The Unseen Enemy Series

Chapter 217

Beth was curled up against Jim, her head on his chest. She was relaxed and drowsy, but she was fighting going to sleep: he felt too good to want to leave just yet. He stroked her back and she glanced up at him.

“You doing OK there, Beth Harper?” he asked.

“Better than OK. I’m great.”

Those golden eyes gazed at her, warm and soft. “You want me to stay tonight?”

“I want you to stay every night.” Beth ran her fingers over his powerful upper body. “And I don’t mean on the sofa-bed. You never have to stay out there again.”

“Thank Christ for that,” he said. “That thing damn near brought me to my knees in agony.” His eyes flared. “Unlike you, baby, who brought me to my knees for a different reason altogether.”

Her breath caught. He saw her response and slowly, he pulled her up to his mouth. Beth moaned softly as he kissed her, and Jim grinned against her lips.

“I thought you were sleepy,” he teased.

“I was.” She gasped as his hand traveled down the curve of her stomach and started to stroke between her legs. “But now I’m not.”

“No?”

“No.”

Beth finally crashed into sleep two hours and three orgasms later. Jim held her close, watching her beautiful face and listening to her calm breathing, before surrendering himself.

She’s really going to stay here, with me. My God… I can keep her, safe and close. She's mine.

****

For Beth and Jim, the rest of May passed in a blur of hot pleasure and sweet moments. She didn’t know what she liked better: coffee with Jim in her living room every morning, or making love to him in her bed every night. Jim knew what heliked best, though: he loved waking up at dawn and holding her as she slept, knowing that she was safe and close.

Nobody is going to hurt this woman again. Not ever, not if I can help it.

When they told their friends about their relationship, the reaction was a combination of non-surprise and delight. The girls thought that Beth was one hell of a lucky woman – they knew, after all, just how great this group of guys was, in every sense of the word. On the first night that she met them for wine and a chat, they talked and laughed until two o’clock in the morning, exclaiming at how their lives had changed since the men had suddenly appeared in them, all tattooed muscles and ferocious stares.

The guys’ reactions were a bit more complicated. They had known Jim before what had happened in Afghanistan, and ever since he and Beth had gotten together, they’d quietly observed a change in him. Jim looked more peaceful, lighter and happier. He looked like he believed in good things in the world again; like maybe it was OK to forgive himself at last.

It was early June when Jim finally opened up to Beth completely, and laid his whole truth down at her feet. He’d debated not saying anything, but he knew that Tahir was between them, whether she knew it or not. Besides, she’d given him everything, trusted him with every single dark, horrible thing from her past, trusted him with her real name. He didn’t feel good about holding back on her.

You told her that she needed to let it all go, and she does exactly that, every single day. Now it’s your turn, man.

They had just finished making love, and Jim had gently washed her p***y with a warm, damp cloth. She was teary at his tender gesture and he was holding her in his arms, offering her comfort and strength. Beth took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I cry sometimes… nothing’s wrong, I swear.”

“I know,” Jim said. “You’re releasing, Beth, still letting some things go.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She thought about that for a few seconds. “You think I’ll be doing that forever? Letting go of things from the past?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask.”

Beth raised her head from his chest. “Why?”

Jim sighed. “Because of the two of us, I know the least about letting go of the hard stuff.”

She propped herself up on one elbow. “What do you mean? What haven’t you let go of?”

“Tahir.” His voice was strained.

“What’s Tahir?” Beth said.

“Tahir isn’t a ‘what’, baby. Tahir is a ‘who’.” He paused. “Was a ‘who’.”

She saw the look of pain on his handsome face and she bit her lip. “Who was Tahir?”

“A kid who died because I trusted the wrong person.”

“Who did you trust that you shouldn’t have?”

“Tahir’s mother. Military intelligence.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “Myself.”

“What?” she said softly. “What happened, babe?”

“I – I didn’t listen to him. To Tahir. He was just a kid, just five years old. And what the hell do five-year-old ankle-biters know?” He gave a laugh so bitter, it made her stomach clench. “More than I do, in some cases.”