Expecting the SEAL’s Baby by Katie Knight

Thirteen

An hour after lunch, the rain ended and the clouds cleared, revealing crystal blue sky in the brief snatches when they crossed clearings in the jungle. The scenery was gorgeous, and his leg felt better, amazing in fact, but he couldn’t shake the worry that he was treading water on this mission. He was working on unsubstantiated intel and a gut feeling. Despite that, he’d kept them moving for most of the afternoon in what he hoped was the right direction.

They crossed a river just before sunset, and he called a stop for the day. It was a good place to make camp. Since the jungle canopy was less dense here, he hoped to get a good signal on the satellite phone. He didn’t want to go much farther without some information.

They gathered wood, searching for dry logs and dead vines, which he used to start a fire. As he coaxed it to life, Gina dug through their bags for rations. They’d eaten up the good food from Angelica throughout the day, so that left them with MREs and protein bars.

“Not my idea of fine dining,” Gina said, holding up a package labeled beef stew.

“You get used to it.” He took the package from her and opened it. “At least this time, we can warm them up.”

“You eat these things raw?” She looked at him with a mixture of amazement and disgust.

“Not raw,” he corrected. “The food is already cooked. But yeah, I’ve eaten them cold many times when it wasn’t possible or wasn’t safe to light a fire.Do what you have to.” He shrugged. “Do you want me to open one for you?”

“I’ll stick to a protein bar for now,” she said, but he knew she needed more than that. They’d burned up a ton of calories that day, and she was pregnant. Healthy food was critical.

“Try the fruit cup,” he suggested, and poured a little water into a pouch before handing it to her.

She took it and picked at it with her spork. “This is okay,” she said after eating a re-hydrated strawberry.

He was glad she thought so, but he couldn’t be surprised that she didn’t think much of military rations. To him, it was the life he’d known for his entire adulthood.

As they finished eating, darkness fell, making their campfire the only pinpoint of light for what felt like miles.

“We should probably make it an early night. I’ll shake out the bedrolls.” Jeremy rose to his feet.

“I can help,” she said and reached for his pack that sat close to her leg. She opened a pocket and dug around, pulling out his sketchpad. “What’s this?”

“I draw sometimes.” He’d forgotten it was in there. Out of habit, he reached for the pad, wanting to put it away again. He didn’t share his work.

“May I see?” she asked, hanging onto the pad.

He hesitated. Drawing was a habit he’d picked up while on missions during his downtime. He found it soothing, and sometimes useful for recording what he saw. But it was also a very private hobby. He didn’t even show the pad to his teammates. Was he willing to let her see his impressions?

“You don’t have to. Forget I saw it.” She went to place it back in the pocket.

“It’s okay,” he said, making a decision. She was literally carrying a part of him inside her. If he couldn’t share his sketches with the mother of his child, who could he share them with? “You can look.”

“Thanks.” She began flipping through pages as he made up their beds. He thought about the images she was seeing. He’d had the pad on his most recent mission. There were images of the landscape near the base and of his teammates, their features intentionally blurred in case the sketch pad fell into the wrong hands. “Do you draw faces?”

“I can, but I don’t always. Keep going and you’ll see some.” He’d drawn children playing soccer in one of the villages his team had stopped in.

“Oh, how sweet.” She turned the pad so he could see she was talking about the picture of two young boys kicking the ball back and forth. “You’re good. Very good. I had no idea you were artistic.”

“It’s just a hobby,” he said, but then an idea struck him. “Would you mind if I draw you? Here, tonight, as you are.”

She glanced up at him, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight. He’d sketch her just like that, with the radiance of her beauty showing. “If you’d like to.”

“I would. Just stay there.” He took the pad from her hand and flipped to a blank page. After taking a minute to sharpen his pencil, he began drawing the lines of her body, half-turned toward him as she sat by the fire. “Look my way.” He wanted to see her face in the fullness of the firelight. No shadows for her. She remained still, watching him as he worked.

“What other hidden skills do you have?” she asked him a few minutes later.

“None that I can think of.” He carefully shaped the delicate arch of her eyebrows.

She laughed softly. “I suspect that’s not true. Is it okay if I talk? It feels funny sitting here while you draw me.”

“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” he suggested.

“There can’t be much after all the years you’ve spent around Blake or me,” she said. “I wanted a white pony for Christmas when I was seven, but I think most little girls want that at some point.”

“I take it you didn’t get it.”

“No, I held out hope until Christmas Eve that my father would come home just in time for the holiday, leading the pony. I even drew a picture of the imagined scene, but it didn’t happen. He didn’t even make it home that year. It wasn’t the first or last time my father disappointed me.”

Jeremy did know that, but he tried to put a positive spin on it. “Busy with his military career.”

She gave a little snort. “Busy with other women, you mean.”

He looked up from the paper. “What?”

“Oh…Blake didn’t tell you,” she said before adding, “of course, he didn’t.”

“Your dad cheated on your mom? I thought he’d chosen his service over his family.”

“That’s how Blake has always preferred to see it.” She sighed. “He wanted to view our dad as some type of hero. He may have been a good soldier, but he was a lousy husband. Blake never wanted to acknowledge that. He focused on Dad’s career as the reason the man was never around. I think it made him feel less like he’d been abandoned.”

“Do you think it’s why Blake joined up himself?” Jeremy questioned.

“Probably. It was his way of being closer to our father by following in his footsteps. I even accused him of that once. Now, I wish I hadn’t. I wish…” She glanced away so he couldn’t see her face.

“Gina?” He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn’t sure how.

“I hope Blake knows that I’ve always been proud of him and what he’s accomplished in the Navy. Does he know that?” Her tone became wistful, but she looked at him again.

“He does.” Jeremy felt confident saying that. Blake adored his sister and never seemed to have the slightest doubt that he was loved in return.

“I hope so.” She ran her fingers through her hair that she’d unbraided. “I know I can’t change the past, but sometimes…”

“What is it, sweetheart? Something’s bothering you.” Jeremy was no longer sketching. The drawing was nearly done, but he continued to focus on her, taking in every detail of her appearance and the way she spoke.

She took in a deep breath before speaking. “An action I took once. I don’t regret it, but still…” He waited, letting her decide to tell him or not. After a few minutes, she started to speak again. “When I was twelve, my father tried to reconcile with Mom. He left a lengthy message begging her to take him back and claiming that he’d changed. He’d promised that before and never came through for her. I couldn’t face it again. And Mom had just started dating Sam. He was so good to her and she was happy, truly happy for the first time that I could remember. I didn’t want my father to come back into the picture and screw that up.” She bit her lip, “so I deleted the message and never told her about it. I’ve never told anyone about it until now. I made a decision that wasn’t mine to make, but I just couldn’t trust him to be true to her.”

Trust was a powerful emotion and one that had to be earned. Was it even possible for Jeremy, another military man, to earn Gina’s trust?

“I guess your experience with your father explains why you’ve always said you wouldn’t date a military man. We’re not all like him, you know.”

Her eyes met his. “I’m figuring that out.”

Her simple answer made his heart beat faster. Did it mean that she had faith in him? God, he hoped so. At the same time, he recognized how important it was that he prove himself to be different from her father and her preconceived idea about military men. He had to be true to her, faithful, so he wouldn’t let down her or their baby.

* * *

A thousand times, she’d wondered about her preteen decision. She’d done the right thing. Of that she was confident, but it hadn’t been her choice to make.

“Do you think it was wrong of me?” she asked Jeremy, seeking his opinion.

“I think you were protecting her and yourself and Blake. Preventing someone who had only hurt you from coming back into your life was a good decision. Think of it that way.”

“I wonder about Blake, though.” Her brother had a different attitude about their father. They’d argued about it more than once as Blake made excuses for his abandonment.

“Don’t second guess yourself,” he said. “Blake loves you and your mother, and he wasn’t damaged by having a lousy father figure.”

“Hope you’re right about that. I worry about him, with the way he plays the field. I yell at him for it, sometimes. I wish I’d talked with him about it in an adult manner. When we find him…” She trailed off, her worry about Blake’s safety returning.

“We’ll find him, and you can tell him whatever you want to then.”

“Thanks,” she said. Jeremy’s simple statement made her feel better.

He picked up the sketch pad again, his pencil making flicking marks across the paper, as she thought about exactly what she wanted to say to Blake when…when they found him.

“It’s done,” Jeremy said a few minutes later. “It’s rough, though, so don’t expect too much.” He handed the pad to her. She took it, tilting it so the firelight shone on the page.

“You’ve made me far prettier than I am.” She glanced at him, her cheeks rosy.

“I didn’t,” he said, coming nearer to look at the sketch with her. “This is exactly how I see you.”

Was it? Her heart rate picked up. Was that caused by his nearness or the compliment? She couldn’t tell. “The low lighting must be affecting your perception,” she whispered.

He shook his head, his fingers feathering lightly over her forehead, her cheeks, and finally her lips. He took the sketchbook from her hand and put it aside. “Gina?” His voice was soft, questioning.

She knew what he was asking. She didn’t hesitate to put her arms around his neck and let him lie her back on the bedroll he’d unfurled earlier.

“I wish we had a real bed,” he said, as he covered her body with his and his lips skimmed along her jawline.

“I think we’ll be fine.” In that moment, she’d have said yes to being with him anywhere, but this seemed perfect. “I’ve never made love under the stars before.”

He kissed her then, and long moments passed as the firelight flickered over them. She knew that neither of them would pull back as they had by the Inca ruins. They’d grown closer since, and she wanted him so much.

She slipped her hands down his back and under the hem of his shirt where she could feel the hard ridges of his ribs and the cut muscles of his stomach. His skin was warm and smooth, and she wanted to be skin to skin with him. Seeming to sense that, he lifted up enough to pull his shirt over his head.

“Now yours.” He removed her shirt and, for a beat, just gazed down at her, desire and heat written all over his face. Then, his hand cupped her breasts through the fabric of her bra and traced the top curve. “I see your beauty and strength. That’s what I drew,” he said. “I’ve always seen those about you.”

Had he? Not once in all the years they’d known each other had he said so. But then she’d never spoken of her attraction for him either. Maybe it was time. “And you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met.” Her blunt words got a smile from him.

“That’s putting some pressure on me, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll try to live up to it.”

She ran her hand over the bulge in the front of his pants. “My guess is that you’ll rise to the occasion.” His groan was all the encouragement she needed to undo the zipper and take him in her hand. She stroked up the length of him and ran her thumb over the tip. His eyes were half-closed as she did it again and again. He kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, as she continued to touch him.

“Can’t take more,” he murmured at last, capturing her hand and moving it above her head. With his other hand, he stroked her breasts and unclasped her bra. A second later, his lips closed over her sensitive nipple, sending spirals of desire through her.

“So good,” she murmured and whimpered when he pulled back. Thankfully, he was only gone long enough to shed the rest of his clothes. His mouth came back to hers, and she loved the way her breasts rubbed against the firmness of his chest. Soon, he moved again, moving down her body, kissing her sensitive skin until he reached her waistband. He unzipped her pants, pulling them and her panties down with one movement.

He hesitated for just a second, a look of fascination and reverence on his face. She felt empowered by the way he gazed at her, taking her in as if he could never look enough. But looking wasn’t what she wanted, so she reached for him. He slid back up until he was on top of her, his mouth and hands running over her body, stopping where her thighs pressed together. “Open for me,” he said breathlessly. “I want to touch you.”

She parted her legs, and his fingers found her center, slick and ready for him. She was soon overrun with sensation and felt her climax building, but she wanted them to come together. So she pushed at his shoulder, conveying with her touch what she wanted. Obediently, he rolled onto his back and she straddled him.

Slowly, she came down on him, letting herself feel each inch of him as he entered her. He didn’t rush her, letting her be in control, but his hands were busy exploring her body as he ramped up her desire even more.

“God, that’s incredible,” she said when she was fully seated on him. She clamped her inner muscles around him and when she felt a shiver go through his large frame, she felt powerful, invincible. He did that to her.

“Move with me, sweetheart.” He thrust up into her and she rolled her hips to take him in deeper. Soon, she was gasping for breath, her movements becoming faster as he filled her, and they found a rhythm uniquely their own until the moment when her orgasm tore through her. His followed immediately and together they rode the wave out to its end. When it was done, she collapsed onto his chest, staying joined to him as their breathing settled.