Free Enemy Within (Unseen Enemy Book 1) by Marysol James

and death. She was positive that he’d killed people – maybe lots of people. His hands were large and lethal, but when they touched her, they were nothing but tender.
    She had never had a former-Ranger as a patient, but she had counselled lots of military spouses over the previous six years. Mostly, they were women whose husbands had come back from Iraq or Afghanistan and were struggling with PTSD. The men had nightmares, they were distant and closed-off. Sometimes, the women were very afraid of their husbands; they truly believed that the men were traumatized and dangerous.
    In one case, Emma had had to help a woman get herself and her two children out of her home. Her husband was so unstable that he’d required forced hospitalization, and Emma had genuinely feared for all of their lives. PTSD among the former troops was serious, and it was more common than most people wanted to believe. She’d never counselled a female soldier with PTSD, but one of her colleagues specialized in them, and her client list was full – overflowing, actually.
    At Shooter’s, when she’d heard that Dean had been a Ranger, she had backed off a bit. Any sexual spark she’d felt was pushed down as her psychological training took over. She had probed gently, asked lots of questions, felt him out. After an hour of talking, she had no doubt that he was a hard man, a man capable of violence, but he didn’t have any anger that she could pick up.
    Dean – and Dallas too – seemed to be coping with their time in Afghanistan by emotionally disconnecting from people outside of their little circle of friends. The men refused to commit to women, didn’t allow themselves to care for anyone too deeply, couldn’t handle anything long-term. Emma understood this psychological coping mechanism well, and Dean’s desire to stay aloof in relationships worked with what she needed in her life.
    He’s offering what I need right now; I’m offering what he can handle right now. It’ll work. At least for a while.
    Dean watched Emma, not missing a thing as she chatted and ate. Her face was shining and well-rested, her eyes bright and calm. She was hands-down the most attractive woman he’d ever known. OK, sure, she wasn’t the most beautiful, or the sexiest. The blonde at the bar was something else entirely and Dean knew that if she and Emma were standing side by side, most men would choose the blonde – but he’d choose Emma now. He had a whole new appreciation for sweetness, something that he’d done without in his life for a very long time. She soothed him, and he hadn’t even known that was what he’d wanted or needed.
    He cleared the table then came back to her. Without a word, he pulled Emma to her feet and kissed her. Her legs weakened right away, her body went soft in his arms.
    “What do you think, baby?” he whispered. “You ready for dessert?’
    She bit back a moan. “What’s for dessert?”
    “Me.”
    She gazed up at him, her body pulsing with want. “Oh, yeah, I’m ready for dessert. I’ll probably even have seconds.”
    His hands skimmed the front of her t-shirt and he smiled when her nipples hardened. He pulled the shirt over her head and his hands moved to her back, unsnapping her bra. He lifted her breasts, savoring their weight, pushing them together. His mouth moved back and forth, licking and sucking her hard peaks. Her shuddering drove him on; he loved knowing that his touch did this to her.
    Emma arched her back against him, offering herself to his mouth and hands. His hands held her steady as her legs shook under her. Her desire was immediate and huge, no hiding it. She needed him to chase away the fear and darkness; she needed him to make her feel alive and good.
    Dean groaned as her fingers roamed over his shoulders and chest, then down his broad back. She found the waist of his t-shirt and pulled it up and off, her hands stroking down his body, down his abs, then lower and lower. She pressed against his erection with