Wyatt's War: Hearts & Heroes, Book 1 (7 page)

He twirled her away then back into his arms, his body rubbing hers from his chin to his calves, inciting a riot with her nervous system.

Holy hell, her body was on fire, raging with need to be with him…in bed…alone, not surrounded by a crowd of vacationing tourists.

Nearing the end of the passion-filled song, Wyatt swept her up against him and bent her backwards, exposing her throat.

When the music ended, he held her still, bent over her, his lips so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. Just a half-inch would close the distance.

“Uh, Fiona, dear,” Maddie said beside her. “The music stopped.”

Fiona stared up into Wyatt’s eyes and blinked, the moment gone.

Wyatt set her on her feet. “Thank you for the dance.”

Brushing her hands down the length of the dress, she pushed her hair back from her face. “Well, I should call it a ni—”

A loud crash from the direction of the kitchen made everyone jump.

Wyatt grabbed her around the middle, shoved her to the floor and threw himself on top of her.

Crushed to the sticky tiles, Fiona could barely breathe, much less move beneath the weight and strength of the man above her.

“Magnus,” Joe spoke, as if from a distance. “It’s okay. The bus boy dropped a tub of dishes. It’s okay.” He grabbed Wyatt’s elbow and dragged him to his feet.

Unfettered by Wyatt’s big body, Fiona rolled to her feet and studied the man.

His face was pale, his brows dipped into a fierce frown, his hands bunched into fists. “Have to go.”

“Magnus. It’s okay,” Joe repeated. “The reflex will fade. You just have to give it time.”

Wyatt turned to Fiona, his gaze sweeping over her rumpled, stained dress, his jaw twitching on the side. “I’m sorry.” He tossed some bills on the table, pushed through the throng of people staring at him and left the restaurant.

Fiona shook her head. “What the hell just happened?”

Joe stared after his friend. “PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“And that makes him throw women to the ground?”

Joe smiled sadly. “He’d have thrown me to the ground had I been closest to him.” He shook his head. “It’s been the hardest thing for me to deal with since my last deployment. An IED exploded next to my HMMWV. Rattled my brain and I can’t sit still too long. I get punchy. I think Wyatt had it worse.”

“How so?” Fiona’s gaze followed Wyatt as he took off along the sidewalk bordering the River Walk. She wanted to go after him but knew she couldn’t keep up. Not in heels.

“From what I heard, Wyatt was captured and tortured on his last mission. I don’t know what all they did to him, but it must have been bad. That’s why he’s here in San Antonio. He just recently was released from the hospital.”

Maddie touched her arm. “Are you okay, Fiona?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m just a little tired. I think I’ll head back to my room.”

“I’ll see Maddie to the parking garage,” Joe offered.

Stunned by Wyatt’s action and abrupt departure, she nodded absently and said, “Thanks. See you two tomorrow.” She left the restaurant. Instead of heading straight for the hotel, she turned the direction Wyatt had gone.

After walking for several blocks, her feet hurt in the heels and she wished she’d had on her jogging shorts and tennis shoes. Catching up to Wyatt would be impossible, even if she knew which direction he’d gone.

Her heart heavy, she turned back and arrived at the hotel before ten o’clock.

The lobby was busy with guests checking in late. Many spoke other languages and had an entourage of staff with them.

Though she felt as if she should be greeting them and making them feel welcome, Fiona didn’t have it in her to be sociable. The thought of a tortured Wyatt roaming the streets of San Antonio bothered her more than she would have expected.

She took the elevator up and let herself into the room she’d share with Wyatt…if he returned. As she swiped her card through the locking mechanism, she held her breath, praying he’d be inside, safe and sound.

Pushing the door open, she let go of the breath she’d held. No Wyatt. The room was cold and empty, much like her life had been up to the point at which she’d been bumped into the river and pulled out by a big strapping soldier.

Without bothering to duck into the bathroom, Fiona stripped out of her sandals and dress and pulled her nightgown over her head. The blue baby-doll, sheer gown barely came down over her bottom. If she’d known she’d be sharing a room, she might have brought pajamas that covered her from neck to toe. Not knowing if the AC would be sufficient to keep her cool, she’d chosen the lightest gown she had. If she hadn’t been crazy busy all day, she’d have gone home to get less revealing PJs. Or she could have asked Maddie to stop by her place, but she’d sent her off on other more pressing matters than PJs.

Too tired and dispirited to worry about it, she fluffed her pillow, climbed into the bed and leaned back against the headboard, sitting up, waiting for Wyatt to return to their room.

Worry kept her awake past midnight. Despite the activities of the day, she couldn’t force her eyelids closed. Instead she slipped down into the sheets, afraid to go to sleep for fear of dreaming of the man who’d thrown her on the floor to protect her from attack.

After an hour of lying there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what had set the man off, she climbed out of the bed and wandered into the bathroom. A shower might clear her head and let her finally get to sleep. Stripping out of her nightgown, she climbed into the tub and turned on the shower. Cool water to chill the desire rising in her every time her mind drifted back to the soldier who’d be sleeping in her room. Should she let him into her bed to get him out of her system? Or should she keep to her plan and remain abstinent throughout the conference?

Fiona switched the water colder until she was shivering by the time she stepped out of the shower and still her body warmed from the inside.

Damn the man for invading her thoughts when he wasn’t even there for her to do anything about.

Chapter Six

Wyatt walked to the end of the River Walk and out into the streets of downtown San Antonio with no direction in mind, just the need to move and keep moving. He felt as if he stopped, his demons would catch up to him and take him down, and he couldn’t give in.

Every loud noise made him jumpy and jittery. The more he reacted, the more sensitive he became to noises, hearing even the slightest sounds like he had when he’d been working his way door-to-door in a poor Somali village, searching for the rogue warriors. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he slipped into a seedy bar and ordered a whiskey.

One drink would take the edge off. If he let himself, he could drown himself to the point he no longer felt the pain. Alcohol also allowed him to fall into a drunken stupor and sleep until morning without the horrific nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes.

A redhead with brilliant green eyes kept him from going down the slick path of alcoholic oblivion. She had a plan and he’d by God better toe the line. Showing up for work drunk or hung over was never a good idea when terrorists had already threatened. Thirty minutes, maybe an hour had passed. He wasn’t sure. He would have liked to say he didn’t care as he stared into the glass of amber liquid he had yet to touch.

Those damned green eyes haunted him and he could almost imagine the disappointment in them if he didn’t take the job seriously and show up for work. His troubles were insignificant. People’s lives depended on him being one step ahead of terrorists. Like in Somalia. Only he hadn’t been far enough ahead to keep his friend from dying. Maybe, just maybe, he could make a difference this time. But not numbed by alcohol.

He pushed the untouched glass away, slapped a twenty on the counter and left the bar. At a slow jog, he took only fifteen minutes to find his way back to the hotel, ignoring the ache in his knee. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while he was away feeling sorry for himself.

Wyatt entered the lobby, his strides eating up the distance between him and the elevator. He hit the sublevel that led to the parking garage and the security office with the camera monitors. After checking with the security guard on duty and giving him his cell phone number, Wyatt returned to the elevator, his heartbeat quickening as the car lifted to the floor with the room he’d share with Fiona.

Fingering the keycard in his pocket, he wondered if she’d managed to convince the concierge to change the lock code on the door to make his key card obsolete. He half expected the lock indicator light to blink red when he slid his card in the reader.

Ready to turn and walk away, he was surprised to see the light blink green. He gripped the handle and pushed the door, once again expecting the chain to block his entry.

When the door swung open, he stepped into the darkened room and nearly ran into the rollaway someone must have set up in his absence. Neatly made up with sheets, a blanket and pillow, it stood as far away as it could possibly get from the bed where Fiona would be sleeping. The only light shining from the base of the bathroom door barely provided enough light for Wyatt to locate the king-sized bed. The whir of a blow dryer came to an abrupt stop.

Wyatt let the door close behind him. He eased his way around the cot, shedding his shirt and shoes.

The light in the bathroom blinked out, plunging him into complete darkness, the heavy, light-smothering curtains across the window disallowing any streetlight to penetrate the room.

The soft sound of a metal doorknob twisting and the barely discernible creak of hinges let him know Fiona was done in the bathroom and headed for the king-sized bed.

A soft thump was followed by a muttered curse. “Damn.”

Wyatt inched forward, concerned she’d hurt herself, but afraid he’d run into her if he hurried.

He hadn’t gone far when, the light from the bathroom flickered on and Fiona was silhouetted, wearing a short, baby-doll nightgown, the shape of her body clearly visible through the diaphanous fabric.

Standing only inches from her, Wyatt’s pulse quickened. He could barely see the expression on her face, but her quick indrawn breath let him know she’d seen him.

“Oh,” she said, pressing a hand to the gentle swell of her breasts. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She glanced up at him, the light shining off the side of her face, giving it a sexy glow. “I’m done in the bathroom. It’s all yours.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t move out of her way. His body warring with his mind. He’d assured her she had nothing to fear from him. That he’d be the perfect gentleman sharing a room with her. But all those promises seemed to fly out the window with her luscious body so close to his, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, her scent wafting around him like an invitation.

She swiped her tongue across her lips, drawing Wyatt’s attention to their full, plump dampness. As much as he didn’t trust himself and as much as he didn’t want to get involved, he was afraid it was too late. He gripped her arms and stared down into her eyes. “I didn’t come here to start something,” his voice edged with desperate anger.

“Then don’t,” she whispered. “No one’s making you.” She said one thing, her body contradicting her words when she swayed toward him.

“I made a promise,” he reminded her.

“I wouldn’t want you to break any promises.” Fiona’s gaze shifted to his naked chest, her hands rising to rest on the muscles. Instead of pushing him away, her fingers curled ever so slightly, her nails grazing his skin. “Then again, sometimes promises are made to be broken.”

He dragged in a breath, but the air didn’t seem to fill his lungs. Finally, he gave in to his baser desires and bent to claim her lips in a fierce kiss.

Rather than shy away in alarm by his actions, Fiona raised her arms, entwining her hands at the back of his neck, dragging him closer, her barely clad breasts pressing against his naked skin. The nipples puckered into hard little tips grazing him, making him want to rip the gown over her head.

He broke the kiss, trailing his lips over her cheek, down her chin, following the long line of her neck to where it crooked at her shoulder.

She let her head fall back, exposing more skin to his lips and tongue. “Why can’t I stop? You’re like an addiction.” She moaned. “The more I have, the more I want.”

Her words ignited a flame so bright it burned through him in seconds, consuming him. He slid his hands down her back and cupped the backs of her thighs, lifting her in his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. He spun toward the bed and eased her down onto the crisp clean sheets, bending over her, his mouth poised above hers. When she reached out to pull him down on her, he held back, grasping her wrists in his bigger hands, pinning them to the mattress above her head. “You need to know.”

“What?” she said, her body writhing beneath his. “That I’m on fire? That I want you?”

His groin tightened, blood flowing south, engorging his cock, making his jeans so tight he might explode. “You need to know I’m not staying. What we’re about to do means nothing. I’m no good at relationships. Don’t expect me to behave any differently tomorrow. It’ll be back to business as usual.”

For a moment hurt flashed in her eyes and she lay still, not struggling against his grip on her wrists. Then her lips quirked up on the corner. “Okay, soldier. I’m more than good with that. And I’m glad you clarified, because I don’t have time for a clingy man.” She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, the smile spreading across her face. “Now, are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to break out my vibrator?”

The reasoning part of Wyatt’s mind flew out the shrouded window and his body shouted
Hallelujah!

Fiona couldn’t believe she’d just given him consent to ravage her body. Then again, she’d been anticipating this since he’d run out on their dinner earlier that evening. Hadn’t she been wishing he’d show up? The cool shower forgotten, her body heated like a raging inferno centered around her aching, throbbing core.

Like a conquering warrior, he claimed her lips, his mouth bearing down, his tongue thrusting against hers.

She surrendered gladly, meeting his tongue with her own caresses. She slid her hands along his arms and down his body to cup his ass. Tight denim encased hard muscles, bunching and flexing with each move. Wanting him to lie on the bed beside her, she grasped his buttocks, urging him to climb in.

He resisted, shaking his head as he released her lips. “Not yet. I might be rusty at this, but I like my women to be as excited as I am.”

Women
. Fiona would have snorted and started to, but Wyatt shifted, his lips sliding down her neck to capture one of her nipples between his teeth. He rolled the hardened bead, dampening the fabric of her gown.

Her back arching as if of its own accord, Fiona fought to breathe.

Then with an impatient movement, Wyatt straightened, gripped the hem of her gown, yanked it up over her head and tossed it over his shoulder.

She sat up and reached for the button of his jeans.

His hand descended over hers. “Not yet,” he repeated.

“But I like to make love to my men naked.”

His eyes flared, his lips tightening for a moment. “In time. You let him loose and I won’t have any control left.”

She laughed softly. “And that’s a problem?” She yanked the top button free.

Again he stopped her, stepping away from her reach.

Fiona pressed her lips together, frustration lending to her impatience. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” She cocked her head to the side, her brows rising in challenge.

He met her challenge by slipping a finger beneath the elastic of her panties.

Thankful she’d worn her best black lace thong, she watched as he slid the scrap of fabric over her hips and down her legs excruciatingly slowly.

By the time he yanked them free, she was all but panting. Her pussy creamed when he stepped between her knees. Still sitting up, she ran her hands over his chest and downward over his ripped belly. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

His lips hovering over the pulse beating at the base of her neck, he breathed warm air across her skin. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’m counting on it.” She ran her hands over her breasts, plumping them for his pleasure and then let her fingers slide down to the tuft of hair covering her sex. Parting her folds, she fingered her clit, slipping lower to coat a digit in the liquid seeping from her channel. He just wasn’t moving fast enough for her. She needed him inside her. Sooner rather than later.

When he dropped to his knees, her heart seized and she stroked her clit faster. In all the relationships she’d been in, and there hadn’t been many, never once had a man gone down on her. She shivered, her knees widening to accommodate his broad shoulders brushing against the insides of her thighs.

He reached out, lifting her breasts in the palms of his hands, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “You have beautiful breasts.”

Fiona had always considered them nothing more than adequate. But the hunger in Wyatt’s gaze made her want to believe him. She cupped the backs of his hands and squeezed his fingers around them.

After a moment, he dragged his hands away from beneath hers and caressed her sides, leaning in to capture a turgid peak between his lips.

Fiona drew in a deep breath, her chest pushing out to meet his lips and offer more.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, pulling hard.

Her insides tightened and she threaded her hands through his hair, cupping the back of his skull to bring him nearer.

Ah, yes. She liked the way he sucked hard, the slight pain stimulating everything else in her body to a heightened sense of awareness. It only made her want more.

He abandoned her breasts and eased his way down her torso to the tiny triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs. Glad she’d had a bikini wax the day before, she waited, holding her breath for what came next.

Wyatt glanced up. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

“Fuck no, you won’t,” she wailed. “Please, don’t stop now.” Fiona threaded her fingers through his hair and urged him on his path downward.

Streamers of electric shocks rippled through her as his fingers parted her folds, laying open her clit for the next stage in his calculated attack.

He flicked the slim bit of flesh with the tip of his tongue.

Fiona’s fingers dug into his scalp, a moan rising from her chest, escaping through parted lips, air lodging in her throat.

He chuckled, his breath cooling the dampened skin. Before she could catch her breath, he stroked her again with that magical tongue.

Her head fell back, her hands trembling.

Two strokes and she was ready to beg him to take her, fuck her, slam into her hard and fast.

Instead, he pulled her clit into his mouth and nibbled gently, swirling his tongue around it until every one of the tightly packed nerves were screaming with delight.

When he dipped a finger into her channel, she almost launched off the bed. Two fingers were even better. Three fingers, plus the continuous flicking, sucking and tapping at her clit sent her flying over the edge. “Now,” she begged. “Please come inside me now.”

He lurched to his feet, scooted her up on the bed and dug into the back pocket of his discarded jeans for his wallet, from which he extracted a foil packet.

Desperate to have him inside her, Fiona sat up and reached for the condom.

Naked, standing in front of her, his cock jutted out, thick, hard and so big it made Fiona’s mouth water. Tearing the foil packet open with her teeth, she held off removing it from the pouch, tempted to taste him as he’d tasted her.

She slipped off the bed to kneel at his feet and wrapped her hands around his length. Velvet-encased steel. He thrust into her palms.

Flicking her tongue across the tip, she reveled in the warm, softness. Now that she was there, she wanted to make him as crazy as he’d made her. She laid the condom packet on the pillow beside her, slipped her fingers down to the base of his cock and cupped his balls in her palms.