Being Emerald (8 page)

By the time she’d maneuvered the tire back on the vehicle, Laila was sweaty and covered with the rust-colored dust that seemed to permeate everything because of the hot, dry summer. She was a sight to see, eyes alight, face red and splotchy. Standing there, with her hands on her hips, she was raging innocence clashing with pure stubbornness. Made him hard all over again.

“Nicely done,” he said, jumping down from his seat. He caught her by the wrist, pulled her to him and rewarded her with a smacking kiss on the lips, then set off toward his vehicle.

“What was that for?”

“You did well. You get a kiss.” She scrambled to catch up to him. “Let’s get some lunch. You’re going to need some fuel for this afternoon.”

“But—”

“Don’t question your training,” he said.

Her fists balled at her sides and her lush pink lips pressed tightly against one another.

He slapped her on the ass. “Good girl.”

She growled at him and he nearly lost it again. “What are we doing this afternoon?”

“Lunch first. Then, this afternoon and every afternoon until our go date will be spent on self-defense.”

“You’re going to fight me?”

“No, you’re going to learn to defend yourself in all situations. You’ll be carrying a side arm and a small knife while we’re out of the city. I want you to be passable in the use of both in addition to being able to take a man down with neither.”

They sat in the shade of a metal storage shed, eating the sandwiches and fruit he’d packed before they left the house. Sweat-soaked and wilting in the midday heat, Laila looked like she wanted to go home. “Ready to get started?” he asked her.

“Ready is not the word I’d use to describe how I feel right now.”

His hard heart melted a little as he pulled her to her feet. Yet, he refused to go easy. He kept her hand in his and walked with her to the path of worn grass running around the perimeter of the compound. Without letting go, he began to jog.

“Ugh. No. Please.” She tried to pull her hand out of his.

“I’ll let you go if you promise to keep up.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, and you will.” He kept a tight grip on her until she agreed. “It’s only a mile today.”

“Only? Today? It’s eighty-five degrees out here, and I’m exhausted from this morning.”

Rock swatted her ass. “Quit complaining.”

She put some space between them, but also finished the mile without comment. He loved her stubbornness and strength of character. The challenge teased him.

When they were done, her black T-shirt was gone and the tank top she’d worn underneath was wet and sticking to her back. Her cheeks were beet red, and damp tendrils of hair encircled her face. She was beautiful in misery. Rock experienced a flash of compassion, knowing the brutal pace he’d set. But the training had to progress in order for her to be prepared for the trip.

He brought water to her where she lay flat on her back in the little piece of shade she’d found. “You have fifteen minutes.”

“Until what?”

“Until we finish our conditioning.”

“What does that mean?”

“Crunches, pushups and squats.”

Her eyes snapped open.

He smiled. “The glare again. Cute.” He turned and walked toward the main structure, housing the break room. After he’d gotten almost out of earshot, she said something unintelligible. With a wide grin, he entered the building. “Yeah. Feisty and cute.”

The fifteen-minute break passed in the blink of an eye, and after giving Laila a new bottle of water, he pulled her up from the ground. She groaned.

“You sore?”

“Dying maybe, maimed perhaps, but sore definitely doesn’t cover it.”

“The more you move, the better you’ll feel.” Rock grasped her hand again and slowly led her into the armory and shooting range, where he delivered his first lesson on the assembly, disassembly and safety features of her side arm.

“Can I shoot?” She’d perked up. The hope in her upturned face gnawed at his resolve. He loved that she wasn’t afraid. “Please,” she whined.

“In a couple of days.”

She drooped in disappointment. She was a mess, standing stiffly in her dirty clothes. It was okay, though. Nothing wrong with a little pain and emotion to remind a person they were alive.

Today, he’d lived.

So had she.

Laila was nearly asleep by the time Rock pulled into his driveway. He walked around the front of the truck, opened the passenger door, and caught her before she tumbled out. He offered his hand.

“Ahh! Stop!” she cried, squeezing his hand hard. “My muscles have stiffened up.” She gingerly slid the rest of the way out of the truck, until her feet found the pavement. “Holy shit, you’ve broken me.” She stood there hunchbacked and grasping his hand so hard she felt his knuckles roll against each other. “I can’t move.”

“Okay, up you go.” Rock hauled her into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and supporting her rear with his hands, just as he’d done the night before.

Laila experienced a twinge of pain at the mere thought of clinging to him, so she tucked her arms between them and snuggled into his chest instead.

He carried her upstairs, as if she weighed nothing. In the bathroom, he sat her on the edge of the tub. She just sat there, not wanting to make the motions required to take off her clothes. Her limbs were heavy and about as useful as boulders.

Rock turned on the faucet and adjusted the knobs. His T-shirt pulled tight across his magnificent back and his sculpted ass looked delicious in the black mission pants he wore. She smiled for the first time that day. Rock’s rejection to her offer of sex the night before had maimed her dignity. For the most part, he’d followed her lead, staying businesslike during training, but when he turned to her, he’d changed, too. Pure sex rolled off him, kicking up her heart rate.

He pulled her up, and stepping back, he assessed her. His blazing eyes moved slowly, from her head to toes while she stood there, hobbled. She was depleted, had absolutely nothing left, and wondered if she looked the way she felt.

With an apologetic look in his eyes, he tenderly helped her sit back down. She slumped, resting her forearms on her knees. “Poor baby,” he whispered as he knelt in front of her.

“Please don’t make fun of me.”

He gently pulled off one of her boots and then the other. “I’m not. Promise.” He peeled a sock off and massaged her foot with strong, probing fingers.

“Oh, that feels good.” He took his time, kneading with both hands, digging into her arches.

“You knew you were going on this mission. Why didn’t you train ahead of time?” Rock’s voice was soft, his tone concerned, with no reproach.

“I did. I trained my mind. I learned, planned, and then contingency planned how to get these pieces back in one piece.” She groaned again as he let go of one foot and started on the other. “I shouldn’t need to train my body too. Protecting me is your job.”

He chuckled softly. “Still cute.”

She ground her molars together, barely able to contain her ire. She wanted to bite his head off, tell him to go fuck himself, something.

“Up,” he ordered with a nudge to her arms. She ignored his direction until he met her gaze and raised an eyebrow.

She lifted her arms slowly.

He peeled her top off and tossed it on the floor. “Up.” He nudged her rear end and she stood. He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, hooked his thumbs at the waistbands of her pants and panties and slid them down until they landed on the floor. A moment later, her bra was unhooked, and sliding off her shoulders to the ground.

He took her hand and helped her into the tub of tepid water. She sat awkwardly, sloshing the water around as her rear landed clumsily on the smooth porcelain of the tub.

Rock grabbed the hand-held showerhead and pressed the button, diverting the spill of water filling the tub to the hand sprayer. “Learning to defend yourself is a huge part of your training,” he said softly. “You need to be able to fend for yourself if the worst case scenario happens.” He soaked her hair and upper body before returning the water flow back to the faucet.

“What exactly is the worst case scenario?”

“I’m not there to protect you, and Garret and Sydney are trying to kill you.” He lifted from his knees and leaned over to grab the bottle of shampoo before sitting on the edge of the tub. He unscrewed the cap and held the bottle under her nose. “Smell.”

It smelled like him. She opened her eyes, smiling.

He sniffed the bottle before he poured some in his hand. “Look up at the ceiling. I’ll wash your hair.”

For a split second, she was going to tell him she could do it herself, but she thought better of it. He treated her like a queen, literally, and she wouldn’t turn away a second of this china doll treatment. Head tilted up and eyes closed, she savored his strong fingers scrubbing her scalp. A mass of bubbles slid down her back as he washed different areas, working down toward the ends of her hair. When he grabbed the hand sprayer to rinse, the absence of his touch made her greedy for more.

He took care not to get any shampoo into her eyes. He was so good, she was sure he’d done this many times before. “Did you do this for the girl assigned to you, your roommate in Amber?”

His eyes softened. “Yes.”

“What was her name?”

“Journey.”

“Do you miss her?”

He didn’t answer right away, and avoided her gaze. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. His sorrow was palpable even without opening herself up to his feelings.

“Did you love her?”

He nodded. “Still do.”

A tinge of jealousy toward Journey darkened Laila’s mood while Rock coated her hair with conditioner. She didn’t particularly like the fact this man, who so carefully took care of her, had done this with someone else. Not just someone else, but someone else he still loved.

“You shouldn’t be giving me a bath if you’re in love with another woman.” She plucked the soap and washrag out of his hand. “I can finish myself.”

He rumbled the deepest laugh she’d ever heard. Then, he leaned in close. “You’ve got a little brat in you.” His deep brown eyes twinkled.

His amusement exasperated her.

He sobered. “Do you want me to stop?”

She looked down at her hands, hating herself for the truth. “No,” she whispered.

“I didn’t think so.” He took back the soap and washrag and coated every part of her above the waterline with bubbles. The gentle cleansing stimulated every sense. The slow glide of the washcloth, the slight breeze of his exhalations floating across her damp skin. The smell of the soap and warmth of the water. She was enthralled by the reverent attention she received from this man.

“Stand up.” He gripped her hand to assist her.

When she faced him, he examined every subtlety of her form. From his seat on the edge of the tub, he rubbed the washrag slowly over the curve of her hips and then between her legs, making sure to get between her lower lips. He stroked once, twice over her clit.

She held her breath. Their gazes met. His glittered with desire, but he moved the washrag along, coating her legs.

He nodded at her. “Sit.” The word was raspy. He cleared his throat and said the word again as Laila stiffly submerged herself at a snail’s pace, disappointed the erotic wash was over.

He grabbed the sprayer again, and she closed her eyes, lifting her chin as he rinsed the conditioner out of her hair.

Taking a deep breath, she opened herself up and searched his energy. He radiated calmness and gentleness. It soothed her.

She’d made a point not to open herself to him for the entire day, as was her habit. She found out at an early age if she let everybody’s energy affect her, by the end of the day she’d be a wreck. Plus, she’d been irritated with him most of the afternoon and didn’t particularly care how he was feeling at the time. Her mood was beginning to return to normal now that the warm water eased her muscles. She lay back, happy and relaxed while he lifted each foot out of the water and fingered between her toes and along the soles, with the slick coat of bubbles easing the way.

Rock submerged the sprayer head under the water and nudged her legs apart with it. She jack-knifed up and met his gaze.

“You need to get off.” His tone was matter of fact. “Lean back.”

“No. Stop it.”

He did, immediately replacing the sprayer in its base by the faucet. Then, he crossed his arms and turned a stern expression to her. “We can do this one of two ways. You can either be totally honest and open with me, as I will be with you. Or you can pretend I don’t know exactly what you need.”

They stared each other down.

“Do it,” he whispered.

With an aggravated sigh, she lay back against the tub, and he nudged her thighs apart.

“Aggressive much?” She breathed.

“You have no idea,” he said straight-faced as he grabbed the sprayer again.

Laila closed her eyes, settled in, waiting for the jet of water to stimulate her.

“Open your eyes. Keep them open.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question your training.”

“This is not training.”

He straightened, turned off the water and stood. “Baby, everything’s training. Now stand up.”

For a few moments, she sat gaping at him, working hard to figure out what the fuck was going on with this man. She was pissed off all over again. He’d rejected her benefriends suggestion, worked her hard with no sympathy or compassion for her depleted body, told her he loved someone else, and now this? She didn’t think so. She eyed him as he held a towel open for her to walk into, wanting to tell him off, but she wimped out. Plus, he’d think her a raging bitch with wild mood swings if they ended yet another night with her over-the-top emotions. Instead, she stood.

He wrapped the fluffy towel around her, his big tattooed arms lingering and lifting her out of the tub. He set her feet on the soft cotton bath mat. Rubbing briskly, he dried her hair and then took a thorough route, drying her from head to toe. Rock unceremoniously shoved her head through the hole of a T-shirt and motioned for her to put her arms through. After she’d followed his direction, he clasped her hand and led her to the bedroom. “Sit.” He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed then walked away.