Chapter Fifteen
The anxiety of being imperfect, the scars on her body received from years of deployments in combat, whether Harper would think her desirable or not, raged through Tara as she stood naked in front of him. His bedroom was cool with the mid-June night air slipping in beneath a partly opened window at one end of the quiet room. Her heart was beating rapidly, as much from fear of being rejected by him as from wanting him.
The moonlight was silvery as it slipped around the edges of the drapes across the only window, lending a muted radiance that silently surrounded them. Harper had undressed along with her, their clothes in piles here and there on the cedar floor. Tara was old enough to know that no one was perfect body-wise, but she still cared deeply what Harper thought of her. She managed a nervous half smile and whispered, “I’m feeling so unsure of myself with you.” Instantly, she saw Harper’s gaze sharpen and hone in on her upturned face.
“Hey,” he growled, settling his hands on her shoulders, “don’t go there. I’m beat up, too, inside and out, Tara.”
“Yeah,” she choked, absorbing the callused warmth of his hands smoothing along her shoulders, as if she were a fractious, scared horse that needed to be calmed. Well, she was nervous. “I see the scars on your body, Harper, and it really brings home to me how hard deployments were on you, too.”
Mouth flexing, Harper slid his hand down to her flared hips, halting at a long two-inch scar. “You have your fair share of them, too.”
“Oh, I got plenty of nicks and dibits,” she joked as he lightly stroked the scar with his fingers, his brows moving downward, concern in his eyes as he studied it.
“And like me,” he said, holding her anxious stare, “I’ll bet just by looking at a scar or touching it, the whole episode comes back to you?”
Making a sound of frustration in her throat, she began to feel her worry dissipate as Harper continued to graze her waist and hip lightly, stroking her, as if to erase her anxiety. “Yes. Worse? The emotions come roaring back with it, which makes it even more difficult sometimes.” She made a helpless gesture toward her right hip. “I try not to look at myself when I’m naked. I avoid it. I don’t want to remember.”
“I do the same thing,” and he grinned a little, his hands following the curve of her hips, holding her, but not so close as to make her uncomfortable. “I tend to pay attention to shaving this face of mine but wash the rest of my body by Braille.”
“Does it bother you that I have so many scars?” She was afraid of the answer. There were swellings on her legs and hips particularly that would never disappear. Discoloration came along with each one of them as well.
Looking deeply into her eyes, Harper rasped thickly, “No, Tara. I like you just the way you are. You’re beautiful in my eyes . . . my heart,” and he slid his hand behind her nape, asking her to come forward, and she did.
The look in his slate-colored eyes, burning with a fire that made her heart triple in beat for a moment, told her so much. So much. Taking that halting step forward, trying to push all her reservations aside, her worries and fears away, she lifted her hands, placing them lightly against his darkly haired chest. His flesh was warm, firm, and she felt the muscles leap beneath her fingertips.
His mouth gently claimed hers and she became lost in the heat, his strength and the tenderness he imparted to her, his hands outlining her shoulders, drawing her even closer to him. Lost in the building haze of his desire, his mouth telling her of his need, she felt all her fears being burned up in the heat that flamed between them. The moment Tara leaned languidly against him fully, his erection pressing into her belly, all her coherent thoughts turned to ashes. Feeling him control the amount of strength he exerted against her mouth, his hands cupping her shoulders, worshipping her, making her feel sacred and as necessary as breathing, a soft sound of pleasure vibrated in her throat.
Just feeling so cherished beneath Harper’s mouth giving and taking with hers, convinced her that she had nothing to worry about and everything to celebrate with him instead. She’d had lovers before, but never this sensitive, never monitoring her as he did right now. It spoke to Tara about the depth of his commitment to her, his wanting her as an equal partner, wanting to learn what pleased her and what didn’t. What a far cry from the other men earlier in her life. That was the last conscious thought Tara had because in one fluid movement, Harper lifted her up into his arms, her body pressed sweetly against his as he carried her over to the bed. Depositing her on top of the quilt, she slid toward the center, giving him room to stretch out beside her.
The luminescence of the moonlight did nothing but accentuate the planes of his face, showing the hunter-like intensity in his shadowed eyes, his highly developed muscles moving, contracting, relaxing as she welcomed his advances. There was great satisfaction in moving her gaze across Harper’s silhouetted body. His powerful masculinity reminded her of a cougar who was all lithe beauty coupled with an underlying danger that vibrated close to the surface.
She wasn’t ever a passive lover. As Tara slid her hand across his broad shoulder, she once more was reminded of his strength as a man, pulling him down upon her, lips parting, wanting to taste Harper once again. This time, she shared her hunger with him, her lips firm, gliding, letting him know that her desire for him was equal to him wanting her. She felt him shift as he hungrily took her lips beneath his, his other hand sliding across her hip and cheek, bringing her belly flush against his warm, thick hardness. Fire leaped to life within her. As she moved sinuously against Harper, her hardened nipples entangled in the silken hair dusting his chest. A gnawing ache throbbed deep within her.
Harper knew from talking with her that the best way for her to get an orgasm was for her to be on top of him, and he was fine with her choice of position. Slipping his hands around her waist, he ended their kiss and then lifted her up and over the top of him, her long thighs bracketing his hips. There was an unspoken concert between them, and Tara closed her eyes, sitting atop his warm, hard erection, the slickness of her own juices making her moan with pleasure. The moment he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing the tips, she gave a small cry, but it was a sound filled with utter gratification, not pain. Just the way he stroked her, teased her, lifting his hips, meeting her swollen gate, sent sheets of burning heat upward into her. She trusted him fully with herself. She knew he was focused on her pleasure right now, not his own, although she could hear his growl of satisfaction as she slid atop him, yet to have him enter her.
Her whole world came apart as she eased down upon him, her body opening to him, widening, accommodating, the silky juices allowing him to slide deep within her. A low cry of raw fulfillment tore from between them as he teased each of her nipples with his lips, suckling her, making her lose her mind, shifting to that animal part of herself that enjoyed the act of lust with someone whose heart was a part of this heated dance between them. She felt Harper’s large, roughened hands curve around her hips, holding her, thrusting slowly into her, little cries of delight vibrating in her throat. The rocking motion he established dismantled her in the best of ways. In moments, her body convulsed inwardly, the explosiveness of the powerful orgasm making her cry out in surprise and pleasure.
Tara floated, her palms against his powerful chest, fingers digging into his flesh as he brought her to a second orgasm within minutes of the first. Never had she come so quickly or so strongly, understanding that it had to be her heart engaging wholly with Harper that had allowed these amazing moments. Never had she felt so close to a man, wanting to be a part of him, feeling him melt into her until she felt as one with him. And when he released within her, he groaned out her name, his fingers tight against her waist, freezing in his own rapture of release. It triggered a third orgasm within her and she nearly fainted from the sizzling ringlets of throbbing, widening fire consuming all of her.
Tara felt herself falling forward, her arms weakened, collapsing fully against Harper. He guided her so she lay like a warm, soft blanket across the length of his upper body, her head coming to rest upon his left shoulder, her damp brow pressed against his sandpapery jaw. They were breathing like two winded animals, clinging to each other, appreciating each other as never before. Harper moved his hands across her shoulders and slowly down her spine, cupping her cheeks, moving just enough to tease her wildly throbbing body once again. Tara uttered a groan, embracing him, arms sliding around his neck. He gave a low uttering of her name, and she felt him absorbing her as he gently rocked her against him, continuing to initiate ringlets of fire that still arced teasingly between where they were melted into each other.
* * *
Harper couldn’t stop reveling in the silky tightness of Tara surrounding him. She felt so damn good. It had been so long since he’d had sex. Olivia had crippled him, always pointing out his scars, the swellings that would never go away or his bruised flesh that would never lose those colors. She didn’t understand that each injury, each scar was a story, usually devastating to him personally, and saying his body looked ugly to her had affected his manhood and his heart. Because of that experience, he understood Tara’s earlier nervousness about all her injuries and how they might appear to him. More than anything, Harper had wanted to put her at ease, and he had.
As Tara moved off him, kneeled next to his right arm and leaned over, she softly kissed a three-inch scar that had curved around his right shoulder. Her fingertips were warm as she lifted her lips from the wound that he’d gotten during his first deployment.
He lay there, watching her through half-closed eyes, absorbing the thoughtfulness in her expression, the sympathetic look in her blue eyes, watching the grace of her hand as she leaned over once more. The strands of her golden hair tickled his sensitized flesh as she placed a warm kiss over another scar near the left side of his waist. There was no censure in her expression, no disgust in her eyes over his wounds; she understood what it was like to be wounded in combat.
Grazing his left hip, her fingers whispered across an oval, swollen area. His flesh tingled at her healer’s touch. Her long, thick hair loose and mussed, strands cool and teasing against his skin once more as she kissed the spot. Straightening, Tara moved down below his hips, sliding her fingers across his thick, curved right thigh. He had a lot of healed cuts on it, as most soldiers did. He was forever skidding to his knees, hitting rocks or pieces of broken tree limbs during firefights. His lower body had taken a pounding.
Closing his eyes, his hands behind his head, Harper surrendered to her tender touch, each kiss opening his heart more and more. It was as if she were mentally memorizing him, mapping him in her heart because her touch was butterfly light, filled with care for him alone. Tara worked her way around to the other side of his body, missing none of his injuries.
When she knelt near his head, she leaned down, kissing him on the mouth, and for a long, long time. As her lips lifted away from his, she whispered, “Turn onto your stomach now.”
Without a word, Harper nodded and did as she asked, tucking a pillow beneath his chest, his cheek resting against his folded hands on the mattress. Closing his eyes, he felt Tara’s lingering touch across his short, dampened hair, and her lips brushed against a scar on his left shoulder blade. It was as if his soul was relaxing, fractured as it was, for the first time since all the injuries occurred. The caress of her lips against his flesh, the brush of her fingertips afterward, as if sweeping away all the sordid memories associated with each scar, was nothing short of magical. No woman had ever done this for him. It was, for Harper, an act of selfless love he’d never experience from another person. The tenderness Tara shared with him as she worked from his shoulders down to his feet staggered him emotionally.
By the time she had completed her journey with him, giving unselfishly back to him, tears stung against his tightly shut eyes, wanting to be released, too. It felt as if a fist were pressing upward into his chest, squeezing his heart, which still recalled so much agony inflicted by each wound. Yet Tara’s soothing kisses and touches took the raw, visceral emotions away, dissolving them, leaving him in awe of her.
Tara lay down beside him, her brow against his hair, her arm spanning his broad back, and Harper felt her nurture him in another way. They lay quietly against each other, and he could feel the soft beat of her heart against his upper arm, where her breasts pressed against him, felt the moisture of her shallow breath flowing across his nape and shoulder. The relaxation thrumming through him, the sexual release that had drained him, overwhelmed him, and he drifted off to sleep, never having experienced such an incredible level of human care as he just had from Tara.
* * *
Much later, it was the night’s coolness in the room that slowly woke Harper. Groggy, he felt Tara’s warm, curved body following the line of his from his head to his feet. Her arm lay across his waist, her cheek resting against his neck and shoulder. Her moist, slow breath feathered across him and slowly brought him awake enough to realize where he was and what had happened.
At first, it felt like the most delicious dream he’d ever had, and he didn’t want it to ever end. This woman, who was so damned hot, yet so kind and thoughtful, was holding him with her woman’s strength. He luxuriated in the silence, the soft whisper of wind through nearby pine trees, their scent lingering lightly in the room. The coolness of the night sighed against his skin.
Tara was wrapped around him, almost in a protective measure, in his wandering, sleep-filled mind. He’d never felt that from any woman before. But then, Tara wasn’t most women. She had been a combatant. She knew life and death, and Harper was sure she had felt the same within him, wanting to guard him as he slept with her at his side.
It brought a new awareness to him about his relationship with his ex-wife and the present one with Tara. They were a universe apart in every possible way. His appreciation of her maturity, her ability to open herself up to him, totaled him emotionally. She was honest, innocent in some ways, trusting and, most of all, vulnerable with him. Harper wanted to shake his head over the unexpected luck of her walking into his life. From the first, it had felt like a magnet had awakened in his chest, his heart yearning wildly and constantly for her. And yet? They’d had so much to overcome within themselves, much less with each other. How brave was his woman.
There was no longer moonlight. It was dark now as he barely opened his eyes. In the distance, Harper listened to the crickets singing outside the window, a natural symphony of different insects, which added to the mellow sounds of the night surrounding them. Tara was here. Naked. Beautiful. His. Never had he felt such an overwhelming sense of protection as he did toward her. Oh, he knew Tara had survived a lot, had shown she could defend and protect herself without him being around. She could have died the many times she’d deployed with black-ops groups. Yet the curved lushness of her long body aligned with his made his heart fly open with fierce love for her. Harper had thought he knew what love was when he’d fallen helplessly for Olivia. But he hadn’t known. This was love. Real love . . .
Closing his eyes, he savored that realization, feeling the unparalleled euphoria enclose his heart, making him feel hope, now able to dream of a happy future he’d thought he’d never experience.
The room was chilly and they were laying naked on top of the bed. Harper hated to move. It was the last thing he wanted to do. This felt like the most beautiful dream he’d ever had and he was loath to end it. But Tara was real. And so was he. And they’d made love to each other hours earlier, falling exhausted into each other’s arms afterward, utterly and completely fulfilled. Dazed by the beauty of her love for him—and he did know without a doubt that Tara loved him as he loved her—he wanted this to be the foundation for their new, burgeoning relationship. Their lovemaking was too special, too beautiful, profoundly touching his heart and soul, to not experience it again and again. This was the woman he wanted in his bed, sleeping beside him until he drew his last breath on this earth.
He slowly eased out from beneath Tara’s arm and leg. She mumbled something unintelligible, frowned and then snuggled down on her belly, into the folds of the rumpled quilt, her cheek resting on the fabric, still fast asleep. Getting up, he padded silently to the bathroom and then to the linen closet. His eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and as he brought a huge white cotton down-filled comforter to the bed, Harper could see her scars. She had as many, maybe more, than he did. And he wanted to kiss each of them just as she’d done for him.
His heart was wide open to Tara and he came to her side of the bed, gently spreading the warm comforter over her. She stirred but didn’t awaken, and he was glad. Just the thought of getting to slide back into bed, gather her into his arms, their bodies melting against each other again, tunneled through Harper. The gold of her mussed strands glinted dully as he eased into the bed and slid over to Tara, easing her back into his arms and against his body.
“. . . Harper?”
He smiled to himself, hearing Tara’s drowsy voice as she partially awoke as he embraced her. “It’s all right,” he rasped, kissing her hair. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You’re safe. . . .” And he always wanted Tara to feel as safe as she did right now, burrowing into his arms, against his body, her arm slipping across his waist, drawing him as close as she could get to him. Cherishing the moment, Harper relaxed, allowing Tara to get comfy against him, hearing her breathing slowing into sleep once more. He had slid his arm beneath her neck, encircling her shoulders, drawing her close, and the last sound he heard was a little vibration in her throat, telling him she was happy. That was all that mattered.
Closing his eyes, he tried to settle down his awakening lower body. He had no doubt they would make love again when they woke closer to dawn. Unable to believe how buoyant and joyous his heart felt, he savored the feeling as never before. Harper knew from too many other times in his life how the bad mixed with the good. Only good happened a lot less frequently than bad for him. Until now. Until Tara.
They were meant for each other. His mind canted to his parents, who were deeply in love with each other and expressed it daily in many small but important ways. Sometimes, in his late teen years, he’d see his dad drop a kiss on his mother’s cheek. Or they’d touch each other’s hand or arm. Sometimes, it was the special meals his dad liked and she never forgot to make for him. And his dad knew his mother loved Shasta daisies, so one time he’d brought home a pack of seeds for her. And the very next evening, before dinner, he’d begun to dig along their fence to prepare a place where she could plant them. Harper had grown up, luckily, with parents who knew how to say I love you in hundreds of different ways.
His arm tightened a little around Tara’s shoulders as he thought of so many little ways he wanted to let her know he loved her, too. She needed a new printer, the old one nearing the end of its life. The idea of taking her on a surprise picnic in the Salt Mountain Range, to another beautiful spot where she could photograph wild animals and blooming flowers, appealed strongly to him. She loved having dinner with her parents at their home. Often, she would reneg, though, and now Harper silently promised her that they’d see her parents on a weekly basis. He knew it was healing for Tara and he’d make it happen.
As sleep claimed him once more, the last thought Harper had was to take Tara to lunch at Kassie’s, her favorite place to eat out. They both deserved time away from the ranch, to focus more on each other. And although the café could be noisy, he would time it so that they were both in a reasonably stable state where noise wouldn’t grate harshly on their tender, exposed nervous systems. Liking his potential plan, Harper promised to put more nice surprises in Tara’s life. She deserved them. And so did he.