Saint by Zoe Dawson

14

His whole body sated,Saint clenched his jaw, his heart finally back to its normal rhythm, the intensity of his release leaving him totally spent. It felt so good to be with her again. So damned good.

Drained dry by the thick, wringing climax, Saint inhaled unevenly and turned his face against her sweat-dampened neck, the rush of blood subsiding. He lay unmoving until his pulse rate quieted, his body heavy, his muscles slow to respond. Dredging up what little strength he had left, he braced his weight on his forearms, his chest contracting when he realized how hard Aella was hanging on to him.

Sensation wrenched loose in his chest, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against hers, his throat suddenly contracting. Every time was like the first with her. Or the last.

Not wanting to think about that, he drenched his senses with the heated scent of her, trying not to think at all.

Finally getting it together, he inhaled unevenly and lifted his head. Murmuring her name, he reached behind him, loosening her hold around his back, then pressing her down against the bed. She lay with her eyes closed, and he could finally feel her relaxing.

That had been a hell of an argument, and truth be told he was still pissed and unsatisfied with the outcome of it.

She refused to go home, and he was put in an untenable place. Did he force her and expect that she would have nothing more to do with him, or did he go against his better judgment and support her in this risky attempt to find and apprehend Darko?

If she…lost her life because he went along with her wishes, how would he live with himself?

Smoothing her damp hair back from her face, he leaned down and softly kissed her mouth, then lifted his head and gazed down at her. “Look at me, Aella,” he whispered huskily.

She drew a deep breath, then opened her eyes, and Saint met her gaze. He softened his expression as he caressed the line of her jaw. “You okay?”

Her admission that she had to continue going after Darko because she couldn’t live with Jason’s death being meaningless struck home with him. He’d lost brothers, close friends in combat. All of them had been dedicated to the mission, but if he couldn’t lay that brother to rest and move on, he would be completely ineffective as a SEAL and a medic. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care, God, the opposite, but war was about achieving the objective, and casualties had to be expected.

She nodded, then closed her eyes again, her arms tightening around his back as she lifted herself up and buried her face against his neck. Saint experienced a rush of tenderness for her, and he grasped the back of her head, holding her close. He wished like hell he had a way of stopping time. If he could, he would hang on to this moment for the rest of his life.

Releasing a reluctant sigh, he gazed down at her, his expression sobering as he stroked her temple with his thumb. He was digging himself in deeper and deeper. When they parted six months ago, he hadn’t expected to see her ever again.

But stopping once he had Aella in his arms, his mouth on her, her so distraught, would hurt them both. They needed each other. She had been so emotionally honest with him.

He caressed her again, then said, his voice quiet, “Aella.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, that same stubborn expression washing over her face.

She saw a flicker of dread, and he experienced a twist around his heart, but he held her gaze. “Is this about Jason?”

“Yes,” he said. She rolled away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, drawing the covers over her lap. He sat up too and redid his pants. Pulling up a chair, he sat across from her. She stared at him, her eyes suddenly clouding, then she swallowed hard and shifted her gaze. She swallowed again, then said, her voice breaking, “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t, okay?”

His expression sobering, Saint caught her along the jaw lifting her head, so she had to look at him. “Don’t what?” he commanded quietly.

She hesitated, her expression stark, unhappiness dilating her eyes. He gave her head a small shake, prodding her to answer. “Don’t what?”

“She took a deep breath, then looked away, her face drawn. “Don’t try to talk—”

“That’s not what I was trying to do if you’ll hear me out.”

She frowned and looked away as if her emotions were too raw to hold his gaze. Finally, she looked up at him, her shoulders dropping and that wary look in her eyes fading. “What is it you want to say?”

He stared at her for a moment, then began fingering the wild tumble of her hair, his stomach knotting. What he was going to say was harsh, but it was reality. “I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there multiple times. It’s hard, as hard as it gets in our line of work, but people die, Aella. They die randomly, horribly, tragically, and painfully. They die doing their job.” She opened her mouth to say something, and he cut her off. “I’m not saying you have to give up going after Jason’s murderer.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you can’t dwell on any one person’s death or blame yourself for what happened. There’s only one person responsible for a death and it’s the person who took that person’s life. I couldn’t function as a SEAL or medic if I let the guys I treat or fight with disable me from operating. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Getting Jason justice isn’t my job. Completing the mission is?”

Brushing back some stray wisps of hair at her temple, he finally met her gaze, his own somber. “That’s part of it. Mourn Jason, feel what you need to feel, then let it go. Tuck it away like you would a fresh rose between the pages of a book. The book is going to get filled with memories and people you’ve lost.”

“How about your book?”

“It’s too full,” he murmured.

She moved off the bed and settled in the chair with him, her naked lower body warm against his groin, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry for all your losses, Saint.”

For some reason Saint felt as if he’d just been let out of a dark, tight space, and he closed his eyes and hugged her hard, feeling as if he could take his first deep breath in days.

He pressed a kiss against her brow, then hugged her again. His chest expanding with a deep, uneven breath, he said gruffly, “Thank you, babe. That means a lot.”

He held her for a few moments, then realized he’d jumped her without confirming something very important. “Hey, babe, you still got that implant thingy under your skin?”

She pushed away from him and smiled. “You mean my birth control?”

Rising with her in his arms, she gave a little squeal until he settled her against his chest. “Yeah,” he said sheepishly.

“You should have asked me that before we…”

“Fucked each other over. I know.” He gave her a crooked grin. “You got off the mark pretty quick. If you’d given me a head start, I might have had half a brain to ask.”

“So, this is my fault?”

The tone of her voice amused him, and he grinned at her. “No, not if you have that thingy.”

He set her down on the bed and stripped off his clothes, then pulled off her shirt and bra. Then he climbed in with her.

He propped himself up on one elbow and ran his finger along her bottom lip.

“You starting something, buddy, even before you know I have that thingy?”

He gave her a seriously look. “Do you? Damn, was I that irresponsible?” He held her gaze, thinking she was teasing him because her eyes were twinkling. His voice was gruff when he said, “Being careless with you was never my intention.”

Her expression softened, and she almost smiled, her touch feather light as she traced the outline of muscle on his supporting biceps. It was damned distracting.

“You’ve never been careless, Zach,” she chastised softly. She looked back at him, a hint of dry humor appearing in her eyes. “And just out of curiosity, since when have you needed a head start?”

Feeling as if he’d just gotten caught in a double play, he lifted back some hair that was clinging to her cheek. He fixed the silky strands in among the rest, then looked down at her, a small smile appearing. “Don’t give me a harder time, babe. You know damned well what I meant.”

She laughed and squeezed his lips together in an exaggerated pucker. “So cute when you put your foot in your mouth.”

He leaned down and kissed her, then lifted his head, smiling into her eyes. “You gonna answer my question or leave me hanging?”

“Don’t change the subject there, charmer.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll have to withhold sex.”

“Right,” she laughed hard.

“I can hold out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m a trained SEAL.”

“Did your drill sergeant teach you that too?”

He made an ick face. “Fuck no.” His brows bobbed. “I had that down pat before I went into BUD/S.”

“I bet you did.”

He laughed.

“I have the thingy under my skin, so you won’t have to be tested.”

“Thank God.” Running his hand up and down her back, he rested his head against hers, liking the feel of her damp, naked body against his. Aella shifted, and he felt the brush of her long eyelashes as she closed her eyes. He continued to stroke her back. After a few moments he felt her body go slack, and he knew she had dropped off to sleep, which gave him a certain amount of satisfaction.

Releasing a contented sigh, he drew his arm around her and closed his eyes.

* * *

Iceman stayed with Rose,impatient that they had to wait for a medevac chopper from Djibouti to take her to Lemonnier.

She woke a couple of times but passed out again. He was currently acting as her pillow. It gave him a lot of time to study that arresting face. Preach had checked her over and confirmed that she had a severe concussion coupled with exhaustion and dehydration. He thought she would be all right once she got bed rest and fluids. Iceman felt an enormous amount of relief after his diagnosis.

Fast Lane came back into the destroyed headquarters.

“Any luck?” Iceman asked.

“No, Saint’s off the grid. I can only hope he made it to the Baidoa military base.”

He hated to be the bearer of bad news. “Not yet. I got a report that no one has shown up there yet.” Iceman looked over at Pitbull, then met Preacher’s eyes. He shook his head. The man was out, definitely feverish.

“Looks like we’re going to medevac one of your guys out of here. He’s in no shape to continue. Looks like he has a fever. We don’t want to fool around with infection. Preach has given him some antibiotics, but he needs that wound addressed.”

“Yeah, he got a gash on his leg when we crashed the SUV. No argument from me,” Fast Lane growled.

“GQ to Iceman. How copy?”

“Go for Iceman.”

“Boss, we made it to where they left Slater’s body. On our way back now.”

“Copy that. Double time it, Q. Once that chopper gets here, we don’t want it on the ground too long.”

“Copy that. I’ll get Kodiak to carry him. He’s a beast.”

“He just doesn’t want to mess up his hair,” Kodiak growled over the comm.

“Thank you for going after him,” Fast Lane said, his gaze going around the debris-strewn quarters taking in Mad Max, Jugs, Dodger and Hemingway all out for the count. They had been up almost twenty-four hours. His eyes snagged on the woman who had been with them when they had shown up at the airport. She was a stunner, and it was clear Fast Lane was protective of her. She was a Nightstalker pilot and had also been caught in the bombing of the airport. The two women the only survivors. They had worked most of the afternoon to unearth the dead, including Commander Jackson and the headquarters staff.

“Why don’t you take a quick one. The chopper will be here in thirty, then we can move onto the next leg of this op.”

Fast Lane looked reluctant to sleep. Iceman wondered if it was because of nightmares. He knew about that.

“You knew these people?” Iceman asked. Fast Lane settled next to him, propping his back against a partially demolished wall.

“Yes, some. The commander better than others. They were our eyes and ears when we went after our HVT.”

“I’m sorry for your losses.” He indicated the pilot with his chin. “And her?”

Fast Lane’s mouth tightened, and his eyes went tender. “She’s my ex-wife.”

“No shit. Small world.”

“It is in the Nightstalker community.”

“Have to say. That’s pretty badass. Amazing pilots.”

“She’s that for sure. Always at the top of her class. Held her own out there with Rose and Slater. We came along just in the nick of time.”

Dodger woke up and nudged Max. “Let’s go walk the perimeter, mate,” he said.

Max grumbled, but Jugs was up and ready to go.

“Your partner is a better operator than you are,” Dodger groused.

“Right, he outranks me, so I guess we’re walking the perimeter.” Max shoved Dodger, who laughed.

Iceman chuckled. “Our dog handler is Cooper ‘Skully’ Sullivan. His MWD is Bonesaw or Bones for short.”

Fast Lane chuckled. “Nice. Very fitting.” He closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.

“Where am I?” Rose said, trying to lift her head.

“At the airport, still in Somalia I’m sorry to say.”

She groaned and brought her hand up to her head.

“How are you holding up?”

“Senior Petty Officer Kit Snow…Iceman?”

“One and the same, ma’am.”

She tilted her head to look up at him and smiled. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“I didn’t save your life, Officer Sinema. You did that on your own. I just caught you when you passed out.”

Her brown eyes studied him, and it was clear she liked what she saw. It wasn’t ego. He just knew.

“You married, Iceman?”

He smirked. “Hell no.”

“Yeah, maybe you can look me up when I don’t have a concussion…and have showered.”

He figured she was out of it, rambling. She did have a head injury. He wouldn’t mind seeing her, though at least once. She was beautiful, strong and brave. But he was more of a womanizer, lover boy, skirt-chaser, strap-whore.

“You are brutally handsome,” she said, closing her eyes. “All those angles and strong lines adding up to bad boy door kicker.” She was quiet, and he suspected she’d fallen back to sleep. “Iceman doesn’t fit, though.” Her words were nothing but a low mumble.

“How so?” he asked with a smile.

“You’re much too warm and comfortable.”

He chuckled softly as GQ and Kodiak jogged into the shelter. “We set Slater with the other bodies, boss,” GQ reported.

“You made good time. Go walk the perimeter with Mad Max, Jugs, and Dodger. Stay hydrated,” he ordered.

They jogged back out.

Thirty minutes later, in the distance Iceman heard the sound of chopper blades. One medevac for Pitbull and Officer Rose Sinema. The others for the fallen Americans and Somalis who lost their lives.

* * *

“Man,you need to get some sleep,” Dragon said, turning his head to look at 2-Stroke.

“I took a combat nap. I’m going back down there to see if I can hear what the hell they’re talking about.”

Dragon sat up. “All right but be careful. I think that Russian bitch has a sixth sense. She keeps looking out the window.”

2-Stroke shrugged, not caring a whit about Zasha and how she slept at night. She tortured him and his fiancée for weeks. “She’s being paranoid.”

Dragon snorted. “I’d say she’s justified.”

2-Stroke checked his knife, the load in his suppressed sidearm. “Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean someone isn’t watching you.”

“Haha, yeah. All I need is the go ahead and I’ll aerate her brain.”

2-Stroke slipped down the hillside and sneaked along the edge of the compound, easily avoiding the guards. He crept up to the structure that housed the man who looked like a scientist. If he wanted answers, he was sure the man would have them.

He carefully peered through the open window. The man was at a desk. Suddenly, the door opened and Darko walked inside.

“Mr. Stjepanić. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to find out what your progress is, Dr. Kodro. Zasha is getting impatient.”

“I only need a few more hours. We’ve almost extracted the amount of uranium you require. Another few hours should do it.”

“See that you’re done by then, Doctor.”

2-Stroke slipped away from the window, his gut clenching. Uranium? Fast Lane needed to know this intel a-sap. He went around to the front of the structure. He couldn’t believe his luck. Stjepanić was all alone. No guards in sight. He made a split-second decision.

He lunged out of the darkness and got the bastard in a chokehold, dragging him back into the shadows. The man fought, but he went down. 2-Stroke went to pull out a zip-tie and just barely missed Stjepanić’s knife slicing at his jugular.

2-Stroke grabbed his wrist and punched him twice in the face. He staggered back. “I’m so glad you decided to resist.”

Stjepanić’s eyes widened. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I’m a ghost and I’ve come for you, asshole.” 2-Stroke jumped back as he feinted with the knife. Then Darko turned to run, but 2-Stroke was on him before he could take three steps.

This time when he choked him, he made sure he was out. Zip cuffing his hands behind his back and his ankles, 2-Stroke then gagged him. Throwing him over his shoulder, he double-timed it back to Dragon.

“What the fuck did you just do?”

“You like that?”

“Slick as snot.” Dragon laughed. “I’d like to punch his lights out.”

“Get a hold of Fast Lane. I know why the terrible two are here and he needs to know pronto.” He dumped Darko on the ground. “Come sunlight we’re going to have a problem.”

* * *

As soon asAella touched his body, he was wide awake, but he didn’t move. He was currently on his stomach. She was running her hands over his back and butt.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked sleepily.

“You, I hope,” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck.

He groaned softly.

She touched his hip and nudged him to turn over. When he did, she took every inch of him into the silky, wet heat of her mouth. He groaned at the unbelievable friction she created with her lips, tongue, and fingers as she slid up and down his throbbing dick. She added suction, and his body tensed as he fought against the overwhelming urge to come.

“Babe, enough,” he ground out.

She gave him one last lick, then rose above him. Her expression tender, she caught his face between her hands and stared at him, then she leaned into him and gave him a hot kiss. Opening his mouth against her, he ran his hand up her back, urging her toward him. But she didn’t yield. Unsteady, she tightened her hold on his face and withdrew, then smoothed her hands down his shoulders and across his chest, her mouth soft and warm as she brushed her lips against one nipple. The jolt of sensation made him grit his teeth, and he sucked in his breath when she touched it with the tip of her tongue. Gripping her arm, he opened his eyes and looked down at her, his vision hazed with sensation as she continued with her slow, soft exploration.

She slipped her fingers down to his dick again and Saint clenched his teeth and sucked in a deep breath when she took his hard, pulsating shaft in her hand, stroking him with a tight hold. Saint’s face contorted at the sharp, intense pleasure that sizzled through him. Aella continued her torment on his nipple and cock, her eyes dilating, her pulse quickening.

Saint rose up on one elbow and caught her behind the head, pulling her toward him.

Releasing her pent-up breath in a rush, Aella braced her hands on either side of him and moved on top of him. Closing his eyes against the onslaught of sensation, Saint turned his face against her and wrapped her in a hard embrace.

Inhaling raggedly, he clutched her against him. A tremor coursed through her, and she drew her knees up and pulled out of his hold, her hair cascading around her face as she rose above him.

Another tremor shuddered through her, and she rose up, then lowered her weight on him, taking him deep inside her. Deep, deep inside her.

Breaking out in a sweat, Saint clenched his jaw against the sharp, electrifying surge of feeling, his shoulders coming off the bed as she moved once, twice against him. Her heartbeat a frenzy in her chest, his pulse thick and heavy, he tightened his fingers through her hair in a white-knuckle grip, turning his head against the pillow.

“Fuck, babe,” he murmured.

Bending over him, she stroked the palms of his hands with her thumbs, her breasts grazing his chest. “You’re doing pretty well without a head’s up.”

He laughed softly, then groaned as she tightened her hold on his hands, her breath catching as she flexed her hips, her hot, wet tightness gripping him, stroking him, drawing him closer and closer.

An agony of sensation shot through him, and he rolled his head again, the chords of his neck taut, and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. He wanted to give her a few moments of pleasure, then ride out the hard, swelling need.

Then she moved again, taking him even deeper inside her, and he went under, the fever claiming him. He groaned and flexed beneath her, driving inside her. He couldn’t stop.

Her bare breasts were crushed against his chest, her knees bracketed his hips, and the urge to possess her in the basest way possible overwhelmed him. Tangling his fingers in Aella’s soft, thick hair, he held her head in his hands and slanted his mouth across hers in a hot, deep kiss.

Her hands braced against his shoulders, and her fingers dug into his muscles as he surged into her, again and again, holding her hips and tearing a moan from the back of her throat. His strokes became faster, longer, ruthlessly demanding. With each thrust he felt himself grow harder, thicker, until lust and need collided into white-hot heat and an all-consuming pleasure that threatened to engulf him.

He reached down and found her core, his thumb pressing, rubbing until she stiffened above him, crying out as she came.

Lost in the rush of sensation, lost in her. She wrenched her mouth from his and tossed her head back as he arched into her one last time, high and hard and infinitely deep. A guttural growl tore from his chest, and his entire body shuddered as he came, harder and stronger than ever.

She still moved against him, prolonging his scorching release as it went on and on, wringing him dry and leaving him weak and devastated.