Disarm (5 page)

His eyes widened, giving me the answer. “Shit. I didn't know.” He stuck his hands back in his pockets. “Fuck. Sorry. That jackass should have told me.”

I couldn't have agreed more. “Don't worry about it,” I said. “Honest mistake. It's his fault for not telling anyone.”

“My mistake, really,” Dave said with a wry grin. “I should have asked you out sooner.”

HOMECOMING

The emails resumed, but they didn't sound the same. Gone was the intimacy of his words, replaced by nonchalant, almost robotic descriptions of his life there. I asked about the attack during one phone call but he just evaded the question and suddenly had to go. Since I didn't want any more abrupt ends to the calls, I never brought it up again.

The third, fourth, and fifth months all blurred together. Keeping busy was not the problem; it was trying to keep my mind from straying back to Afghanistan that was tough. Beth's tactic of self-distraction was hard to apply when everything around me reminded me of Henry, from his car keys that hung on the hook to his established seat at the dining table.

I read a ton of books, caught up with friends, ran a lot, and probably wasted too much time on the Internet. I spent many hours at the office, trying to lose myself in work to while away the lonely hours of the night.

Then the final month came and, I swear, time slowed. I felt like I was moving in slow motion, that no matter how I distracted myself, I'd look at the clock and find that only a few minutes had elapsed. It was so much worse than the first month.

The anticipation was killing me. He was so close to coming home, yet still thousands of miles away. In preparation, I tidied up his room, vacuumed every nook and cranny of the apartment, and dusted every surface. I filled the fridge with his favorite food and beer, going so far as buying the bottled olives that he loved so much.

Finally, the most special Wednesday of the entire year arrived. I jumped out of bed with extra spring and took an extra long shower, humming to myself about my boyfriend being back, hey la, hey la. I dressed carefully, then drove to base a whole hour before they were scheduled to arrive. They checked my license at the visitor center, handed me a pink slip, and let me drive through the gate with a knowing smile.

I stood at the designated waiting area with the others. Our excitement was a living, breathing thing, so palpable you could almost reach out and touch it. We looked at one another—wives, girlfriends, family, and friends—with unconcealed excitement bursting all over our faces. Some people had created welcome signs; others held balloons and flowers in their hands. I had only the hopeful heart pinned prominently on my sleeve.

Everybody cheered when the bus appeared from around the corner. We cheered when it drove into the parking lot, and we cheered when it pulled up in front of us, but we were deathly silent when the bus hissed to a stop, as if shushing us.

We all held our collective breaths when the door opened, and I swear, it must have taken five minutes for the first person to step down off that bus, but when he did, a woman squealed from somewhere within the crowd. My eyes remained glued to the bus door as airman after airman stepped down. My heart lurched in my chest every time those tan boots came into view; I thought I'd pass out after about the tenth guy who wasn't Henry.

Then he appeared and, for a few moments, I forgot how to breathe.

Henry stepped from the bus and cast his gaze around. From across the sea of people, our eyes met and his sullen face broke out into a smile that lit up his entire face. I honestly don't know how I managed to walk toward him when all of my brain cells were currently fried, but I suddenly found myself standing in front of him. He was within touching distance but I suddenly couldn't figure out what to do with myself.

“Oh, Els.” He bent down and buried his face in my neck, holding me tight for a long, wordless while.

I couldn't stop the tears if I tried. Feeling him in my arms again felt like surfacing from a deep ocean and finally taking a breath. I pulled away and held his face in my hands, enjoying the sight of him. He was thinner, the skin under his eyes a little darker, but his blue eyes carried the same intensity as before.

“Will you just come here?” he said with a grin and pulled me to him, our lips mashing together in six months worth of pent-up frustration. When we finally pulled away to breathe, he pressed his forehead to mine and said in that husky, gravelly voice, “God, I've missed you.” His thumbs wiped away the tears on my cheeks and he kissed me again.

“I missed you too,” I said and hugged him to me.

We walked back to my car hand in hand. He walked around to throw his stuff in the trunk but when I went to open the driver's door, he was suddenly behind me, boxing me in with his arms. He pressed his erection into my back and whispered against my ear, “I can't wait to be inside you again.”

I was instantly wet, ready to jump on him then and there, but he was in uniform and we were surrounded by people.

“Get a room,” one airman called as he walked by.

“Shut up, Jackson.” Henry said with a tight smile.

My face flushed as I dodged out from under his arms. “To be continued,” I told him and got into the driver's seat before I did something I would later regret.

Henry, however, was incorrigible. As soon as we drove off base, his hand landed on my thigh, then slid upward, warming the skin in its wake.

“We're going to crash, Henry,” I warned.

“That's okay,” he said, his fingers inching under my skirt, sliding upward ever so slowly. He gasped. “Oh my God, you're not wearing underwear.”

I chuckled and flushed and throbbed all at the same time. “Surprise.”

“Pull over,” he ordered.

“Where?”

“I don't care, just take the next exit,” he said, nudging my legs apart. His fingers slipped along my folds before sliding inside me.

I let out a hiss between my teeth when he found that most sensitive spot and began to rub it. The car might have swerved a little.

“Henry,” I said, gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were turning white. “Not right now.”

“Yes now.”

“Wait till we get home.”

“I've waited long enough. Pull over.”

I squeezed my legs together to keep his hands from moving but those damned, delicious fingers kept flicking higher. I tried to remain relaxed to fight off the impending orgasm, but months of deprivation had made me so desperate that my muscles clenched around his fingers of their own accord.

“Do you really want your first time back in a tiny car, on a dirt road?” I asked, finding it hard to catch my breath. It's a wonder I even managed to keep my foot on the pedal at all. This was dangerous.

“I don't care. I just want to bury myself inside you.”

I groaned at his words. I was so close.

An exit came into view and I swerved onto it, the last of my resolve completely gone. Half a mile off the highway, I parked in the lot of an abandoned gas station in a heavily wooded area.

As soon as I set the gear into park, Henry grabbed my hips and pulled me up and over the center console. I performed a minor miracle by straddling his large body in the passenger seat of my narrow Prius. His hands roamed everywhere, digging his fingers into my ass cheeks as he ravaged me with kisses. My fingers made swift work of undoing his pants and I gripped his shaft, guiding the tip to my entrance. His hands squeezed my hips, urging me to take him all at once, but I took my time sliding down, relishing the feel of him stretching me once again.

“Elsie,” he whispered against my neck. He groaned when he was all the way in. Henry was home.

He lifted my shirt up and unclasped my bra, burying his face in my breasts. “I love you,” he said through a mouthful of nipple.

I grasped the back of his head and kissed him roughly as I slid up and down on his engorged member. I ground my hips into his and experienced a brand-new sensation that quickly sent me reeling toward the edge. Henry clutched my hips once more and took control, slamming me onto his lap over and over.

I threw my head back and came with a force that took my breath away, waves of pleasure streaking through the very center of me.

A few strokes later, Henry gave a shout, his rear lifting up off the seat as he climaxed.

We sat there panting, his face still pressed against my chest. “I can't believe I lived without that for so long,” he said against my pounding heart.

All I could do was nod in agreement. We'd survived.

Beth said that when Sam came home from his first deployment it was as if nothing had changed, but from the moment Henry walked into our apartment, he looked out of place. He dropped his bags by the front door and ventured into the living room with a bewildered look on his face.

“Something's changed,” he said with a frown.

“What? I haven't moved anything.” I'd purposefully kept things as they were, partly because I wanted to preserve his memory and partly because I didn't want him to feel like a stranger in his own home.

He walked over to the mantel and picked up a new picture frame, the only thing that had changed in the entire place. “This is new,” he said, gazing at the picture of him, Jason, and me when we'd gone skiing in Colorado a few years ago.

“I've always loved that one,” I said, walking over and hugging him from behind. “I figured we needed some pictures around here.”

He put down the frame and held my hands closer to his chest as he took a deep breath. “It's so weird to be back here.”

I pressed my cheek against his back, taking in his scent. “It feels good from this angle.”

He turned in my arms with a wicked smile. “Let's see if my bed feels the same,” he said and lifted me up off my feet. I felt light-headed as he carried me into his room and laid me on his bed. His eyes roamed all over me, taking me in like a blind man who can see again. He began to unbutton his gray ABU coat, his eyes never leaving my face.

I found it hard to breathe as I watched him pull his tan shirt over his head and step out of his pants. He stood before me, completely at ease with his masculine nakedness.

My eyes flew all over his body, not knowing where to land. His chest and abdominals were more defined and his arms were definitely larger, among other things that also seemed to have increased in size.

I crawled over the bed and made my way to him, and with a saucy smile, I took hold of his penis and licked its tip.

He drew in a breath and tangled his fingers in my hair.

I took him into my mouth slowly, driving him crazy with anticipation. When his tip nudged my throat, I wound my fingers around the rest of him and began a gentle sucking and tugging motion.

He looked at me, his blue eyes blazing with fierce desire and something else, something that looked like possessiveness. His fingers pushed at the back of my head, urging me to go deeper, faster. I was only too happy to oblige, enjoying the salty taste of him, the feel of his velvety skin against my tongue. I had dreamed of doing this very thing to him for months, but the reality was so much better.

He tensed and pulled away abruptly, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me up and off the bed. He kissed me as he peeled the clothes away from my body with ferocity.

Then he spun me around and bent me over the bed, and I felt his member nudging at me a second before he slammed into me.

I gave a shout at the exquisite invasion, at his forceful gesture. This was not a man who wanted gentleness. Henry was a man deprived; he wanted everything all at once and he wasn't going to be polite about it.

The thought sent a bolt of excitement through me, the implicit understanding of safety mixed with the promise of danger.

His fingers wound in my hair and pulled back, twisting my head around so he could kiss me. That simple gesture was so unlike him that it drove me wilder, made me buck against him in an effort to get more of this hungry male.

In all our years knowing each other, I never would have thought Henry had this in him, this aggressiveness, and, admittedly, it was really turning me on.

He curled over me and positioned one hand between my legs, his fingers massaging my clit rapidly as he pounded into me from behind. It didn't take long before I was coming, screaming into the quilt as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, his fingers still moving, wresting every ounce of pleasure out of me. Henry clutched me against his chest and hammered into me one last time before he went rigid, groaning his release against the back of my neck.

We collapsed on the bed, his mass a pleasant weight on me, like an anchor keeping me in place. But all too soon, he pushed up with his arms and planted kisses on my back as he slowly pulled out.

When I came back from the bathroom, he was lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head and a satisfied look on his face. He gathered me into his side and let out a long sigh as I wrapped an arm around his waist.

“It's good to have you home,” I whispered, my breath ruffling the dark hairs on his chest.

“It's good to be home,” he said, kissing my head. “You have no idea how many times I dreamed of doing that to you, pounding you on the bed like that.”

My face flushed at how uninhibited I had been and how much I had liked it. “What else did you dream about?”

“That was it,” he said evasively, then jumped out of bed. “Hey, I have gifts for you.” He came back with one duffel bag and started rummaging inside. He laid a few things on the bed and sat down beside it. “Here's one,” he said, handing me a dark blue rock. “The stone is lapis lazuli and came from a mine in the Badakhshan province of Afghanistan.”

I flipped the smooth stone over in my palm. “Thank you.”

“It's to replace that pebble you gave me before I went off to college,” he said.

“I remember that beach pebble,” I said. “Whatever happened to it?”

“I lost it,” he said, looking abashed. “Or rather, my roommate in college threw it out.”

I made an indignant noise as he handed me a piece of pink fabric, folded up into a small square. I unfolded what turned out to be a scarf, admiring the intricate gold thread designs, and was surprised to find a small pouch nestled inside. I pulled out a pair of violet-blue earrings and a matching necklace. “Out of the same kind of stone?” I asked, slipping on the teardrop-shaped earrings.