Saving the Seal: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance (12 page)

After a few moments, she bit back a moan as Owen straightened, sliding from her. As her senses returned, Genevieve found herself suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness. Sitting up, she tugged her bra back into place, reaching over the side of the bed for her underwear. Before she could reach them, however, Owen plucked them from her reach with his fingertips, tossing them aside before sitting on the bed at her side. Before she could protest, he had undone the fastenings on her bra as well, and it slid down her arms, leaving her totally unclad.

Before Genny could become too caught up in being self-conscious, Owen caught her chin in a hand to mold his mouth to hers, affectively erasing any thoughts she might have had about being inadequate.

When his mouth finally parted from hers, Genny could no longer think of a single protest. Owen’s intense green eyes met hers and her face reddened. How could he still be so hungry for her when he’d just had her? “You have no
idea
how long I’ve pictured you like this.” The man ran a hand over the length of her spine down to the swell of her behind before lifting her with a single arm. He arranged the coverlet beneath them so they could slide beneath it. “You’re not going to take it from me now.”

Genevieve couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her as she nestled against his chest. It was hard to doubt the decision she’d made when the man was pressed so deliciously against her – every inch of his body heated, hard and perfect. Owen tucked her against him, and for what seemed like an eternity, they merely lie with one another in the darkness, the silence between them comfortable and unfettered.

It had been a long time since Genny had felt so calm. Her worries from the day had been utterly erased. For as long as would be allowed, she didn’t have to worry about the state of Owen’s mind. When she was beside him, she knew he was at ease.

She was so comfortable that she had almost begun to drift off to sleep.

And that was when Owen began to speak.

Chapter Six: Revelations

“After we touched down outside Fallujah, everything fell apart.” Once Owen began to talk, the words flowed more and more freely with each sentence that left his lips. Somehow, with Genevieve tucked against him, the dark seemed less intimidating, and his memories lingered at the edge of his perception instead of swamping him with their full ferocity. “It was supposed to be a routine mission, and we walked straight into an ambush. Something was wrong. The intel…the informant….whatever happened, it screwed us over royally.” He closed his eyes, taking a breath to steady himself. “A sniper took one of my men out almost immediately. He was the first one I saw fall. Freddie had a wife at home – and at the time, his baby had been due at any day.”

He still felt the loss acutely – heard Mariah’s sobs as she bent over her husband’s casket, their newborn in her arms. “Then, there was gunfire everywhere. A few well-placed mines and another was crippled. The rest managed to stay under most of the gunfire, and I got a few rebels with my sniper before someone got me from behind. I was hit over the head and lost consciousness for a while. When I came to, it was me…and what was left of my unit. We’d been brought to one of the rooms in the cave, and two of my guys had severe injuries. They were bleeding out.”

He could still see it – the dark, dampness of the underground cavern – and the wicked looking weapons the enemy had wielded. In a steady monotone, he revealed to Genevieve what had happened. How they had been held captive for four days, their hope dwindling more and more with each passing hour. They’d been tortured. Fingernails pulled off, bones broken, and he’d acquired the scars on his face from the use of two wicked looking knives that had been used on him without reserve.

Two more of his men had died in that cave. One had been Eric, who had bled to death from an injury inflicted by one of the mines. His best friend and constant companion had been taken from him, and all because he hadn’t had the skill to see that they were walking into a trap. He had watched him fade away – known the family that he had left behind.

He had experienced that feeling quadrupled when he had returned to the United States. There, in addition to the trauma he had faced at the hands of sadistic men, he had then had to face the families of the men he’d failed. People who’d trusted him with the lives of their loved ones.

While the survivors had assured him that it wasn’t his fault – that there was no way he could have known what was going to happen, Owen had taken his retirement early. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of going back to the place that had taken so much from him…of being alive when his men were dead.

After he finished speaking, silence reigned in the room for a long beat. He almost didn’t want to look at the woman in his arms, for fear that she would face him with horror and disgust. However, when his eyes lowered to meet hers, he saw only calm resolve there. Genevieve’s face was open – free of analysis or judgement – and free of the pit he’d seen in the eyes of many in the first few months after his return. Her eyes searched his for a moment before she finally spoke.

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Her voice was soft and soothing as she ran a hand through his hair. “Something very hard to wake up from.”

That was putting it lightly. He saw the faces of the four men he’d been unable to save every night when he closed his eyes…and he didn’t know how to begin to make peace with himself.

“I killed them.” He replied firmly. “I could have called the mission off sooner. I could have saved their lives.”

“How?” Her question caught her completely off guard. Sitting up, Owen gazed down at her incredulously. Though he was sure his expression must have been thunderous, the woman beside him didn’t even flinch. Her gaze was completely serene as she gazed up at him, edged with the slightest bit of inquiry.

In that moment, she took his breath away. The only thing that hid her naked body from his gaze was the thin coverlet. Her hair was adorably mussed from their lovemaking, and she looked so damned perfect that he couldn’t help but forget his anger rapidly. She wasn’t challenging his actions. She genuinely wanted to know how he would have done things differently.

“I…I would have called for an extra perimeter check.” He managed. “More ammo. I would have double checked the intel.”

“How could you have done any of those things if you’d been reassured that the information was sound. If you had the exact intel that you’d had before you set out on that mission, how could you have prevented their deaths?”

Owen opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wracked his brain but genuinely found himself at a loss for words when it came to answering her question. What could he have done differently? He’d done everything right that day. He’d known his team would be going into a dangerous situation and had taken every precaution, as he always did.

And still, they had died.

“I…” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry as his chest clenched with the realization. “I…couldn’t have done anything. There’s nothing….” He trailed off, suddenly struggling to draw a breath. Clutching the coverlet to her breasts, Genevieve straightened to wrap an arm around him, pressing a warm kiss to his shoulder before she murmured softly in his ear. “Breathe, Owen. Breathe. It’s alright.”

For a split second, he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to. It was difficult to draw a breath – difficult to admit to himself that he’d been helpless to keep his men from losing their lives. Then, slowly but surely, his lungs seemed to open up. The pressure on his chest eased and his heartbeat began to slow.

For once, the darkness didn’t seem to be pressing in on him. He didn’t feel as if his guilt was eating him alive. Of course, he was far from accepting his actions…but accepting that there was nothing that he could have done…that…

That came easier.

“Are you alright?”

Genevieve was still with him. Her breath felt warm and inviting against his collarbone, and her arms were tight around his neck. She steadied him when uncertainty threatened to creep in…something that he had never quite experienced before. Of course, Sean was always there to jerk him back to reality when he needed a check. But this…this softening…taking the edge off of the knife-like pain that threatened when memories enveloped him…this was new. It intimidated him as much as it awakened a craving that had never existed before.

To always have her close.

To always have that buffer.

“I’m fine.” He managed, unwinding her arm from his neck to cup her face, turning it up to his. Ever since he’d met Genevieve, he’d been unable to keep her from his mind. Now, against all odds, she was making her way inside.

He’d sworn he’d never let someone mess with his mind. It was rife with ugliness that he could allow no one else to see…but he hadn’t had to tell her for her to see it. Somehow, she’d just known. Was that, he wondered, something common to most psychiatrists, or was it something uniquely Genny?

He took in her large, dark brown eyes – lips swollen from his kisses and the dark marks that colored her shoulders and neck. She was thoroughly marked. She was his…and if she was going to help him in any way, things would have to stay that way. As he lowered his mouth to hers to kiss her again, the bed suddenly jolted. The man looked over to see that Eddie had hopped up on it and as was padding toward them, his face the picture of happiness. Unexpectedly, Genevieve squealed in surprise as the animal began licking at the back of her neck and over her cheek enthusiastically. Hiding his amusement, Owen grabbed him by the collar. “
Down
, Eddie.” He pointed to the corner of the bed, and, pouting, the large animal receded to curl up at the corner, his eyes large and reproachful.

As soon as she’d recovered from the shock, Genevieve frowned. “Aw…poor thing. He just…scared me.”

“Don’t let him fool you.” Owen smirked. “He’s perfectly fine. Just give him some treats and he’ll forgive you without a second thought.” Wrapping a burly arm around Genevieve, he suddenly bore her back against the pillows, making her gasp as he pinned her beneath him. His erection returned in seconds, and very suddenly, he was through talking. He’d endured enough revelations for one night. “Besides…” His voice lowered predatorily. “If he thinks he’s going to steal
my
chew toy, he’s got another thing coming.”

Genevieve flushed darkly. “I think you’ve done quite enough chewing for one night, Owen.”

He grinned. Even as she said the words, the good doctor was arching beneath him, her body warming to his. “Not nearly enough, Doc.” He chuckled darkly. “I’m only just getting started.”

Owen took the next few weeks to very effectively lose himself in his psychiatrist. When Sean called him not once, not twice, but three times to ask where his ass had been lately, he could reply for the first time in almost a year with pride.

He was getting help.

Now, of course, it wasn’t exactly the kind of help that Sean expected for him, but assistance of that particular brand was involved. Genevieve had very rapidly discovered that when he’d told her that she was his, he had been very serious. After the first time they’d been together…when she’d offered herself to him in the most selfless demonstration of trust he’d ever seen, he’d wanted her again.

She couldn’t have possibly believed that he could have her just once and be satisfied.

And so, they’d come to an agreement – one much more amicable than the first agreement they’d forged.

He would come to the office for his appointments, and he would do his very best to make them productive. Now that he had revealed to her the source of all his frustration, they would work backwards – on whatever it was keeping him from working past the grief and guilt that the episode triggered in him. In the office, they would work together in a very platonic sense. She was his psychiatrist, and he her patient.

But after hours, all bets were off.

She had agreed to do anything he wanted – and Owen found that he wanted a significant amount. Surprisingly, not all of it was sexual. Mind you, he had plenty of pent up sexual energy. There had been several days when he’d hardly allowed Eddie to greet Genny when she walked through the door before spiriting her off to his bed, where she would inevitably stay for hours – if not the entire evening.

On one of those evenings, she had found the gun that he kept under his pillow. The one he obsessively pulled apart and reformed. The weapon was loaded and live, and she handled it gently. Genevieve had said absolutely nothing, merely placing the gun in his bedside table drawer before shutting it.

It hadn’t returned to his bed since then. In fact, there were times he forgot about it, and as far as he knew, it was gathering dust now at the bottom of the drawer. When had she taken it from him? A month ago, two? All he knew was that his restlessness – his desire to work with his fingers when anxiety threatened...that he had turned on her instead of cold metal.

With great success.

Then, there were the things that happened outside the bedroom.

The first time he’d asked her to meet Sean, he had seen the hesitation in her eyes. Though Genevieve was fine and well with the maneuvers in the dark, she didn’t want to become an active participant in his life. The one and only time they’d ever discussed it, she’d told him that she didn’t want to hinder him. She didn’t want him to depend on her when she might not always be available.