Tumble Creek (27 page)

‘Ooh,' Sofie pulled a pained expression, ‘it sure does. Jennifer and I can testify to that, Bret too.'

He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘No, too busy causing damage to yourself.'

Knowing what he said was so true and clever, and a little embarrassed, she pressed her lips together, then said, ‘What made you so smart?'

Brock laughed. ‘This time, you're making it
way
too easy for me to look clever. Come here,' he growled, sweet, sexy, and hot.

Sofie edged closer. Brock's big hands went around her waist and then he dragged her onto his lap. His free hand cupped her neck and jaw, and his eyes followed his thumb as it swept back and forth across her cheek, before his gaze flicked up to capture hers, and he said, ‘I think that's enough for tonight.'

‘No, Brock, let's get this done. I'm fine. I'm here on your lap, can't get any better than that, well, maybe a bit better.' She giggled.

He inclined his head for a better look at her mouth. ‘After that performance, I'm thinking there are
way
better things to spend our time on.'

‘Uh-uh. Come on,' she urged. ‘You were at the US base in Afghanistan.'

He slowly shook his head. ‘Okay, you win.' His eyes changed, looking inward to his memories, and then his face became devoid of emotion; she could see the army trained him well—put a weapon in his hand and he'd be deadly.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and Sofie wondered if she'd done the right thing by urging him to open up, perhaps it was all too painful.
Shit!

And then Brock spoke, his voice a dry whisper. ‘Kandahar. Yeah, Susanna was there. We reconnected and spent four days together. I had to go back to my unit, but she told me what her plans were and if I happened to be in the area to say hello. Her itinerary was innocent enough … scratch that … nothing was
ever
innocent in Afghanistan, except the kids, yeah … the kids were awesome.' Head bent, Brock studied his hand clasped in hers; his other hand around her waist gave her a squeeze. Something told her, he was garnering his emotions, getting ready to tell her the worst. ‘I had the chance to see Susanna in action. I was across the street waiting for her to finish interviewing women at a local market. She saw me and waved, a happy smile on her face, almost laughing, looking forward to spending time with me.' His arm around her back tightened, his chest and stomach muscles under her knotted with tension. ‘I pointed to my gear, using sign language that I needed to collect it and I'd be over. I turned …' Brock's breath became rapid, and his throat was working, a clear sign he found talking about this agonising. ‘A massive explosion ripped through the air.'

Hand over her mouth, Sofie gasped. ‘Your scars,' she whispered.

‘Yeah … didn't feel it. Woke up against a concrete security wall. I couldn't have been out long; dust, foul smoke all around—but the worst—people screaming, crying out. I was dazed and tried to see through the grit in my eyes. I remember colourful fabrics, bright red, and blues and yellows floating down, blown up from market stalls, it was fucked up, but at the same time pretty. Weird, but I see those bits of fabric in my mind as if it happened yesterday.'

Swallowing back her tears, Sofie shook her head. ‘It's not weird. What happened next? Being so close, it would've caused …' she stopped, unable to go on.

‘Blood oozed out of my ringing ears. I hauled my arse off the ground. Dead and injured everywhere. I ran across the street to where I last saw Susanna—found her under a pile of rubble.' Brock covered his face.

Sofie imagined him ripping through smashed and splintered timber, bricks and glass from ancient shops, all manner of market wares, with his bare hands, desperate to get to Susanna. She wanted to hold him, but perhaps now wasn't the time, he didn't need sympathy, he needed her to be with him and simply listen.

‘I got her out, she was unconscious, her vibrant, beautiful eyes closed. I tore off what was left of my shirts. Stuffed the T-shirt into her side to staunch the blood, tied my shirt around her, tight, but …' Brock trailed off shaking his head, anguished, reliving the nightmare. ‘Her life just oozed straight through. I couldn't stop it.' Then Brock repeated the agony of it, whispering to himself, ‘Couldn't stop it.' Tormented eyes locked with hers. It broke Sofie's heart to see him suffering like this. ‘She wasn't alone.' His mouth trembled and wetness shimmered in his eyes. ‘A kid, about four, in her arms. I can only assume she was about to talk to the kid, then the blast hit. She lunged for him, covered him with her body.' As if trying to erase the horror, Brock pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Sofie choked down a sob, but there was no stopping the tears running down her face to gather and drip off her chin.

Brock scrubbed at his face, took another deep breath and continued. ‘He was unconscious, probably the blast … don't know … surface injuries, a bump on the back of his head. I roared for help. I have no idea how long it took, seconds, minutes …' He shrugged. ‘Medics arrived. I remember hands all over the kid and Susanna. I wanted to hold her to me, but they pulled my arms away, she was gone, so was the kid. Then fast hands all over me, checking me out. Behind me familiar, muffled voices talking to the guys with their hands on me, they left, army mates hauled me out of the dust and dragged me out of the way. A medic treated me, they took me to the nearest field hospital. They stitched the cuts on my back, told me I was a bit concussed, my injuries weren't bad enough to send me home. Anyway, I was fine in a few days. I asked about the woman and the kid I was with, they shrugged, shook their heads. They had no information, no one did. Once I was back on my feet I only had two days to search, and ask around. The army medevacs badly injured to Germany as quickly as possible, and that was my next line of enquiries. But four of us were sent on a mission. When we came back, I asked all sorts of people questions just in case they knew something. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Susanna's injuries, her beautiful face, the kid, limp in her arms.'

Sofie laced her fingers, clasping them until her knuckles went white. ‘But you found her, right?'

He examined his open hands, palms up; he flexed his fingers and shook his head, as if saying his hands weren't enough. And what he said next confirmed Sofie was correct. ‘Not enough.' He shoved his hands under his arms and looked up, eyes struggling with reliving the horror. ‘Too much blood, her life seeping through my fingers, soaking me, pooling on the dirt … Susanna died in my arms.' Brock's throat worked, the columns of his neck straining as he got himself back under control.

Sofie had to know, and the sooner the better, which was selfish, but hey … ‘What happened to the boy?'

‘Don't know anything about him either.' Guilt heavy in his eyes.

It seemed a long time before she could move her body. When she did, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed, partly for Brock, but mostly for the boy and Susanna Adumari; Brock's first love when they were both so very young, when having each other was the only thing that mattered in their world.

‘Sofe?' Brock whispered in her ear. ‘It's okay. Flashbacks happen. Your messed up swollen face was more than enough to trigger it.' He took her hands in his and brought them to his soft mouth; he kissed her knuckles, then turned her hands over and kissed her palms, sweetly, lightly. ‘My apologies, Babe, when you most needed me, I almost failed you. That's what really got me just now.'

‘But you didn't, Brock, you didn't.' Sofie leaned back to hold his eyes with hers; only a ghost of what he'd been through remained, and thinking back, that ghost was always there. The trauma and his training made him the man he was, always alert. But unless she was seriously mistaken, his family home was one place he could truly relax. And she'd do her utmost to make him smile and laugh, often.

‘At the risk of hurting you further, prior to connecting with me, have you had other flashbacks?'

‘Let me get you straight, not everyone gets PTSD. The armed forces say that about two percent of soldiers who've had operational service develop post-traumatic stress disorder. US studies would show that it's more like twenty-five to thirty per cent.' He shrugged, his expression wry. ‘I can wake up in a cold sweat and out of breath, and I've had the occasional flashback while I'm asleep, happens if something's triggered it during the day. I sorted through that shit a long time ago. Right now my nights are calm.' He didn't say anything for a while, just let that information sink in with a hint of a wicked smile. Then added, ‘Tells me a lot.'

She held onto his T-shirt, desperate to know. ‘What does it tell you?'

Without hesitation, he said, ‘I took a while to get out of your house because I imagined you, or Claud, under the rubble. My heart thumped, it was a cold day, but sweat broke out all over me. I had to keep reminding myself that I was in Tumble Creek, not Kandahar, you weren't under the rubble. It took effort to stop myself from searching through it all to look for you or Claud. There's no one but you for me, Sofe …
no one
!' He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, and then it became more: eyes closed, his lips toyed over the cushions of her hand, nipping, licking, sucking, until Sofie's girlie parts quivered with need.

He placed her hand around his neck and gave her an achingly gentle smile. His beautiful brown eyes studied her face then he stretched out on the couch, taking her with him. With his back against the cushions, he tucked Sofie into his front, and arm around her waist, he spooned her. Wriggling her bottom, she snuggled into him, resting her head on his bicep.

‘Are you okay, Brock?'

‘Yeah, I'm good, just want to lie here safe with my girl, drink wine and gaze at the fire.'

An hour later, comfortable and warm, a big glass of red gone, Sofie's eyelids drooped and she didn't fight it. When he was ready, Brock would do whatever needed doing according to Brock's world. She smiled and drifted off to sleep.

***

Sofie woke to something stiff nudging between the cheeks of her bottom. She opened her eyes to the grey light of dawn and Brock nuzzling her neck. Moaning with pleasure, she stretched her limbs and smiled.

‘Babe, you awake?'

‘Hell no,' she giggled, and peering at her surroundings she discovered they were still snuggled on the couch. ‘You got something to wake me up?'

‘Yeah sure do.'

‘Well, don't tease me,' she purred.

Brock's deep chuckle made her body jiggle and her girlie parts were fully awake now.

‘I want and
need
to make love to you,' Brock whispered and kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Feel alive, connected. Your skin on mine.' He kissed his way to her ear, sucked the lobe, while his hand dipped between her thighs, cupped her sex and lightly massaged her there, slowly back and forth. His thumb found her centre, barely covered by her fine undies and leggings. Hot breath in her ear, he whispered, ‘I want to kiss you, lick you,' he stopped caressing and gently pushed his big hand against her sex to make a point, ‘make you cry out and call my name. Then slip deep inside you and feel your silken heat surround me.'

‘Oh my God, Brock,' Sofie's voice a rough whisper as she rocked her hips against his hand. She twisted around, flung a leg over his thigh, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him with all the passion he'd aroused inside her.

Brock stood with her in his arms, walked to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed.

‘Babe … let go of my neck … want to strip you.' The rough, husky way he sounded almost tipped her over the edge. She did as he asked and started tugging at her clothes. Brock took her hands, raised them above her head and said, ‘I'm doing the stripping. Hold onto the bedhead and don't let go.'

‘Okay,' Sofie whispered on a breath, as delectable, anticipation shivered through her.

His masculine hands slid up her legs to the top of her leggings. His fingers dipped into the waistband, hooking it, then he took his painstaking time to peel her pants down, kissing his way along her body as he went. Once he was at her ankles, everything was whipped off and tossed aside. She gasped, loving it that Brock was taking pleasure in claiming control. Hands splayed, he slid back up, mouth and tongue kissing the delicate skin at the hollow where her inner thigh met her vulva.

Sofie moaned and, planting her feet on the mattress, raised her hips to get more of his mouth. And then he moved, but he was right where she wanted him, at her folds, his tongue sliding over her wet, silky skin and slicking over her erect clit.

‘Brock!' Sofie cried out in her ecstasy.

He lifted his head and ordered, ‘Don't let go of the bed.'

‘But … but.' She squeezed her thighs, which meant she squeezed his head. Brock chuckled against her skin. ‘Damn it, that felt good!'

He moaned and the vibrations against her skin made her open her legs wide.

‘Oh my …' Sofie whimpered.

Brock moved away and started kissing his way up her stomach.

‘No-no-no! Don't stop. You can't stop!' She let go of the bedhead and hands on the top of his head, tried to force him back down. Like that was going to work.

Forearms taking most of his weight, Brock's grin sinful as he murmured, ‘Babe, not stopping.' He raised himself up on his knees and Sofie's eyes immediately went straight to his raging hard-on. ‘Take my hand.'

‘Your hand? But I'd rather take that,' she said, fingers twinkling as she tried to reach him.

‘Later,' he smiled down at her. Brock took her fingers and pulled her up to sit. He gathered her jumper, hauled it up and off and then her bra was gone as well.

‘No, not later. My turn,' Sofie said, licking her lips, and she pushed at his chest.

Brock didn't fight her and lay back on the bed. One hand around his shaft, she straddled his knees, bent down and slowly slid her tongue over the tip of his cock, then down the length of his shaft and up again, hungry to take him in her mouth. Gripping her hair, Brock cried out. A satisfied smile played on her lips. Fingers tight around his shaft, Sofie sucked while moving up and down, tongue playing over the tip. He started to rock his hips, pushing the head into her mouth. She moaned, enjoying the power she had over this big man.