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She was staring up at the ceiling, eyes half closed, blinded from pleasure. But she could hear him smile.
“Oh, man. We have tests all the time. I have a clean bill of health, too. So, um … Emma?”
She was fast falling asleep. Literally. She could feel herself fall into a deep well of darkness.
He nudged her shoulder with his. “Emma?”
“Yeah?”
“You ok?”
“Oh yeah,” she breathed.
He pulled out of her partially, then slid back in. Once. Twice. She was pulling away from that deep well of darkness, back into light and heat.
“We’re not done here. We have barely begun.”
8
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Raul said and lightly kissed Emma’s cheek. It was amazingly soft, just like the rest of her. He watched as she slowly opened her eyes, taking in him, the room, the morning sun around the drawn drapes. Then she closed them again.
Not an early morning person, then.
He was. He’d been awake since dawn. Instead of jumping out of bed for a quick run or a workout in his home gym then a shower, though, he’d simply lain in bed, Emma’s head on his shoulder. It felt really good, all that bright red hair spread out over his arm and chest. It still surprised him when he touched it that it was cool and not hot as flame.
He’d stayed put and listened to her breathe, stared at the ceiling and marveled at what he was feeling.
Happiness. That’s what he was feeling. So odd he hadn’t even recognized it at first. Life as a SEAL had never been happy. Fulfilling and challenging, yeah, but definitely not happy. Happiness wasn’t the point. Then there’d been the fury and sadness of betrayal and the almost court martial and then he’d landed at ASI. He loved ASI, loved his teammates, but what he felt there wasn’t what he was feeling here, right now, with this beautiful woman sleeping on his chest and … he lifted his head a little at the sound. Yep. Snoring.
He grinned.
She was sound asleep so he figured he could get out of bed without waking her up. She didn’t even stir when he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Raul rarely stayed over so he wasn’t used to soap that smelled of something spicy, shampoo that smelled of something flowery and towels that smelled of lavender, but it wasn’t a hardship. Considering what the barracks at the Utah outpost had smelled like. Like sweat and piss and cum.
He put on pants and shirt. They weren’t fresh, but he had fresh clothes back at the hotel, and padded barefoot in the kitchen. Hmmm. She was neat. He liked that. And she had a fully stocked kitchen which he liked even more. A woman he’d dated briefly when he first arrived in Portland had had the saddest kitchen he’d ever seen. Gleaming marble, shiny, expensive stainless steel appliances and absolutely no food and no sign that the kitchen had ever been used for actual cooking.
Emma’s kitchen was used, a lot. He snooped shamelessly, suddenly curious about this woman who intrigued him more than anyone he’d ever met. The fridge was full of food and leftovers. Really good leftovers, too. He hummed a little as he brought them out to the small table of the breakfast nook. Banana bread. Half an omelet. A quarter of a loaf of wholewheat bread and salted butter. Several jams that looked homemade. Small jars, hand labelled. Strawberry, blueberry, orange and lemon. Yum. Those all went on the table. And, in a cookie jar, some real cookies, homemade. There was a big enameled bowl in bright colors filled with apples, pears and bananas on the counter. That went on the table, too.
The espresso machine was one he was familiar with, plus there was a French press. Which would Emma prefer? Both, he decided.
Humming, he made an espresso that came out perfectly, with a little foam on top, and a big mug of French press coffee that looked dark and enticing. Putting both on a tray, he walked into the bedroom and looked down at her.
Mornings after could be hard. He’d had his share of them. Awkward silences, smudged makeup. Sometimes that awful feeling of wanting escape from a mistake.
Not this time, nope. He looked down at her, delighted with her, eager to discuss finding Toby and to find out more about her. The morning felt fresh, full of things to explore, mainly her.
He took the espresso cup and waved it under her nose. Her nostrils flared, eyes tracking right and left under her eyelids, coming up out of deep sleep. A caress of her cheek with the back of his forefinger did the rest. She opened her eyes. Women with eyes of a beautiful color had unfair advantages over everyone else. Raul’s eyes were a perfectly dull dark brown, with lighter streaks. But Emma … Some stray ray of sunlight fell across her face and lit those eyes up an unearthly shimmering blue, like two shards of ice in a summer sky.
It took her a moment to catch on. Raul watched the stages. First the blink. Looking at the coffee, steam drifting up from both cups, big and little. Gaze travelling up his arm to his face. Another blink. And suddenly she realized she was naked under the covers. Looked at his face again, remembered last night, and turned a stoplight red.
Raul imagined she hated that her fair skin signaled emotions like a billboard. His skin was dark and he never blushed. And he knew how to keep a poker face. It never betrayed anything he didn’t want known.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Good morning.”
“Good – good morning.” Sadly, when she sat up, she pulled the duvet up over those luscious pale breasts. Raul mourned the loss briefly, but knew that he’d see the girls again as soon as humanly possible. Her head swiveled, as if looking for an exit. “I um, we um …”
She couldn’t find the words. But he could.
“We sure did.” Raul bent to kiss her forehead then her luscious open mouth. “And we will again. Or at least I hope we will.”
