Page 27 of Luck Be Mine (The Defenders #3)

“First, Adele is finally better. Long talk with her while you were gone. That should help Doogie settle. There’s a new doctor at the hospital. Jackass, but brilliant. He’s giving me a headache.”

“Name?”

“You going to hunt him down?”

“No. For reference.”

She stared at him, sure his blank face indicated a plot of some kind, but she never stepped into his sense of how to conduct himself. Cause he was always spot on. “Breshears.”

“Sounds pretentious.”

“Oh, he is, and if he wasn’t such a good surgeon, I’d drop kick him into the Pacific.”

“Against the law. Frank would hunt you down.”

“Or help me, depending on his mood.”

Hunt laughed and rubbed her back.

“Lost a couple patients. Lots of work at QM for Mackey and Quaid. A dozen new people. More on my desk to clear. Stupid Afghanistan dream. Another one making no sense because it’s not what happened. I also have a long honey-do list in the book on the counter in the kitchen.”

“I’ll get to them.” The promise depended on his phone, much as hers did.

“Of course, now I’ve told you, I’ve jinxed us, and your bat phone will go off.” She leaned away and studied him closely. He was tired and here she was going on and on. “Let’s go to bed.”

Amused, he rubbed between her shoulder blades, and she dropped her chin to her chest. He whispered in her ear. “Here or in the bedroom?”

As much as she didn’t want to lose those hands on her, sex on the porch was a bit more adventure than she needed.

“Frank will be talking to us about public lewdness if we strip out here. Besides, I’m guessing we’ll both be asleep rolled up together after.” She stood, shivering as his warm palm moved over her back and off her skin. “Let’s go.”

Inside the front door, she waited while Hunt locked his truck, dropped his bag on the sofa, checked the security system, and subdued the only light on.

“Food?”

“No. You.” He held out a hand.

Absences left a distance between them, but if they kept moving and put easy routines in place, they would manage at some point to reconnect.

The nightlights in the two plugins lit the way, and she’d left the bedside reading lamp aglow in their room.

Hunt stopped in the doorway and checked out the changes. “New lamps?”

“Yeah, they came yesterday.” These were simple arcs of silver metal with white shades – benign and functional yet blending with the blue and white design of the room.

She stepped to the bed and kicked off her shoes.

Taking the lamp remote, she adjusted the high light to the low glow. “I’m not in the mood for a spotlight.”

Hunt grinned. “You read my mind.” He sat on the side of the bed to take off his shoes and socks, an act she’d watch him do many, many times, yet the movements caused a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. If one counted all the time Hunt was gone, they were practically still honeymooning.

“Cait, come here.” Hunt held out a hand again. “You’re spinning.”

She scurried to him, desperate to get past her brush with nerves. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips. “I’m glad you’re home.”

She bit back the need to say more. Details of his operational life could help her advise him, help her see where he was headed. But she’d promised to leave the future in his hands, and it chafed. Leaning in, she kissed him, trying to get the thrill of homecoming back.

Spark.

It was always there.

Hunt didn’t let her lead or wallow. He lay back and pulled her on top of him. She liked being against his skin and sighed, but he wasn’t naked enough. She rose and released his belt buckle, coaxing him out of his jeans.

Her clothes hit the floor alongside his. “This is much better.”

He avidly studied her naked form, the spark in his eyes intoxicating. He tugged on her hand, and she fell on top of him again.

He removed the hair tie from her hair and stroked his fingers through the long tresses. “I love your hair.”

She could have done her own touching, but she stared, enamored with the molten expression in his green eyes and the gentleness of the sweet kiss he pressed to her mouth.

“Mine,” he whispered.

‘Always,” she promised. Heart skipping into a rapid beat, she melted.

Sensing her surrender, he feasted on her mouth and skin and breasts.

He settled to an excruciatingly slow pace tasting every inch.

He cradled her on the bed, in exactly the right position to protect her long-ago damaged shoulder, and used his mouth and tongue to seduce, causing a slow burn across her senses.

Using his strength, he lifted them to sitting and helped her settle across his lap.

His mouth skimmed her neck, slid along her collarbone, and kissed her nipples.

Cait grabbed a wispy breath. He continued along her side, warm mouth pausing at each curve while his fingers traced over her hip and to her exposed core, causing a riot she did not try to quell.

“Teasing is not nice, Hunter.” She leaned and nipped at his ear and roamed her eager hands over his muscled shoulders and down his arms. She usually examined him for scratches and bruises so she could kiss them all, but she skipped the routine tonight.

He was on a mission to reduce her to a puddle of heat, and all she could do was bask in the attention.

He groaned as she tasted the dip in his collar bone but kept his lower body away from where she expected him.

“Not teasing. Enjoying. Been thinking about this for days.”

She skimmed his nipples with her fingers, pleased when he groped to stop her. “You’re not supposed to focus on family when you’re in the field,” she whispered.

“I did anyway.” He lapsed into silence and amped up the seduction.

He lay back and, with intense concentration, rubbed and shaped her breasts.

She fell in love with his hands on her body all over again.

His mouth could coax out secrets and sins.

She tucked her legs against his sides and wiggled until his hardness was pressed against her, assuaging the ache, but stirring a hot need.

Leaning to him, she sighed into his kiss.

She bit his lower lip, then coaxed his tongue to play.

He met hers with a thrust of urgency layered with skill.

With her on top, his hands had full access to claim any part he wanted.

His fingers settled between her legs, rubbing the tender flesh before he slipped inside her.

Slow, intense heat built until he made her beg for a faster rhythm, only he stayed with a slow, steady beat, making every part of her tingle and burn. “I want under you, Hunt.”

He put action to her request. He rolled on their king size bed without separating from her. His weight settled on her. His hard thrusts connected them deep inside her soul.

Her. Him. Together. These moments lived in her dreams.

Moaning, she hit the edge and let the flash of ecstasy spread from skin to heart.

Wrapping her legs around him so he couldn’t move, she closed her eyes on a deep sigh.

He collapsed, breath caught in his own release. “Jesus, Cait,” he gasped. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Welcome home.” His weight on top of hers soothed.

He reached to turn out the lights and held her close until sleep came.

§§§§§§§§§§

?When Backup Shows Up ?

Hunt tightened his shoelaces and silenced his personal phone.

Cait remained asleep when he kissed her forehead and slipped out.

Just as well. He could see the questions in her eyes, but he had no answers he could give her.

The woman saw too far inside him, and he wasn’t ready for an inspection.

Stemmons’s injury was rubbing him raw, and he needed to sort out the reasons for himself.

The sun hadn’t yet spilled its red and orange across the horizon. This stretch of beach suited him: quiet, smooth sand, ebbing tide, and training classes elsewhere on base.

He’d woken in the pitch-dark lull of early morning with Cait draped on top of him. The temptation to roll her beneath him was strong, but sex wouldn’t cure what haunted him. He needed a ten-mile run to exorcise the sense of ambush ticking in his brain.

Years of missions, good, bad, and bloody, waited to replay.

Join the Navy and see counterterrorism ops across the globe.

That’s what the posters should say. Get schooled in transnational terrorism, migration crises, border disputes, and arms, drug, and human trafficking. See men die up close. It’ll be fun.

The cumulative effect of a gray-zone life shredded his healthy mind and triggered difficult memories and turbulent emotions in no particular order – just color, noise, blood, and ghosts.

Hunt closed his eyes and focused on his stretches, thankful Yeoman Ellsworth would manage the office for awhile. Ready to run, he groaned. Doogie and Brennan came jogging across the empty shore’s edge toward him, obviously in a warm-up, too.

“I tried to call you.” Doogie’s yell echoed through the morning air and carried his disgust.

“Phone is on silent.”

Brennan raised a brow but didn’t respond.

When they stopped in front of him, he stared at one man then the other. “I needed a minute.”

“Maybe we needed a minute, too. How about we run and not talk?” Doogie’s strident tone surprised him. He was the calm, centered right hand. If he needed a minute, they were all in trouble.

“Stemmons?”

“Not doing so well. Infection.” Brennan’s bland tone matched his expressionless face.

“I checked last night. When did this happen?”

“Overnight.”

Hunt hated to ask, but a good commander didn’t ignore evidence. “Did either of you sleep?”

Doogie snorted. “Did you?”

“Some.”

Doogie elbowed Brennan. “Wife.”

Brennan nodded, knowingly.

Hunt glanced at the sky, the ocean smells rolling over him. “Didn’t last long. She needed rest, and I was awake. Left her in a quiet house.”

Doogie stretched his legs. “Jack and I have been hanging, comparing mothers, and playing cards.”

“Cait talked to your mama while you were gone. She told Cait she’s better.”

Doogie skeptic came out. “Wish I believed her.”

“If she’s fudging the truth, Doc will figure it out.”

“There is that.”

“What’s your issue, Jack?”

Brennan’s face twisted. “My brain won’t shut off. I’ve reviewed our mission planning, scrolled through intel, and watched the replays of the mission more than is probably healthy.”

“Conclusion?” Hunt reveled in the night with his wife even more. He needed those details in a loop in his brain like he needed a shrink.

Doogie offered an explanation when Jack didn’t. “Shit happens.”

Hunt made a face and repeated what he and Cait often told each other. “Sometimes you can do everything perfect and still lose.”

Defensive, Brennan finally spoke. “We didn’t lose.

Mission was a success.” He pointed between him and Doogie.

“We talked on the plane home. Consensus was they were security for the factory. Crappy security. They were in a group behind the building according to drone video and not patrolling. Could be they saw us and thought they’d catch us. ”

“What stopped them? The team was inside for twelve minutes.”

“Unknown,” Doogie answered. “Possibly waiting to determine what we were doing.”

Hunt stilled, musing. “That’s the basics of my report. Solid mission, solid intel, target destroyed. It’s our job to take the bullet. It’s how this works. Let’s run before I have to report to Commander Gregg.”

“I don’t like this outcome when the planning is solid,” Brennan groused.

Doogie slapped him on the back. “Time for another job then.”

The three began the long run in tandem, their pace matching in the first strides. Two miles and he still couldn’t settle. He should have rolled over and made love to Cait again. It had to be a better way to begin the day than this.

The only easy day was yesterday.