The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(167)
“So, what you are saying is that you took two guys, and the three of you managed to complete the job that twelve of you were supposed to do?”
“Yeah, but that’s not all…” Rob says, looking as if he was going to cry.
“How many men were lost that day?” she asked, intuitively knowing that he must be talking about the dead.
“Seven…out of twelve. And after I called in the airstrike, I…I…I saw a bunch of people trying to get out of the compound. They were stuck in the flames and the rubble, because that goddamned sheik had them all in there, training them all to be terrorists! They were only kids, and I called the damn airstrike that killed them!” His voice catches in his throat, and he feels like his heart is trying to pound its way out of his throat.
Kim eases over to him, and places her arm around his shoulder, attempting to comfort him. “There, there…it’s okay…shhhh…” she whispers to him, trying to calm him. He sinks into the pits of despair, as the flashbacks begin to come hard and fast and the sights and memories that he has repressed for so long begin to wage total war on his mind, and he is at risk of a psychotic break.
Kim sits next to him, holding and caressing him, while his shoulders heaved with each powerful sob. He feels guilty—personally responsible—for the death of each of those children in Puli Kumri, and for each of the children that had carried explosives and weapons that he had shot. The fact that he had shot those children because they were enemy combatants in a war, and that he had been trying to keep his brothers in the Special Forces protected from death at the hands of the children all ring hollow.
“I dream about them,” he sobs, his alcohol fueled sorrow making him feel as if he is about to explode, spewing his innards across the room. Kimberly continues to rub his back, careful to avoid pressing him for more information. She feels that he will share with her when he is ready to do so. Her biggest fear is that he will not confide in her, either because she is eleven years younger than she is, or because he does not share her feelings. The simple truth is, even after only one date with him, she is starting to feel the keen sting of being in love. The question is, does he love her?
Chapter 7
Declarations of Love
Robert becomes a prisoner in his own mind, and finally falls into a fitful sleep on his sofa. Kimberly is stranded; with no way to get home, she does the only thing that makes sense…she stays to keep an eye on Robert.
After she wipes his face with a damp towel, she decides that she needs to take a shower. She picks her way through the still silence of the apartment, and finds her way into the bathroom. She turns on the hot water, letting the shower warm up while she quickly strips naked to get clean.
When she is standing naked and alone in the middle of Robert’s restroom, she eases herself into the now steaming shower. She takes a bar of soap from the dish that is suction cupped to the shower wall, and begins to wash herself. As she lathers herself up with the soap, she finds that her base desire is beginning to overwhelm her, as her crease begins to quiver with longing, moistening her crevice with her womanly juices. As she continues to scrub her body, her fingers poke, prod, and play with her opening.
Within moments, her body begins to shake and convulse as she succumbs to her desires and brings herself to a climax, leaning against the wall of the shower in Rob’s home. There is something forbidden about using his home in that way—or at least, the thrill of doing something forbidden is there, even if it is not.
Inserting her fingers into her core, her legs become weak with the enjoyment that she is bringing to herself, and she bites her lip to avoid exclaiming from the throes of orgasm. Finally, she calms herself as the power from her climax begins to subside. It has been way too long, she thinks to herself.
Exiting the shower, Kimberly searches the bathroom for a towel with which to dry herself off with. Once she has removed the last vestiges of water from her body, she steps once more into the clothes that she wore yesterday during the fishing trip that she accompanied Robert on. She mops up the bathroom floor, feeling somewhat mischievous from what she did to herself in the shower. Wondering if Robert has woken up from his alcohol fueled slumber, she steps out, and walks down the hallway to the living room where she had left him, asleep on the couch.
When she goes through the archway that leads into the living room, the first thing she notices is that Robert’s sleeping frame is no longer on the couch, or even in the room. She goes into the kitchen, where she finds a seemingly exhausted Robert, sitting at the island bar, pot of coffee right in front of him.
“Good morning,” she says into the silence.
“Morning,” he answers, distinctly gravel throated. He clearly was not fully awake yet.
“How did you sleep?”
“It was okay…did you enjoy your shower?”
“Yeah, I…you knew I was in the shower?”
“Yeah, I thought you had left until I came down the hall, and heard the water running.”
“Oh,” she answers. The conversation seems much more forced than it did yesterday.
“You have a nice bathroom,” she says, trying to rekindle the spark that she had felt for him yesterday.
“Yeah…listen, Kim,” he says, with the air of a man trying to force words to spring forth, when they were reluctant. “I wanted to apologize…for last night.”
“What? Why?” she asks, taken aback.