He’d been wounded in action, lost both his legs, and finally come home. He was single now and her attraction to him hadn’t lessened.
Britt flipped on the light switch as he closed the door behind them and a lamp went on next to the sofa. She felt his hands settle at her waist, big, strong hands turning her around to face him. Lowering his head, he kissed her, softly at first, then deeper, pulling her close, letting her feel his desire.
Hot need moved through her. She hadn’t been with a man since her fiancé had dumped her for her neighbor’s wife. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed being touched, held, kissed, until tonight.
Sliding her arms around Cole’s neck, she leaned into him and he deepened the kiss, taking it to a whole new level. She swayed, trembled, moaned into his mouth. Warm kisses traveled along her neck down to her shoulders.
“I want you,” he said. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night I saw you at Jubal’s.”
“I want you, too,” she said, but didn’t admit she had lusted after him for years.
He unbuttoned the front of her blouse and stripped it away, unhooked her bra and eased it off her shoulders. One of his big hands cupped her breast and she felt almost dizzy. As he bent toward her, she laced her fingers in his thick blond hair and arched her back, giving him better access, letting him work his magic. He kissed her again, then lifted her up and carried her down the hall to the bedroom.
She could feel the uneven hitch in his steps as he moved, thought for the first time of the prostheses strapped to what remained of his legs. The thought slid away as desire burned through her, the desperate need that seemed to expand with each passing moment.
Cole kissed her as she unbuttoned his short-sleeved western shirt, pulled it free, and stripped it away. A dusting of golden blond hair fanned over his hard-muscled chest, arrowed out of sight below the waistband of his jeans.
She pressed her mouth against his skin and felt his muscles bunch, but when she reached to unfasten his belt, Cole drew away.
“I haven’t been with a woman since I came back from the war. I don’t want to repulse you.”
Her heart twisted. “I want you, Cole. I don’t care about your legs. It’s not your legs that make you a man. It’s your heart and your soul.”
Cole looked down at her and something glistened in his eyes. He blinked and it was gone. He took a shaky breath. “I’m not ready,” he said with a shake of his head. “Maybe another night.”
Britt caught his arm before he could turn away. “Cole, please. Nothing about you could ever repulse me. We don’t have to make love. We can just sleep together. Please . . . stay with me tonight.”
Uncertainty moved over his features. He wanted to stay; she could see it. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Next time.” Bending down, he very softly kissed her. Grabbing his shirt off the floor, he turned and walked out of the bedroom.
At the sound of the front door closing, tears spilled onto Brittany’s cheeks. And the ache she felt for Cole would not go away.
*
The echo of rifle shots rang in the distance, the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire kicking up dirt in the streets of the village. A group of marines had been caught out in the open. They hunkered down in a depression in the sand, pinned by sniper fire from a makeshift bunker at the top of a distant hill. With no way for the men to reach cover in the vacant mud structures that had once been a town, the sniper was picking them off one by one.
On the rooftop of an empty building eight hundred meters away, Josh lay flat on his belly, the crosshairs of the M40A5 on the tripod in front of him sited on the distant hill. He was settled in, waiting. Waiting.
When the sniper popped up to take out his next target, Josh pulled the trigger. The suppressed rifle shot made a faint thumping sound and seconds later, the top of the man’s head disappeared.
Josh breathed a sigh of relief. His men were safe, at least for the moment.
He had just risen from his position when he heard a scream and a man armed with a heavy steel knife rushed out of nowhere, slashing with his long, gleaming blade. Josh snagged the man’s wrist, gripped hard, spun, and sent the knife sailing off the roof.
Wrapping his fingers around the assailant’s throat, he— “Josh! Josh, wake up! You’re dreaming! Wake up!”
Small fingers pried his hand away and his eyes popped open. He looked down to see Tory staring up at him, her pretty green eyes filled with worry.
Josh leaped out of bed. “Jesus! Jesus, Tory, I’m sorry.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the perspiration. “I shouldn’t have stayed. I should have gone home like I always do. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t back away, just grabbed her robe and followed him out of bed. “You didn’t hurt me. You just scared me.”
“I didn’t hurt you, but I could have. Jesus, I could have . . .” He bit off the words, didn’t say, I could have killed you.
“I know you’re upset. Was the dream something that actually happened?”
He glanced away, swallowed. “I was on a rooftop in Afghanistan hunting an enemy sniper. Guy with a knife came out of nowhere. We fought. I ended up breaking his neck.”
She fell silent. “You were touching me but you weren’t hurting me. I don’t think you would have.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. . . .”
“Is it PTSD?”
He sighed. “Not like my buddies have. Just an occasional bad dream.”
“Does it bother you to think of the men you killed?”
His jaw hardened. “I did what I was trained to do—protect our troops. I feel bad about the men I couldn’t save.”
There was no condemnation in her eyes. He shouldn’t have felt so relieved.
“Do you think you should talk to someone?”
“I talk to Cole and Noah and they talk to me. It helps a lot. The nightmares aren’t so bad anymore.”
She slid her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “Maybe I can make you forget them completely. Why don’t we go back to bed?”
He was tempted. He loved her sexy little body, loved the way she could make him feel. But he was in too deep with Tory already. And the nightmares worried him.
Josh eased her away. “I think I’m going to head on home. I need to get to work anyway.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Get some sleep, baby.”
When he walked out the front door, dawn grayed the horizon. Was he a danger to Tory or someone else? Or was what had happened nothing more than a very vivid dream? What would have happened if he hadn’t awoken when he did?
Until he knew for sure, it was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
*
First thing Sunday morning, Josh phoned Sheriff Howler. An hour later, a white extended cab pickup with bright blue SHERIFF lettering on the side drove up in front of the house and the heavyset sheriff got out.
Josh pushed open the screen door as Howler swaggered up on the porch.
“Daisy said you called, said you had some trouble last night.” Daisy was the older woman who ran the local sheriff’s department.
“That’s right. Bunch of bikers showed up and tore hell out of the place.” He tipped his head toward the strings of broken lights scattered around, the general mayhem he hadn’t yet cleaned up.
“Cole Wyman and Noah Beal were here. Ended up in a brawl. The bikers shot off a few rounds, broke some windows in the barn, took off and haven’t been back.”
“What brought them after you?” Howler asked. “You have a beef with one of them?”
Josh ignored a trickle of irritation. “I’ve never seen any of them before. You had complaints from anyone else?”
“No, just you.” The sheriff lifted his tan cowboy hat and scratched his head, settled the hat back in place, and tugged down the brim. “Seems like trouble has a habit of following you around, don’t it?”
Josh said nothing. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tory at the kitchen window, listening to the conversation.
“You’ll need to come down to the office and file a complaint,” the sheriff said. “Give us some kinda description.”