Of Eternal Life (16 page)

When he was fully seated inside of her, they both moaned and froze at the onslaught of sensation.

Eli’s eyes brimmed with emotion as he looked into her face, their noses brushing. “You’re so beautiful, Abi,” he breathed as he withdrew and slide back into her.

She leaned up and sucked his lower lip between her teeth. Eli closed his eyes and groaned as she snaked her tongue into his mouth.

As he continued to move in her, he whispered how he loved her in a constant mantra, the words ratcheting up her pleasure until her orgasm took them both by surprise, pouring through her and taking him right along with her.

Eli continued to hold her tightly as they caught their breath.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispered.

She shook her head and tightened her own hold. “Not even close,” she whispered back.

“We need to keep driving,” Eli groaned several minutes later, “but I don’t want to move.”

Abilene smiled towards the ceiling of the cab. “We can always stop again if we need to.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through her chest. “God, could you be any more perfect?”

The marrow froze in Abilene’s bones.

She had begun to push on Eli’s chest without realizing it until Eli captured her hands in one of his own.

“Whoa, Abi,” he said quickly, an edge of worry to his tone. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

You did!
her mind screamed. How had that filthy word found its way into Eli’s association with her?

She struggled against the hold Eli had on her. “I’m not perfect,” she said.

When Eli chuckled and breathed a delighted, “Sure you are,” she pinned him with a glare. His smile slipped from his face like an egg from a plate. In its wake, his brows merged together, and his lips parted in bewilderment.

“Okaaay,” Eli said, drawing the word out for several syllables.

Eli moved from on top of her, but tried to keep her within his arms. When she moved out of his embrace and across the cab, Eli frowned further.

Hell, she knew she was overreacting. Eli had no idea how her perfection — or, rather, lack thereof — had been tossed into her face her entire life.

But, to throw this on top of the rapidly increasing shit pile that consisted of the last three days … .

She faked the best smile she could. “Shouldn’t we be going?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Abi, did I — ”

She cut him off by reaching across the cab to take his hand in hers. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to have this conversation. “Sorry,” she began, working to find an excuse he would believe. “I know I’m freaking out on you. God knows what my hormones are up to with all this,” she paused to gesture between the two of them with her free hand, “going on between us. I’m fine. ”

I’m not!
some ten-year-old version of herself howled from the corner of her mind.

He still looked at her suspiciously, but either because they really did need to get moving or because she was an excellent actress, he turned to the steering wheel, putting his pants back into order.

He gave her a wolfish grin, one side of his mouth kicking up further than the other, but it lacked some of its former luster. “You’re going to have to put something on if you want me to focus on anything other than you.”

She blushed, and picked her pants and underwear from the floorboards and slipped them on as Eli steered the truck onto the freeway.

Perfect, perfect, perfect
… .

He thought she was perfect.

Panic bubbled up in her throat. Oh God, she hadn’t escaped at all. She’d left her parents to break away from their heavy-handed ways, their efforts to make her perfect, only to land with another someone who wanted her to be perfect.

I love you
, he’d told her over and over in the last few hours, varying degrees of passion tinting the words in a different light each time.

Her heart flipped in her chest. Sure he did.

He loved
perfect
Abilene. What about when she wasn’t perfect?

When would someone love
her
?

As Eli turned the truck onto the hidden driveway of Sergeant Collins’s house, he looked at Abilene’s profile for the thousandth time and wondered once more what he had done to turn her so cold.

I had been a very long drive to Atlanta with her refusing to talk to him and with him constantly hiding the reaction his body had to her within a confined space.

Jeez, if he’d thought having Abilene would be a satiating scratch to an itch, he now knew how mistaken that notion was. If anything, he was
more
aware of her. All it took was the rustle of her clothing as she breathed, a waft of her sent across the truck, the slow crossing of her legs, and he would be as hard as granite.

Hell, maybe
that
was why she wasn’t talking to him. Three times was a bit much for a virgin.

He cursed himself.

He’d
known
he shouldn’t have let things get out of hand that last time. But had that stopped him from plowing into her sweet heat?

He had to get a handle on whatever kind of animal his body was turning him into with regards to Abilene before he hurt her, or worse, drove her away.

The silhouette of Collins’s two-story plantation-style house now loomed in front of the truck, and Eli felt the quickening of nervousness in his stomach.

It had been eight years.

What if Collins didn’t live here anymore?

What if he didn’t care what had happened to Eli?

Or, God, what if he was somehow involved?

He
had
encouraged Eli to join the Berets. Had that been part of some plan?

His mother’s philosophy on trust reared its head once again. Involuntarily, he turned his head to look at Abilene in the quietness of the cab.

Past betrayals bombarded him.

His father.

Major Taylor.

Sergeant Collins?

He shivered as his mind made the natural trip to the next person on the list.

Abilene
?

He slammed on the breaks causing his tires to squeal on the drive.

No
! he shouted at himself. You will
not
go down this path.

His father and Major Taylor were bad people. Sergeant was nothing like them. And Abilene … .

She wouldn’t.

Would she?

This isn’t helping
, the Voice scolded.

Right
. He nodded his head.
No more of that line of thought
. He jumped when Abilene broke her silence.

“Where are we?” she whispered into the dark. Her voice wavered. Eli reached for her hand.

“A friend’s house,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand. “He’ll help us.”

Eli hoped.

Abilene moved to open her door, but Eli tugged on her hand. “Wait for me,” he admonished her, exiting the truck and walking around the front to her door. “You’re going to have to get used to this,” he told her as he opened her door and offered her a hand down.

Some of the uncomfortable tension between them eased as Abilene gave him her first genuine smile since they’d last spoken.

“I could definitely get used to it,” she replied. Before she could object, he swooped in to brush a quick kiss across her lips.

“Good.”

With her hand grasped in his, Eli began a noisy trek up to Collins’s front door. Whoever lived here, he didn’t want to sneak up on them in the middle of the night. This was the South after all, and —

The sound of a shotgun being pumped rent the night.

Eli stopped in his tracks, shoved a gasping Abilene behind him, and stared into the hallow black eye of a deadly Winchester.

Despite the intensity of a gun in the face, Eli let out a breath of air in relief.

From one look, Eli knew the gun was not civilian issue.

Sergeant Collins still lived here.

Eli had found him.

Granted, Collins was now holding Eli and the woman Eli cared for more than his own life at gunpoint. But one had to claim victory where one could.

“Stay right where ya are, and don’t try anything funny.” The voice saying those words was so distorted through Southern twang that it was almost comical. But Eli knew Collins to be a formidable opponent, and the gun he wielded would do some serious damage to Eli. Unlike the weapon Major Taylor had used, a slug from a Winchester would go right through him and plow into Abilene before it was spent.

Not an option.

“Sarge?” Eli asked.

The barrel of the shotgun wavered. “Who’s there?” Collins barked.

“It’s Eli.”

Several beats of silence.

“Eli?” Sergeant Collins voice dripped with an unidentifiable emotion. Something between hope and disbelief.

“Yes, sir. Eli Johnson.”

Eli heard Collins fumble around in the dark. A second later there was a click, and a powerful light shone in his eyes.

Eli raised a hand to stem the glare, but forced it back down again, affording Collins a clear look at his face: a face Eli knew hadn’t changed in the near-decade since Sergeant Collins had last seen him.

“Oh, shit,” Collins murmured.

Abilene must have determined that the aging Sergeant was no threat because she poked her head over Eli’s shoulder to look at him.

Sergeant Collins saw her and cleared his throat. “Whoa, pardon my language, ma’am. Didn’t see you there.”

The presence of a lady had Collins dropping the barrel of his shotgun as well as the beam of his flashlight so that they both pointed to the dirt beside his feet.

In the relative darkness, Eli was able to make out the features of the man who was more father than friend.

The two men stared at each other.

When the Sergeant continued to clear his throat for a few moments, Eli was confused, until it became obvious that his mentor was fighting against tears.

When Collins lost the battle and two beads of emotion slipped from his lids to travel down the timeworn cheeks of his face, Eli strode forward.

He reached the older man in two steps, but then stalled out.

What was the appropriate action here? Should Eli shake his hand? No, that didn’t seem right.

All of this work to get here, face-to-face with this man, and Eli didn’t know what to do.

“Hey,” Eli blurted.

Sergeant Collins leaned down toward the right, his knees emitting creaks and cracks, to place his shotgun on the ground. Then, with the speed of a much younger man, he snapped upright again and gathered Eli into a bone-crushing hug.

Eli froze for only a second — surprised at the panic that accompanied being touched — until he realized that this was Sarge.

This
was what Eli should have done when he’d stepped toward the man.

Eli brought his arms up to return the man’s embrace. They held on to each other for several seconds before Sergeant Collins beat Eli on the back a couple of times and released him.

“Thought you were dead,” Collins grunted while scrubbing two gnarled hands against his eyes.

Only every once in a while
.

“No,” Eli said instead.

Collins gazed at Abilene with watery eyes, and Eli turned toward her to make introductions. “This is Abilene,” he began. “My — ” He drifted off.
Woman
had been on the tip of his tongue. That wouldn’t have earned him any points.

“Friend,” Abilene finished for him as she stepped forward to take Collins’s hand in her own.

Eli frowned at her narrow back.

Friend, hell
.

They were going to have to have a Come-to-Jesus meeting if she thought she was Eli’s
friend
.

“You kids come on into the house,” Collins grumbled. “We can’t be standing out here in the dark like a bunch of wide-eyed idjiots.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli answered automatically, his hand falling to the small of Abilene’s back as they followed Sergeant Collins to the front door.

Her muscles bunched and released beneath his palm, and Eli forced his thoughts to other things before he could ponder how soon he would be able to get Abilene alone again.

Inside the house, Sergeant Collins propped his gun against the doorframe and clicked on the lights as he made his way into the kitchen.

He gestured for Abilene and Eli to sit at the kitchen table, and then he moved to the refrigerator and disappeared inside.

Eli took this time to reacquaint himself with Sergeant Collins’s kitchen. It looked almost identical to the kitchen Eli remembered from the past: traditional, country wallpaper with geese printed in a border around the top; dull, wooden countertops; out-dated white appliances; rickety, oak table. It held the same charming appeal that had always shocked Eli as a young recruit. Sergeant Collins was gritty and rough around the edges, but his house reflected a care for comfort and home that few knew the Sergeant had in him.

Eli noticed a few new additions to the décor. Lace curtains. A display of dishes on the wall.

Feminine touches.

Eli looked at where Sergeant Collins was emerging from the fridge, wondering if the man had found love in the last eight years.

Eli hoped so. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Sarge.

Sergeant Collins made his way toward the table, a jug of milk with three stacked cups turned over and balanced on top of the spout in one hand, and a package of Oreos in the other.

Abilene rose to help him, taking the Oreos so he could grab the cups before they fell, and Eli dimly thought that he should have done that instead. But he was incapable of movement.

Here, in the bright florescent light, Eli could see Sergeant Collins clearly for the first time.

And it was a shock.

Collins’s jet-black hair was now overrun with grey. It started at his temples, then feathered back and all throughout. His commanding face was soft around the edges, his firm jaw gone. The Sergeant’s once-tan skin held a sallow tint, but there were two bright pink points of excitement in his cheeks and glints of pleasure in dark green eyes that had obviously had few reasons to smile in recent history.