Playing Dirty (22 page)

“I don’t think—”

“I don’t want you to think.” She whorled her tongue around the tip, lapping the moisture gathered there. “Just feel.”

Ford released a hot stream of breath on a low, slow hiss. His knees threatened to buckle, and he was dead certain his heart stopped beating when she wrapped her fingers around the base and took him deep into her mouth. He hadn’t made love to his wife in long time. Chances were, this wasn’t going to take long, and he was determined to relish every second while it lasted.

She scraped her nails along the underside of his balls, then cupped him in her hand while her mouth slid down the length of him, then back up where she sucked hard on the head. As he’d feared, he quickly came, groaning and shuddering as the force of his release shook him to the core. He tried to pull away, but she refused to relinquish him, pulling him in deeper and taking all he had to give.

His ears buzzed and his heart thudded heavily. After a moment, she released him and rose to her feet, wrapping her arms around his waist. With her head resting on his chest, she held him to her as his heart rate returned to a less life-threatening pace. Her hands moved up his back.

She stilled.

“Shit,” he muttered.

She pulled away and looked at him. Confusion, rather than desire, now lit her gaze.
 

Dread flooded him. He’d known she’d eventually see his scars, but he had hoped to prepare her for it. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said in an attempt to forewarn her.

Her arms fell away and she moved behind him for a closer look. “My God,” she said on a hoarse whisper.

He didn’t need to see her face to know her eyes were filled with tears. The catch in her voice, the anguish in her tone, was clear.

“It’s pretty much healed up now,” he added lamely.

Her touch was tentative, as if she feared she might hurt him. The extent of the damage after years of abuse had killed off a lot of nerve endings, rendering much of the scarring numb. But, as she drew her fingertips over his skin, he swore he could feel every scar and deep rut she touched as if they were still open and raw.
 

“Why did they do this to you?”
 

He turned to face her. “I didn’t want you find out this way.” The tears hovering in her eyes raked his heart. “But, it’s over. Shouldn’t that be all that matters now?”

She frowned. “No. They tortured you.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. He scrubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek, swiping it away.
 

If he closed his eyes, he could still see one of the underground bunkers where he’d been chained like an animal for weeks. Could still smell the stench of his body as he lay in his own filth. Feel the panic threatening to choke him at the thought of never seeing his wife again, of never holding his then, unborn child. But his years of training had eventually taken over and he’d sworn he’d survive.
 

And he had, by sheer force of will.

He snagged her hand and brought it to his lips. “Don’t, baby.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Please don’t cry.”

But she did. She cried as if her heart were being broken into a million pieces. Her tears saturated his chest, and all he could do to soothe her was hold her close. Hold her next to his beating heart.

His hands skimmed her back until her tears eventually ebbed. When she leaned back to look at him, the anguish in her red-rimmed eyes made him angry. How many tears had she’d already shed over him? No doubt, too many.
 

“Promise me,” she said, her voice ragged. “Promise me you’ll quit if they try to send you back there again.”

“The Navy doesn’t work that way,” he said. “You know that.” He trailed his hands down her bared back, coming to rest on the curve of her bottom. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise me.”

He briefly closed his eyes. For half a second, he considered lying to her, considered making her a promise he’d never be able to keep. Instead, he held her close, dipped his head and kissed her, slow and easy. “I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated when he ended the kiss.
 

She nodded, as if she believed him. Because he had a feeling they both knew otherwise, that if given the opportunity to settle the score, he’d hop the first flight back into enemy territory and end the bastards who’d made their lives a living hell.

She pulled away from him, then stooped to pick up the pillow she’d tossed on the floor earlier and set it back on the bed. For half a second he thought she was going to grab her top and leave, but instead she held his gaze and shed her pajama shorts.
 

His dick started to swell again as he took in the sight of her. Every curve had been ingrained in his memory, the slope of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the shape of her ass. But his reaction to her now was more than physical. He loved this woman. Loved the way she looked at him, how she touched him. The laughter, the intimacy, the quiet moments. Even now, her love for him was so clear, so evident in her eyes, and it humbled him. Those were the images he’d recalled night after night during his captivity, the moments he relived in his mind, reminding him he had a reason to not only survive, but to come home whole.
 

Reality was far more satisfying than memories faded like an old photograph.
 

She took his hand and led him to the bed, where she climbed onto the mattress. “Make love to me, Ford.”

An invitation didn’t come any more engraved than her sexy demand, and he had every intention of giving her what she wanted, and more. He joined her on the bed, slowly moving over her, their bodies nearly touching. Rising up on her elbows, she stretched toward him. Her breasts came in contact with his chest, sending tiny electrical impulses charging over his nerve endings.

If Mattie thought about what they’d done to Ford, she’d go crazy, and right now she wanted, needed, her husband to fill her mind with new memories of the delicious way they responded to each other. He slipped an arm behind her waist and held her to him. His heat surrounded her, burning slow. As though they’d never been separated, her body reacted in perfect sync to his.

He kissed her in a way that sent little waves of pleasure skirting along her skin, igniting a hot flame that seared her from the inside out. He lowered her to the mattress, then his hands skimmed her curves. Need had her spreading her legs for him. At the slight brush of his hand against her sex, her hips rolled upward, seeking fulfillment. When he pushed two fingers inside her and stroked her deeply, she moaned from the exquisite sensations consuming her.

His mouth, his touch were exactly the balm her soul needed. They’d both suffered so much. Her scars ran deep, but the fact that he actually bore physical evidence of their time apart, broke her heart. His beautiful back, always so sleek and muscular, had been forever damaged and would serve as a constant reminder of all they’d lost.
 

He ended the kiss and moved down her body, his lips and tongue trailing a searing path down her torso to her parted thighs where his fingers heightened her need. He kissed and suckled her breasts, and continued to stroke her with his hand. She rocked her hips again, opening wider, taking his fingers deep. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “Yes. Like that.”

He kissed a trail over her stomach, his tongue like heated velvet against her skin. With his fingers still inside her, he moved his mouth lower until he finally dragged his tongue over her folds. She nearly came off the bed at the shock of pleasure.

He pushed his fingers inside her all the way to where he rubbed up against that sweet spot, flinging her to another level where she could feel her clit swelling and pulsing against his tongue. He tasted, laved and teased, pressing his tongue against that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, but withholding her release. He teased her so mercilessly, her body burned. He pushed, loved her relentlessly with his hands until he finally sucked her hard, and she came on an explosion of powerful sensation.
 

Afterward, she lay panting, her legs spread wide while he gently lapped at her, sending delightful aftershocks of ecstasy rolling through her. She reached for him, but he took his sweet time, kissing his way up her body until he finally rose above her. The head of his penis pressed insistently against her opening, so she lifted her hips and welcomed him home.

As if they’d never been apart, they rediscovered their own special give and take. So familiar, yet new and exciting all at the same time. The need to feel him moving inside her had her wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her hips, urging him deeper. He made love to her, burying himself to the hilt with each long, slow thrust. He filled her and her body easily accommodated him as he drove into her, stroke after luscious stroke. Tension coiled inside her again, pulling tighter and tighter until that last thin thread snapped, sending her into a kaleidoscope of ecstasy. Once again, she flew apart. The sheer force of her orgasm startled her, had her clinging to him, crying his name as he lost his own battle with restraint and joined her in sweet, blissful oblivion.

Slowly, the world righted itself again and they lay together, a tangle of limbs, their breathing gradually returning to normal. She curled beside him, resting her head against his chest, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart. With her eyes closed, she breathed in his musky scent, loving the feel of his arms tight around her as he held her close.
 

He moved, shifting their bodies until she was looking into his eyes. “I love you,” he said. “I’ve always loved you.”

She smoothed her hand along his unshaven jaw. “I know,” she answered him. “I’ve always known.”

He kissed her. And for now, it was enough.
 

* * *

A little after one-thirty, Mattie pulled her vehicle into the driveway and parked next to Ford’s pickup. Usually, she’d just pull into the garage, but since she’d be heading to her dad’s later, she didn’t bother. She went to the cargo area for the pies she’d picked up at the market after attending noon Mass. Baking pies when the temperature was already hovering in the mid-eighties with ninety-percent humidity, wasn’t going to happen. She admitted to being a perfectionist when it came to her culinary talents, and she knew better than to tackle pie crust on a day like today.

She let herself into the house, carried her packages to the kitchen, then went to check on Ford. Unable to keep their hands to themselves, they’d made love again before he’d finally fallen asleep. Slow, lazy and supremely satisfying. She’d even dozed for a while and had considered ignoring her obligations to spend a day lazing in bed with her husband, but in the end, her sense of duty had won and had her reluctantly leaving his arms.

After she’d prepped the food for later, she’d showered and had gone to Mass, enduring the traditional routine, looking for a sense of peace she hadn’t found. Instead, she’d sat through Father Monty’s long-winded homily, wondering why she hadn’t been able to tell Ford she loved him.
 

The answer continued to elude her. She
did
love Ford. She knew because she’d never stopped. She’d even told him so. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have chosen to stay with him otherwise. So why hadn’t she been able to say the words this morning?

As quietly as possible, she opened the door to the guest room and peered inside to where he lie, sleeping soundly. She couldn’t help the smile tugging her lips, knowing she was at least part of the reason he was so dead to the world. He slept on his stomach, the sheet tangled around his hips, leaving his scarred back exposed. She’d looked earlier, but had been so shocked by what she’d seen, had really garnered little more than a glimpse.
 

She walked around to his side of the bed for a better look. In the semi-darkness of the room, she couldn’t see as well as she’d hoped.
 

“You can turn on the light.”
 

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “Go ahead and look, Mattie.”

There was a note of something she couldn’t quite define in his voice. Resignation? Irritation, perhaps? Or was that anger coloring his sleep-roughened tone? Because she was curious, or was there more he wasn’t telling her?

Now that she thought about it, there were a lot of things he’d yet to tell her. Even their earlier lovemaking, which had been beautiful and physically gratifying, had been tame in comparison to their previous sex life. She couldn’t help wondering if there were still too many emotional miles separating them. If they were going to make their relationship work again, that needed to change.

She turned on the bedside lamp and struggled not to react as she closely examined the damage done to him. Deep scars and angry welts twisted his flesh, a brutal reminder of all they’d suffered. She could tell that some of the scarring was relatively recent. The more fresh wounds had scabbed over, some of the edges shaded in red, indicating there could be some infection taking place.
 

“Dad should see this,” she said. “Maybe he can prescribe something to help with the healing.” She traced her finger over a particularly deep scar. “Does it hurt?”

“There’s some numbness, but not all,” he said. “Some days I don’t even think about it. Others, it seems it’s all I can think about.”