Broken Hero

Austin barks loudly. The sound breaks the tension between us, and we look towards the dog instead. He’s pacing in front of us, tail wagging excitedly.

Lucy urges Ginger on. “What have you found, boy?”

Whiskey and I follow mutely. It gives me time to recover from her freckled skin and rosy lips. She’s like a cursed mirror in a fairytale; if I look too long, I’m caught.

“What did he find?”

I hear Lucy’s intake of breath and smile. We’ve reached the look-out spot. She halts Ginger and jumps down, reins in hand, walking to the edge of the glen.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.

Fields stretch out endlessly, the afternoon sun making the wheat look like liquid gold. It smells like summer, the sounds of nature all around us, soft earth beneath our feet.

“It is.” I swing down from Whiskey. “It’s one of the things I missed most when I was away.”

I’ve seen this view a thousand times, but it still has the same heart-stopping effect. The horses are happy for the break and start to nibble at the grass lining the trail.

Lucy sits down on the ridge, cross-legged, her back to me. Her hair shines in the sunlight. I take a seat next to her, a hand on the ground to steady myself, and try to ignore the ache in my shoulder.

We watch the view in silence for a few minutes. Our knees touch, but she doesn’t move away.

“Have you ever done physical therapy for your shoulder?”

Of course, she still noticed. “Yes. I worked on it after the surgery.”

“But it still hurts?”

“Not really,” I say. I’d rather hack the damn arm off than admit that to her.

She nods like I’ve confirmed something-but not like she believes me. “I could try massaging it some time, if you want. I’ve had patients before who’ve had scarred muscles that needed careful manipulating.”

The idea of her soft hands on my skin sends a pure shot of desire racing through me. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Lucy nudges me. “Or you could do yoga with Sarah and me tomorrow. We’re running a trial session with Mandy before next weekend’s grand opening.”

“Yoga’s not really for me.”

“There are some great positions for your shoulder,” she says, but laughs when she sees my pained expression. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I won’t push you.”

It’s not the yoga that pains me-it’s the mention of positions. My over-active imagination has more than enough fodder already. She doesn’t say anything else, and I try to focus on the view and not on her warm body sitting so close to me.

“What’s the best view you’ve ever seen?”

“Ever?”

“Yes.”The image comes to me immediately. It’s of a distant time, on distant shores, but the view is brandished in my memory. “I saw the sunrise over the Wadi Rum desert in Jordan once. We were stationed there, and during a full-night of training and drills, the sun rose across the dunes. The desert looked red, colored by the dawn.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Her eyes are soft. “That sounds beautiful.”

“It was,” I murmur. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of that morning. “How about you?”

“This view.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“Because you’re making me look bad. Now my answer sounds unappreciative.”

“You’ve probably seen this view a thousand times, Oliver. It’s my first time. Cut me some slack,” she says, shooting me a teasing smile.

I feel an overwhelming urge to wrap my arm around her, to pull her close and see if her hair smells as good as it did those weeks ago. If she’d melt into my side.

I resist.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“I have two older siblings. I’ve had to learn.”

“Youngest of three?”

She nods. She has a band of freckles from the sun, smattered across her nose.

I clear my throat. “Well, you know what they say.”

“What?””Third time’s the charm.”

Her eyes soften, looking into mine. “Flatterer,” she murmurs.

There’s no thinking anymore. There are only her eyes, her lips, and the distance between us closing as we lean in. I can feel the faint exhalation of her breath against my lips.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

I kiss her.

Her lips are soft and tentative against mine. She tastes like sweetness and she’s kissing me back so gently it hurts. I can feel my chest tighten, my stomach dip, and I’m lost. I want more-I want everything.

I pull her against me, align our bodies so that we’re touching. Her heartbeat is wild against my chest. Every part of her is soft, soft where I’m not, and it’s exactly like I suspected-she melts into me. Her breasts flatten against my chest and I can’t help the faint groan that escapes me when she runs her tongue along my lower lip.

All of my blood rushes south. I usually pride myself on my cool head, but it’s a thing of the past as our mouths move in sync. Her tongue meets mine hesitantly, but I’m too hungry for her to give any respite.

Her fingers in my hair drive me wild and I’m tugging, lifting, fitting her onto my lap. My shoulder has sure as hell never felt less pain than it does right now. Her legs wrap around me and I’m conscious of my hands around her waist-of forcing them to stay there, of not grabbing a hold of her luscious ass. I want her closer still; I want to know what her skin feels like, what she tastes like, and it’s taking all of my self-control to go slow.

Her kisses turn sweet again. She’s tugging at my shoulders and releases a soft, faint sigh of pleasure against my lips. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

Lucy pulls back, but I’m not ready yet. I lean forward and press a final kiss to her soft lips. She laughs breathlessly when we break apart. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen, but her eyes are teasing when she looks at me. I keep my hands around her waist. They belong there-she belongs in my arms.

“Whoops,” she murmurs.