The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(246)

The shower felt wonderful: washing the salt and dust out of my hair felt even better. I even managed to make a stab at washing my clothes while I was wearing them, before the water ran out. Then I sat out in the afternoon sunshine and let my clothes dry on my body, while I chatted to some of the guys, listening to their stories.

Captain Grant came out to check on me and I even managed to get a smile from him. I hoped the truce would hold—provided I managed not to oversleep again, of course.

Another box of MREs, four hard candies, and a really bad coffee later, I crawled into bed. If Sebastian came into my room in the night, he’d have to poke me awake with a sharp stick. My shoulders ached from wearing the heavy body armor all day. I couldn’t imagine how the guys must feel: their armor was even heavier, plus they had to carry their packs, ammunition and an eight pound rifle.

Their entire equipment and packs probably weighed more than I did.

And with that thought, I passed out.





CHAPTER 15



It was dark when I woke up; I realized I wasn’t alone.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you—I just wanted to see you.”

He was sitting at the bottom of my mattress again. I peered into the dark, his outline faint against the darker shadow of the wall.

I rubbed my gritty eyes and reached out for him. “You’re too far away,” I grumbled, holding up my arms toward him.

He uncoiled himself from the floor, and tried to stretch out next to me, but his boots hit the door.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “they’ve given you a damn hutch to sleep in.”

“At least it’s private, Sebastian,” I said, running my finger across his stubbly chin.

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s something.”

He leaned over me, taking his weight on his arms, and kissed me, softly. I think he just had a simple goodnight kiss in mind; I certainly didn’t.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and locked our faces together. Needing more, I pushed my tongue between his lips, and explored his mouth hungrily. He tasted of salt and mint gum. Desire bloomed inside me and I ran my hands down his back, resting them on his fine ass, feeling the rough material beneath my fingers, and squeezed hard.

“Are you sure, Caro?” he breathed.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Here and now.”

He groaned softly, and I felt the weight of his body press down onto my chest.

“But you’re going to have to get naked,” I added.

He sighed and pushed back from me.

“It’s going to take some explaining if the Taliban attack and I run out of your room with my ass hanging out,” he replied.

It was a fair point, and he was only trying to protect my honor and act professionally, just as I’d asked. And yet … I weighed up the pros and cons, realized he was right, and decided to strip him anyway.

We’d come under enemy fire today, and faced it together. I realized how lucky I was: surviving had made me damned horny, and I craved a bout of rough, life-affirming sex with my gorgeous fiancé. I felt, quite literally, that life was too short not to grasp something so good with both hands.

This man, lying in my arms, had told me over and over again that he loved me—that he’d always loved me. And, despite everything that fate had thrown in our path—time, distance, and age difference—we were in love. The why and how didn’t seem to matter anymore: finally, finally I’d accepted that this was real and that it wasn’t going to go away—that Sebastian wasn’t going to go away. I’d accepted that he was beautiful and sexy and younger than me; and that women with far better bodies and far fewer years would want him, too. And I’d accepted that he wasn’t perfect, and had a string of conquests on at least three continents; and I’d accepted that life was going to continue to throw new hurdles in our path—and I didn’t damn well care.

It wasn’t perfect: so what? Life isn’t perfect: life is what happens while you’re waiting for your moment in the sun and if you miss it, waiting instead for the perfect illusion that Hollywood sells, then more fool you. I’d spent half my life waiting for the right moment: I was done with waiting.

“Time to get naked, Chief,” I ordered.

“Make me,” he shot back.

Oh, willingly.

“Okay, what can I trade you to get you to take your shirt off?”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Trade?”

“Yes. I want you to take your shirt off, but it seems like I’ll have to give you something in return. If I agree to your terms, you lose the shirt. If I don’t agree, you get to keep it on.”

“For real?”

“Yes, Sebastian,” I said, pleased with my invention, but also intrigued to see what he’d come up with.