Page 99 of Duty Compromised
The first time we’d come here had been just a week after the warehouse. Both of us bruised and traumatized, Charlotte jumping at every unexpected sound, me unable to sleep without checking the perimeter every hour. I’d held her as she’d had nightmares about Darcy—would wake up gasping, fingers going to her temple like she could still feel the cold metal of the gun.
I sure as hell could remember that gun at her head.
But slowly, trip by trip, the nightmares had faded. I remembered the first morning she’d slept until the sun was fully up, her face peaceful instead of twisted with remembered terror. The first time she’d laughed at something stupid on TV. How she finally, bit by bit, stopped blaming herself for not seeing that Darcy was using her.
That had been the hardest part for Charlotte—learning to trust again. Darcy’s betrayal had cut deep, right to the core of her ability to believe in friendship. But slowly, tentatively, she’d started to open up. First to my siblings, then to the wives of my Citadel teammates. Logan’s wife Lauren and Ethan’s wife Mel had gone out of their way to include Charlotte in any way they could.
Now Charlotte actually initiated plans with them sometimes. Small miracles.
She must have felt me watching because she looked up from her book, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “You’re staring again.”
“Can’t help it. The view’s incredible.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “The ocean is that way.” She pointed behind her.
“I’ve got the only view I need right here.”
A year ago, she would have analyzed that statement, broken it down into component parts, probably graphed the statistical probability of its sincerity. Now she just smiled wider and went back to her book.
I stood, stretching muscles that were pleasantly sore from this morning’s swim. “I’m going to rinse off.”
She made a humming sound of acknowledgment, already lost again in whatever murder or mayhem was happening on the page. I loved that about her now—how she could actually relax, actually let her brilliant brain engage with something that didn’t matter, that wouldn’t save or doom the world.
The outdoor shower was one of the main reasons we’d bought the place. Cedar walls for privacy, open to the sky, big enough for two—though Charlotte had initially insisted on calculating water flow rates before agreeing it was acceptable. Now it was our favorite spot, especially in the late afternoon when the sun slanted through the steam.
I turned on the water, adjusting until it was perfect—not that I’d tell Charlotte I’d memorized the exact ratio of hot to cold she preferred. The woman who could solve impossible equations still couldn’t remember which tap was which.
I’d just stepped under the spray when I heard bare feet on the wooden deck. Charlotte appeared in the doorway, already pulling her sundress over her head in one fluid motion.
“Book get boring?” I asked as she stepped in with me.
“Mm, the heroine made a tactically stupid decision that would definitely get her killed.” She moved under the water, tilting her head back to let it run through her hair. “Your fault. You’ve ruined me for fictional characters who don’t understand basic survival tactics.”
I watched the water stream down her body, over curves that hadn’t been there a year ago when she’d been surviving on adrenaline and turkey sandwiches. She’d filled out, gotten healthy, and the black bikini she’d been wearing underneath the sundress showed off every new curve.
“Water’s perfect,” she said, eyes still closed as she let the spray hit her face.
“You’re perfect,” I said, meaning it.
She opened her eyes, water droplets clinging to her lashes. “Perfection is a mathematical impossibility?—”
I kissed her before she could launch into the full explanation. Her laugh vibrated against my mouth before she melted into me, arms sliding around my neck. A year of practice had taught us exactly how to fit together, how to angle our heads, how to move in sync.
My hands found her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. She tasted like the margarita she’d had with lunch and something uniquely Charlotte—something I’d never get enough of.
“We have dinner reservations,” she murmured against my mouth, but her hands were already sliding down my chest, nails dragging lightly in that way she’d learned drove me crazy.
“We have an hour.” I backed her against the smooth cedar wall, caging her in with my arms. “Plenty of time.”
“Your definition of plenty of time and mine?—”
I cut her off by dropping my mouth to her neck, finding that spot just below her ear that made her breath catch. “Hey, beautiful?”
“Mm?”
“Stop calculating.”
She laughed, but it turned into a gasp as I untied her bikini top, letting it fall to the wet floor. The late-afternoon sun painted her skin gold, water droplets running down between her breasts like an invitation I couldn’t refuse.
