Xtreme Affairs (Xtreme Ops Book 4) Read online

  He didn’t bring Ethan home as he promised her. River’s idea to enlist had rubbed off, and though Ethan was college-bound, he’d changed paths and signed on with the Army too.

  “I’m fine,” he grated out.

  She backed away to the door. “If you need anything, just holler. I’ll be working in my office.”

  He said nothing, and she left. When he sat alone again, he grabbed his phone and stared at the black screen. He should call his own mother and check on Kyle.

  He wasn’t up to that encounter yet, so he texted his captain. Penn Sullivan would center him in a way he needed right now.

  When his text went through, his captain responded immediately.

  How are you?

  I got into an accident. Concussion. Was that how you even spelled accident or concussion? Dots floated in front of his eyes.

  We know. I’m sorry I haven’t reached out before now. We’ve been in the mountains.

  Dammit. Hepburn needed to be there with them. This trip had never been a vacation, but it’d reached disaster status in the flicker of one red light.

  He thumbed a text in return, but before he hit send, he scanned it. The words were jumbled, and he couldn’t even make out some of them. Anger flooded in, but he welcomed it. Better than some of the other crap he’d been feeling for days.

  Gotta go, he managed to text to Penn and then he tossed his phone aside and stretched out on the bed. His pillows were slipping. If he called Sascha in to help him, he could apologize.

  He could cup her beautiful face and stare into her eyes and say all the things he never did but wanted to.

  The days began to blend together. He stared at some TV show on the tablet she’d brought him, but it made his eyes ache. Better to lie down and listen to her humming as she worked late into the night. He had no clue as to the hour, but he heard her go to bed. When he next opened his eyes, she stood at his bedside wearing a summery dress and cardigan, a new tray in her hands.

  She smiled at him. “Good morning.”

  He pushed into a sitting position. A man shouldn’t be bombarded so early—and when he had morning wood—with a beautiful woman who smelled like…

  “What is that smell?” he asked.

  She settled his breakfast tray on the nightstand and shot him a smile as if he hadn’t hurt her, frightened her or taken her brother from her.

  “It’s probably lavender. I spray it on my bed and in my closet. I also burn some lavender incense.”

  He massaged his eyes.

  “How did you sleep?”

  “All right.” He hadn’t. He’d tossed and turned so much he felt as if he’d soldier-crawled through a swamp. His sheets were damp with sweat. He’d had enough of this convalescence thing, though. Today he’d get up and forge ahead.

  “You look a little rough if you don’t mind me saying.”

  He eyed her. “You look beautiful.”

  She blinked rapidly and hauled in a breath that made her breasts heave against the fitted top of her blue dress. When their gazes locked, his brain latched onto how close the color matched her eyes.

  “Thank you.” A flush climbed her throat, drawing his attention to a slender gold chain encircling it. “Why don’t you eat and then I’ll start the shower for you?”

  His guts clenched at the thought of dragging Sascha under the spray of hot water with him.

  He needed to heal fast so he could get away from her…before he did something else he regretted.

  Sascha hovered outside the closed bathroom door, listening for an indication that River needed help undressing. He’d slept in lounge pants and a T-shirt, and he should be able to manage…

  She stepped away from the door to give him privacy. While she tidied his room, putting new sheets on the bed and taking away his dirty clothes to wash, she used the chores to keep her mind off his compliment.

  You look beautiful.

  When was the last time anybody told her that? She didn’t date very often, and her small group of friends from her graduate program she went out with were like siblings rather than love interests.

  From across the hall, she heard a bump and then a groan.

  She rushed to the bathroom door and tried the handle, finding it unlocked. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door and found River leaning on the sink, head bowed.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m not staying in bed anymore. I need to get on with my life.”

  “Okay. Why don’t I help you right now and then we’ll figure it out?” She pointed to the edge of the bathtub. “Sit there. I’ll help you.”

  From the misery in his eyes and his silence, she figured he must be feeling horrid to even entertain the idea of her helping him. He sank to the edge of the tub while she filled the sink with warm sudsy water and grabbed a washcloth.

  When she turned to him with the cloth in hand, he gave a shake of his head. “Christ, I feel like an infant.”

  Saying nothing, she brought the cloth to his jaw.

  He covered her hand with his own. “I can do that much.”

  She relinquished the cloth, and he scrubbed his face. She rinsed it out in the sink and brought it back.

  Watching him scrub his neck and chest roused memories of doing this task for him. Heat bloomed in her core as she watched him drag the cloth over his muscled chest. But moving his arms seemed to throw him off-balance, and he swayed.

  Planting her hand on his shoulder, she drew his body against hers. His thick muscles seemed to scorch through her clothes, leaving a trace of heat on her own flesh. She held him this way for a minute until he seemed to breathe easier.

  “Did the dizziness pass?”

  “For now.”

  “I really think you need to take those pills, River. I realize you haven’t in a few days you’ve been staying here, but you need to try them. What if they’re to help the vertigo? The sooner you feel yourself, the better, right?”

  “No pills. After my uncle got injured in combat, they drugged him up and left him in a facility. He never came out. That won’t be me.”

  She paused. “Okay. I understand.” As she talked, she moved to the sink and returned, telling him to lift his arms so she could wash him.

  He grunted. “I can’t let you wash me.”

  She cocked a brow but said nothing about how she’d been performing this duty on a nightly basis.

  Issuing a heavy sigh, he raised his arms. Drawing the soapy cloth down his torso caused that seed of awareness inside her to sprout up a few inches. She’d never touched a man so intimately before this week. Sex was sex, but this felt different.

  She saw him through a filter in her mind’s eye—how she’d video him. What angles would be his best.

  From this vantage point standing in front of him and looking down on his beautiful, rugged body, she figured just about any angle would be perfect.

  “River…”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  He tensed.

  “I mean, you have a lot of scars, some of them still red and this one’s barely healed.” She ran her finger just under the slash on his rib. “You didn’t get that in the accident, did you?”

  “No.” His voice projected as a roughened whisper, plucking at all the cords in her body.

  “And your back.” She ran the cloth across to his nape and down the length of his spine.

  He turned his head as if he couldn’t stand to feel her gaze on him. “Those are from Afghanistan.”

  Her heart tripled its beat. She quickly finished his spine and returned to the sink. When she stood in front of him again, their eyes met and held. Her breaths came faster, the rasp in and out of her lungs uncontrollable.

  Suddenly, the tension became too much for her. Shifting the washcloth, she shot him a playful wink. “How low should I go? Full service or self-serv?”

  He froze. A long second stretched between them.

  He extended a hand. “I’ll take over now
.”

  “Are you sure?” She kept her tone teasing but bit down on her lip.

  He closed his eyes and slowly opened them. “Yes.”

  Fail.

  “Okay, I’ll step out, but if you need me at all…”

  “I got it.”

  She stepped out but lingered in the hallway a minute. She heard some rustling but no groaning and no thumps of him falling on the floor.

  After convincing herself he was fine, she ran around the house doing some quick chores while he finished with his sponge bath. Minutes later, she had the dryer running and River’s breakfast tray cleared away.

  When he returned to the room, she pivoted to greet him.

  Her smile faded from her lips as she got a big ol’ eyeful of the gorgeous man. The clean sweats he wore were slung low on his hips, revealing a ring of muscle holding them in place. He stood bare-chested with only a towel slung around his neck.

  And Lord have mercy, that chest only rivaled his abs. Now that she knew the dips and swells so well, she wanted to put her hands on him again. Her gaze drooped to his abs without her willing her eyes to move, but she quickly dropped her stare.

  The guy seemed to have sprouted more abs while in the bathroom—she swore he had a six-pack when she left him.

  She slanted her eyes away. “Feel better?” She tried for a breezy tone, but she heard the strangled tightness in the question. The I-haven’t-seen-a-man-like-you-in-years-and-I-forget-how-to-act.

  “Loads better.” He walked to the window and looked out.

  She followed him with her stare. Even weakened, he still proved to be the strongest man she’d ever set eyes on. Being in the same room with him sent tingles running through her belly, spreading lower like sticky, warm syrup.

  At the same instant her body reacted to the man she recognized, she also saw how changed he was. For each scar on his body, he probably carried triple inside.

  Neither of them spoke. When he turned to her and tugged the towel from his neck, he said, “Sit down, Sascha.”

  She sank to the bed, and he joined her on the edge. A foot of space separated them, yet it might as well be a gorge.

  He issued a sigh. “You asked about my work.”

  Their gazes met.

  “After all you’ve done for me, you deserve to know.”

  She saw a struggle within him. “If you’re not allowed to talk about it, then don’t. I understand, River.”

  He gave a nod. “I’m not, but I don’t mind sharing it with you. I work for a division of Homeland Security called Operation Freedom Flag. I’m with a special forces unit based in Alaska. We deal with a lot of terrorism and smuggling.”

  Stunned, she shook her head. “I had no idea something like that existed.”

  “It’s not common knowledge.”

  “Your unit…do they know you’re here?”

  “Yes. I was on leave anyway, coming to see my mom. To help her.”

  She searched his guarded expression. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It’s probably too late. My brother’s having some issues, and I came to help.”

  She didn’t pry, and he didn’t say more.

  “I’m thinking more clearly, but I’m not a hundred percent yet.” Frustration rang in his deep voice.

  “It will come.” She reached out and settled her hand over his where he planted it on the mattress. The back of his hand felt hard—a knot of power. That hand had pulled triggers and beat enemies in combat.

  It had also cupped her cheek with such tenderness all those years ago that she still felt the effects even now.

  After another heartbeat, she drew away and pointed to the tablet. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  “Not right now.”

  “You can also sit outside. I have a small patio out back and a garden.”

  “That sounds nice right now.” River’s eyes took on a gleam that would have accompanied a smile in the old days.

  She twitched her head toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t I make you a cup of coffee too?”

  “I’d love that. Thanks, Sascha.”

  She stood and crossed the room. He didn’t immediately follow, but when he turned up in the kitchen a minute later, he had a shirt on. While she poured him a steaming mug of the dark roast she loved, he leaned on the counter and watched her.

  She turned to him with a smile and the coffee in hand.

  He glanced at the white mug with the words FILM MAKER on the side.

  “Momma gave it to me when I started classes again. Sorry—it’s the only mug I have clean.” She waved to the sink stacked with other glasses, mugs and the random thrift store plate.

  “What will you do while I get to sit in the sun enjoying coffee?” River’s tone pitched low with an intensity that made her stomach dip.

  “I have some work to do on my project.” She hesitated and then grew bold enough to say, “Would you like to take a peek at what I have done?”

  “Yes. But only if you’re sure.”

  A case of jitters hit. She’d only shared with her professor for feedback during certain intervals of the creative process. And she had a small peer group for critique.

  But she’d offered, so there was no going back. She led the way to her office and took her chair. River hovered nearby, sipping coffee while she pulled up the file on her computer. The monitor filled with the frames of interviews, Pride flags flapping in the wind and then some tombstones to represent the hardships some had fallen to on their journeys.

  Sascha tried to see the film without rose-colored glasses and not what she hoped it to become. But when she looked at River, his expression didn’t change. He seemed unmoved by her work.

  Her stomach knotted. Was it bad? She couldn’t tell anymore. After all the deleted scenes and a few additions, right from wrong seemed hazy at this point.

  At the finish, he offered her a smile. “It’s a far cry from the films you used to make of your friends doing makeup.”

  His words brought a smile of relief to her lips. Relief that he didn’t say he hated it. And the first glimpse of the old River warmed her.

  Through the open office window, Sascha’s clear soprano reached Hepburn where he sat in a lawn chair on the patio.

  His coffee had gone cold, but he continued to sip it—it tasted better than the swill he and the Xtreme Ops team made on base. And in the field, they had instant coffee they mixed with whatever water they found to be safe enough to drink.

  Looking at the pots of flowers and a swirl of painted rocks in the garden, he had to question how the hell he’d ended up here, as far from his destination as possible.

  He never thought to see Sascha again. Yet, each time he opened his eyes, she either stood in front of him, heartbreakingly beautiful in her artistic way, or in her touch on the things she loved.

  Like this garden.

  The bright flowers echoed her personality. Though he now detected a new depth to her, most likely brought on by the loss of her brother. God knew he’d experienced something similar when it happened.

  Her singing trailed off, the final strains snatched on the Texas breeze. He closed his eyes and battled the feelings being here raised inside him.

  No, more than this house had become his refuge when he needed it. Sascha had offered him solace most of all.

  He’d wanted her then. He wanted her now. The clutch of need grew undeniable.

  How long had he been sitting out here thinking about her? Time had little meaning to him right now, and his brain didn’t grasp the concept for very long anyway. But his leave from the team had taken a much different course than he expected.

  Hepburn didn’t believe in things like fate, but sometimes life had a way of slowing people down or redirecting them.

  Was it possible he was meant to cross paths with Sascha Lacey again?

  As if his thoughts called to her, she appeared in the doorway, a couple bottles of water in hand and a soft smile
on her beautiful face.

  His chest burned, and without thinking of his next move, he shifted to his feet and crossed the patio stones to her. She drew him like a moth to flame. She appeared as shimmering light in the darkness of his current situation—and also brought a new edge of guilt about Ethan.

  Hepburn stared down into her vivid blue eyes.

  She wet her lips, the quick action gripping his groin with a wave of desire he hadn’t felt for another woman in ages.

  She tilted her face up. “Do you remember that night before you left for basic?”

  He struggled to get air. Sliding his feet across the pavers to meet her, he reached out and cupped her cheek.

  The same exact way he had then.

  Years ago, he’d wanted to kiss her so goddamn bad, it’d taken everything in him to hold back.

  He didn’t need to hold back now.

  Slowly, he started to lean in and halted.

  Her blue eyes locked on his, the depths egging him to continue on this path.

  Her chest gave a sudden heave.

  And he couldn’t help himself—he leaned in and kissed her.

  The softness of her plump lips under his drew a ragged groan into his chest, lodging there unheard. She smelled of lavender and woman and all the good things he’d forgotten existed in the world.

  She shivered, and he eased a hand to her waist, steadying her as he deepened the kiss. A soft moan escaped her, and he gathered her closer. Two thunks sounded as she dropped the water she’d been holding and slipped her arms around his neck.

  His dizziness seemed to be a thing of the past as he held Sascha to him and glided his tongue between her lips.

  Passion bubbled up and overflowed. With a growl, he yanked her flush to his body. She tightened her grip on him and parted her lips for his tongue. As he swept the interior of her sweet mouth, his cock hardened with full-blown need. When she stroked his tongue across hers, they shared a noise of want.

  He walked her through the door of the house and reached behind him to close it. Her blue eyes flashed before he crushed his mouth over hers again.

  She gripped his hand and guided it…up her ribs…to her breast, and he bit off a growl.

  Need blasted, a flamethrower hosing his insides with fire. Strumming his thumb across her hardened nipple sprayed gasoline on the flames.