A couple’s future is under fire in New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Lindsay McKenna’s Shadow Warriors miniseries

When her Black Hawk helicopter is shot down in Afghanistan, Army medevac pilot Sarah Benson does what she must to survive. Hiding by day and hiking through the mountains by night, Sarah manages to save a mother and daughter before being taken captive. Even then she fights. She has to get back to the base—and to the man she loves.

Once Ethan Quinn learns that Sarah has survived the crash, he refuses to stop until he finds her, though the battle-hardened Navy SEAL knows the odds are against him. For him, it’s more than a matter of courage—it’s their future he is fighting for.

Ethan thought of Sarah. Where was she? How was she?

She could be dead and no one would know. He bowed his head, struggling to contain his anxiety. Ethan had felt the almost telepathic link between them. And it had only strengthened over the time they spent together. Two hearts, one soul. Bound to one another. Bound for eternity. He wiped his mouth, his eyes glittering on the cave entrance fifty feet in front of them. If Sarah died, Ethan would die an internal death. No other woman would ever replace Sarah. Not ever.

Sarah, we’re coming for you. Just know that. I love you so damn much I hurt. Just hang on. We’re coming in….

Dear Reader,

Degree of Risk, sequel to Risk Taker (Mills and Boon Romantic Suspense, February 2014), continues the powerful love story of Chief Warrant Officer 4 Sarah Benson and U.S. Navy SEAL Ethan Quinn. I love sequels, and it’s rare that I write them. They can only come about when the plot is complex, the characters deep and sympathetic.

Creating this two-book story was a must because the characters were, to me as a writer, sympathetic, heroic and warriors who did not back down in the face of insurmountable odds. And I couldn’t have done it without three men who are in my life almost constantly on these two books. For all things SEAL, I’m indebted to Chief Michael Jaco, U.S. Navy SEAL (retired). He has given me unclassified information on everything SEAL so I could make all of these heroic warriors you find in these pages as factual and real as possible. Chief Jaco has been of enormous help, and you can read his amazing and inspiring book, The Intuitive Warrior, at www.michaeljaco.com.

For all things helicopter-flight related, I turned to my U.S. Air Force helicopter pilot consultant, Bill Marcontell, Captain, USAF (retired), who flew Search and Rescue helicopters for the 38th ARRS in Southeast Asia in 1966–67. He helped me make the helo scenes accurate and breathtaking. Bill, your kindness, sense of humor and heart make it a joy to work with you. Thank you for your patience and humor in putting up with a writer while sharing your immense expertise.

Near the end of this book, there is a line of poetry written by Darius Gottlieb, poet extraordinaire, who was kind enough to allow me permission to use “A Love Poem to Sarah by Ethan” in this novel. I am in awe of your imagination and creativity.

I hope you enjoy Degree of Risk as much as I did creating it. Love always finds a way….

Connect with me at www.lindsaymckenna.com.

Lindsay McKenna

Degree of Risk

Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LINDSAY McKENNA

is proud to have served her country in the U.S. Navy as an aerographer’s mate third class—also known as a weather forecaster. She was a pioneer in the military romance subgenre and loves to combine heart-pounding action with soulful and poignant romance. True to her military roots, she is the originator of the long-running and reader-favorite Morgan’s Mercenaries series. She does extensive hands-on research, including flying in aircraft such as a P3-B Orion sub-hunter and a B-52 bomber. She was the first romance writer to sign her books in the Pentagon bookstore. Today, she has created a new military romantic suspense series, Shadow Warriors, which features romantic and action-packed tales about U.S. Navy SEALs. Visit her online at

www.lindsaymckenna.com

www.twitter.com/lindsaymckenna

www.facebook.com/eileen.nauman

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To Chief Michael Jaco, U.S. Navy SEAL (retired), thank you for all unclassified SEAL info you’ve imparted to me. The Intuitive Warrior by Michael Jaco, www.michaeljaco.com.

To Bill Marcontell, Captain, USAF (retired), who flew Search and Rescue helicopters for the 38th ARRS in Southeast Asia in 1966–67. Thank you for information involving anything and everything that has to do with helicopters, their flight and their issues.

To Darius Gottlieb, poet extraordinaire, who was kind enough to allow me permission to use “As Long As I Breathe, I Will Seek the Diamond of Your Heart” and “A Love Poem to Sarah by Ethan” in this novel. Love Poems and Other Elixirs by Darius Gottlieb, www.poetphotos.com.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Excerpt

Chapter 1

“We’re going in hot,” Chief Warrant Officer Sarah Benson warned her two combat medics and air crew chief, who sat in the back of her Black Hawk medevac helicopter. Up ahead in dusk light, Sarah could see explosions caused by RPGs, rocket propelled grenades, fired by the Taliban into the Army forward operating base. Her heart rate picked up, her Nomex-gloved hands steady on the cyclic and collective of the helicopter. She used the rudders beneath her flight boots to maneuver it downward. This was a nine-line flight. Men on the ground were wounded and critical.

“This is going to be dicey,” Pascal, the medic, warned via the ICS, inter-cabin radio system. Evans, the other medic in the rear of the cabin, nodded.

Sarah snorted. “What else is new?” Her whole focus was on the landing. The FOB, forward operating base, was on a hill at eighty-five hundred feet. It protected one hundred Army soldiers. With the FOB three miles from the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, this was one of the most dangerous areas to fly in. Pascal wasn’t happy to hear they would be picking up two wounded soldiers instead of the original one. By the time they’d left Camp Bravo, thirty miles inside the Afghan border, the vicious firefight had escalated and more soldiers were wounded.

“Dammit,” Roger Tait, her copilot griped, “this firefight’s heating up! Look at those RPGs being lobbed into that base!”

Sarah saw it. “Never fails,” she muttered to herself, keeping her focus on the several green chem lights where they were to touch down. They were landing on the “safe” side of the FOB. If there was such a thing as any safe place during a firefight. The dusk was lit up with red tracers from the FOB, the Army trying to knock back an unknown Taliban force climbing the hill toward them.

Watching the ground coming up, Sarah knew it was Tait’s job to work the overhead twin throttles as they were landing, plus watch the whirling blades of the Black Hawk to make sure they wouldn’t strike anything. He also had the responsibility, once they landed, to keep the throttles at just this side of takeoff speed.

“Eyes on the ground, Tait,” she told him quietly.

“On it.”

Dusk was a particular visual hell for pilots. It wasn’t dark enough to wear NVGs, night-vision goggles, and it wasn’t light enough to clearly see the surrounding ground where they were going to land. Worse, the Hindu Kush mountains of Afghanistan were nothing but rocks and more rocks. The blades would be whirling at over a hundred miles an hour upon landing, and that force of wind would kick up dirt, stone and brush in every direction and give it wings to fly. Sarah always had to worry a pebble would get hurled up into the air, lodge into the Jesus nut or rotor assembly, which held the blades to the top of the bird, and then shatter the ball bearings. If that happened, the rotor assembly would explode. So no matter how much Tait strained looking out his side of the bird, he wasn’t going to get the whole picture. The soldier on comms on the ground bringing them in, might not be trained to help them land, either. Rocks were a real problem. An RPG landed fifty feet away from the landing zone.

Evans cursed, flinching, throwing up his hands in front of his face.

Sarah flinched, too, but kept her focus. Sweat was beginning to run down the inside of her flight suit, trickling over her ribs. Her mouth was compressed, her eyes narrowed on the ground coming up. The nearby explosion lifted rock and dirt. A pressure wave slammed into them, rocking the Black Hawk. A cloud of dust rolled toward them, the blades instantly dissipating it. All she needed now was to make a brownout landing. The shaking and shuddering of the Black Hawk increased as she slowed it and brought it in, all three tires touching the earth simultaneously.

“We’re down,” Sarah announced to her medics in the back.

Pascal instantly slid open the door. He and Evans leaped out, running hell-bent-for-leather toward the comms soldier. Now there were three wounded men nearby, either sitting up or lying unconscious.

“Keep watch,” Sarah warned Tait. “Taliban can sneak up on us, on our six.” Plus the Army soldier helping the medics was too busy helping to carry the wounded to really be of help watching for the enemy. Sweat popped out on Sarah’s upper lip. Lifting her glove, she quickly wiped it away. The red tracers fired from the FOB looked like fireflies winking in the dusk. Some were going down the hill, fired by Army soldiers. The rest were coming from the Taliban fighting their way up the hill. It looked like the Fourth of July in early August.

The running back and forth beneath the blades took a toll on her struggling medics. The eighty-mile-an-hour wind created by the whirling blades blasted the men bringing the wounded on board. Pascal, who was thirty years old and had plenty of tours on medevacs, knew speed was essential. The longer they stayed on the ground, the greater a target they became for the Taliban. Sarah twisted around, watching the wounded Army soldiers starting to crowd into the rear of the bird. There was blood spilling across the deck. The metallic smell filled the entire cabin. It always made her gut clench. She fought the urge to vomit and turned forward.

Three bullets smashed into the Plexiglas on her side of the bird. She jerked a look to the right. Down below on the slope, she saw six Taliban racing up and firing at them. Son of a bitch!

“Tait, get your pistol out! We have tangos at four o’clock! Waste ’em!”

Tait quickly unstrapped from his harness, pulling the .45 out of his shoulder holster. He squeezed between the seats and lodged himself between the back of her seat and the opened door. Taking both hands, he began to fire systematically at the charging Taliban.

Hurry! Hurry! Sarah wanted to scream at Pascal, who was getting the last man up to his feet. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Tait take out two of the Taliban climbing the hill toward them. AK-47 bullets raked the Black Hawk, the pinging sound echoing within the cabin. The wounded men inside were trying to hide or crawl away from the door, knowing they were targets, as well.

The thumping of the blades matched the beat of her pounding heart. Pascal dragged the third man on board.

“Shut that door, Tait!” she snapped, hands gripping the cyclic and collective more firmly. She notched up the speed on the fuel throttles overhead, the blades whirling faster and faster.

“Door secured,” Tait gasped, pushing to his feet and squeezing back into the cockpit. He shoved the .45 back into the holster, grabbing his harness as he fell into the copilot’s left-hand seat. Instantly, his gloved hands reached for the throttles overhead between the seats.

“Lift off!” Sarah growled over the intercom. She could feel the chaos in the rear, behind them. Pascal and Evans had three men to triage—the two worst cases would be put on the litters attached to the bulkhead. The Black Hawk’s two turbine engines thundered as it lifted it off. Sarah couldn’t head down slope to pick up air and speed this time. The pinging sounds of bullets striking the bird continued. She wasn’t about to fly right over the Taliban since that presented too easy a target for them. Whipping the tail rotor a hundred and eighty degrees, she ordered Tait to push the engine to the max, lifting quickly and heading south over the narrow valley.

A valley presented a whole new set of dangers. Taliban hid in the mountainous slopes, ready to fire an RPG, bullets or, worse, loose a Stinger missile at them. The Black Hawk shuddered and groaned. Sarah knew they had a near-maximum weight load with everyone on aboard. Her gaze flicked over the instrument panel. She was watching engine temperature, afraid one of those AK-47 bullets might have hit something critical on one of the two fuel cells. Taliban knew where the Achilles’ heel of the Black Hawk was: the rotor assembly on top of the bird. They would throw an iron curtain of bullets at it, in hopes of destroying the assembly above the cabin. If they did, the medevac team was pretty much DOA.

“Chief Benson,” Pascal said, his voice tense, “can you spare Mr. Tait? We’ve got our hands full back here.”

“Roger that,” Sarah said, her voice cool and calm. “Tait?”

“I’m on it,” he said, unbuckling.

Sarah took the Black Hawk up into the darkening sky. The sun had gone down long ago. She pulled her NVGs on her helmet rail, settled them over her eyes and flicked them on. The entire cabin was dark and the two medics were also wearing their NVGs in order to treat the wounded.

She pushed the Black Hawk to top speed, one hundred and fifty knots. They needed to get to Bagram hospital on the base as soon as possible. For just a moment, her mind fled to Ethan, her fiancé. Was he back at the SEAL HQ listening in on their transmissions? Her heart yearned to see him. Their schedules conflicted all the time because they were at an FOB, in the thick of daily combat.

* * *

Ethan Quinn sat in the ready room of SEAL HQ along with Master Chief Gil Hunter, listening in on Sarah’s transmissions. He tried to appear cool and casual, but hell, it was impossible. Getting up, he moved around, wiping his damp palms against the sides of his camos. It had been Hunter who got a hold of him and told him Sarah was taking the mission. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

“She’s all right,” Hunter said.

Ethan grimaced. Hunter was the boss and manager of the SEAL platoon. At forty-five years old, the lean master chief had done and seen it all as a SEAL. The only people above him were the three officers, and they often deferred to him, anyway. “It’s hell listening,” Ethan mumbled, pushing the sweat off his brow. He felt as if he was in combat, the adrenaline leaking into his bloodstream as he heard Sarah’s helo taking enemy fire. Dammit! His heart hurt. His soul screamed out that he couldn’t lose Sarah. He’d just found her three months ago.

Hunter leaned back in his chair, observing the first class petty officer, one of their comms—communication SEALs—for the platoon. He looked at his watch. “She’ll fly those poor bastards into Bagram and turn around and come back here to Camp Bravo. Why don’t you meet her over at Ops? She’ll probably arrive around 2200.”

Ethan halted and looked out the door of the office. He heard his brother SEALs in the big room playing poker, the guffaws, the brutal teasing, their voices competing with one another. He gave Hunter a wry look. “This is hell. The woman I love is always in danger. And I get to sit and hear it blow-by-blow over the radio.”

Hunter nodded. “It’s going to happen more and more, Hawk. There are married couples at other FOBs right now. Not ideal, I agree with you. I’m glad my wife is back in the States with our three daughters, to tell you the truth.”

Snorting, Ethan muttered, “I hear you.” He wanted Sarah out of combat, but dammit, she had months before her squadron rotated back to Fort Rucker in Alabama. “I’m going for a walk,” he muttered. “I need to ramp down.” A restless breed, SEALs couldn’t sit still for more than ten minutes anyway.

Out of SEAL HQ, the Afghan night sky was a deepening cobalt, the shimmering stars like shards of scattered diamonds above. He could hear some Apache helos spooling up to take off, part of the all-female Black Jaguar Squadron. The smell of kerosene was always in the air, aviation fuel for the helos.

His heart ached in his chest and Ethan absently rubbed the area. At twenty-nine, he had found the woman he’d been looking for all his life. Sarah Benson was a take-no-prisoners medevac pilot with the squadron stationed here at the forward operating base composed mostly of black ops groups. And now she was in danger. Walking silently down an avenue of camouflage tents, he scowled.

In late August, the Hindu Kush mountains surrounding the FOB got very cold at night. Bravo sat at eight thousand feet, thirty miles from the Pakistan border. Ethan’s heart was finally easing its beating. Sarah had duty until 0800 tomorrow. He would meet her when she landed tonight. He wished they could have privacy but that wasn’t going to happen. It didn’t matter, Ethan was a SEAL and he was going to kiss the hell out of his woman once she was back out of harm’s way.

* * *

Sarah could hardly wait to get out of the Black Hawk after landing at Camp Bravo. Her crew and copilot had already left. God, the coppery odor of the blood was more than she could handle. The deck had been slippery with blood after they’d landed at Bagram, and they’d taken a hose, trying to wash it out of the helo. But it was never really all gone. She exited the Black Hawk, pulled off her helmet and stuffed it in her helmet bag. Pushing her fingers through her loose, black hair, she quickly stepped away, the cloying scent of blood too much. The night was black, the wind cold and gusting from the west. And, oh, God, she was going to throw up.

Ethan walked silently out of the shadows of the Ops building as he saw Sarah leap out of the Black Hawk. She was in her flight uniform, helmet bag in one hand. He could barely see her since there were no lights on the FOB at night; they would draw Taliban RPGs or mortars. Or both. He hurried out onto the tarmac, heading her direction. She suddenly dropped her helmet bag, bent over and vomited.

Ethan quickly jogged up to her. Sarah was leaning over, hands jammed against her bent knees, head down. He could hear her rasping breath as he drew close.

“Sarah?” Ethan halted and put his hand on her back. “What’s wrong?” He couldn’t see her face, the curtain of her shoulder-length hair hiding her features from him.

Groaning, Sarah managed, “It’s the blood...God...I can’t stand that smell...” She began to dry heave again, wrapping her arms against her stomach.

Damn it. Ethan moved next to her, one hand against her sweaty brow, the other around her waist to steady her. She gagged and choked, wearily leaning against his solid frame when the second wave was finished. His heart twisted in his chest. Sarah was so damned sensitive in some ways, yet absolutely fearless when it came to flying her medevac helicopter in to rescue wounded soldiers.

“It’s okay, angel. Okay,” he rasped, his voice unsteady. Hell, it wasn’t! He’d never seen Sarah in this condition before. He didn’t know the stench of blood affected her like this. She trembled and he could feel her knees going weak.

For her part, Sarah felt embarrassed. She was grateful for Ethan, and his hand on her brow comforted her. His strong body supported her when she really needed it. Finally she spat and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. Shaking, she felt suddenly chilled. The cold night air was fresh compared to what she’d had to fly back here with. “I’m sorry...” she croaked.

“Don’t be,” Ethan growled, handing her a green cotton handkerchief.

Sarah wiped her mouth and blew her nose.

“Here,” he whispered, pressing an opened bottle of water into her other hand as she slowly straightened up.

Sarah nodded and slugged some of the deliciously cold water into her mouth and spat it out twice. The third time she drank deeply. Sarah felt Ethan’s strong, steadying arm around her waist as she slowly straightened. Her knees felt wonky and she fought to get her balance. Wiping her watering eyes with her shaking fingers, she looked up into his worried, shadowed face.

“Bad night,” Sarah managed. Ethan picked up her helmet bag and kneeboard and urged her to slowly start walking toward Ops. She handed him the handkerchief, kept the water and walked beside him. Right now Sarah didn’t care if her CO, Major Donaldson, saw Ethan holding her or not. Anyway, at this time of night, everyone who could sleep, was doing just that. Ops was completely deserted except for those forced to be there to stand watch.

“Master Chief Hunter called me to let me know you had a mission,” he told her. Sarah looked pale and Ethan wanted to do more to help her, but didn’t know what she might need. He’d never seen her react like this after coming off a medevac flight.

Sarah leaned wearily against his broad shoulder, soaking in Ethan’s quiet strength. “Master Chief Hunter has our back,” she said, her voice husky.

“It sounded like all hell was breaking loose when you landed at that FOB.”

Rolling her eyes, Sarah said, “We went from one wounded to three wounded. It was pretty bad, Ethan. One of my worse flights. Tait did good. We had Taliban skirting our position and he knelt at the door with his .45, firing at them. He took out two of them.”

“I don’t care about Tait,” he growled, giving her a small squeeze. “I’m concerned about you.” She nodded and he saw her slightly pouty lower lip tremble. Ethan knew she was experiencing an adrenaline crash.

“Just get me to a briefing room in Ops so I can get the damned report written up on this flight. I’m almost falling over, I’m so damned tired.”

He heard the exhaustion in Sarah’s voice. Opening the door to Ops, which was empty except for an Air Force sergeant at the flight desk, he took Sarah over to one of the three rooms used by pilots to write up and file their reports. The fluorescent light made her look wan, her skin stretched tight across her high cheekbones. Compressing his lips, he said, “Want some more water?”

“Yes. I didn’t get to drink as much water as I should have on the flight.” She wrinkled her nose and sat down. Ethan walked out of the small room, which had a long table and six chairs, into Ops to find her more cold, bottled water. There was a machine near the flight desk and he dropped in the coins and retrieved two of them.

Sarah looked up when Ethan returned and placed the bottle of water in front of her. He was a SEAL; she never heard him coming unless he wanted her to become aware of his presence. “Thanks,” she murmured, watching as he sat down opposite her, his hard face mirroring concern for her. Ethan’s gray eyes were large and wide-spaced. He couldn’t hide anything from her and he didn’t even try. That was what amazed Sarah. Her experience with men up to meeting Ethan had been negative. She was glad he was open and vulnerable with her. To the outside world, he was a badass SEAL, a communications specialist and shooter in the platoon. To her, he had stepped into her life and changed it forever. In the best of ways.

She put her pen aside and opened the bottle of water. The sides of the bottle were wet and beaded and felt good against her fingertips. As she drank, Sarah felt her stomach beginning to settle down and she placed the bottle on the table. “Did I tell you yet that I love you? And I’ve missed you terribly today?”

His hunterlike eyes narrowed upon her, which made her heart quicken. His chiseled mouth, a mouth she would never tire of kissing, drew into a one-cornered grin. Ethan was six feet tall, lean and ripped. The cammies he wore hid his magnificent body from the world, but Sarah knew his body intimately. He lifted his hand and slid it across the table to squeeze her fingers.

“This is a very special hell we live in,” he told her wryly, reluctantly releasing her. They could not be caught showing affection to one another. That was just how the military worked. “I’m sitting here wishing we could be at Emma and Khalid Shaheen’s villa near Kabul. Be in our suite for the night.” His voice turned gritty. “And if we were, I’d undress you, take you to the shower with me and make you forget all about that mission.”

Just one look into those stormy gray eyes of his and her body reacted to him. She’d never met a man who could arouse such a need for sex like he could. There was a sensual, smoldering look in his eyes. Sarah smiled a little, picking up the pen.

“Makes two of us, but idealism and dreams aren’t a priority when we’re in combat.”

Grunting, Ethan sat back in his chair, simply watching Sarah’s gleaming black hair, the ends softly turning up around her shoulders. Her incredible blue eyes, the color of calved glaciers, never ceased to make his heart start to pound and his body tighten hotly with desire for her. “I’m an optimist. We’re going to have to find some way to get over to Bagram.”

Their schedules always conflicted, adding another layer of frustration on Ethan. Sarah’s lips parted as she looked over at him. She had the most incredible mouth. The upper lip was full, but the lower lip was slightly pouty. He felt raw heat crawling through his lower body like some kind of wild animal howling to be released. There wasn’t any part of her that didn’t turn him on. Some of the color was coming back to her face, her blue eyes no longer so cloudy.

“I’m all for it.” And then Sarah gave him a wicked look. “I’m really wanting you in my bed, Ethan. Getting to see you and the guys at the chow hall, or when I can make it over to SEAL HQ, just isn’t cutting it.”

Her cheeks flushed, a glint coming to her eyes. They spoke in soft tones, knowing the rooms had thin walls. Neither wanted anyone to overhear. “Angel, this table is looking damned good.”

Laughing quietly, Sarah returned to writing her report. “You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t challenge a SEAL. Not only do they live for a challenge, they’re going to win at it.” Ethan gave her a dark, heated look.

Sarah grinned. In the SEALs, it always paid to be a winner and every one of them was competitive by nature. “I know that, but tonight, it feels really good to tease you. It’s better than what was happening an hour ago.” The mission continued to recede in her memory. Ethan had the power to make the world of combat go away and she was more than grateful.

“Then you can tease this animal. I want to see you smile. I want to see that look in your eyes.”

The idea was provocative, Sarah had to admit. And she enjoyed challenging Ethan because he got feral and SEAL-like. To anyone but her, he looked hard and dangerous, the kind of man you would never think twice about tangling with. He had that look now, the alpha male wolf wanted his mate. Well, she wanted him, too.

Ethan had coaxed her femininity to life. She was learning to appreciate her body, the pleasures involved with it and sharing it all with him. Right now Sarah felt her womb clench with that silent lust-filled look he gave her. She could feel her breasts tightening, her nipples hardening beneath the flight suit she wore.

“Even talking about it is a turn on,” she griped unhappily. “I just wish there was some place to go on Bravo where we could...well...you know?”

Ethan nodded. “I know....”

Even though she was twenty-nine years old, Sarah had had few partners until he’d crashed into her life. Her traumatic childhood, being sexually abused by one of her foster fathers, had fractured her soul. Somehow, and Ethan still couldn’t explain it, he’d been able to lift those walls she hidden behind, gain her trust and watch his fierce love for Sarah open her up like a beautiful flower who was in the process of blooming. An intense respect for Sarah’s courage, for her bravery to confront her horrific past, made Ethan love her even more. And to be able to sit here and tease her about sex was just another petal of herself opening. Sarah trusted him with herself, her heart and her incredibly loving body. Ethan knew she was a gift to him in every possible way.

“Where did you go?” Sarah teased, looking up from her report.

“What?”

“You left, Ethan. Where’d you go? I can see it in your eyes.”

Sheepishly grinning, he said, “Just thinking of how damned sweet it would be to undress you, lay that flight suit of yours on the table, pick you up, put you on top of it and...”

She shook her head, writing some more. “Is that all you ever think about?”

Ethan gave her a smug look. “Like you weren’t thinking about it, too?”

“Well, not here!”

He chuckled. “Angel, making love to you anywhere would be nirvana.”

The gritty tone of his voice rifled through Sarah, made her forget the horrors of the mission. Ethan had that effect on her. No matter how bad her day or night went, he could pull her into his arms, and the sordid world went away. “I’m still exploring possibilities, Quinn. I’m not sure a table is...well...very appealing.”

“Trust me, you don’t know what you’re missing by not using a table.”

Sarah sighed. “I’m such a neophyte.”

“You’re innocent,” Ethan drawled good-naturedly, “but I’m enjoying showing you all the ways we can love one another.”

Sarah snorted and scowled. “I’m hardly innocent!”

Ethan grinned. “Innocence is not age determined. And there’s nothing wrong with being that way, Sarah. I like exploring you, showing you about your own, beautiful body, sharing all of that with you.” And the few times they had been able to be together, to love one another, Ethan would lie awake after they made love and as Sarah slept, simply watch her in his arms, her innocence so much a part of her.

Looking around the room, Sarah growled, “The way I feel right now, Ethan, even this table is starting to look good to me.” His eyes became stormy gray as if he were considering it. “The problem is...well...you know,” and she shook her head, backing off from her bold statement.

“Like I said,” he admitted, “we live in a very special hell of ‘look but don’t touch.’” Except when Emma or Khalid invited them to stay overnight at their villa. As a military couple, they understood what it was like to be in love and have no privacy. Ethan was grateful for their consideration toward him and Sarah.

Signing off on the report, Sarah muttered, “There. I’ll push this under Major Donaldson’s door and be done with it.” She took another drink of water and stood up.

Sarah loved looking at Ethan. There was a feeling of coiled tension around him, along with the lust burning in his eyes, for her alone. Sarah was still getting used to it all. “I need a shower,” she griped. The women’s showers were in the center of the camp, a small brick building.

“I’ll take you over and play guard dog,” Ethan said, standing. He walked over to the door and locked it. Turning around, he wrapped her in his arms.

“The least we’re getting out of this is a kiss,” he whispered against her lips, hauling her tightly against him. Moving his mouth softly across Sarah’s lips, he heard a delicious moan rise in her slender throat. Her luscious body, filled with curves and softness, melted against his harder angles. She tasted of clean water, her lips opening eagerly, her hands sliding around his neck, straining to get as close as she could to him.

Ethan’s nostrils flared as he inhaled her unique, womanly scent. It was sweet and drove him wild with hunger. The silk of her hair tickled his jaw as he brushed his mouth across her lips, welcoming Sarah home. Welcoming her back to him. He captured her face with his long, spare fingers and, as he eased from her mouth, saw her cheeks flush. Sarah’s drowsy blue eyes opened, and Ethan felt his soul melting into hers. Her breath was as shallow and uneven as his. He tunneled his fingers through her soft, silky black hair, watched her lashes fall closed beneath the massaging pleasure of his fingertips. The move exposed her slender neck and he leaned over, tasting her flesh, hearing those soft, pleasurable sounds vibrate in her throat, pressing her body more insistently against his. Sarah smelled good, tasted good.

Releasing her hair, Ethan caressed her lips, opening them, moving his tongue inside, needing to feel her heat, that fire he knew that smoldered so hotly within her. A desperate mewl came from her as he touched her tongue. He was in such trouble, deep trouble, if he didn’t stop now. Ethan was so damned hard, he ached.

He drew his mouth from hers, sliding his hand down her long, supple spine, caressing her hip, bringing her tight against him, to feel his erection. “Dammit,” he breathed roughly against her temple, kissing her, feeling her hair tickle his face, “I’d give my right arm to have somewhere to make love to you, Sarah.” Ethan knew she’d never consent to use that table. They were too exposed to someone walking in on them. He wasn’t ever going to put her into that position.

Sarah felt his frustration. “Let’s look at our schedules again.”

His large hand splayed out across her hips, his hardness pressing deep into her belly, making her contract. Her breathing was uneven as she felt his kisses from her temple to her cheek. This time Ethan’s mouth curved powerfully against hers, a man claiming his woman. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to be loved. To finally belong to someone who cherished her as Ethan did.

Tearing his mouth from hers, his eyes glinting with raw lust, Ethan muttered, “You think your flight schedule’s changed since the last time we looked at it?”

Sarah managed a whispery laugh. “No, but maybe if we look at it long enough, it might magically change?”

How Ethan wished. Her CO, Major Donaldson, was giving Sarah fewer days off than the male pilots in her squadron. Not only that, he was assigning her more standby time. That meant she was on duty, had a helicopter at her disposal for anyone who needed it and her services during that twenty-four-hour cycle.

“Tell you what. I’m going to use a little SEAL magic and see if we can’t get a day off together.”

Sarah sighed and drowned in his narrowed gray eyes. “Uh-oh,” she whispered, a grin tugging at her mouth as she stepped out of his arms. “Winners win and losers lose.” It was another SEAL saying, and judging by the feral look on Ethan’s face, he wasn’t going to lose this one.

Chapter 2

Major Tom Donaldson sat in his squadron office at Ops, going over the flight reports from the pilots in his medevac squadron. When he looked up, he jerked his head, surprised. Master Chief Gil Hunter from the SEALs stood in the open doorway to his office. Scowling, he muttered, “The least you could do is announce yourself.” The son of a bitch.

“We never announce when we’re coming,” Hunter growled. He was dressed in SEAL cammies, a SIG Sauer pistol in a drop holster on his right thigh. He was six feet three inches in height and filled the small, cramped office. In his left hand, he carried a file.

Donaldson eyed him nervously. Ops was busy midafternoon. The helos were winding up outside, some Apache combat helos and some Chinooks. “What do you need?” he snapped, uneasy. The last time this SEAL pushed his weight around, it was because of that bitch, Sarah Benson. He’d never wanted her in his squadron because she was a risk taker, and he had a budget to keep. The Black Hawk she flew inevitably had bullet-hole damage or worse when she returned from a mission. She always cost him money.

Just because Benson was engaged to a SEAL, the master chief who ran the platoon had made it his business to lean on Donaldson. A month ago, the master chief had come to see him, closed the door and they’d had a little heart-to-heart chat. Donaldson knew Hunter was friends with Army Colonel Koch, his immediate superior. And Hunter told him to order his male pilots to stop harassing Benson. Or else. So, he ordered them to stop. But that didn’t mean Donaldson wasn’t going to get even with her.

Hunter turned and closed the door and then sat down in front of Donaldson’s desk. “I’m busy, dammit. What the hell do you want?” Donaldson saw the man’s green eyes glitter. Hunter reminded him of a wolf stalking his victim. Him.

“First,” Hunter murmured, keeping his voice pleasant, “I want to thank you for seeing that the harassment of Chief Warrant Officer Benson stopped.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Just a little thing,” Hunter murmured. He handed the papers to Donaldson from the file he carried. “Something doesn’t make sense to me, Major, and I was hoping you could help me understand it.” He pointed to the August flight schedule for the medevac pilots. “Chief Benson is getting more flights and more standby duty than any other pilot.” Hunter looked up and held Donaldson’s startled gaze. “Is there a reason for this?”

Glaring at Hunter, Donaldson said, “I didn’t notice that.”

“I did.”

The silence thickened in the office. Donaldson ground his teeth, staring at the August schedule. Dammit! He’d done the scheduling on purpose. “It’s just a minor mistake,” he muttered defiantly, throwing the papers on his desk, leaning back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

“Then fix it.”

The growl in Hunter’s voice left nothing to translate. Donaldson stared at him.

“You’re not going to tell me how to schedule,” he snarled. Hunter shrugged in response. Damn him!

“It might be good to revise the last week of that August schedule, Major.” Hunter gestured lazily toward the papers on his desk. “I think Chief Benson deserves two days off. Don’t you? To somewhat balance out the unfairness of her schedule the previous three weeks?”

Nostrils flaring, breathing unevenly, Donaldson took in the iciness in the master chief’s expression. His voice was neutral, nonthreatening, but by God, he could see the rage burning in his eyes. Donaldson gripped the arms of his chair. “I don’t suppose you have the dates of those two days in mind?”

Hunter’s mouth crooked. “I think Wednesday and Thursday of next week would be just fine if it works for you?”

“Done,” Donaldson snapped. “Now get the hell out of my office!”

Hunter rose slowly, unwinding like a snake, his face hard and unreadable. “Thank you, Major.” He turned, opened the door and left as quietly as he’d come.

* * *

When Sarah didn’t have duty, she always stayed in the small room the SEALs had painted and set up for her. They’d found her a real bed to sleep in, not a cot. Even better, there was air conditioning. At her tent, she, like everyone else, bunked in the heat of the night, making for miserable sleeping conditions. As she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she noticed a white envelope beneath the door. A soft smile came to her face. Ethan had written her a poem! Her heart expanded with fierce love for him. When she’d first met him, there would be a card on the plywood floor, just inside the flaps of her tent.

Standing, she picked it up. Her heart suffused with love for Ethan’s thoughtfulness. All her life, she’d had nothing but heartbreak when it came to men. Now, with him walking into her life, she was discovering for the first time what it was like to fall in love and be loved in return.

Sitting on the bed, Sarah opened the envelope. The blue parchment nearly matched the color of her eyes. She opened it up, her heart beating with anticipation. Ethan was teaching her there were many ways to love her. His poems always touched her heart. Her soul.

Do your attentions transform other fossils, causing them to flower

And swell from the desert where they were imprisoned far too long

Under increasingly desperate isolations of deceptive skin

Covering the swollen bloats of emotions which trapped the murderous melancholy of joy

In the soul’s bone and rheumatism of a frayed and staid body?

I assure you that my love is committed and constant

Love you,

Ethan

P.S. Breakfast at chow hall? 0700?

Smiling sleepily, Sarah sighed, pressing the poem against her heart. How did she ever get so lucky as to meet Ethan? His poetry was so beautiful to her, lifting her out of the stench of combat and hurling her into a world of light, hope and happiness. Sarah stood and pulled open the dresser drawer, setting it with the other envelopes.

Looking at her watch, Sarah realized she’d be going back on the schedule at 0800. It was now 0600. Good. She had time to get over to the women’s showers, pull on a clean flight suit and, best of all, meet Ethan for breakfast. So often, he was out on patrol, so this was a treat in itself.

As Sarah left her room, her shower articles in a bag, Trace Fulton, one of the SEAL combat medics, called to her from down the hall. “Hey, Sarah?”

“Morning, Trace,” she murmured, turning and smiling at him. Trace was one of Ethan’s best friends.

“Hey, Master Chief Hunter said to tell you, if I saw you before you left for duty, that he wanted five minutes of your time.” Trace hooked his finger over his broad shoulder. “He’s over at the espresso machine.”

Sarah nodded, turning on her booted foot and heading down to the big room. “Sure, no problem.” Worry automatically inserted itself into her world when it came to Gil Hunter. He was the head honcho of this SEAL platoon, ran it smoothly and quietly, but she was always aware of the mantle of power the man wore. Something had to be wrong.

As Sarah walked toward him, he was just getting his morning espresso in his large ceramic mug. “Morning, Sarah,” Hunter greeted her.

“Morning, Master Chief.”

“Walk with me?” he asked, heading toward his office. Sarah felt small beside Hunter. He was tall and powerfully built. She followed him into his cramped office.

“Shut the door?” he asked as he sat down behind his desk. Sarah closed it and stood, waiting. “Have a seat,” Hunter invited, gesturing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. “You look like you think I’m going to bite you.” He grinned a little.

Sarah smiled sheepishly and sat down, placing her towel, washcloth and soap in her lap. “I guess I’m gun-shy, Master Chief. No insult meant to you.”

Hunter grunted, leaning back in his black leather chair. “None taken,” he quietly assured her. He picked up the August flight schedule and handed it to her. “I noticed some discrepancies in Major Donaldson’s August schedule for you, Sarah.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “So did I.”

“Why didn’t you say something to me after you saw it?” Hunter asked softly.

“Well...er...you’re not my CO. You’re a SEAL. I’m in a medevac squadron.” Flustered, she could see a glint in Hunter’s green eyes. He was so stoically SEAL: you never knew what they were thinking unless they wanted you to.

“Mmm, rightly so,” Hunter murmured, moving his index finger across his upper lip. “You’re getting scheduled for flight twenty percent more often than the rest of the pilots each month. Seeing that, wouldn’t you take that discrepancy up with Major Donaldson?”

Coloring fiercely, Sarah couldn’t hold his warm gaze. Nervously, she picked at a thread on the towel in her lap. “I’m tired of fighting him, if you want the truth, Master Chief.”

“Look,” he murmured, keeping his voice neutral, “what he’s done isn’t correct. We both know that.”

Sarah shrugged. “Yes, I know that.” She lifted her chin and held his stare. “I love what I do, Master Chief. Maybe if I didn’t want to save lives so badly, I would have taken it up with him.”

“You live to save,” Hunter agreed, giving her a kind look. “One of the responsibilities I’m charged with as the master chief is the mental and emotional health of my men, Sarah. You’re engaged to Ethan. And so, by proxy, you become my responsibility, too. You’re a part of our team now, Sarah. And you know we have your back.”

“I know you do,” she said, suddenly emotional. “Frankly, I think you have enough to do without being concerned about me, too.”

“Well, I want to be involved, Sarah. You’re a gutsy pilot and you aren’t afraid to put yourself on the line to do it. In SEAL eyes, you rock,” he said, smiling.

The man couldn’t undo her past, erase the tragic memories of her younger life, but he was showing her that she could stand up for herself when injustices were done to her in the present. That was the job of a master chief, the health and welfare of the men under his wing. His support of her touched her deeply.

“I brought this infraction to the attention of your CO,” he told her in a casual tone.

Instantly, Sarah jerked up, her stomach cold with fear.

“And Major Donaldson agrees that it was simply an overlooked mistake.”

Sarah sat frozen, adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. She knew the master chief was a man of action; that he did take care of his own. What had he done? And was Donaldson pissed off at her because of it? “Wh-what did you do?” The words came out a squeak from her, her hands gripping the toiletry items in her lap.

“Fixed it,” Hunter said simply. “And don’t worry, the major isn’t going to blame you for this. Okay?”

But the terror she felt was real. Sarah had reason to worry, having been under Donaldson’s command for two years. She knew he didn’t like her and took every opportunity to try to drive her out of his squadron. There were a lot of ways for a CO to do that, too.

Wiping her brow, Sarah whispered, “Okay, if you say so.”

“Have some faith in men who respect you, Sarah.”

Her mouth quirked, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right, Master Chief. I need to stand up for myself more and stop rolling over.”

Hunter nodded. “Donaldson is giving you two days off to make up for the August scheduling error. And,” he murmured, a slight smile edging his mouth, “Ethan just happens to be ordered down to Bagram to pick up some pallet supplies for us on those two days.”

Sarah gulped. Her heart started to flutter with excitement in her chest. Two days with Ethan! She was sure that Emma and Khalid would allow them to stay at their villa. Tears came to her eyes; the master chief’s face was very readable. He had done this for them. She felt suddenly overwhelmed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t be crying, but she was deeply moved by Hunter’s kindness.

“Th-thank you, Master Chief. This is an incredible gift to us.” Her husky voice turned low with raw feelings. “You have no idea how much this means to us....”

Gil smiled a little. “I think I do, Sarah. Go get your shower. Ethan is meeting you at the chow hall at 0700. He wants to share this good news with you.” Sarah stood and so did he. As he walked around his desk, she set her shower items on the chair, turned and threw her arms around his broad shoulders, giving him a quick hug. It wasn’t military protocol in the least, but she didn’t care. Hunter patted her shoulder in a fatherly fashion. “You’re welcome,” he told her gruffly, no doubt touched by her vulnerability, the tears in her eyes. “Now, take off?”

Embarrassed, Sarah nodded. “Yes, Master Chief.”

Gil Hunter stood in the doorway of his office after she’d left. Rubbing his bearded jaw, he smiled to himself. He could see why Ethan was so damned in love with her. Sarah was like fragile sunlight piercing a man’s heart, gently touching his soul. He was glad Ethan had found her. Sarah was blooming beneath his care and love. And wasn’t that what real love was all about? Two people bringing out the best in one another?

* * *

Ethan could hardly sit still as Sarah found him in the chow hall, carrying her tray and sitting down opposite him. Happiness glimmered in her blue eyes. She smiled at him and he felt his heart open.

“That was a beautiful poem you wrote for me this morning,” she said, giving him a shy look. “Thank you.”

The chow hall was packed, the noise high. Luckily, Ethan had found the last table next to the wall and only a few guys were sitting at the other end of it. They could talk quietly and have a real conversation without others overhearing them.

“I wrote it for a reason,” Ethan admitted, catching her self-conscious gaze. Sarah’s hair was recently washed, the black strands still damp around her flushed features. It would dry in a hurry with the low humidity and high temperature at the FOB.

Sarah cut into her eggs. “I know,” and she told him about the master chief calling her into his office this morning.

Ethan grinned. “Two days, Sarah. We have two days together. I damn near fainted when Master Chief told me about it this morning.”

She spooned the eggs into her mouth, silently absorbing the elation in Ethan’s expression. “I need to call Emma and see if they are open to us coming over.”

“No need. I talked to Khalid already.” Ethan gave her a big grin. “He told us to come on down. He and Emma will be gone during that time, but he said we can have the run of their villa and to make ourselves at home.”

“God,” Sarah whispered, “this is like a dream come true, Ethan.” She clung to his heated gaze, his gray eyes going stormy with need. Her body clamored to be held by him, loved by him. “When I get done with this twenty-four-hour duty, we can take off for Bagram at 0800.”

Rubbing his hands together, he gave her a feral look. “And what do you want to do with that time?” He could hardly stand the anticipation. Sure, he wanted to make love with Sarah, but equally, he hungered for time and space with her. Ethan so badly wanted that downtime; it was a part of exploring, getting to know one another on deeper levels.

Sarah grinned between bites. “Let’s see? Sex? Sex and more sex?”

Ethan chuckled. “That’s a start.” Seeing the lust in her eyes was such a turn-on for him. He suspected Sarah was becoming aware that she could look at him a certain way and make him run hot. She was discovering her power as a woman and it made him ache even more for her.

“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Sarah murmured, buttering her whole wheat toast and then slathering it with blueberry jam.

Ethan finished up his bacon and reached for his stack of six pieces of toast. “I wish we were in San Diego,” he murmured. “I’d take you down to walk on the beach. We’d scuba dive off the kelp beds of La Jolla. I’d find us some abalone on the ocean bottom, bring them up and we’d cook them and some corn wrapped in foil on a grate at the beach. Then we’d watch the sunset, listen to the waves and just be in one another’s arms.”

“That sounds beautiful,” she whispered. “But no ocean here, Quinn. Just desert, mountains and rock.”

“I’m a dreamer when I’m around you,” Ethan confided, his voice gritty as he held her warm blue gaze. “You inspire me, Sarah. Maybe, in those two days I can show you just how much.” God knew, he wanted desperately to be there for Sarah, to continue to show her a man’s positive side. He wanted to give her happiness for the rest of his life. And he still couldn’t believe that she’d agreed to marry him.

Her body reacted to his growling, intimate words. “I’m in shock we’ll be together, Ethan.” Sarah shook her head.

“When you got off that mission, I was upset,” he admitted. He saw her lift her chin, her brows moving down. “Dammit, Sarah, I don’t want you heaving your guts out. It hurts me. It makes me feel like I can’t protect you.”

She heard the tightness in his voice. SEALs, she had discovered, were protectors in their own right. It was part of their ethos as warriors. They protected those they loved. Fiercely. Without apology. She’d already been on the receiving end of SEAL care via Ethan, his SEAL brothers and Master Chief Hunter. “Look,” she said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch his arm, “you can’t protect me all the time, Ethan.”

“I can damn well try,” he said, lips thinning, unhappy.

“I’m just overly sensitive to the smell of blood, that’s all.” Sarah shrugged. “Don’t you have something you’re sensitive about?”

“Yes, a woman or child being hurt by a man.”

His eyes went dark, his voice uneven. Sarah knew he was referring to her past when she was young and hadn’t been safeguarded by child protective services or the social workers. “I’ll be okay out there, Ethan.” Sarah knew how much he worried about her medevac missions. “I’ve managed nine years at this and so far, so good.”

“I just don’t have a way to protect my feelings where you’re concerned, angel.” And it was true. This was new to Ethan. How did he not worry about the woman he loved? Not imagine her being shot at and killed while sitting in that cockpit? Or her Black Hawk being blown up by a Taliban RPG? He knew all too well it could happen in a heartbeat.

“Oh, Ethan,” Sarah murmured softly, giving him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really didn’t. It’s just that our jobs are dangerous.”

“Are you able to protect yourself when I’m out on a patrol?” Ethan asked.

“Hell, no. If I’m not on duty, I go over to the ready room, listening to any transmissions you give to master chief. I get scared, Ethan. So damned scared that I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin sometimes because I know you and your team are in harm’s way.”

“How do you deal with it? I’d sure like to know because I haven’t been able to very well with you,” Ethan groused.

Sarah shared a pained look with him. “How can I protect myself against loving you, Ethan?” Right now she wished she was anywhere but here. To be alone with him. To hold him, to feel his strong arms holding her. He always made her feel safe and protected in his arms. “Maybe, these two days we have off, we’ll find some answers.” Maybe not. Love couldn’t be put into a box and shielded as much as he might want to do just that. Love was organic, it moved, it grew, it unfolded and it deepened between them. And there was no way Ethan had figured out yet how to protect Sarah because she held his heart and soul in her long, graceful flight hands.

Chapter 3

“We’re home,” Sarah whispered to Ethan as she stood in the living room of the villa. She watched him close and lock the front door. The housekeeper smiled, bowed and placed a note in her hand. She then left and went back to her room in another wing of the massive stone villa.

Ethan came silently up behind Sarah, sliding his arms around her waist. Sarah sighed and leaned back against him, her head resting against his shoulder. “Home. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” he rasped, kissing her hair.

“It does,” Sarah whispered, feeling a month’s worth of stress sloughing off her as Ethan pressed small kisses across her hair, her temple, and then began to nibble seductively at her ear. She lifted the note. “It’s from Emma and Khalid,” she whispered, her voice catching as his teeth caught and teased her earlobe. A zigzag of heat and sparks flew to her tightening breasts beneath her soft pink tank top. The man could turn her on like a light switch.

“Mmm,” he growled, sliding his hands to her hips and turning her around. Her eyes were drowsy with lust, no question. And when he surveyed her features, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips parted and that pouty lower lip calling to him, Ethan had to call on his patience. They had two days. He was damned if he was leaving the bed for very long in between bouts of loving Sarah, teaching her, allowing her to learn from him.

“We should at least read the note,” Sarah chided him, giving him a bad-girl look. She held it between them and read it. “Dear Ethan and Sarah. Make yourselves at home. The housekeeper will make all your meals. Just enjoy and be. Love, Emma and Khalid.”

“They are wonderful people,” Ethan said, taking the note and laying it on a sideboard in the huge dining room. “And we owe them plenty.”

“I told Emma that I’d fly with her on my days off if she needed a copilot,” Sarah said, admiring the way his black T-shirt spanned his incredibly powerful chest and broad shoulders. “That’s the least I can do. They’ve given us safe haven.”

Sarah allowed her fingers to trace his shoulders. Just watching the tightening of his mouth, the smoldering look burning in Ethan’s gray eyes, she felt her thighs shiver with anticipation.

“That’s fair,” Ethan murmured, holding her hands flat against his chest with his. Looking down into her eyes, he said, “You look like a gorgeous goddess come to earth in a tank top and jeans. Angel, you really fill them out in just the right way.” He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose.

His hands were large and covered hers completely. Ethan had such animal grace and charisma. SEALs even referred to themselves as animals. No mistake in that one.

“What do you want to do?” Sarah asked, looking at him through her dark lashes. She watched that beautifully shaped male mouth of his draw into a confident, predatory grin.

“This,” Ethan rasped, suddenly lifting her off her feet and into his arms.

Sarah gasped, caught off guard, quickly settling her arms around his neck. “You’re such a rogue, Quinn,” she muttered, loving him. He carried her as if she were weightless.

“Hey,” Ethan protested, turning down the hall toward their suite, “I’m just a poor man who has this sumptuous goddess visiting me so I have to carry her off to my cave and never let her go.”

Sarah relaxed fully in Ethan’s arms. “Well, this goddess is whipped. She’s happy to have her mere human steal her off to his abode.”

She knew Ethan loved the Greek myths and had read them as a child. His mother, who was an English teacher, had schooled her children to speak Latin and read myths and fables from around the world. She wondered if that was what enabled him to write such heart-stirring poetry.

Ethan nudged the door open with the toe of his sneaker and carried Sarah into the dimly lit suite. “Yeah, well, too bad if you’re tired. I’m not.” He laughed as he brought her over to the bed and set her down on the edge. Ethan turned and went over to the door, shut and locked it. The SEAL in him wanted no interruptions.

Pouting, Sarah watched him pull the T-shirt off, revealing his darkly haired chest. Her breath caught, witnessing the economical, graceful male motion of his body. “I think you’ve just inspired this goddess.” She gave him a wicked look. She watched Ethan drop the T-shirt, push his sneakers off his large feet. Her heart rate picked up as his long, powerful hands unsnapped his Levi’s and unzipped them. It was no secret he was fully erect. It excited her. She could feel herself clenching inwardly, starving to have Ethan within her. Where he belonged.

Ethan gazed down at her. He knelt down and slowly opened her thighs so he could come closer to her. “I think this goddess loves her human so much, that her other world will just dissolve as he makes love to her.” He glided his hands from her knees up across her curved thighs. The rough jean material didn’t stop Ethan from feeling her beautiful, long thighs suddenly tense with anticipation. Smiling into her eyes, those black lashes framing their incredible glacier-blue, he took her mouth gently. And as he did, he moved his hand between her thighs, cupping her, already feeling her heat, the fabric damp beneath his exploring fingers.

A small breath caught in Sarah’s throat. She reacted to how his hand moved and held her in place. Instantly fire ignited in her lower body as he possessed her mouth, tongue touching hers, teasing her. His fingers roved suggestively against her entrance. Sarah cried out, the intense need within her almost painful when he pressed his hand against the material.

“Easy, Sarah,” he rasped, guiding her down on the bed, lifting her legs. Sarah’s eyes were wide with raw heat. There was nothing more powerful to Ethan than her wanting him. He lay on the left side of her, stretching out his naked length next to her. Leaning over on his elbow, he could feel Sarah’s neediness, saw it in her eyes, the way her lips parted, her breath becoming uneven. “You are so sensitive,” he said, kissing the lids of her eyes, wanting to worship her, touch every part of her. “Your eyes are like the blue sky and your mouth,” he leaned down, curving his lips over hers, feeling the softness of her lower lip, “nectar of the gods...”

“Ethan...” Sarah groaned, turning onto her side, wanting to be closer to him.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” Sarah whispered hoarsely, sliding her hand across his chest, feeling his muscles leap beneath his taut flesh. “Now. Not later, Ethan.”

He laughed huskily. “My little goddess has teeth,” and he saw her give him a dark, challenging look.

“I’ll show you teeth if you don’t stop teasing me. I want you now, Ethan. Not half an hour from now.”

He grinned, applauding her spirit. This wasn’t the Sarah whom he’d bedded three months ago. He unsnapped her jeans and pulled the zipper down. “Now you’re getting frisky,” he warned her in a low voice. “I like a woman who’s a warrior in my bed.”

The words sunk into her, triggered Sarah and she noticed that gleam in his eyes, the hunger. Every time they had made love, he’d encouraged her to tell him what she wanted. How she wanted it. Ethan had always said she came first, she was in control. He’d loved her carefully, tenderly and gently. Well, the way her body felt today, like a volcano ready to explode, she didn’t want nice or tender this morning.

Sarah sat up, pushing off her leather shoes and wriggled her jeans off, letting them drop carelessly to the carpet. In one motion, the tank top fell to the floor. She came and knelt beside him, flattening her hands out on his chest, dressed in only a white bra and silky panties. He looked curious but not surprised, his mouth engaged in boyish delight over her change. “Okay, you really want to know how I feel?” she demanded.

Ethan skimmed his hands up her arms, holding her serious expression. “Tell me, Sarah. Tell me everything.”

He sat up, moved his hands around her torso and unhooked her bra, her beautiful breasts spilling out of the cups. Her mind shorted out as he dropped the bra to the floor, curved his hands around those sensitive globes.

“You don’t play fair!” Sarah choked, leaning into his hands, her entire body trembling violently as he moved his thumbs across her hard nipples. She began to melt as bolts of electricity shot from her breasts straight to her womb. Her mind started to dissolve.

“I’m a SEAL,” he rasped, leaning down, taking one beautiful nipple into his mouth, suckling her, feeling her tremble and cry out. “I like to win,” he murmured, lifting his head. “Now, what do you want me to do to you? I’m listening.”

Sarah could barely think, his roughened hands caressing her, the heat intensifying in her lower body. “I—” She gulped, forcing herself to think through the haze of sex overtaking her. “Ethan,” she said, holding his smiling gray eyes, “I won’t break, dammit! Stop treating me like I’m some priceless vase that will shatter if you touch it the wrong way.” Her voice broke. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” he growled, holding very still, holding her beautiful soft warm breasts in his palms.

Sarah felt herself unraveling with hunger so sharp, it almost pained her. “I’m positive, Ethan.” His expression was questioning, as if he weren’t sure. “You said I had the control. Okay, fine, I do. I’ll be the first one to tell you to stop or not do something. I have a mouth. I speak. So, stop worrying, will you?”

A slow grin came to his mouth. “I hear you, sweet one. Are you ready to ride?”

Confused, Sarah looked at him. “What?”

Ethan released her breasts and slid his hands downward to the band of her silky white panties. Easing them off her, he coaxed her, “Come on,” he said, spanning her waist. “Climb on top of me.”

Sarah trusted Ethan with her life. As he lay down on the bed, he positioned her so that her thighs rested on either side of his hips.

“Now,” he grated, “sink down on me. Take what you want. When you’re hungry like this, this is a hell of a fast way to get what you’re after.”

His dark words echoed like fire though her. She sank lower and instantly, her wet, aching core contacted his erection. Eyes shuttering closed, Sarah felt the heat and raw pleasure as her weight settled upon his length. Ethan’s powerful thighs tensed and he groaned. His hands remained loose on her hips, not forcing her to do anything.

Ethan looked into her half-closed eyes as she placed her hands against his chest. “Experiment. Move. See what feels best for you.”

What wasn’t a pleasure? He was so hard and she melted like sweet honey around him. The moment he settled his hands on her hips, pulling her down upon him a little more firmly, a cry erupted in surprise from her.

“Put you full weight down on me,” he growled, watching her cheeks flame pink as the pleasure fired through her body. “You can’t hurt me....” It was almost as if Ethan was so intoxicated by her he could barely put two words together.

That was all the coaxing she needed. Sarah leaned forward, her hands splayed out across his chest, the delicious sensations rippling through her core and leaving her gasping in surprise. Her fingers tunneled through the fine, dark hair across Ethan’s chest as she rocked back and forth, discovering where the most pleasure could be found. Her whole lower body throbbed, clenched, wanting even more. Ethan lifted his hips, moving slowly into her, widening her, causing her to cry out in whimpers of raw, primal rapture.

Her body accommodated, flexed as Ethan slowly began to thrust into her. Capturing her hips, he brought her firmly down upon him. Instantly her womb spasmed and she couldn’t take in a breath. He slid her against him faster and when Ethan lifted his hips, the downward pressure on her core splintered into a million exploding suns, undulating throughout her in wave after wave of ecstasy.

Sarah arched, a low, animal-like cry tearing out of her. She was a helpless prisoner to her hungry orgasm, clenching and unclenching, driving her to the edge of faintness. Sarah lost her mind, tumbling and falling into her awakened, famished body. She felt singed, like Icarus who had flown too close to the sun, exploding into flames and falling, falling, falling....

Ethan smiled as Sarah experienced the gift of release. She tightened around him, muscles squeezing him so damned tightly, he could barely control himself. Her body was flushed, her eyes tightly closed, her fingers digging deep into his chest. He felt tortured, so damn close to coming, wanting to surge into her, take her, but he waited until she began to collapse around him.

“Come here,” he said, gently taking Sarah and placing her on her back.

She was gasping for air, her chest heaving, trembling. Ethan gave her a very feral look, sliding his hand beneath her hips, pulling her up against him. Her eyes flew open. He thrust deeply into her. A wild moan tore out of her, the pleasure amping up within her like unexpected lightning.

Ethan felt her tightness around him, the sweetness of her body enclosing him, and he gave a guttural groan, feeling the searing edge of ecstasy stalking him. Gritting his teeth, he jerked and surged powerfully into the liquid fire of her body. Sweat coursed down his temples, his shoulders and chest damp as the release flowed out of him. His entire body felt paralyzed with fiery pleasure. Dimly, he heard Sarah cry out, gripping his thick shoulders, her hips bucking against him. He wished he had that kind of staying power and helped her prolong her pleasure until she finally collapsed beneath him, breaths tearing out of her mouth.

Lying across her, mindful of his weight, Ethan planted his elbows just above Sarah’s shoulders. Leaning down, he skimmed his mouth across her parted, panting lips. Sarah’s eyes barely opened, a burning turquoise-blue.

Ethan smiled faintly. “Damn, you’re an incredible goddess. And so hot and sweet...” He took her mouth, drawing her ragged breaths into him. Eventually Ethan removed himself, brought Sarah to his side and then wrapped his arms around her, tucking her against his body.

* * *

Sarah awoke sleepily. Her body still glowed in the aftermath. She became aware of Ethan curved protectively around her, one of his arms beneath her neck, the other across her waist. His breath was shallow, indicating he was sleeping. Sarah had no idea what time it was. The light peeking around the dark floor-to-ceiling drapes didn’t tell her anything. She didn’t want to move, warm and happy in Ethan’s arms. His moist breath feathered softly across her temple and brow. Closing her eyes, Sarah simply wanted to imprint the moment, the fierce love she held for him in her heart. Even in sleep, Ethan guarded her and shielded her. She didn’t know that a man could make her feel protected until Ethan had stepped into her life.

Sarah felt Ethan awaken, nothing sharp or jolting, rather as if coming out of a deep, luxurious sleep. He moved his hand to her belly, his long fingers splaying out across it. His breathing changed, became deeper and slower. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and met his sleepy gray eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she couldn’t resist, lifting herself to kiss him softly. For the next few moments they languished.

Groaning, Ethan turned on his back, drawing Sarah into his arms, her head coming to rest against his right shoulder. “I was dreaming I was making love to this incredible goddess. She had such full, beautiful breasts, nice widely curved hips, the kind a man can hold on to....”

She smiled and nestled against him, his flesh warm and hard against hers. “I like the dream,” she whispered, “I think I was in it.”

“Sarah, you were the main attraction.” He wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand. “God, you can drive a man insane with that body of yours.”

She laughed softly, moving her fingers through the silky hair across his chest. “Well, you certainly help me lose my mind, too.”

“We’re good together,” Ethan agreed.

Sarah nodded, happy just to have this quiet time with him. “I love you, Ethan....”

Her whispered words flowed through him like sunlight. “I love you, too, angel. I wanted to tell you that but damn, during lovemaking, you just steal my mind and I can’t think one word.”

“I never knew how good this could be,” she murmured.

“It will only get better,” Ethan promised, moving his hand across her shoulder. A shoulder that handled so much responsibility when she was in the air. Sarah was strong and it had helped her open up and finally trust the woman’s side of herself. Humbled, Ethan lifted his head and looked at the digital clock on the dresser. Groaning, he muttered, “It’s almost noon.” They’d arrived at 0900.

“We were both tired,” Sarah said, inhaling his masculine scent, the hot sunlight and the pine-scented soap he’d used to shower with earlier.

“Hungry?”

She grinned. “Not anymore.” Sarah felt his chest rumble with laughter, watching his mouth carelessly curve. Ethan’s face was strong, darkly tanned, and the beard did nothing but give him that air of dangerousness. When he slid a look toward her, she pouted and said, “Well, maybe we had dessert first. I am kind of hungry, for a goddess...”

* * *

They made beef sandwiches at 1300 after finally deciding they’d better get out of bed and get some protein. Sarah found a jar of butter pickles, Ethan found some chips. They ate at the long, oval dining room table. The housekeeper did not appear and Sarah was glad she respected their need to be alone. The villa almost felt as if they owned it and they were sitting down to enjoy a lunch with one another. Ethan discovered some beer in the fridge and opened two bottles to go with their scavenger lunch.

He sat at the end of the table, his plate on an orange place mat. Sara sat to his right. He watched her nibble on the pickle, her lips so damned beautiful. He wanted her to nibble on him like that. It didn’t get any better than this.

“What are your future plans?” Ethan asked, picking up another pickle, watching her.

“Hmm, well—” Sarah eyed him warmly “—to marry you.”

“When?”

There was a seriousness in his eyes. “When we get rotated back to the States.”

“Sounds wise.” He held her gaze. “My parents were asking me in an email about a week ago if you would mind if we got married at their ranch in Texas.”

“That sounds wonderful. I love rural country.” And then Sarah shrugged, faraway pain in her voice. “I don’t have a family, Ethan. You’re marrying a stray.”

His heart clenched in his chest. Every so often, the past would come bleeding through her present like a stain and make him wince inwardly. He remained still, saying nothing for a moment. “You’re not a stray,” he said gently, reaching out and placing his finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “My family will love you. I love you. You belong to me, Sarah. I belong to you. I don’t see any stray here, do you?” Ethan looked around him to prove the point after releasing her chin.

Her lips quirked as she finished off the last of her sandwich, famished. “You’re right. Sometimes...I get scared.”

“Of what?” God knew, Sarah had plenty to be frightened of. The ghosts from her past would have destroyed most people.

Sarah shrugged. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you, Ethan.” There, she’d finally admitted it. The terror of losing him was so huge for her, she couldn’t ignore it or hide from it.

Reaching out, Ethan grazed her cheek. “I’m not going to abandon you, Sarah. I’d never do that.” His voice lowered with emotion. “You’re the woman I want to wake up to every morning I draw a breath into my body. Your smile just makes my heart hammer with joy I’ve never felt before.”

His words seemed to drive out her fear, for now. “I’ve never been in love, Ethan. I never knew it could be like this. It’s like bright sunlight and I’m getting so used to it, love it so much, that I’m afraid something will come along and throw me back into that pitch darkness I lived in for so long.”

Ethan wiped off his hands with the linen napkin, pushed back his chair and stood up. “Come here,” he urged thickly, holding out his hand to her as he pulled the chair back for her.

He led Sarah over to the long L-shaped dark brown leather couch, sat her down with him and gathered her into his arms. She curled her legs beneath her, content to be held by him. “You’ve come such a long way alone, Sarah,” Ethan told her quietly, his lips against her hair. “And now that you’ve found me and I’ve found you, you’re afraid I’ll be taken or leave.”

Ethan pressed a kiss to her hair as she buried her face against his neck, her palm against his chest. “It’s okay to feel it. It’s normal. Hell, there isn’t a day goes by that I don’t feel fear of losing you. There’s so many ways it can happen.” Tears pricked the back of his eyes. Easing Sarah away, angling her so that he could look deeply into her eyes, he whispered, “You’re my soul mate. There will never be anyone else but you. And we’ve just got to have faith that we’ll make it through this deployment alive and well. We have so much to look forward to, Sarah. So much...”

Tears silently trailed down her cheeks. “I’ve just never felt like this Ethan. I feel like my heart is being gnawed away every time you go on patrol. I’m so damned scared, I’m ashamed of myself. I thought only teenage girls went through this kind of thing.”

Ethan laughed quietly and nudged some dark strands away from her temple. “Oh no, that’s reserved for everyone. It’s not age related—it’s love related. When you love someone, you automatically worry about them.” He caught her downcast look. “Okay?”

“I’m sorry for being such a whiner.”

He squeezed her. “You whine to me anytime you want. I like to hear what’s in your head and heart, Sarah. You never bore me. You never will. You’re smart, a fox, and you’re mine.”

Sarah still couldn’t shake the impending doom she felt. Maybe it was hormones. If she hadn’t been on the pill for the past nine years, she’d still have whipsaw periods that sent her into angry rages and nonstop irritability. Perhaps, it was nothing more than her period, which was always irregular in combat.

Still, it didn’t ease Sarah’s fear of losing Ethan. He was so alive, so male, so incredibly sensitive and tender toward her that she knew she’d die if he was ever lost to her. Sarah simply didn’t have the strength to survive his loss.

“Come on,” Ethan urged her softly, “let’s finish our beer and then I want to show you some family photos.” He leaned over, catching Sarah’s gaze. “My mother has been ragging on me ever since I told her I gave you an engagement ring. Rescue me, will you?”

“Okay,” Sarah said, feeling better. “I do want to meet your family. They sounded so nice from the way you described them to me.” And she realized she would, once more, have a real family. Ethan’s family. A nice family, like Hank and Mary had given her from age twelve to eighteen years old. Ethan released her and she missed his warmth, his quiet strength.

“Come on,” Ethan urged, holding out his hand to her. Sarah seemed disturbed about something and he wasn’t sure his words had addressed it or made her feel any better. He led her back to the table and pulled out the chair for her. These two days were going to cement their relationship and make it indestructible. And Ethan wanted to spend every minute of it with Sarah.

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