so fast that he shuddered in an effort to hold back. She was as tight as ever, but slick and hot. He flicked a glance at her, not knowing how long he’d last, and her satisfied smiled nearly finished him right there.

“Together,” she said.

“You’re demanding.”

“It’s the only way to get the best.”

Damon moved and Haley bit her lip, arching to welcome all of him. Her fingernails dragged over his shoulder and her eyes seemed darker. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair tangled over her shoulders, making her look just about as different from her usual composed self as was possible.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You look like you’re enjoying yourself, that’s all.”

Haley laughed. “Can you blame me?”

“Not one bit.” He lowered himself over her, settling more resolutely between her thighs. He braced his weight on his elbows, wiped his mouth, then bent to kiss her again. “That was the plan, after all,” he murmured against her lush mouth.

“I thought the plan was to make me scream.”

“The scream is just the sign of the plan’s success.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

“To thank you.” He kissed her ear, pushing one hand through her hair, then closing it around her nape. He kissed her mouth again. “In the best way possible, and as thoroughly as possible.”

“That might take more than once,” she whispered.

“I’m ready for that,” he replied and her eyes flew open. “Put your legs around me,” he invited in a low voice. “I want to watch you come right now. I want you to scream as loud as you can when you do.”

Haley caught her breath and blushed down to her nipples, but she did as he asked. The move opened her wide but also ensured that her clitoris could rub against the root of his shaft. He rolled his hips, ensuring that it did, and she gave another of those delicious moans.

“You are dangerous,” she whispered.

“I’m just getting started,” he promised, then moved within her. She caught her breath and he knew neither of them would last long. He tried to keep it slow but with Haley moving the way she did and kissing him the way she did, he didn’t have much chance of success. His own blood heated and his need rose to a crescendo. He watched her pant, and saw her eyes sparkle, then felt her run her nails all the way down his back and up again.

When she tightened around him then shouted in her release, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Damon buried himself deep inside her and leaned his face against her shoulder, welcoming her release and surrendering to his own.

She was perfect.

No doubt about it.

* * *

Haley’s kneeswere shaking when they finally left the bed and went to the bathroom to clean up. She snapped a towel at Damon and he caught her, held her close and kissed her slowly. He exuded contentment and calm, and was more affectionate than he’d ever been before.

Had something changed because she’d told him about Garrett?

Either way, the change was good.

He brought her clothes to the bathroom while she was cleaning up and leaned in the doorway to watch her, smiling. She would have liked to have taken more of a look around upstairs, but he’d already turned off the light. One other door was closed and the other room in shadows. That was all she saw before he hustled her back down to the kitchen.

“Time for food,” he said bluntly.

She was surprised that it wasn’t later than it was. It was only just dinner time although it was getting dark outside. They worked together: she finished the salad and he put on the rice, then grilled the chicken on a barbeque on the back patio. She heard him speak to a neighbor and mention that there’d be a service for his mom. The neighbor told him to be sure to share the details and he promised to do so, as easily as if he’d always planned to do that.

“You were so right,” he said when he came back inside. “It’s so much easier this way, but I would never have done it without you.” His gaze bored into hers. “Thank you.”

“I told you, that’s what friends are for.”

He looked like he might say something and Haley hoped he wasn’t going to explain that they weren’t friends. She’d heard that enough times. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold,” she said and he nodded agreement.

“Will you tell me when and where you served?” she asked and got a look for that.

“Afghanistan. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Haley nodded, feeling as if he was building walls between them again. She supposed she should have expected it. “Fair enough,” she said and kept eating her dinner. She felt him watching her but decided not to fill the silence.

They ate until she heard the sound of his cutlery being set on the plate. “I remember the first meal I had in this kitchen after I came home.”

Haley glanced up in surprise.

Damon was surveying the room. “I didn’t come home right away. I had to go for some therapy for the PTSD and that was up in Boston. I decided not to re-up when I was there. They recommended as much, but I knew even before anything was said that I couldn’t go back.” His gaze collided with hers. “I wanted to think about the future instead of the past, but the only thing I knew how to do was kill people and take their stuff.”

Haley smiled because she knew he expected it, but she knew that it had been a challenging time for him. “I’ve heard that joke before,” she said, wondering what exactly was at the root of his PTSD. A single traumatic event? That’s what she would have expected, but she also knew that each case was unique.

Listening was the best gift she could give Damon, now that he wanted to talk.

Why did he want to confide in her now? Haley again had the sense that something had changed, although she didn’t know what.

“It’s true, along with a lot of other things you learn.” Damon looked away and Haley knew he was thinking of the things he’d rather forget.

She didn’t say anything, just finished her chicken and waited.

“You probably know that one of the things that helps to manage the effects of PTSD is exercise.”

Haley nodded. “Along with a lot of other coping mechanisms.”

Damon counted them on his fingers. “Good diet. Management of the environment. Avoidance of shocks. A daily routine. Plenty of sleep. The list is long and it all helps.”

Haley nodded again, glad he’d gone for therapy. She wasn’t really surprised, though. Damon wasn’t irresponsible, even with his own care. He would have wanted to solve the issue.

“So, when I came home, I joined a gym just down the way. Not a fancy place, but they had good equipment and it wasn’t too expensive. I liked that the owner had a weakness for kids, especially kids who were being bullied or who showed an interest in training. He had them come after school and he taught them for free for a month or two. He spotted for them and gave them tips. Most of them didn’t last long, but there were a few who really got into it. He asked me to help.” Damon smiled a little. “Maybe he thought I needed something different to think about after my thousandth push-up of the day.”

“You like kids?”

Damon nodded. “I had no idea until then, but I did like them. And I liked teaching them. Eventually, there were a few who wanted to stay on, even if they had to pay to learn more. Zeke let them be my students, so I had a kind of coaching thing going on. It wasn’t a lot of money, because these kids often didn’t have much. Zeke insisted that they pay something, to teach them the value of getting what you want. Of working for it. Some of them paid for their lessons by doing errands for me or for my mom. There was one who delivered her groceries every week from the store to here.”

“Sounds nice. A community thing.”

“It was. I went back to school, too, determined to get the degree I hadn’t finished because I signed up. I changed majors so it took a bit longer, but by the time I’d finished, I’d met Kyle at work. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he was going around to all the clubs in New York, doing a survey in advance of opening F5F. He’d join the ones he heard good things about, see what they were doing right and what they might be doing wrong, as well as keeping an eye out for good people. I couldn’t believe my luck when he asked if I wanted a job at a new fitness club opening in the city.”

“But you’re a partner.”

Damon nodded. “Initially, I was hired to coach in the weight room. But then I went down there and looked at the construction, and I thought they had some design elements wrong. I knew I couldn’t explain it well, so I came back here and basically put together a presentation arguing my case. A week later, I took it to the partners, fully expecting them to say thanks, maybe act on it or maybe not, maybe give me some cash if they did. Instead, they were really excited and asked me to join the partnership.” He shook his head. “It was like a dream come true. These four people who knew each other and met at college, then me, son of a carpenter and ex-military, too.” He raised his brows. “One of these things is not like the others.”

Haley smiled, again because she knew he expected it. “Is that why you didn’t confide in them about your mom?”

“Probably. I didn’t really think about it. I just didn’t want to lose F5F. I know it’s going to be what gives me purpose.”

Haley nodded in understanding. “What about the local gym?”

“Oh, it closed when Zeke died. I gave him a full membership at F5F. I bought it for him with my first pay check, but I think he only came down there once. He said it was too fancy for him.” Damon smiled in recollection and Haley’s heart squeezed. “I still went back to help coach the kids two nights a week until he passed away.” He shrugged. “I’d still be doing it if the club was there.”

Haley believed it. “Sounds like he died young.”

Damon nodded. “It was tragic. Car accident. You know, all those kids over the years came out to honor him.”

Haley gave him a skeptical look. “And you forgot how powerful that was?”

Damon looked sheepish. “I try not to think about funerals. It makes me remember other things.” He got up then and took the dishes to the sink. Instead of loading the dishwasher, he started to wash them and Haley went to help. She didn’t know what to say, so she just dried plates and put them away, feeling all the while that Damon was watching her.

He cleared his throat when everything was done, and if she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was nervous. “You never showed me what you learned about meridians at F5F.”

“Checking up on your instructor?”

“I’d much rather check up on the student.”

Haley gave him a look. “That sounds like a line.”

He was immediately close beside her, his hand on her shoulder and slowly stroking up to her chin. She melted, right on cue. “It wasn’t supposed to be,” he said, his voice low. He was looking at her as if she was amazing, and Haley reminded herself not to get used to it. Then that reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she was a goner. “There’s just something about you. I can’t get enough.” He leaned down to touch his lips to the corner of her mouth. “I always want more.”

Haley closed her eyes in surrender, leaning back and letting him tug her into his arms. “Same here,” she whispered, just before he brushed his lips across hers. The light touch left her tingling, and hungry for more.

“Maybe we should do something about that,” he murmured, his face so close that she thought she could see all his secrets in his dark eyes.

“We definitely should,” she replied, then reached up to kiss him.

* * *

How couldit be just as good the second time?

If not better?

How could sex with Haley get better every time? Damon couldn’t understand it. He seldom seduced any woman more than twice. He usually had his fill by then and was ready for a change. It wasn’t about novelty or variety. It was because after the second date, women started to ask questions. They wanted to know more about him, delve into his secrets and deepen the connection. Damon knew that wasn’t for him, so he voted with his feet.

The difference with Haley, he realized as he held her after their second bout of lovemaking that night, was that she hadn’t waited to start asking questions. She’d been delving into his secrets even before he’d met her, doing her research and checking the files. In a way, she had a head start on things and he hadn’t been ready for that.

She dozed a little against his chest, her hair a glorious tangle in his hands, and he was content to just be with her. Was it because there was no pending battle? No threat of her finding out the truth about him and running away?

Or was it because he doubted she’d ever run away from him?

Not Haley. She’d come after him when she thought he was wrong.

Damon pressed a kiss to the top of her head. There was something reassuring about her determination to confront him and challenge him. Her persistence was something he admired, especially when she told him something he didn’t want to hear. She had guts.

As much as he knew he couldn’t deliver what any woman wanted on a long term basis, Haley made him want to try.

That in itself was pretty amazing.

In fact, he wanted to change her mind about commitment and true love. He wanted to kick this Garrett asshole to the curb and show Haley that love could last, if it was nurtured by the people involved. He wanted to prove to her that love didn’t always end in tragedy, that it was worth believing in more than just the moment.

He wasn’t entirely sure where this urge came from, but he trusted it. He wondered if his mom was inspiring him to take a chance on love, to win Haley’s heart and keep it forever. He hoped so. Natasha’d had really good instincts about people and she’d liked Haley, without even knowing much about her.

Haley stirred and looked up at Damon, pushing her hair back as she smiled. She was still flushed and her eyes were sparkling. He noticed a couple of details to add to his drawing. “That was great.”

Damon nodded. “Seems to be a pretty consistent result.”

She laughed. “Is that what’s been going on? A consistency test?”

“Of course not.” He couldn’t resist her lips and bent to kiss her once more. As ever, she wrapped herself around him, welcoming him, offering all that she had to give. She was so generous and kind that he suspected he’d always be shaken by the honesty of her response.

He could get used to it.

He wanted more than a moment with her.

She sighed contentment when they broke their kiss and ran a hand over his shoulder. She outlined his tribal tattoo with a fingertip, then glanced up at him through her lashes as if she was suddenly shy. “Why this design?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tattoos often mean something. I don’t understand this one.” She flicked another look up at him, as if she sensed that there was more to it than met the eye. “What does it mean?”

“Nothing,” Damon admitted without intending to do so. “It’s just big with a lot of ink.”

She watched her own fingertip as she outlined the design. “Because you wanted to cover up another one,” she guessed, and he knew better than to be surprised.

“The guys on my team all got the same one when we were deployed. I didn’t deserve to wear it any more.”

There. He’d said it out loud. He hadn’t admitted that since he’d gone to the tattoo parlor for this one.

“What was it?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s history now.”

Haley looked at him, her expression skeptical, but Damon didn’t want to argue about this, and he didn’t want to talk about it any more. His chest was tight with the memory and he knew he had to distract himself from the path that led to his worst nightmare.

He kissed her quickly, as much to silence her inevitable question as anything else. “You haven’t shown me what you learned at F5F,” he said, trying to sound normal.

Haley hesitated only a moment, assessing his mood, then nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t. Roll to your stomach and I’ll show you.”

“There’s some lotion in the bathroom. I’ll get it.”

She stayed him with a fingertip. “No, wait here. I’ll get it. I want to wash up a little first anyhow.”

Damon remained on the bed, his chin braced on his fists, and remembered having the tattoo covered. The artist had admired the old tattoo and had been reluctant to cover it up because it was such good work. Damon had insisted, and eventually—when he’d threatened to go elsewhere—the artist had relented.

He’d taken a picture of it first, though, just for his own collection.

The big tribal tattoo had hurt, while Damon didn’t remember the first tattoo hurting much at all. He supposed it was psychological, a kind of penance for his failure.

He felt his heartbeat slow and a languor steal through his body even as he heard the water splash. He was so tired. He’d been running for a long time, trying to juggle his mom’s illness with his responsibilities at F5F, and probably not doing a very good job of it. He’d felt torn between his obligations and unable to reconcile them. He hated that his mom was gone and he missed her already, but in a way, it made his life simpler.

There would just be work.

There would just be F5F.

Could he convince Haley to stay? Damon wasn’t sure he had much to offer her. The sex was great, but that wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to tell her things but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. It just wasn’t in his nature to expose his secrets to view. He was willing to try, but he doubted it would be enough.

His best hadn’t been enough for Foster, after all.

Damon wondered what had happened to Buchanan. They hadn’t kept in touch, although Buchanan had emailed him a couple of times in the early days. Damon had never replied.

He hoped his former teammate was okay. It had to be hell to live without a hand, his dominant hand, too. He had to have been given an honorary discharge for medical reasons. Damon wondered if Buchanan had married that girlfriend who always wrote to him, or if his injury had been a deal-breaker.

Was it possible that Buchanan was just as much alone as he was?

Was it possible that a person’s truth could be the obstacle to his or her happiness?

That was a troubling possibility. Would telling Haley all of his truth end what she called the perfect moment?

“I hope you’re not asleep.” Haley’s light step sounded on the floor as she returned. She went toward his desk, probably intending to turn on the lamp.

“Leave it off, please,” he said and felt her turn to look at him. “I like the darkness.”

“All the better to hide your secrets,” she said lightly.

Of course, she’d guessed the truth. He really didn’t want her to see the drawings he’d made of her, not just because they weren’t done. They weren’t right yet.

He was self-conscious about them, fearful that they might reveal more than he realized to Haley’s perceptive gaze. She might dislike that he’d done them, as if he was a stalker or something.

As if he was believing in more than she did.

Damon glanced up at her silhouette and saw that she’d tugged on her dress again. She’d also pulled her hair back into a ponytail, which seemed official to him. He liked her hair loose. He wondered if she’d gotten dressed because she was hiding from him or if she was cold. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to hear the answer.

Haley would have asked him, no matter what she thought the answer might be.

The realization stole another increment of his energy. He closed his eyes, wanting only to sleep.

“That was a joke,” she said, then he felt the mattress dip as she knelt on the side of the bed. “You really should move to the floor. All the books say it’s better than giving a massage to someone on a bed.”

“I’m not moving anywhere.” Damon yawned. “This feels too good.”

“How are you going to assess my technique if you fall asleep?”

“Maybe I won’t be able to.” He yawned again. “I’m feeling like it’s a miracle I’ve been awake this long.”

Her fingertips slid down his back, then swept up again with a little more pressure. She smoothed lotion over his skin, her hands spread flat, and he knew she’d warmed it in her hands first. Although her hands were small, her touch was firm and it felt good. She moved to straddle him and put her weight into each stroke. Damon almost purred with satisfaction. “Tell me about meridians,” he murmured.

“They’re how qi moves through your body,” she said, her voice soft and as hypnotic as her touch. “The medial line runs from the perineum up to here.” She ran her fingertips up his back and Damon closed his eyes again. He breathed deeply as she continued, not really listening as he succumbed to the magic of her touch.

And the temptation of sleep.

* * *

Damon wasn’t listeningto her.

Haley knew that but she kept talking, repeating what she’d learned in the class and read since then. She gave him a general massage, working out the kinks when she found them, easing the tension from his muscles. He’d clearly been under a lot of stress. He was toned from his work-outs, but where there should have been some give, the strain of his mother’s illness had his body taut. She heard his breathing slow and felt his pulse drop and figured he was past due for a good sleep.

If he could do that because she was with him, that was fine by her.

She kept talking because she didn’t want to inadvertently wake him with a change. By the time she was finished with the massage, she knew he was sleeping deeply. She carefully got up from the bed and pulled a blanket over him, watching him sleep for a moment. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could see him in the shadows. His hair was tousled and he looked younger, less stern. She was tempted to touch his cheek, but again, thought she might wake him up.

Was this the end of their moment? Haley had no idea. This night had been the best yet and she couldn’t imagine that there was more.

Haley watched Damon for a while, acknowledging that she was conflicted. She wanted more, but she was afraid of having more.

She was afraid of becoming vulnerable.

She wanted to walk away now, while things were perfect between them, but she didn’t want to miss any goodness.

She already knew she’d never forget Damon.

Finally, she left the room. She pulled the door to the bedroom behind herself. She didn’t shut it completely, because she thought the latch might click.

No doubt he’d hear any small sound and jump to attention.

He’d have been trained for that and the PTSD would have made it worse.

Haley made sure she was completely silent. She didn’t want to leave just yet, in case Damon woke up and wanted to talk. She felt good in his house, welcome and safe. Haley was going to go down to the kitchen and see if there was any tea in the cupboard, but she couldn’t resist the urge to investigate just a little.

There were two bedrooms that faced the back of the house, one being Damon’s. The other had a couch and a television in it, a pair of bookcases. A lot of the titles were in a different language that looked like Russian. Haley assumed these were his mom’s books. There was a basket of crochet on one side of the couch and she had a look, again assuming it had been his mom who had been making dishcloths.

She paused at the top of the stairs, listening to Damon’s steady breathing. Then she took a chance and pushed open the other door. It didn’t make a sound and, as she expected, it opened to a large bedroom that faced the street. There was a queen-sized bed at one end and a big bureau with a mirror, but what made Haley stop and stare were all the pictures. There were dozens of them, all framed in the same simple black wooden frames, hung in rows all around the room. They were all black and white.

She stepped closer to look at them and realized they were drawings. Some were pencil and others were charcoal; still others were in ink, but it was clear to her that they’d been done by the same person.

D.P. had initialed and dated each one in the bottom right corner.

This was Damon’s work.

Haley raised one hand to her mouth and moved around the room slowly, looking at each and every one. They were hung in the order of creation, beginning at the right of the bureau and continuing clockwise around the room. This laughing woman had to be Natasha in younger days.

Here she was helping a little girl with her toe shoes, such tenderness in her expression that Haley bit her lip. Damon had come honestly by his affection for teaching. Here was a stiffer one of a man, maybe done from a photograph, a man who had Damon’s eyes.

Here was a smiling young man, armed for combat, apparently taking a break in a hot and dusty place. Haley swallowed and eyed the surrounding drawings. They had been folded at some point, and she guessed that he had sent them home to his mom in his letters. She read the names. Foster. Buchanan. There was a German Shepherd with another man, the dog alert and the soldier looking weary. Killer and MacRae. There were others without names, a little girl selling scarves who looked to be Afghani, an old man selling spices with a thousand lines on his face, an older lady offering a cup of tea, fear and welcome warring in her eyes.

After that were drawings of kids, American kids, some with huge boxing gloves and others with weights that looked too heavy for their slender arms. Several wore expressions of concentration or determination, and there were several that included a burly man. His head was shaved bald and his nose had been broken at least once, but Haley saw his undivided attention for each child. There was a portrait of him, too.

She recognized the partners from Flatiron Five Fitness that she’d met while there. Their names were on the bottom of the drawing. Cassie. Kyle. Both of them were laughing and he’d caught them perfectly. There were two more: both elegant men in suits, one white and one black. Tyler. Theo.

On the bureau were a few loose drawings and Haley smiled as she looked at them. Here was Khadija from the hospital, concentrating on her charts, and here was Dr. Smithson, listening to someone. That person wasn’t shown, but his characteristic concern and focus were both clear. He had such a great bedside manner, and Haley knew that Damon had observed the doctor with Natasha.

There were some random sketches that she guessed were in the neighborhood and some from the subway. He was really talented and she surveyed the room, seeing his mom’s pride in his skill and feeling as if she’d had a secret peek into his life. She’d guess that Natasha had been the one to have Damon’s work framed.

Haley would have framed it, too. She admired the work again.

When she went into the hall, she could hear that Damon was still sleeping.

Should she leave?

She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t that late. Not even eight.

Before she could decide, Damon yelled.

* * *

He was back there.

Again.

Damon stirred in his sleep, knowing he was having the nightmare and only wanting it to stop. They were on that street. They were approaching the corner. He felt himself thrash with his desire to escape.

He saw the kid.

He warned Foster.

He saw the grenade and time slowed to a crawl. He knew what it was, of course. He knew what was going to happen.

But this time his body responded.

Damon flung himself on the grenade. He wrapped himself around it, squeezing it tightly, trying to make sure there was no way that any of its destructive force would touch Buchanan or Foster.

Then it squirmed in his grip, becoming larger, turning into an enemy warrior. That man laughed and Damon locked his hands around his throat, squeezing the life out of him for what he had done. He laughed until the blood ran from between the other man’s teeth, until it leaked out his ears, until it ran from his eyes, until he laughed no more. Still he kept squeezing, demanding a due for Foster and Buchanan and all the others...

“Damon.”

A voice summoned him back from the abyss.

A familiar voice that didn’t belong in Afghanistan.

“Damon!”

Damon opened his eyes, panting, in a cold sweat, and found himself in his darkened bedroom with his heart racing. He realized he’d shredded the life out of a pillow.

And Haley was silhouetted in the doorway, staring at him.

She’d said his name.

She’d called him back.

He exhaled and surveyed the room. He was on the floor. He’d seized the pillow from the bed and slaughtered it in his dream.

If Haley had been beside him, he could have killed her, without even realizing what he was doing until it was too late.

This had to stop.

Now.

Before she paid the price for his sins.