Chapter 32
Rav
The bedroom Brooke shared with Scarlett was bathed in soft light from the bedside lamp, the enormous bed with its dark wood frame dominating the space. Through the windows, the city of Naples stretched out like a carpet of lights twinkling in the night.
I paused in the doorway, watching the completely naked Brooklyn McAllister as she tossed her clothes in a pile on the small couch. The sight of her took my breath away—the curve of her spine, the sweep of her hair across her shoulders, the contrast between smooth and scarred skin.
She turned, catching me staring. “What?”
“Just admiring the view,” I said, crossing the room to stand before her. I couldn’t help but reach out, tracing the edge of scarring along her neck, following it down to her collarbone. “Every inch of you.”
Something flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by that determined look I knew so well.
“Plenty of time for looking later,” she said, pushing me toward the bed.
“Hold on,” I whispered, trying not to laugh at the hunger she’d let loose. “Let me put Scarlett’s things outside; otherwise, she’ll come knocking.”
“Hurry up.” Brooke bit her lip. “Because I want to feel you again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a teasing salute.
I found Scarlett’s toiletry bag sitting on her dresser. She wouldn’t need a change of clothes for the evening, and even if she did, she could wear Malcolm’s. Once her bag was outside the door, I flicked the lock and turned to my woman.
My woman. She was mine again, wasn’t she?
Brooke knelt on the bed, patting a spot next to her. “On your back.”
I slid a hand along my dick as I took slow steps toward her. “What are you going to do to me? Interrogate me?”
A wicked smile crept up her face.
God, the scene in front of me. It was straight out of one of my dreams. One of the few good ones I’d had over the past six years.
“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want. We’ve got hours, right?”
I knew what she was planning. She was going to ride me bare.
I’d never been bare with a woman before, but taking her on the kitchen table?
It hadn’t been sex. It was claiming. It was stamping my name on her, so no one would ever take her away from me again.
More than that, it was the confirmation we’d found our way back to each other.
Once I was where she wanted me, she climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. She rocked against my cock, the wet heat of her coating my length.
“Don’t tease me,” I murmured, my hands sliding up her thighs to grip her waist.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she purred, leaning down to nip at my bottom lip. “At least not yet.”
My cock reacted to everything she was doing, as if it needed her.
I reached for her breasts, cupping them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. The difference in her reaction was fascinating—her sharp intake of breath when I touched her scarred left breast, the way her back arched more dramatically.
“You’re so responsive,” I said, my own voice as rough as hers. “So sensitive.”
“Wild, huh?” She whimpered as I pinched her left nipple experimentally, her eyes widening. “It just feels… more.”
A plan formed in my mind, and I grabbed her, tossing her onto her back. “You can ride me later. I need to re-learn you.”
“Promise?” She laughed, covering her face with her hands.
“Promise.” I began a methodical exploration of her body, mapping her reactions as I moved across its terrain.
She’d told me some of the scarred areas were numb, others hypersensitive, and I needed to learn which was which.
When I reached a patch along her ribs, she gasped, her back arching off the bed.
“There?” I asked, licking the spot that had her writhing.
“Yes,” she managed, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I focused my attention there, alternating between light touches and firm pressure, watching her face for every reaction. It was like coming home after decades. The territory was familiar, but there were new landmarks.
“Rav,” she gasped, pulling at my shoulders. “I need you inside me again.”
I moved back up her body, settling between her thighs. “Like this?”
“Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips to meet me as I pushed inside her once more. “Slowly.”
I obeyed, savoring the way she clenched around me. I kept my eyes locked on hers as I moved, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face. She wrapped her legs around my waist, changing the angle, taking me deeper, and I had to grit my teeth against the thrill of it.
“You feel so good,” she told me, her hands roaming over my back, nails digging in slightly. “So fucking good.”
I dipped my head to capture her mouth in a kiss, overwhelmed by the reality of her beneath me after so many years of dreams and regrets. When I pulled back, the words I’d been holding onto for six years escaped before I could stop them.
“I love you,” I said simply. “I never stopped.”
Her eyes widened, she blinked slowly, and too many emotions warred in her eyes—vulnerability, fear, hope.
She didn’t say it back, but she pulled me down for another kiss that was different from the others.
Some things were still too raw, too recent to voice, but she could tell me the truth through her kiss.
I increased my pace, driving into her with renewed purpose.
She slid her hand between us, closing around the root of my shaft, and the sensation of her touching me while I moved inside her nearly undid me right then.
I shifted slightly, adjusting my angle to hit that spot inside her I remembered was there.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, watching her mouth gape open. “Take what you need.”
Within minutes, she was coming again.
“Rav!” she screamed, louder than in the kitchen. Every time in Afghanistan, we’d had to hold it in, biting through the ecstasy, but here, we could let it all go.
The sight of her freely calling my name pulled me over the edge. I followed, spilling inside her with a groan that tore its way from deep in my chest. “Brooke! Fucking hell, Brooke!”
Afterward, I rolled to the side, pulling her with me so she lay half on top of me, her head resting on my chest. Her weight was perfect—substantial and real, anchoring me to this moment, to the reality that we were here, together, after everything.
“That was worth waiting for,” she murmured, letting one arm drape across my sweaty chest.
I stroked her back, from her shoulder to her ass and back again, unable to stop touching her. “We’re only getting started.”
She lifted her head to look at me, raising an eyebrow. “Confident in your recovery time, soldier?”
I grinned at the challenge in her voice. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
She laughed, settling against me. “I’ll hold you to that.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, my fingers continuing their exploration of her skin.
How had anyone ever been repulsed by her scars?
Why did she have to spend so many years hiding from the world?
There was nothing hideous about them—they were simply another part of her, evidence of her survival, her strength.
“I meant what I said,” I whispered finally. “I do love you.”
She inhaled, held it for a moment, then released. “I know.”
My hand stilled momentarily, then resumed its path. I didn’t push for more—didn’t need to. After everything we’d been through, the walls she’d built around herself were understandable. The fact that she was here at all, naked in my arms, was miracle enough.
She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow to look at me. Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine, as though searching for something. Maybe for the truth, for evidence, or simply trying to figure out what to say next. “I tried hating you for so long. I thought it would make things easier.”
I’d been such an idiot.
No, not an idiot. I’d simply been too deep in my own self-pity. After Scarlett had stopped me from ending it all, I’d started seeing a psychologist. After a while, he suggested I talk to the people I’d served with, as though our shared experiences would help put my own into perspective.
I never did.
Because if I’d started talking to people, they would have told me what happened to Brooke, and I would have had to face that all over again. Instead of seeing her in my dreams and my nightmares, when it was only me, I’d have to share her story with others again.
The awful truth was that I was afraid of what I’d hear. That she’d moved on, married, had children. That she had a happy life and that her world was better without me in it.
And that was too close to my thought that everyone’s world would have been better without me.
I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had hated me.”
She gave me a crooked, uncomfortable smile. “Honestly, some silly little part of me might have hoped this would happen someday.”
I let out a long, slow breath, absorbing those words.
“So let’s stop living in yesterday,” she said, pushing herself up so she could press her lips to mine.
The kiss deepened quickly, igniting embers that had never quite died out. I gripped her hips, pulling her on top of me, and I felt myself hardening against her thigh much faster than I’d anticipated. “I believe you wanted to go for a ride?”
“I’m not sure it’s been fifteen minutes,” she teased, grinding against me.
“You’re very motivating.”
She lifted herself over my cock, and sank down slowly, taking me inch by inch until I was fully seated inside of her.
I watched her above me, her head lolled back, her body moving with confidence and purpose.
Brooke, taking her pleasure, using my body for her own satisfaction, was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.
After we were both done again, she collapsed, boneless and spent. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Stay right here,” I murmured, meaning far more than just this physical position.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice was already heavy with approaching sleep.
As her breathing evened out, I held her, feeling more complete than I had in years. Tomorrow would bring danger—Fenix, Greek Fire, and the mission that could cost thousands of lives if we failed.
But for the first time since Afghanistan, I wasn’t just fighting to atone for past failures. I was fighting for a future, for the chance to wake up with her like this again and again. I buried my nose in her hair, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo, and let myself drift off.