I wake up before my alarm goes off. After my … issue last night, I slept like a baby, better than I have in a year at least. I’m pretty sure it has to do with the woman whose body is part of the reason why I’m considering the snooze button. One of her thighs is between mine, half her body draped over mine with her head on my shoulder. Katya’s breath tickles the skin on my chest. She’s soft, firm and feminine, an appealing package.
God, she’s the fucking sexiest woman I’ve ever known. She doesn’t know or care to curb her passion the way I normally do. I value self-control over everything else, but Katya … fuck! To complicate matters, I now know there really is a sweet girl buried beneath the shell, one who didn’t run or freak out when I had one of my episodes. She stuck with me, talking me down.
It’s getting harder to write her off.
Instinctively, I wrap an arm around her and lay still for a long moment, pensive and a little too comfortable with her in my arms. The scars on her back are pressed to my forearm, their knotted texture deepening my consternation. My scars aren’t visible, but we share the same pain, hidden deep but still present. She’s a lot like me in that regard, and I don’t like knowing how much she’s hurting. Any resistance she gives me during the day melted when I held her.
It’s hard to hate you when I know you’re broken like Petr.
I hate being vulnerable, hate feeling weak, especially in front of someone else. Emotions, self-doubt, and lack of discipline have no place in my world. Last night, I went through all three in front of the woman I am struggling to keep my distance from.
Am I broken? I really don’t know. I was in counseling for all of a month after losing the four guys on my team. My response to pain is to create more distance between me and it, so I can function. If I admit to being broken, I could have my command taken. Even if temporarily, it’s not something I want to risk. The Corps is my life and the guys I lead my family.
I can’t lose any of that. Not even the psychologist assigned to the forward operating base where my team works out of was able to convince me to stay in counseling beyond the mandatory thirty days.
How is it that Katya makes me reconsider?
I want to let my hands travel her body but don’t. Last night was wrong in so many ways. Kissing her, almost losing control.
Not fucking her when I had the chance.
You’re an idiot, Sawyer. I know stopping was the right thing to do. I’m not ready for a relationship. Katya isn’t the kind who wants anything to do with a military boyfriend – or the military. She deserves more than a one-night stand, and I’m not about to disrespect her brothers by sleeping with their sister.
Sometimes being honorable sucks.
I can’t get over how different she was with me. Sweet, caring, gentle. Talking and holding me when I know she hates me.
Restless and frustrated by the thoughts, I ease out from under her. She’s a deep sleeper, hard to wake up from what I’ve learned the past couple of days. I get dressed then shake her gently.
“Katya, time to get up.”
She grumbles and rolls away.
“Katya!”
We’ve got half an hour before breakfast. I know how long it takes her to get ready and gaze at her, debating.
She’s adorable, her hair everywhere and a sleepy frown on her face. In the grainy light of dawn seeping into the tent, her cheek appears bruised. I lean forward, hoping I didn’t hit her in my sleep.
Definitely bruised. Fuck me. I’m gonna love explaining to Petr why his sister was in my sleeping bag.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” I tell her and stand.
It’s chilly and cloudy outside the tent. After a quick trip to the restroom, I’m intercepted by Carson, the other Green Beret on my team. He’s got a country twang and the polite manners to match. A lot of people underestimate him, because he comes across as a simple farm boy. Close to Riley’s size, he’s over six feet tall with a shaved head and dark eyes.
He holds out a mug wordlessly.
“Thanks.”
“Think they’ll let us take the tent back with us?” he asks.
“I wish.”
He’s the quietest on the team, so I’m not surprised that he doesn’t feel the need to chat the way Riley likes to. I stand with him, gazing into the quiet forest. The coffee warms me from the inside out, and I let myself enjoy the peaceful morning. It smells like rain and …
Katya. Her scent is all over me. It both arouses and irritates me.
“Captain Mathis?” Jacob and Morgan circle us. They’re up and dressed, for which I credit Riley. Jacob has his collection of spiders in a clear food storage dish.
“Can we have bacon?” Morgan asks.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her talk. I shouldn’t be surprised it’s about the food. They’ve obediently eaten everything Katya planned.
“Please?” Jacob added. “It’s French toast day!”
Carson chuckles. “Heard about your health food.” He bends down to see Jacob’s collection. “You got some good ones.”
I don’t mind spiders. I don’t particularly care for them either. Jacob passes them over to Carson while I consider what to do.
“I was taking them out to go to the bathroom,” Jacob explained.
“Spiders pee?” Carson asks.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”
I snort, amused. I’ve never thought twice about spiders peeing.
“Bacon,” Morgan prompts me. She looks desperate, the way I feel whenever we go to the mess hall.
A glance at the tent assures me that Katya hasn’t gotten up yet. “I’ll make you a deal,” I start.
They wait expectantly. Carson hands back the container of spiders.
“Jacob, go show Ms. Khavalov your friends and have her help you walk them for their morning run to the head. Morgan, round up the team and line them up out here. If you both can do that within ninety seconds, you can have bacon.”
Jacob sprints towards the pup tent while Morgan dashes into the larger one.
“Why do I suspect Khav’s sister doesn’t like spiders?” Carson asks.
I shrug and sip my coffee. It’s a relatively easy way to put Katya and me back at odds, where I’m more comfortable being with her. If I let myself think too much about how much good she’s hiding beneath the anger …
Less than a minute later, her shriek rings out.
Carson gives a low, rumbling laugh.
I smile.
The tent looks ready to implode from the thrashing going on inside. Katya dashes out, still wearing underwear and bra. She bends over and frantically paws at her hair.
So fucking sexy. Whether or not I should feel regret, I do as I look over her body. I could have spent the night fucking her …
But didn’t. Because I’m a fucking good guy.
Jacob exits the tent, distraught. I wave him over, not wanting him to get yelled at for something I put him up to.
“This is good,” Carson says, drinking his coffee as he watches the mostly naked Katya try to get spiders out of her hair.
“I could wake up to that every day,” Riley agrees, approaching.
I eye him. I know how Riley is with women, more flirting than anything. His comment still annoys me.
His attention is on Katya.
“I lost a couple,” Jacob reports mournfully when he reaches us.
“We’ll find you more,” I assure him. “Put them away and fall in with the others.”
He perks and heads into the kids’ tent.
“Katya! Put on some clothes!” Petr shouts, emerging from his tent. “What the hell are you doing?”
Shaking out her hair one last time, she straightens and stares at us. Carson continues to laugh. I meet her gaze and raise my coffee mug.
“Time to get up,” I call.
“You put him up to that?” She flushes. I’m not sure if it’s anger or in memory of last night. Either way, it’s sexy as hell.
“Friendly reminder. You guys are within –“ before Petr can finish, a shoe is flying at us.
It’s a damn good throw, aimed at my head. I duck, and it sails over me. The second catches Riley in the chest.
He laughs.
Furious, Katya disappears into the tent.
“Show’s over,” Petr says with the gruffness of a protective brother. “Go inside before she starts throwing something that can do damage.”
I turn away from the tent, warm for more reasons than because I just drank coffee. Morgan has the team lined up and waiting anxiously. Word about bacon and French toast must’ve spread, because they’re unable to stand still more than usual.
Satisfied with my morning thus far, I walk them over to the mess tent then let them loose. Knowing what our day will be like, I load up on French toast and sit with the team.
It’s fantastic. Vanilla, cinnamon, bread so fresh I almost groan … Why the fuck have I been eating yogurt for three days?
Katya. Trying to be an honorable guy and respect her. Because of that, I missed out on incredible food and getting laid.
She’s absent again from breakfast. I’m not sure if she’s pissed at me or what’s up with her, but she missed dinner last night as well.
“You get in a fight with a bear?” Riley calls over to Harris, who walks in beside Harper.
“Allergies,” Harris mumbles and ducks his head. He’s got a swollen eye.
Riley catches my gaze and nods towards the civilian, amused. I shake my head. The guy clearly had a run in with someone. All the members of my team have had black eyes, whether from fighting enemies or sparring among themselves. We know what one looks like.
The creep probably deserved it.
I’m starting to consider taking Katya a plate of food to make sure she eats. I don’t know that being alone with her is a good idea. Then again, when have I ever backed down from a challenge? After a moment of arguing with myself, I finish eating and stand.
She twists me into knots, and I hate that. Ordering the internal dialogue silent, I duck out of the mess tent. The kids aren’t even halfway done, so I have time to check in on her and return for them.
Approaching the tent, I pause outside it. “Katya?”
No answer.
I know she’s up. I push aside the tent opening and find the tent empty.
“Goddamn it, Katya.” With a sigh, I pull out my phone and text her. Pressing send, there’s a pause before I hear a chime behind me.
I turn to see her coming from the direction of the bathrooms, bag in hand. For a moment, I’m caught by her gorgeous eyes and perfect features. She’s dressed in snug pants and a long sleeved polo. The bruise on her cheek is yellowish, and guilt trickles through me.
She glances from the phone to me with annoyance. “Right here,” she answers.
“Are you ever going to try to be a team player?” I ask.
“Oh, you’re going there?” Katya arches an eyebrow and stops before me. “Who sent a nine year old in to dump spiders on my head?”
I smile. I shouldn’t. It’s too damn funny not to. “I tried to wake you up three times. He had better luck.”
The familiar tension is between us again. This time, I have a better idea of what I’m missing, of how incredible her body is beneath the clothes and how natural it felt against mine. I understand what this tension is, even if I don’t like it one bit.
As if thinking similar thoughts, her cheeks turn pink.
For the first time since I’ve met her, Katya backs down. She moves around me and flings open the entrance to the tent.
“You missed dinner last night,” I say. “Are you coming to breakfast?”
“I’m fine.”
I go from being aroused around her to wanting to kill her in a flash. I’m not sure how she does that to me. But her welfare, whether or not either of us likes it, is my concern for this week. It’s how teams work, even if she never figures that out on her own.
“It’s going to be a long day. You need to eat something.” I somehow manage to keep my tone level.
“I don’t want to go in there!” she snaps.
Interesting choice of words. I frown. She didn’t say anything about me and I know the kids aren’t a deterrent. This conversation is reminding me of when she asked me to teach her to punch someone. She’s hiding something. I can’t even guess as to what.
“Should I bring you something?” I ask.
“No.”
“You just can’t …” I swallow the rest of my sentence. Bitching won’t help anyone.
“What?” She re-emerges from the tent with a sweatshirt on.
“Nothing. I’ll get the team ready.”
Katya rolls her eyes and starts towards the kids’ tent.
There’s so much hanging between us. I feel like I should say something, but god help me, I have no fucking clue what. Drawing a breath, I decide to approach it the way I would anything else. Directly.
“About last night.”
She freezes.
I approach her, stopping close enough for her body heat to reach me. I don’t want anything I’m about to say to be overheard, and well … I like being this close to the woman I can’t stand half the time.
“Thank you,” I manage. It doesn’t seem like enough, and yet, it’s too much. I’m acknowledging being weak to the one person who won’t hesitate to throw it in my face.
She says nothing.
“And I’m sorry about your cheek. When I’m stuck in the nightmare, I’m not always -”
“You didn’t do that.” She turns and gazes up at me, too close and not close enough. “You wouldn’t. Even by accident. You’re wound too tight.”
What the fuck do I say to that? And why do I have the urge to touch her? Nothing happened between us. We’re not in a relationship. Just a few awesome kisses and a hint of what a night with her would be like … and that tension that makes my body flood with adrenaline and anticipation, preparing to charge into battle.
“You’re sure?” I ask, eyes on her cheek. “Something happened.”
“You didn’t hit me. Trust me. I know.” She starts away.
My emotions immediately slam silent. “Whoa.” I take her arm. “Someone hit you?”
She shrugs. “Stuff happens.”
“No, stuff doesn’t randomly happen. After last night, you should know that,” I snap.
She averts her gaze.
“Who? And don’t tell me it’s none of my business. I swear if you use that line one more time this week …” Wrong approach. Too late, I realize it.
“You’ll what?” She challenges, a flash of fire crossing her gaze as she glares up at me.
Kiss you. Finish what we started last night. There’s no safe answer. “If one of my guys laid a hand on you, I will take care of it,” I tell her resolutely.
Katya shakes her head. “It wasn’t them, and I took care of it myself.” She holds up her right hand. “You’re right about punching someone. It hurts. Totally worth it.”
If this conversation weren’t so serious, I’d laugh at her surprised look. I take her wrist without dropping her gaze.
“Who, Katya?” I demand. “Is that why you don’t want to go to the mess hall? You’re afraid?”
“Of course not.” She sighs. “I don’t want to get in trouble for hitting him.”
“What the fuck? Someone here hits you, and you’re worried about defending yourself?”
Then what she says clicks. Him. Not a member of my team, which leaves every male kid here and …
Harris, the man sporting a swollen eye.
“Let’s pretend I’m not an idiot for a minute.” She’s getting pissed at me. “Some men don’t like being showed up by a girl. It makes them more aggressive, especially if they’re prone to being abusive already. I read about it in my classes. So, I took care of the issue. He won’t bother me again, but I’m not about to make things worse by being around him.”
I’m trying to digest her reasoning, because where I come from, it makes no sense whatsoever. Fighting with Brianna is one thing. With Harris, it’s a complete no-go. I’m old-fashioned when it comes to women. I don’t kill them in battle unless they’re holding a weapon, firing at me, and I don’t tolerate anyone hurting them outside of war.
“I give as good as I get. Maybe better,” she adds sweetly. “You wouldn’t know, though, would you?” She pulls at her wrist.
I tighten my grip without looking away. My goal isn’t to stare her down, but I’m struggling to maintain my precious self-control, especially knowing Harris is all of twenty feet from me. I can’t recall being this furious at anything in recent history.
“You’re freaking me out,” she says a little less confidently, searching my face.
My body is tense enough to hurt at the idea of someone hitting Katya. Taking a deep breath, I glance down at her wrist. “Where does it hurt?”
She shows me. The outside of her wrist is tender and a little swollen. “I’ll get a wrap,” I say and release her. “You can ice it when we get back this evening. Wait here.”
Ducking into the tent, I release a long, slow breath, my insides twisting. Why didn’t she come to me? I shouldn’t be angry with her, but I can’t help thinking that she’s surrounded by four members of the Special Forces – and she didn’t tell anyone, even her brother, or Harris would probably be dead. It’s beyond absurd. Not only does she have no sense, she’s absolutely, completely the most frustrating, difficult, stubborn, sweet, sexiest …
Stop. Breathe, think, let it go. I want to give her a piece of my mind about not telling anyone she had that big of a problem with Harris.
The urge to protect her is stronger, to fold her into my arms and drag her back to the safety of the sleeping bag, where we can both let down our guards again.
After I kill Harris. “This isn’t helping,” I tell myself. She’s not mine. She wouldn’t want to be. I don’t need someone like her in my life. I have a feeling Petr won’t be happy, if I handle this on my own. Out of respect for him, I should let him deal with Harris.
Even if I want to rip that son of a bitch’s head off.
I count to ten and repeat the Marine Corps code. Searching through my ruck, I grab an Ace bandage out of the emergency kit. By the time I emerge, I’ve decided two things: I need to keep more distance between Katya and me, and I’m going to make sure Harris understands exactly how many pieces he’ll be in if he ever touches her again.
I wrap her wrist in silence. She definitely got in a better hit than Harris did, which I’d like to take credit for, if I didn’t feel like shit ignoring this issue when every instinct in my body tells me to take control of this situation now.
“You’ve got five minutes to get breakfast,” I tell her when I’m done with her wrist. “No one will say anything to you about Harris.”
For once, she listens without smarting off. Katya goes to the mess tent.
I remain outside, needing to cool off before I see her or Harris again.