Breaking Through (Book 2 of the SEAL TEAM Heartbreakers) (39 page)

He nuzzled her pubis and breathed through the cotton.

She made a soft sound of surprise, and, raising up on an elbow, ran her fingers through his hair. “Brett?” The uncertainty in her tone gave him pause.

“Hasn’t anyone ever tasted you, Tess?”

She swallowed and two spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “No.”

Virgin territory.
His pulse jumped to racing speed. His breathing grew labored. He could claim her in a way no one else ever had. He was so aroused by her inexperience it was almost painful. He lowered his lips to the area just above the waistband of her bikinis. “Will you let me, Tess?”

“Oh, God.” She fell back on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

He stifled a chuckle and raised the t-shirt up over her breasts to home in on them. Her coral-tinted nipples puckered before he’d even touched them. He played with one while his mouth covered the other and he sucked. Her hands dropped away from her face to caress the back of his neck and shoulders.

He ran tempting fingers along the inside of her thighs and brushed his touch over the crotch of her panties while he shifted to the other nipple. When the fabric began to grow wet and her hips moved in response, he slid downward to press moist hot kisses down her belly and circle her navel with his tongue.

Tess’s ragged breathing became evident, and the soft sound of it made him ache. God, he’d never dreamed he could be this crazy about a woman. Her every response sent a new wave of heat straight to his cock. But his side and hip were so sore, and the activity of the day before might have made things worse, though he didn’t regret a moment of it.

He hooked his fingers in the cotton fabric at her hips and tugged her panties down. Tess lifted her hips, then raised her legs to help him take them off. His lips and tongue followed the ridge of her hipbones, then the dip just above her pubic bone. The hair, a lighter red there, brushed his chin as her hips rolled. The faint scent of her arousal teased him.

He parted her nether lips with a questing finger and found the sensitive nub there, tempting it with the gentle rub of a fingertip while he nibbled the inside of her thigh. Her legs trembled and she spoke his name in a pleading, husky tone, the same voice that had started this whole thing.

Raising her hips, he laved his tongue over the intimate heart of her, tasting her salty sweet heat. She writhed beneath his strokes and gripped the bedclothes. He settled on the opening of her body and again and again tempted her with a thrust and flutter movement. Her muscles tightened around the invasion. Her hips began to work against his mouth with more and more intensity. He kissed her and thrust his tongue as deep as he could go. She cried out, her hips jerked and he felt the orgasm roll up her body in the contracting tension of her muscles.

***

Tess opened her eyes. Brett’s head rested on her stomach and his hands were still splayed beneath her hips.
Oh my God, what had she just done?
What had he done? Should she be embarrassed—or grateful? Or both?

His cell phone rang from the bedside table, and he raised his head. Tess reached for it and extended it to him. He rested his head against her again. “Weaver.” He went still for a moment then eased further down to the bottom of the bed and rose to go into the bathroom, moving more carefully than the day before. After several minutes, the commode flushed, water ran and splashed, then he opened the bathroom door.

He carried a hand towel and wiped his face and hands dry. His features were set in grim lines, and his blue eyes gleamed with anger. “Hawk’s been deployed. He’ll be wheels-up in an hour.”

Tess dragged the sheet up over her nudity and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. It happens that way sometimes.” He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, his movements slow.

“Zoe?”

“She didn’t want to talk.” Pain flickered across his features. “God damn it, there’s not a damn thing I can do for either of them.” He clenched his fist.

“Yes, there is.” Tess said.

His attention fastened on her and embarrassed heat climbed into her face. Every moment of what they’d just done all came rushing back. She jerked her thoughts back to the moment at hand. “Can you access information on a Corporal Michael Theodore Masters, USMC?”

“Yeah, why?”

Because he was killed in action on December 21, 2010 and he was Senator Rob Welch’s stepson. The two of them were extremely close—real father and son close. Would there have been any possibility that you met him while in Iraq?”

Brett stared across the room, his expression intent. “The name doesn’t mean a thing. He shook his head. “We worked with a number of Marine Corp divisions. There’s no guarantee we didn’t have contact. If I saw a picture of him, I might remember his face.”

“I can access the picture I found of him last night.” She slipped out of bed, and hyper-aware of her nudity beneath the t-shirt, tugged the garment down, and retrieved her laptop from the coffee table in the sitting room. She sat down beside him and flipped open the top so the desktop came up. She clicked on a folder, then scrolled down to a specific file. She opened it. The picture was of a Marine in his dress uniform.

Brett stared at the picture for several minutes. He shook his head. “He’d have been in cammies and probably thinner. The stress, lack of sleep, and the food throws your system off, and you always lose weight.”

“We need particulars on how he was killed, the specific mission or patrol he was on, any information you can get. You know what I’m saying. If I were going to go after a specific team, there’d have to be a very personal reason for it. There may be a connection between you and him or your team.”

“I agree. I’m on it. I need to make a few phone calls.”

“I’ll clean up while you do that.” She shut the laptop and set it on the floor.

He slipped his arm around her to hold her in place beside him. “Did you like what I did, Tess?” he asked, his lips brushing her shoulder, his hand inching beneath the t-shirt to trace the curve of her hip and waist.

Could your whole body blush?
Hers certainly felt like it. She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Very much.” She fled to the bathroom.

***

Russell eyed Evan through the review mirror. There was something off with him.

Evan wouldn’t let him examine him. He’d drawn a well-defined line between what he expected his Dad to know as a parent and what he’d share with him in his role as a physician. He had agreed to allow a colleague to examine him before they’d left San Diego, just to be sure he was strong enough for the trip. Dr. Hal Minor was an expert in autoimmune diseases. He’d assured them both that everything that could be done was being done as to medications.

But what had Evan asked Hal to hold back? His gut told him there was something.

What was he missing?

Was there more color in Evan’s cheeks than usual? Was he running a fever?

Clara placed a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. His gaze swung to her. She got a bottle of vitamin water out of the cooler, and turning in her seat, offered it to Evan. “You look like you could use a drink,” she said.

He smiled. “A dry martini, shaken, not stirred, with an olive please.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bond, but the bar seems to be out of gin and vermouth at the moment. If you still want one later, I know how to fix it.”

“I’ll hold you to that when we get to my apartment.” He opened the bottle and took a drink.

Russell set aside his worry. There was nothing he could do. One day at a time. He had to take it one day at a time. But it was torture. He shook his head when Clara offered him water and reached for her hand instead. Just touching her made him feel better.

“You’re going to ignore propriety and stay at the apartment with us guys aren’t you, Clara?” Evan asked.

Clara’s cheeks grew a little pink.

“I want you to stay. You and Dad are an item, so I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

Russell smiled when she bit her lip and looked away. At their ages, it was ridiculous for them to have to sneak around like they were doing something wrong when they wanted to be together. He kissed the back of her hand.

“We both need you, Clara. Neither of us will sully your reputation by saying anything,” Evan said.

She laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. “All right. You’re making me sound like a Victorian miss. And I’m not.”

Evan leaned back with a smile. Russell met his gaze in the rearview mirror. Evan winked.

Russell smiled and shook his head. Evan had Clara wrapped around his little finger. She’d grown so attached to him. Had he not pursued their relationship, he could have spared her this pain. But Evan was right, they both needed her. She came across as soft and feminine but a core of steel shone through now and then. He hoped that would stand her in good stead when the time came. Maybe them both. Because there were times he wanted to howl from the pain. To watch his son struggle so tore the heart right out of him.

The Oakland Bay Bridge came into view. “We should stop so you can take pictures, Clara,” Evan said. 

“I’ll have plenty of time later, once we’ve rested and had a meal,” she said. “I’m a little tired after the drive and need a nap.”

Russell gave her hand another squeeze. There were a hundred kindnesses she’d shown his boy every day. And she did it in a way that didn’t draw attention to Evan’s illness. He’d loved her for that. And a thousand other things.

The apartment building, all limestone -finished concrete and steel, stood on Market Street surrounded by  similar buildings. A dark green canvas awning jutted out from the main entrance, shielding the occupants from the elements as they entered or exited. The parking structure at the back spiraled upward, a catacomb for expensive vehicles nearly half the height of the building.

Russell watched surreptitiously as Evan unfolded his fragile frame from the back seat and leaned against the car for support. In the seven weeks he’d been in San Diego he’d grown weaker. How long would it be before he’d be forced to enter the hospital? Not long.

Russell had spent all of his adult life inside of hospitals or temporary structures converted to them. He didn’t want the antiseptic emptiness of a hospital room to be where his boy spent his last days. He’d keep him here surrounded by his own belongings. If he could.

The entrance foyer of the apartment was a narrow hall. The double doors of a wide closet took up the wall on the right.

“This is my book closet.” Evan said resting a hand against the doors as he passed it. I’m a terrible book hoarder.”

The passageway opened into a wide living room that was all light and gleaming wood surfaces. Bright red drapes hung open, revealing a distant view of San Francisco bay. A soft, butter-colored leather sofa sat against one wall, walnut end tables on either side. A lounge the same color as the couch thrust diagonally beneath the window, a small occasional table to one side. A book lay face down on the table’s surface as though Evan had just risen from reading. A chair and ottoman, brightly striped in red, green, blue, and yellow finished out the ensemble. A dramatic abstract painting hung over the couch, reflecting the warm colors of the room.

An area rug as bright a red as the curtains stretched toward a galley-like kitchen with stainless steel appliances. A small walnut table and chairs, just large enough for two, sat opposite just down the wall from the couch.

“The bedrooms are through here,” Evan said, his steps deliberate as he led the way down a short open passageway. “This is the guest room. You’ll have your own bathroom.” He opened the door. 

“Oh, my, look at the headboard, Russell,” Clara said as she wheeled her suitcase into the room. He set his own case just inside the door, and the implication of that small action was so right, so freeing, he smiled. 

He studied the chrome piece she’d commented on, more a work of art than a headboard as it looped across the dark teal wall in wave-like swirls. “That’s amazing.”

“An artist friend made it as a wall hanging, but I thought it worked better as a headboard,” Evan said.

“It’s gorgeous, Evan. The whole apartment is.”

“Thanks. I spent a long time choosing each piece.”

“This is my room.” He ran a hand along the wall as he walked toward it. The stark contrast of blues and grays was a surprise after the bright colors of the rest of the apartment. A small balcony opened off the bedroom. The sliding glass doors allowed the light from a cloudless blue sky the color of the walls into the room. Russell wheeled Evan’s suitcase in and parked it next to a large chest of drawers.

“That nap Clara mentioned sounds good about now, Dad. I’m going to lie down for a while. You two make yourself at home.” Evan sat down on the side of the bed, the action fraught with exhaustion. His hand shook as he pushed his fine brown hair back.

Russell controlled the urge to touch a hand to Evan’s forehead. He wanted more and more often to take him into his arms and hold him. Could he make up for just a fraction of the hugs they had missed over the years? “We may lie down for a while, too. I’m a little tired myself.”

“A friend picked up some groceries, so the fridge should be well stocked with dairy and vegetables if you’re hungry.”

“We’re fine. We’ll order dinner in a while.”

“Sounds good.”

Russell rested a hand along Clara’s hip as they moved toward the door.

“Clara. Could you stay for a moment? There’s something I want to give you,” Evan said as they reached the door.

***

Clara studied Evan’s drawn features with concern. He needed to rest. She exchanged a glance with Russell, then moved back to the bed. “It can wait until you’ve had your nap.”

“No, I want to give them to you now.” He opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew two large manila envelopes. “These are the arrangements I’ve made should something happen to me.”

He handed her one of the envelopes. “I made them before I left for San Diego. Everything’s taken care of.”