Page 9

PART VI

MARK

When his bedroom door opened, he looked over at the woman standing in his doorway.

He couldn't get a read on her emotions. Her face was a mask. A neutral expression that made him hold his breath.

He sat up slowly, dropping his feet to the floor as he watched her carefully. "You want me to come out and talk?"

He waited for her to answer before he moved, knowing that she had been struggling to put together the pieces of her past. What had been their past up until the night of the bonfire.

He was still trying to grasp it, too.

Seeing the scar from her gunshot wound had done things to his soul. He'd managed to tamp down on the rage that had welled up inside of his soul.

He'd wanted to kill the person responsible for it.

But first, he had to figure out who that was.

It just didn't seem like the kind of question he could ask without dragging her back into that time of their lives. He'd ask Alex the next time he talked to him on the phone.

He had more pressing matters at hand.

"Heather?"

Her gaze snapped to his and she swallowed, his gaze catching the movement along her throat.

She rubbed her palms along the outsides of her thighs, drawing his gaze there for a moment.

"Heather, talk to me."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk."

He let out a breath, hearing it in his ears louder than he'd intended. "Is there something you need?"

Mark didn't know what he expected her to say, but he certainly didn't expect her physical response.

Heather moved into the room, her stride amazingly strong when she'd been so hesitant just a few moments before.

Mark pushed up from the bed, but Heather put her hands on his shoulders and sat him back down.

He reached out his hands and set them on her hips, needing to touch her when she was so close.

Mark watched her breathe as her eyes roamed over his face.

"So many years..."

Her words were little more than a whisper.

"They talk about things being water under a bridge."

He felt her thumbs brush over his shoulders and her gentle touch was close to hypnotizing him, lulling him with her soft movements.

"Do you think that what we had is like water?"

His eyebrows raised at her question, and he lifted his chin so he could look her straight in the eye.

"Are you asking me if it's too late for us?"

She drew in a sharp breath and slowly nodded. "You and I." Heather swallowed audibly. "We're older now. We're different than we were back then." She smiled, but it was mixed with soft laughter. "We were teenagers. First love. I don’t know if we could start over."

He felt like he was losing her all over again.

She stood there, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her hips, but he swore he could feel her slipping through his fingers.

No.

He'd meant what he'd said to her earlier.

He would fight for her.

Fight for them.

"We are older now, Heather. We don't have to worry about our parents getting involved." He looked at her lips, remembering just how soft and gentle they were against his. "We can make our own decisions."

"And no curfews."

Mark smiled at that. "No. We don't have curfews." His mouth felt dry. His lips, too. He licked at them and made sure to look into her eyes. “And we’re not water under a bridge. What I feel for you has always been an ocean.”

He heard her soft intake of breath.

She blinked a few times as tears swam in her eyes.

When she spoke, it seemed to surprise both of them. "You want to know what decision I made today?"

He wanted to kiss her, but he'd listen to what she had to say because he really wanted to know what she wanted. Whatever it was, he'd make it work.

Heather let go of his shoulders and reached down for the hem of her blouse. "You've already seen that I have a scar."

He nodded in reply, but she lifted the hem of her blouse and pulled it up and over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor out of his sight.

He ignored the dark-colored bra she was wearing, training his gaze on the raised flesh of her scar.

Mark lifted his gaze to her face. "Can I..."

She nodded. "Go ahead. I don't... Go ahead."

He wasn't sure what it would feel like for her. Sometimes scar tissue gets irritable, some people hardly feel a thing.

He wrapped one arm around the backs of her thighs and tugged her closer. Almost face to breast with her body, he lifted his free hand and reached out to touch her skin.

"Do you want to tell me who did this?"

Her whole body quieted as the tip of his finger touched her skin. Mark traced the scar tissue that puckered her flesh and twisted along the line of her collarbone.

"It's a mess, I know."

"It's-"

"They offered to have a plastic surgeon look at it, but it wasn't a priority for me at the time."

Her tone was flat and dull. Then she pulled in a breath, and he heard more of her fire in her voice.

"Honestly, I was tired of being poked and prodded. I barely remembered much of what happened after I got home. The pantry door, the quick conversation with Alex, the threat to my dad, and then there was a lot of wind. Alex told me that they'd had to airlift me from one hospital to another and then I remember waking up in recovery. A hospital room with walls so sterile and white that they hurt my eyes.

"There were just so many people coming and going. Doctors. Nurses. Men with federal badges. It was exhausting and all I wanted to know was if my dad was okay and if anyone had seen you."

"I went looking for you."

"I know-"

"I feel like I need to tell you because it's true. I looked for you. Heather, I tried-"

"And here you are."

"Here we are," he told her, his voice lowering in volume, "together."

He felt her tense up at his words, but he had a feeling if he called it out, she might fight it even harder.

Before he could think of something to say that wouldn't evoke a defensive response, he felt her hands moving over his t-shirt.

Her fingers moved over his chest and up along the sides of his neck.

He'd seen the beauty of her hands moving over the strings of her violin, but he'd also noted the strength she had as well.

Mark wondered if she'd like to know what pressure points to use on a man if she wanted to pinch a nerve or drive him down to his knees.

Then again, he could teach her how to cut off a man's oxygen or stop the flow of blood into his brain.

"Heather?"

He stopped short. Mark wondered if his addled brain would actually pose the question to her or if he'd been on the verge of saying something else entirely.

"Take this off."

That wasn't his voice.

It was hers.

He felt her tug at the shoulders of his t-shirt, and he lifted his hands from her hips and over his head to grab the shirt at his back.

In one smooth movement, he pulled the shirt up and over his head, dropping it down somewhere near her shirt on the floor.

"Do you have scars?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but his instinct was to tell her that his deepest scar was when he lost her, but he knew she wasn’t asking him to bare his soul. She wanted to know if he'd been physically hurt.

"I was in the military for almost a decade. I have a few."

"Show me."

He didn't wait or hold back. He turned his shoulder toward her and pointed at the line of scar-tissue on his upper arm. "This was a knife. We were in combat three on six."

"You were the three."

He appreciated that she didn't raise her voice at him in upset or fear. It made it easy to show her what had been done to him over the years.

"I finished with the man I was grappling with and when I turned to get the next man closest to me, he threw the knife. I guess he thought I'd give up and let him go."

"You didn't give up." She smoothed her thumb over the old scar.

"No." He shook his head, but she wasn't looking at his face. Nor did she ask what happened afterwards.

"The next one." He leaned to the side and pointed at a spot above his waist, but nowhere near his ribs. "Someone shot at me, but I think I turned, listening to something in the air. The medics said I was lucky. It went through what one nurse called my baby fat."

He saw the hint of humor in Heather's lips as they curved up at the ends.

"Baby fat?"

"I didn't live that down, not until the day I left the military."

Heather smoothed her hands over the front and back scars on his side. "I'm glad you turned. If you hadn't..." Her hands stilled on him. "It would have gone through into your-"

"But it didn't." He repeated the words he'd said to himself numerous times. Yes. The bullet could have sliced into his intestines, or if it had gone up, into his diaphragm or any of the other organs behind their protective cage. He'd thought through the scenario a few times, second guessing everything, but it all came down to one thing.

Luck.

"Is that it?"

He heard the hope in her voice, and he wished that she'd stop there, but it was her choice.

He had to let her make it.

"If you want to stop, I'm good with that."

Her fingertips moved over the scars on both sides of his torso. "I'll probably regret this later," her gaze lifted to meet his, "I'm glad we didn't eat, or I might not be able to do this."

He nodded slowly and stood up from the bed.

She took a half step back, but her gaze stayed on his face. "Where?"

He looked down toward his lower leg and shook his head. "Maybe I should sit down."

She stood there as he sat and when he lifted his left leg, straightening it at the knee, he reached out to roll the hem of his long pants up. Heather crouched down before him and worked from the hem up toward his knee.

He knew when she found it. She didn't make any noise. He just felt her hands still on his leg.

"What happened, Mars?"

Her innocent question hurt like a physical pain.

"Not much of a War God when I have these scars, right?"

She gently guided his leg down until his foot touched the floor.

When her hand touched his thigh, settling just shy of his knee, he saw the look in her eyes.

She wasn't revolted at what she'd seen.

The look in her eyes said that she saw him.

She recognized the pain that he'd gone through. She probably saw the loss of some of his unit in the shadows of his eyes.

Heather might not have been in a combat situation, but she could understand the fear and the pain.

She'd been through a kind of battlefield when she'd been shot.

"I can't understand everything you went through during your time in the military." She drew in a deep breath, drawing his eyes to the way her breasts rose and fell with the movement. "And I don't think I ever want to tell you about where I've been and what I've seen." She paused and a ghost of a smile passed over her lips. "I'm not even sure I'm allowed to tell you all of it, but..."

Heather stood up and as she moved closer to him, he leaned back so he could see what was in her eyes.

The woman she was now was incredible. Talented and strong, she had found her passion in life.

Looking into her eyes, he also saw the passion that she felt for him.

When they were younger, their kisses had been awkward at first and as they gained experience and their hunger for each other had deepened, they'd learned to explore each other.

The woman leaning in toward him wasn't that nervous teen on the verge of womanhood.

The woman with her determined gaze fixed on his face was lush with beauty, and he swore he could feel her passion sizzling between them in the air.

"Tell me," she began. "Tell me what happened to your leg."

"On patrol, an IED exploded." He could have stopped there, but there was something inside of him pushing to be let out and she had her gaze fixed on him, waiting. "I wasn't the one nearest to the device.

"One of my friends, Danny, he..." He let out his breath in a rush of sound. "He took the brunt of it. I only had shrapnel in my leg. Stupidly, my instinct was to pull it out so I could get up and help Danny, but he pointed a finger at me and told me to leave it.

"That was the last thing he said to me, before..."

He shook his head back and forth as if that would erase the images and sounds in his head. It never worked, but he did it all the same.

"It's crazy about scars, right? The doctors and surgeons tell me that I don't feel the scar there or the damaged flesh because of the nerve damage, but that's not what it is."

She nodded and he could see... He could feel that she understood, because she did.

She flattened her palm on his chest, over his heart. "You feel the pain here."

He nodded and leaned into her touch.

He'd gone to therapy by himself and in groups, but no one had ever broken it down that easily for him.

Not ever.

"My scars are closer to my heart than yours," her voice was barely a whisper, "but late at night when I ache and I cry from the pain, I only feel it in my heart."

Mark lifted his hand and flattened his palm on her chest, feeling the soft swells of her breasts against his thumb and little finger. She smiled at him as he took his first breath matching hers.

He felt her heart kick against his palm, and he felt himself falling all over again.

He'd never fallen out of love with Heather.

But the man he was now was hopelessly in love with the woman she'd become.

There was no going back.

Only forward.

He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek. Heather leaned into his palm, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Kiss me, Heather. I want to feel your lips against mine again."

There was a moment when he thought she might hold back, but it didn't happen.

She reached toward him and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck.

Holding him there, she leaned in and kissed him.

HEATHER

She’d dreamed of this hundreds of times over the years. Alone with Mark. No one and no circumstances pulling them apart.

She kissed him and he kissed her back.

His lips in her dreams had always been sweet and gentle, but not now.

She might have been the one who kissed him first, but he wasn’t just a passive participant. He pushed back and the friction that built between them felt like heaven.

Years of dreaming hadn’t taken the edge off of wanting him, it had only built it up to a fever.

And there he was half naked, sitting on a bed, kissing her like he was dying of thirst, and she was water.

“Mars,” she broke her mouth away from his and trailed kisses along his jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

“Fuck,” his voice rumbled, and she felt his arms tense, “I’ve missed you like crazy.” He tilted his head to the side, and she ducked her head, kissing the underside of his jaw.

His skin scratched against hers and she smiled.

Stubble.

That was something new.

Something deliciously different.

She moved in closer until she was tucked in tight between his legs.

Heather wanted to take the lead, but she wasn’t sure how to do it.

She could play before hundreds of people, but alone with Mark, she felt a particular kind of fear.

She dreamed of it, but she didn’t really know what to do.

“Let me touch you, Heather. I need to touch you.”

“Yes,” she breathed, and leaned in closer to him, “please. I don’t know what to do.”

He came alive in that moment.

He sat up, his eyes fixing on hers. “I’ll show you.” He moved his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders and down to her hands, holding them in his. “I’ll show you what it’s like, Heather. Come here.”

She was putting her life in his hands already, putting her body in them? It made sense.

He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them one after the other. “I’ve had a lifetime of loving you, Heather. Showing you? I’ve been waiting for this.”

He pulled her close, wrapping her arms around his body, she tipped her head back to give him room and was rewarded with the touch of magic against her neck.

It tingled like electricity.

The gentle fervor of his kisses made her weak in the knees, but she didn’t have to worry about that.

He scooped her up and brought her onto the bed with him. [add a bit more detail. Did he just bring her onto the bed sitting together? She straddling him? Etc. Because below you mention him sweeping her up and laying her down on the bed bed again but I read it as he already did it here but he didn’t really. Trying to picture the scene properly.]

“Remind me never to wrestle with you,” she smiled as her hands smoothed up his arm. “That was crazy fast.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I don’t mind you wrestling with me, but right now I’m barely holding on. Let me take the lead. Next time,” he looked into her eyes, “we can wrestle a little.”

She laughed at the glint of humor in his eyes. “Hold onto me, Mark. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

It felt like she snapped something in him.

One moment he was looking into her eyes with laughter dancing in them, and then he was kissing her as if he needed the air in her lungs.

She held onto his arms, enjoying the frantic need she felt arcing between them.

His mouth moved from hers to the column of her neck and down over the scar above her collar bone.

She held still wondering how much his touch might hurt.

But it didn’t.

His tongue rasped across her scar and instead of cringing away from the pain, she felt the rush of passion coursing through her veins.

Before she could gather her wits together to speak a word, she felt his finger hook under the elastic strap of her bra.

As his hand drew down toward the cup of her bra, she heard a quick indrawn breath echoing in her ears. Her own.

The touch of his skin against hers was drugging.

She ached for him.

Wanted him.

Needed him.

“Oh…”

The warmth of his skin against her nipple made her weak in the knees.

Heather looked down and watched as he swept his thumb across the peak of her breast and back again. Her hands moved over his bare chest and shoulders, and then up to his head.

Her fingers moved through his hair.

Her close-cut nails scraping against the back of his head.

When his mouth closed over the tip of her breast, her knees buckled and before she fell back out of his embrace, he swept her up and turned to lay her on his bed. [see above note]

He barely broke contact, skin to skin, his tongue sweeping across her nipple, her brain could hardly function. She clung to him, but when he released her breast, he couldn’t seem to pull away and curled his tongue over her sensitive flesh, tantalizing her with its touch.

He kissed her again, his tongue tangling with hers and she moved her hands down over his shoulders and over his back.

Heather hooked one of her legs over his, unsure of what she was doing, but desperate to move and draw him closer.

Mark broke off the kiss, one hand grasping at her face, holding her still.

She looked back at him, her whole-body trembling at the rush of blood and passion that flowed through her veins.

He smiled at her, and she felt like she had gone back in time.

Maybe it was crazy, but he looked younger, like he had when they first fell in love.

“I feel like I’m eighteen again.” He dipped his head down and kissed her again, murmuring against her lips. “I hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

“Don’t worry about that, Mars. Just kiss me.”

And he did.

His hands worked at her pants, pushing them down over her hips with her help as she lifted up off of the bed. Then it was his turn, but he had to nudge her hands away when her hands started to shake.

He slipped off the bed, looking at her with a knowing smile. “This was the part I was afraid of back then.” He undid the button at the waist of his pants and pulled down the zipper.

She watched him, bracing up on one elbow to unhook her bra at the center between her breasts.

Mark shook his head, grinning. “Is that how to get it off?”

She nodded, biting into her bottom lip as she shrugged the straps off of her shoulders. “I feel like we should worry about someone coming and knocking on the door, interrupting us.”

He shrugged as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of his boxer briefs. “I don’t think we have to worry. Your neighbor already brought dinner. I think we’re all alone until morning.”

With that announcement, he bent over and stepped out of his pants.

When he stood back up, whatever she’d meant to say disappeared from her head.

In the summer, when they were younger, she’d felt him when they’d kissed, when his hands had moved over her body, and he’d press against her in the grass.

She’d felt him, but she’d never seen him.

And now?

“Heather?”

He walked the few steps to the bed and stopped, his gaze fixed on her face.

“The scars?” He sounded worried.

She shook her head and let out a soft sigh. “You’re beautiful, Mars. Just beautiful.”

He lifted his chin as he bent over the edge of the bed onto his hands. “You’re beautiful. You’re… amazing.”

“Amazing?” She laughed softly. “And nervous, so come over here and let’s see what we’ve both been missing all of these years.”

She meant to goad him on, but she wasn’t prepared for how fast he could move.

He had his hands on her hips in a heartbeat and he pulled her closer.

Breathless.

He put his hands on her thighs and slowly opened her before him.

Heather’s instinct was to use her hands to cover herself.

No man had ever looked at her there or touched her the way that Mark had.

Instead, she grabbed fistfuls of the sheet at her sides. “Why are you waiting?”

He lifted his gaze to her face. “Because I wanted to look at you.”

She turned her head to the side. She didn’t want to see what he thought, she certainly didn’t think it was anything to look at.

“Don’t look away, baby. Look at me.”

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.

That’s when she saw a quiet galaxy of stars flare to life on the insides of her eyelids as something touched her clit.

Again and her back arched, lifting her hips from the bed.

“Look at me, Heather. I need to see your eyes.”

She opened her eyes then, but her gaze dropped down along her body and she saw his hand between her legs.

Heather looked up at him then, her eyes full of wonder, her lips parted in shock.

“I love touching you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“More?”

She nodded again.

“Good.” His eyes changed, narrowed on her face. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

Oh god .

His fingers.

They touched her, parting her folds before sliding into her body.

Oh god .

When he reached the top, the fingers that swept over her clit were wet, slick.

“Like that?”

She nodded.

“Good. Breathe.”

Before she could put his words into action, she felt his fingers press inside of her.

It was different from the first time when she just felt the tips of his fingers glide through her sex. This was deeper and deeper.

Oh god .

And then she felt a pressure against her mons.

Her gaze flitted down and she saw the heel of his hand against her.

His fingers moved inside of her and those stars she saw earlier returned but she didn’t need the darkness of her eyelids to see them. The pinpoints turned into a haze when his fingers brushed against something at the top.

Her hips wiggled and the added friction made her skin tingle. Her upper arms. Her thighs.

“ Oh god .”

He leaned closer and the pressure from his palm arched her back, and his fingers pushed deeper.

“That feels incredible.”

“You sound incredible.” His fingers moved again, and she cried out. “I think I found the right spot.”

Her head tipped back as she felt something pull on her clit. “Oh god! What?”

“Breathe, Heather.”

When he spoke, she felt his breath over her clit and her hips wiggled searching for his touch.

“I’ll give it to you, baby. Let me take care of you.”

She wanted it.

She wanted him.

She opened her mouth to speak, desperate for more. “You don’t… I mean… I don’t…”

She was lost in the sight of his mouth closing over her clit. The sensation of his lips and then his tongue on her made it impossible to think or form any sort of intelligible thought.

His hand, fingers, and mouth. She’d never felt a sensation like it.

“Mark.”

He continued to work her body, sending waves of sensation through her body.

“Mark… ah!”

His tongue worked in concert with his fingers, and she was starting to lose her train of thought again.

She didn’t want to lose herself like this. Not without him.

Later, if there was another time, but not at that moment.

His fingers found that spot inside of her that brought stars into her eyes.

“Mars, stop!”

He froze for a moment before she moved back, his eyes focused on her face.

Waiting for her to speak.

It took her a moment to brace herself up on her elbows to look at him.

She saw his fingers glistening in the twilight coming in through the window over the massive trees in the yard. “I want more, Mars. I want you inside me.”

Heather grimaced slightly, sure that she’d made a mess of the words, but she didn’t want him… there when she came apart. She wanted to feel him.

She wanted to feel full of him.

Heather lifted her hand and crooked her finger at him to come closer. “Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

He reached out and took her hand, holding it still for a moment. “I don’t have-”

“I’m on the pill. Medical reasons, but if you don’t want to chance-”

He shifted on the bed, his hands gripping her thighs.

Mark got on his knees, spreading her legs around him, pulling her closer until her backside was on his thighs.

“I’ll chance it, baby, because you and me? This isn’t just one night. This is the second chance that the world owes us. The second chance that we deserve.” He took hold of his cock and moved it against her, the tip sliding between her folds.

He looked back up to her face, his gaze steady, his expression hard and determined.

“Do you believe me, Heather? Do you believe that this is for us?”

Her instinct was to say no. To shake her head.

She’d lost her whole life in a moment she couldn’t quite remember.

She’d spent years being lonely even with agents surrounding her.

It was a leap to think that the world had finally decided to cut her a break, but the look in Mark’s eyes said that he didn’t just think it.

He believed it.

But there was still something inside of her hesitating.

“I want to believe it,” she told him the truth and felt better for it. She wasn’t going to lie to him. “I want it to be true.”

“Then hold onto me, Heather. Trust me to take care of you.”

Too emotional to speak and afraid that she might hurt him with her answer, she nodded.

Oh .

She felt him. Felt the wide head of his cock as he pressed forward into her body.

Heather managed to breathe as he leaned forward. His eyes were fixed on her face, his hands braced on the mattress as he sank deeper and deeper still into her.

It was a revelation.

An awakening.

When he stopped moving, his body fully embedded into her own, his forehead dotted with sweat and his eyes burning with passion, she let out a breath that mingled with his.

“Hi.” She almost laughed. “That sounded stupid, didn’t it?”

“It doesn’t. Not to me.” He shook his head and kissed her softly on the lips. “Hi, baby.”

“I’m hopeless at this,” she grumbled. “I think-”

“Stop thinking, Heather.” His hands, braced near her shoulders, sank deeper into the bedding and she felt him start to pull back. “And just feel.”

She reached her hands up and folded them behind his neck. She wanted to hold him close. “I feel you.”

Just before he pulled free of her body, he sank back in.

“How do you feel?” She spoke softly when she asked her question, nervous that it would sound as na?ve as she felt.

“I feel you,” his voice tightened as he pulled back again. “So I feel incredible. Your heat. Your body. All around me.” When he sank back in, he let out a soft grunt.

She drew up her knees and planted her feet on the bed the next time he moved away, and when he thrust back inside of her, she swore she felt him deeper.

“Yes,” his voice sounded tighter, deeper. “Right there. Can you feel it?”

She couldn’t answer until the next time he drove into her. “Yes. Yes. It’s all I can feel.”

“Let me love you, Heather. Let me give you more.”

She couldn’t seem to speak and had to nod at him instead.

Mark shifted on the bed, grasping a pillow from near the headboard. He lifted her hips by rising up on his knees with one arm wrapped around her back. Once he slipped the pillow under her hips, he placed her back down.

The new angle of her hips was strange to her but the first time he thrust all the way into her body she stopped caring how odd it felt and just felt him.

Over and over. Faster and harder.

The rhythm that Mark created reminded her of the driving rhythm of a storm. The rain that she’d played for him earlier played again in her head.

The two of them, together, created a rush of sensations that she’d never felt before and when his deep thrusts drove her over the edge, it was like an explosion of thunder that shook them both.

It all seemed like some kind of dark, sensual magic that he was weaving around her and when he came inside of her, bathing her in his release, her eyes flew open to meet his gaze.

And the love that she’d hidden away for years and years came roaring back when his eyes opened, and his gaze met hers. Still, she was afraid. She could feel something building on the horizon. Something dangerous.

She knew that Mark would do what he could to stop it from happening, but she had practical experience with danger. No matter what people did to try and stop it, it didn’t always work.

She’d lived through it once and lost Mark in the process.

Now that he was putting himself between her and that danger, she worried that she might lose him for good.