We sat in silence together for long minutes, just holding each other.
“Did things ever get any better for you?” she finally asked.
“Yeah. Time heals all wounds, right? Or at least gives you clearer perspective.” I shifted so I could see her face better. “I moved to a small town a couple hours from Missoula. Garnet Bend, Wyoming. Population 2519. Working with the Warrior Security guys—they understand PTSD. They’ve been there. We look out for one another.”
“Warrior Security?”
“We do personal and corporate security. It stemmed from the Resting Warrior Ranch, a place started by a group of Special Forces guys where former soldiers having trouble adjusting to civilian life could find support and a place to stay for howeverlong is needed.” I found myself actually smiling slightly. “It’s been a great fit for me.”
“It sounds like it.”
“You would like it in Garnet Bend. One of the Warrior Security guys, Beckett, works with therapy animals at this place called Pawsitive Connections during his time off. Helps train them for people dealing with trauma.”
“Therapy animals?”
“Yeah. Dogs mostly, but they’ve got everything. Guinea pigs, horses, cats, even an alpaca named Al Pacacino.”
She laughed. Actually laughed, the sound surprising us both. “Al Pacacino?”
“I swear to God. This alpaca struts around like he owns the place. Beckett says he’s got more attitude than any guard dog they’ve trained.”
She was still smiling, and the sight of it did something to my chest. This woman who’d been through hell, who’d just broken down completely—and she could still laugh at a stupid alpaca pun.
Before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself of all the reasons this was a bad idea, I was kissing her.
An actual kiss. Not a performance for perverts.
She made a soft sound of surprise, then her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss started soft, tentative, six years of separation making us almost strangers. But then she nipped at my bottom lip, and something snapped. The kiss turned desperate, hungry, three days of terror and six years of want combusting into pure need.
I pulled her fully onto my lap, her legs straddling mine, the dress riding up higher on her thighs. My hands found her waist, holding her steady as she rocked against me, the friction making us both groan. The kiss broke only when oxygen became necessary, both of us panting.
Her mouth found my jaw, kissing along the stubble there, down to my throat. I tilted my head back, giving her access, my hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. She bit gently at the spot where neck met shoulder, and my hips bucked involuntarily.
“Coop,” she breathed against my skin, and the sound of my name in her voice after all this time nearly undid me.
I captured her mouth again, kissing her deeply while my hands explored. The curve of her waist, the soft skin of her thighs, the racing pulse at her throat. She was grinding against me now, little movements that had us both breathing hard.
I trailed my mouth down her throat, finding that spot behind her ear that used to make her melt. Still did, apparently. She gasped, her nails scraping down my back through my shirt. The fabric was in the way, too much between us.
She seemed to have the same thought, tugging at the hem. I pulled back just long enough to yank it off, and then her hands were on my bare chest, exploring. Her fingers traced scars she didn’t recognize, the shrapnel marks from that last mission. Her touch was reverent, learning this new geography of my body.
I found the zipper of the dress, pulling it down slowly, kissing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Her shoulder, her collarbone, the soft swell of her breast. She arched into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders.
The dress pooled around her waist, and I took a moment just to look at her. Thinner than before, marked by survival, but still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I skimmed my hands up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, watching her shiver at the touch.
Her hands went to my belt, fingers working at the buckle with increasing speed. I helped her, both of us fumbling in our haste. Then my mouth was on her breast, tongue circling hernipple, teeth grazing gently, and she cried out softly, the sound muffled by the rain.
I picked her up and laid her on the bed, taking my time now despite the desperation thrumming through my veins. Kissed down her stomach, felt her muscles jump under my lips. I pushed the dress up and off completely, leaving her bare.
I traced the scars on her legs with my fingers, kissing each one, showing them the reverence they deserved. She was trembling now, not from fear but from anticipation. When I kissed the inside of her thigh, she gasped, hips lifting off the bed.
I took my time between her thighs, using my mouth to explore every sensitive inch of her. My tongue circled her clit slowly, teasingly, while two fingers slid inside her wet heat. She was already so ready for me, her body responding to every touch like it had been waiting for this. Her hands fisted in my hair, guiding me, showing me exactly what she needed. I curled my fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her gasp and buck against my mouth.
When she got close, her thighs trembling against my shoulders, her pussy clenching around my fingers, I pulled back, kissing my way back up her body. She whimpered at the loss, but I wasn’t done with her yet.
My thumb replaced my mouth on her clit, circling and strumming while I kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on my tongue. I worked her higher, adding a third finger, stretching her, feeling how wet she was for me. Her hips rocked against my hand, desperate for more.
“Please,” she gasped against my mouth. “I need?—”
