Chapter 5 Hotel Luna Mar – San Antonio, Texas
HOTEL LUNA MAR – SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
Light crept in softly through the sheer curtain. Golden. Quiet. Unbothered by the chaos of the world outside. Lark blinked against the glow of the sun peeking through the window. The first thing she registered was warmth against her face—the feeling of calm against the storm.
A steady, living strength—wrapped around her back, anchored at her waist, chest rising and falling in rhythm with her own—reminded her she wasn’t alone. She stilled for a moment while she processed the intrusion.
The tears. The purge. The most needed moment of humanity—shared with another person.
Kawan.
Somehow, he always managed to worm himself into her most challenging and intimate moments.
His arm was draped across her side, his palm flat against her stomach, fingers splayed as if he were holding her together. As if somehow, during the night, he'd known how close she'd come to fleeing.
Lark let her eyes flutter closed again. The sheets were tangled between them, kicked halfway down the bed. Her tank top had ridden up. His bare skin pressed against hers—heat, strength, the faintest brush of stubble against her shoulder.
God, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Not in his arms. Not like that.
But she hadn’t wanted to be alone, either.
Kawan shifted behind her, his breath warming her shoulder.
"You’re awake,” he whispered.
“I didn’t mean to… pass out on you.” Her throat was dry, her voice husky. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he murmured, lips brushing across her shoulder. “You needed rest. I was happy to keep watch.”
Lark turned slightly, enough to meet his gaze.
His eyes were soft and shadowed with sleep—but focused. He looked at her like she was something fragile, armored in steel.
She’d always loved waking up in his arms. For a man so full of ego and brawn, he had a vulnerability and sense of kindness that couldn’t be denied.
He made her feel… like a woman. It was odd to think that.
But most men didn’t fulfill that deep-seated need buried inside her.
They treated her like an equal, which she had demanded—needed.
Being respected had been an essential part of moving up in the ranks.
She’d never wanted to be seen as different because of her gender.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t want her bed partners to miss out on the fact she was indeed… a woman.
Most of the men in her life seemed to have forgotten that aspect. In the field, at the bar, even in bed—she was just another operator. One of the guys who happened to have different anatomy—as strange as that sounded. But she supposed that's why those relationships never lasted.
Kawan was different. He saw both sides of her and valued them equally.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For not letting me go under.”
“You’ve pulled me out before.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was just returning the favor.”
That tugged at something low in her chest—something old and tangled and just a little raw.
They'd been here before. Not this exact room, not this exact morning—but moments like this. Between missions. Those brief flashes of realness where they let the armor fall away. Let humanity seep through the steel walls meant to shield from the harshness of war.
“You always had good timing,” she murmured.
His hand slid to her hip, anchoring her there.
“So did you,” he said. “Though, to be fair, I always thought you were the one running away.”
Lark’s brow lifted. “Maybe in the end, but you ghosted me in Djibouti.”
“That was a tactical retreat,” he said, grin tinged with something that looked like old hurt. “You were already planning your exit. I could see it in your eyes. Figured I'd save us both the awkward morning-after and left first.”
“I thought you were trouble.”
“Still am.”
He leaned in slowly.
Gave her time to move. Time to stop it—because he’d always been that kind of man.
But she wasn’t about to stop him.
Their mouths met softly at first, a whisper of memory and regret.
Then heat. Familiar. Electric.
His hand curved around her jaw, thumb grazing the line of her cheek as he deepened the kiss. There was no hesitation in it. No games. Just want. Need.
She twisted toward him, her leg hooking around his as she shifted onto her back.
He followed, bracing above her, weight balanced in his forearms. It was clear he was trying not to press against her sore ribs.
Something in her softened in the face of his nurturing, protective nature that somehow coexisted with the hardened, lethal sailor.
“Kawan,” she whispered, breath catching as his lips trailed down her neck, slow and reverent. “We probably shouldn’t…”
“I know,” he said, voice rough, lips brushing her collarbone. “But I don’t want to stop.”
Neither did she.
She hadn’t wanted to feel anything—hadn’t expected to—but the ache inside her wasn’t just grief anymore. It was longing. A need for connection. A desperate craving for something human in the middle of all this brokenness.
“But here’s your out. Take it now, or this is going all the way,” he said, pulling back to search her face.
She studied his eyes—dark and turbulent, reflecting the storm they were both caught in. His features were etched with worry and want, a plea hanging on his lips that matched her own unspoken need. “All the way,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, yet clear in the still room.
He traced a path of kisses down her neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Her skin hummed under his touch, each feather-light brush of his fingers against her bare shoulder, each gentle nip of his teeth at the sensitive hollow of her throat adding fuel to the fire that simmered in her core.
He pressed his forehead against hers, a quiet moment of understanding passing between them before he claimed her mouth again, deeper, a silent promise in their mingling breath. His hand moved lower, tracing the curve of her hip, his touch sending a thrill down her spine.
"You're still the sexiest woman I’ve ever known,” he rasped, carefully easing her tank top over each shoulder, taking extra time with the one that had been injured, before lifting the entire piece of clothing over her head.
His gaze burned into the bareness of her.
"Every part of you." The heat of his stare was a caress, warmth flooded every crevice of her being.
She looked into his eyes, and for the first time in an eternity, she let herself surrender. She arched up against him. His hands were rough, callused from years of combat, yet they held her with a gentleness so profound it was like the touch of the first spring breeze after a brutal winter.
His fingers traced her body, following every curve and hollow. Every brush of his touch melted the icy walls she'd built around herself. they ignited something within her. Pulling him closer, she entwined her fingers with his.
The way he traced a hot trail down her arm sent shivers dancing across her skin.
The warmth of his breath on her nape, the smoothness of his skin rubbing against hers, the slight stubble on his cheek tickling her flesh—it all blurred into a whirlwind of sensations that left her breathless.
She never imagined just being there with him would make her feel that way.
It was intoxicating, overwhelming—a wild, reckless surrender to the moment.
She opened her mouth beneath his, welcoming the taste of him— masculine and raw, with an edge that had always made her feel alive.
He rested his elbow beside her head, broke the kiss off, and stared at her intently… lovingly. “Are you okay? Your ribs? I’m not crushing them? You’re not in too much pain?”
This was one of the many reasons she was always letting him back into her bed. He’d always been so unselfish. So, considerate. So kind. “I’m fine.” She pressed her palm against his cheek.
He smiled before kissing her with an urgency that echoed the drumming of her heart. It was maddening and enticing, a delicious torment she never wanted to escape from. His warmth, his scent, the feel of his body against hers—every sensation overwhelmed and consumed her.
His hand slipped under the fabric of her underwear, his touch electric against her skin.
A gasp escaped her lips, her eyes slipping shut instinctively.
Her body responded willingly, her skin prickling at his every move.
She could feel his breath against her skin, husky and erratic.
The air in the room seemed charged with an energy she couldn’t name.
His fingers skimmed lower, tracing a path of fire.
Her heart pounded in rhythm with his movements.
She could feel everything—the coolness of the room contrasting sharply with the heat of his body and the cotton sheets beneath her skin.
The musky scent of him filled her nostrils. He was everywhere and everything.
A soft groan vibrated against her lips as he teased her with his fingers. Sensation spiraled through her body, washing away everything but the rising tide of their connection. His taste lingered on her tongue, a memento of a shared moment that felt as endless as the sunrise.
He took her nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his lips, and she arched her back, wanting to feel more of him, needing to have him closer. His teeth grazed lightly, casting sparks of pleasure through her nerves that seemed to echo in the very marrow of her bones.
His hand continued its deliberate exploration, charting paths and tracing contours that she'd almost forgotten existed.
She squirmed beneath him, a floodgate of need threatening to spill over.
His mouth left her breast, his lips trailing fiery kisses down her stomach and past her belly button, making her gasp and grasp his shoulder.
Her heartbeat pounded so forcefully against her ribcage that it was a wonder it didn't break free.