The Letter Page 5

  “Ahh, fuck it.” He yanked her into his arms. She didn’t argue. Didn’t think. Didn’t want to. After eighteen months, she wanted to feel again. His mouth crashed on hers, granting her wish. Her ability to think hightailed it over the horizon at the pressure of his mouth, leaving her operating on sheer instinct.

  She opened for him, surrendering with a soft moan. The first flick of his tongue made her gasp and he took advantage, sliding it in farther to tangle with hers. Butterflies battered her stomach. Sparks filled her veins until she shivered with sensual energy. A whimper escaped and she crowded closer, desperate for more. God, could the man kiss or what? Like she was everything—his sun, moon, and stars combined, his powerful body tense and bent on one purpose.

  Oh, lord, if he affected her like that by merely touching her, what would he be like in bed?

  That thought, the hint of the thought, brought another moan welling up from the center of her being. Backing her up, he pinned her against the counter. The moan became a whimper as he ravaged her mouth. He pressed flush to her. A tingle washed over her, straight to her pussy, and it clenched in anticipation. Need. Desire. Surrender.

  “So sweet.” He broke away to drag his mouth across her jaw, trailing caresses along her throat to her shoulder. She shuddered as his big hands curved around her waist before sliding one to cup her nape. He bent over her. “Should stop….”

  She might not be a small woman but he managed to make her feel tiny, and oh-so-feminine anyway. “Don’t you dare,” she warned, her voice breathy and low. Way sexier than she usually sounded. Pulling back, she shivered at the dark look in his eyes. The blue had turned to midnight, a roiling mass to rival a dark sun. “Kiss me again.”

  “Lass, if we don’t stop now, I might not be able to.”

  “Don’t care.” She shook her head. “Don’t want you to.”

  Rick paused, watching her face as though studying her very soul. “If I kiss you again, I’m going to pick you up and carry you to bed,” he warned. “Then I’m going to strip you naked and make love to you until dawn.”

  The roughness and need in his voice threatened to send her desire spiraling out of control. She wanted this. God, did she want this.

  She nodded, unable to form even the simplest of sentences. Somehow they seemed an inadequate vehicle to express the need and sensuality building inside. But he got it, the look in his eyes understanding as he bent to scoop her into his arms.

  She didn’t bother with the usual squeaks and demands to put her down because she was too heavy. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lost herself in the moment. With a tight expression, he strode for the corridor without a word, only the slight hint of a limp in evidence, and turned right for the stairs.

  The journey up to her room had to be the longest and shortest she’d ever known. Every breath, every heartbeat engraved themselves on her memory. She laid her head on his shoulder, the crisp scent of cotton mixed with cologne and the scent of his skin wrapping around her, dragging her under his spell and holding her in thrall. She brushed her lips along the strong column of his throat.

  “Stop it, lass,” Rick said, his Scottish accent in full force. “Unless you want it right here agin’ the wall.”

  Anticipation shimmered and settled to reinforce the ache between her thighs. “Bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I know.”

  Oh, hell, of course. Operational awareness. He’d no doubt figured the layout of the house the instant he’d stepped inside.

  “Well, soldier,” she whispered, teasing his throat with her mouth again. “If you know where you’re going, how about speeding things up?”

  “Oh, God. Yes, ma’am.”

  He crossed the space between the top of the stairs and her room in long strides, shouldering the door open with more force than finesse. Barely casting a glance around the room, he focused on the bed and came to a stop by it. But he didn’t put her on her feet. Instead, he held her firm to his chest, heart pounding and gave her a direct look.

  “Are ye sure about this, lass? Once I put you down,” color branded his cheeks, “I’ll no’ be able to stop.”

  “Then don’t,” she said, the soft words a drop of sound in an ocean of silence. He nodded and let go of her legs, sliding her along his body. Tension and awareness mounted between them and her breath caught at the sensation of all that heavy muscle and his hardened state pressing into her lower stomach.

  Lifting his hands, he dragged them through her hair, cupping her face to claim her mouth again in the gentlest kiss. Like the whisper of a butterfly wing or the brush of skin over cool silk sheets, a promise and an ending all in itself. Rick pulled away a little, catching his lower lip between his teeth, eyes closed as if he were savoring her taste and committing it to memory. When he opened his eyes again, her toes curled at the lust in them.

  Then his mouth crashed back down, claiming hers with a masculine ferocity that both scared and excited her, and in a very good way. Everything female in her responded and she crowded him, flattening against his broad chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He rumbled in approval, tipping her head and parting her lips with a hard sweep of his tongue. The kiss was hot and torrid, everything from her wildest erotic fantasies and more.

  She gasped, and tugged at his shirt. It had to go. She wanted—no—needed to feel skin. To run her hands over the ripped, toned physique she’d seen at the shoot. To trace and explore with her fingertips and mouth until he’d given up all his secrets to her.

  The first button gave with ease but the second fought her. She murmured in frustration, the sound cut off when he nipped at her lower lip. The way he kissed had to be illegal. Her fingers struggled with the button. Fucking thing still wouldn’t give. He put some space between them, an amused chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest. Grabbing handfuls of cotton, he tore the shirt open, scattering buttons, then groaned when she slid her hands under the fabric and across his broad chest.

  “Never tore me clothes off for a lass before.” His whisper stroked the fine hairs on the side of her neck. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  Then he nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear, the one that made her knees weak and her pussy clench. She moaned, arousal dampening her panties. His caress turned rough, teeth grazing the soft skin of her neck in sensual nips, his big hands tangling in the straps of her top, yanking them down her arms. He smoothed a thumb over the line of her collarbone, almost reverently.

  She tweaked his nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He gasped, eyes closed as she shoved his shirt off his shoulders. Becoming the aggressor, she crowded closer to nip and lick, working her way from his stubbled jaw to the marked skin of his chest. She kissed the scars with reverence and his muscles tightened beneath her touch. Then she flicked her tongue over his nipple.

  With only a growl of warning, Rick tossed her on the bed and braced over her. “Playing with fire, lass.” Parting her thighs with a hard knee, he lowered between them.

  She couldn’t avoid the escaping whimper when his thick cock pressed against her. Right where she needed him. He rocked his hips, rubbing back and forth, and her clit throbbed. Frustration welled up and she shoved him. Why was he teasing her?

  “Shhh, I got you, hen. It’s okay, we can take it slow.”

  “I don’t want slow,” she said in frustration, claiming his mouth with hers. “I want now.”

  With a chuckle, he eased her top and bra down. The cool air of the room washed over her skin, raising tiny pebbles over it. She shivered, the delicious contrast of the chill bathing her breasts and the heat in her core driving her need into orbit. He bent his head and she raked her fingers into the short strands of hair, like rough silk and held him in place. Wet suction closed over her nipple and she arched and cried out.

  Liquid fire surrounded her, crawled over her skin, filled her veins and settled into a deep ache in her pussy. He licked and flicked, driving
her almost out of her mind and she waited breathlessly for his next touch, needed it more than she needed air. He moved, her nipple slipping from his lips with a sharp tug of utter pleasure, dropping a trail of kisses down until her top, bunched around her waist, foiled him.

  Muttered curses fell, his accented, crude words sounding sexy. In a flurry of movement, her hands joined his and, between them, they shed the rest of their clothes. For once, she didn’t care about the jiggle of her rounded stomach, or the cellulite on her thighs. None of that mattered, all her insecurities washed away by the blaze of need and reverence on his face. And awe. A girl could get used to being looked at like she was the most precious and sexiest thing on the planet.

  Clothes gone, he sat on the edge of the bed for a second. Frowning at the hesitation, she sat up. A rustle of foil clued her in. Protection. Her cheeks burned. She wasn’t even on birth control, so how could she forget something like that? A moment later, he crawled over her, bracketing her with his bigger body, then paused. He didn’t speak, but his blue eyes held a wealth of emotion, questions, and the answers to those swirling around in her brain.

  Wordlessly, he parted her legs wider with one of his. Holding her gaze, he dropped his hips and fit the broad head of his cock to the entrance of her pussy. He pressed forward, stretching her inch by inch. That had to be the most profound thing she’d ever experienced. Long and thick, his cock slid in with one slick ride of pure sensation then he stopped, exerting obvious control. A tremble shook him.

  “Ye all right, lass?” His voice, rough with concern, even as his own instincts had to be screaming, melted her heart.

  “I will be, if you’ll move!” She punctuated her reply with a swift thrust of her hips. Pleasure exploded and she gasped, a victim of her own crime. “Oh, yes….”

  His curse echoed her moan then the dam burst. He pulled back and thrust in, setting up a hard, fast rhythm. Every muscle in his hard body tensed and bunched as he moved over her, within her, driving the tension between them to fever pitch. Clinging to him, she wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her fingers into the hard globes of his ass to urge him on. Anything to stroke the ache to completion. To wind it so tight until it exploded and took them both to the stratosphere.

  He panted, his hips pumping. “Oh, God, yes.”

  She grinned. “Hattie’ll do. You can call me Highness, though, if you lik—”

  He slammed into her, rocking his hips at the end of the stroke, and ground against her clit. Then he released and her eyes rolled back with sheer pleasure. “Ohhh!”

  “What was that…Highness?” he asked then did it again and again, carrying on until she begged him not to stop.

  When she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he suspended her over the abyss. She stared into the tumultuous seas of ecstasy lying below.

  “Oh, God, Rick. I’m co—”

  “Shh, lass. I’ve got you. Come for me. Let me feel your pleasure.”

  The deep rumble and last, hard thrust of his hips did it. Her clit caught between their bodies and she went up in flames. Rick swore above her, the curse harsh and guttural. His thrusts sped up, became disjointed, and with a last bellow, he followed her over the precipice into pleasure.

  Chapter Six

  Alone. For long moments after she woke, she lay still, nestled in a duvet cocoon and extended her senses outward. The house was silent as well. No sounds of anyone moving in the bathroom or downstairs in the kitchen.

  Rick had left.

  Refusing to think or feel, to try and give excuses or false hope, she slid a hand onto the opposite side of the bed. The side he’d slept on. Not that either of them had slept much. If she napped, he’d soon wake her up, taking her differently each time. From hard and fast, to heart-pounding, driven sex, he’d forced her to climax again and again, except the last time. Right before dawn, his lovemaking had been so sweet and tender, it had almost broken her heart.

  The cold sheets said that last time had been a good-bye.

  She gasped as her newly healed heart throbbed with pain. She loved him, and he’d split. Stupid, stupid girl. Talk about falling for the first guy who showed interest in you. The classic mistake.

  Squeezing her eyelids shut, she ignored the hot prick of tears. Nope. Not happening. If she was done crying over Billy, then she was so not crying over Rick, even if the sex had been scorching and his tenderness touched her spirit itself. She turned over, determined to burrow into the duvet and lose herself in sleep again. Screw him. His loss, if he wanted to run after what they’d shared. She was worth more than that, worth more than worrying over and running after any man.

  Paper crinkled under her cheek, the coolness and texture unexpected.

  Sitting up, she stared at the envelope on the pillow. He hadn’t…surely he hadn’t? Fucker had some balls if he’d left her a Dear Jane letter. But two things stopped her wrath before it could form—Dear Janes didn’t usually have a sticky note stuck to the front. And this one had been addressed to her in her late fiancé’s handwriting.

  “Holy shit.”

  Picking it up, she scanned the words on the yellow note. Rick’s writing was small and neat, letters perfectly formed but with very little embellishment, totally unlike Billy’s scrawl on the paper beneath it. She flipped the note open.

  Hattie,

  I’m sorry, lass, I should have given you this as soon as I arrived. Billy left more than a verbal instruction with me. He gave this to me that night, and told me to find you. He was a hero. Be proud of his memory.

  Always yours,

  Rick

  She read the note twice, emotion coiling in the center of her chest. Multitudes of emotions. Anger at Rick for not giving her the letter, anger that he’d run rather than give it to her personally. Deep pangs at seeing Billy’s writing again after so much time, but in new words, not in the letters he’d sent her, the ones that she’d read so many times she’d memorized their contents.

  With her breath catching, she flipped the envelope over and ripped it open. With shaky hands, she extracted a sheet. Swiping at the tears blurring her vision, she squinted at the words Billy had penned. His last words to her.

  Hey, Beautiful.

  She smiled through the threatening tears. He’d always called her that, from the moment they’d met, to the last time he’d left for deployment. His voice filled her head as she continued to read.

  I love you, and I always will, but if you’re reading this then I guess I’m not coming home. I wanted nothing more than to spend my life with you, have kids, and grow old at your side. That’s not to be and I’m so, so sorry. Don’t be sad. You have a life to live and I want you to live it to the fullest.

  Oh God, wasn’t that just like Billy? Thinking of others instead of himself. Hattie gasped, the tears finally falling. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she forced herself to read on.

  Don’t be mad at me, but I’m going to make sure you do live life. I’m sending you an angel. He’s a little rough about the edges and battle-worn, but he has a heart of gold. He needs you as much as you need him, beautiful, so don’t let him go. Look after each other. For me.

  Love you,

  B

  PS - There’s a letter enclosed for him. And be warned, he’s stubborn, just like you. My money’s on you, though.

  Not sure what to think, she shook the envelope and a smaller one fell out. Not really an envelope, more a piece of paper folded in on itself, with Rick scrawled on the front.

  Oh, shit. She stared at it in stunned surprise, her guilt over the night before, over starting to move on, disappearing as Billy’s love wrapped around her. He’d sent Rick to her. Somehow, he’d known and he’d sent…what were his words? She flicked his letter open again: I’m sending you an angel.

  Another smile spread over her face. In that instant, she knew where she’d find her angel.

  ***

  There were many rituals in the Army to honor fallen comrades, and many ways to show respect. Each regiment had its own and withi
n them, each soldier had his or her own way to remember. Rick walked into the sleepy little cemetery in a quiet country town, a six-pack in one hand and pack of smokes in the other.

  It hadn’t taken long to find the grave he sought, his long strides eating up the distance between the rows. Billy lay on a small incline, angled to look out not over the rest of the cemetery, but over the fields next to it. Fields Billy had no doubt played in as a kid. Rick would have, for sure. The concrete jungle he’d grown up in meant this would have been a city kid’s dream.

  He set the pack of cigarettes on top of the headstone and plunked his arse next to it. Levering two of the cans loose from the six-pack, he leaned one up the gravestone and cracked the other—the drink he’d promised Billy they’d have when they got out of the situation they were in. He just hadn’t expected it to be months later with one of them six feet under.

  Two long swallows later, he grimaced. “Still tastes like shit, Billy, me lad.”

  He sat for a moment, forearms braced on his knees with the can dangling from his fingers. So much to say, but now that he sat there, he didn’t know how to say it.

  “That sniper got us good, Bill. I’m out, you’re dead. Fucked-up situation all around.” He took another swallow and wrinkled his nose. “Took me a year and a half to deliver your letter. And I fucked up.”

  There, it’s out. Loud and proud. In the open. Almost.

  “Hattie…I know she’s your girl, but I can’t help it….” He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “I love her. From the moment I met her. I should have cut and run then. Just handed that damn letter over and left it at that. But daft twat here didn’t see it, did I?”

  He scuffed at the grass with his boot. How could he have known he’d fall, hook, line, and sinker, for a woman he couldn’t have? Or, at the least, for a woman in love with someone else. Call him many things, but none of them dumb enough to think he could compete with a ghost.

  “I’m going, though. I shouldn’t have…done what I did. And she deserves better than me.” Rick blinked rapidly, the water at the corners of his eyes hay fever or something. Had to be. He was Regiment, tougher than that. So why did he feel like his heart was being dug out with a dull spoon?