Scorched

by Laura Griffin

  She wriggled out of his hold and pulled at the hem of his T-shirt. He jerked it over his head and flung it away, then reached for hers. His heated gaze moved over her as he dropped the shirt to the floor. She went into his arms again and felt the exhilarating friction of skin against skin as he tipped her head back for another kiss. She loved the hard contours of his body. She slid her hands around his lean waist and dipped them into the back of his jeans to pull him even closer.

  “Kelsey.”

  The word was urgent, and she responded by moving her hips against him. He gripped her around the waist and picked her up off the floor, and she clutched his neck and wrapped her legs around him as he staggered to the bed. They fell onto it with absolutely no grace and she started to laugh, but he cut her off with a kiss and settled his weight between her thighs. She loved the feel of him there, and she tried to squeeze him as close as she could. He pulled back and reached across her to turn on the lamp.

  She flinched. “What—”

  “I want to see you.”

  His gaze moved over her and lingered on the red lace. The look in his eyes turned molten hot. He’d always liked her in red, even though she’d told him over and over it wasn’t right with her coloring. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that as his big hands glided over her body. He leaned his head down and his beard tickled her skin as he kissed her breasts. Then he shimmied lower and trailed his tongue over her stomach, making her squirm. She felt the slide of lace moving down her legs, and as much as she loved that, she wanted tonight to be about him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up, so he was on his knees and straddling one of her thighs, and she unfastened his jeans.

  His gaze glinted down at her. She reached for him and was surprised when he clasped her wrist and pinned her hand against the mattress. He took her other one and pinned it there, too, then dipped his head down to focus on her breasts again.

  She writhed under him and looked at the trail of hair disappearing into his open jeans. She tried to inch lower, but his grip on her wrists tightened. Then his mouth was on hers again and his weight settled heavily between her legs, and she moaned softly. He let her hands go and pinned her there with his hips as he kissed her with that intensity she’d never felt with anyone else.

  She loved this. She loved him. Her hands glided over his arms, his shoulders, the valley of his spine, and for once she didn’t wish he was anything other than what he was. He was a warrior. He was fierce and strong, and he’d cut her so deeply she knew she’d never heal completely. She’d tried so hard to push him out of her life, along with the pain of his rejection, but it hadn’t worked. They were inextricably linked—now more than ever, since he’d come searching for her and risked his life again and again to keep her safe. That’s who he was—a protector. And she couldn’t change that about him any more than she could change the way she was going to feel tomorrow when he went back to his job. She pushed the thought from her mind and thought instead about the now, about the warm thrill that spread through her body as he touched her.

  She gripped his shoulders and felt the tension of all that suppressed power he kept locked inside his body, waiting for the right moment to explode. He had so much control, so much intensity, and whenever he directed it at her like this, she felt completely helpless to resist what he wanted. He nudged her legs apart with his thighs and she opened her eyes to gaze up at him. The expression on his face was serious, more serious than she’d ever seen it, as he positioned himself above her.

  He dipped his head down and her heart seemed to stop as he kissed her gently on the lips before shifting her hips and plunging inside her. He supported his weight with his arms and she closed her eyes and held on as he moved against her. What he did to her, the way he did it, felt so right, so perfect, and she wanted to stretch the time out. They moved together, sweaty and straining, until there was nothing between them but a single burning need and she knew that even his impressive control was reaching its limit. She dug her nails into his shoulders and gasped his name as it finally snapped.

  • • •

  Kelsey stared up at the ceiling as her heart rate slowed and her thoughts floated back down to earth. When he’d gotten up from the bed she’d turned down the covers, and she lay on her back now beside him, enjoying the first sheets she’d felt against her skin in days. Outside the window, the traffic noise reminded her where they were and how soon they needed to leave.

  She felt his gaze on her and turned to look at him.

  “What?”

  Instead of answering, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She looked away. Her gaze landed on the digital clock on the nightstand. Do not cry. She’d thought this through in the shower, and her plan for tonight did not include dissolving into an emotional puddle.

  She turned to face him and propped up on an elbow. She traced her finger over his scar, making a little figure eight over the raised pink skin.

  “So.” She trailed her fingertip down to his navel and then back up again. “How long until . . . ?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Because I was thinking.” She shifted over him and watched his attention drift down to her bare breasts. “Madam Chen’s is right next door. And I could really go for some hot-and-sour soup right now. What about you?”

  He looked startled. “You want soup?”

  “I bet they close in fifteen minutes, so we’d have to hurry. We could take a break and then”—she bent down to kiss his chest as she watched his eyes—“I could give you something to think about when you’re off . . . wherever it is you’re going.”

  He smiled slightly. “Something to think about?”

  “Maybe . . . fantasize is a better word.” She kissed his chest again, softly, letting her tongue trail over his skin. “I’ll take requests. That way you’ll have something to occupy your thoughts when you’re, I don’t know, sitting in the Humvee, bored out of your mind.”

  “You’re going to act out my fantasy?”

  “After we take a break. I don’t want to put you in the hospital.”

  He moved and suddenly she was on her back. He gazed down at her with a glint in his eyes, and she smiled.

  “Who needs a break?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m just guessing, but—”

  He shut her up with a very thorough kiss. When he was finished, he’d somehow managed to trap her hands against the mattress again.

  She wrapped her leg around him. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me one of your fantasies.”

  “I’ve got way more than one.”

  “Then you’ll have to prioritize.”

  “It can be anything?” His voice was low and dangerous as he searched her face.

  “Anything.”

  He kissed her on the mouth and her skin started to tingle. “Any fantasy at all?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He leaned down and his breath was warm against her ear. “Give us another chance.”

  She blinked up at him. God, he was serious. “That’s your fantasy?”

  “Yep.”

  “I meant something sexual.”

  He shifted on top of her. “Trust me, it’s very sexual.” He kissed her breast. “And it’s exactly what I want to think about when I’m in the Humvee, bored out of my mind—coming home to you.”

  She swallowed. She’d meant this to be playful, but he was making it way too serious.

  She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he had his head propped on his hand and he was looking at her.

  “Gage—”

  “I know you still love me.”

  Her throat tightened. She felt a flutter of panic and looked away from his eyes to the beard he’d been growing all week. He was going to Afghanistan or Pakistan or some other dangerous place, and her heart hurt just thinking about it. She reached up and touched the bristles.

  “You won’t say it, but I know. I knew it when you saw my scar.”

  She gave him a questioning look.

&
nbsp; “Last woman to see it, you want to know her reaction?”

  Jealousy clogged her throat. “No.”

  “She said, ‘Wow, cool.’” He brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You? You looked like you might cry.”

  She glanced away, and now her emotions were churning. She didn’t want to think about him with someone else, but it was only fair. She’d been engaged to someone else.

  Of course, that was after he’d dumped her.

  Yet another thing she didn’t want to dwell on tonight. How had she lost control of this conversation? Now her stomach was tied up in knots and she was feeling defensive.

  “I don’t want to go down that road again, Gage.”

  “What do you want?” His voice had an edge now. “Do you even know?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  She scooted out from under him and sat back against the pillow. She pulled the sheet up under her arms as he watched her closely.

  “I want . . . what a lot of women want.” Why not tell him? Maybe it would make him see how far apart they were. “I want a husband who can be my companion. I want a house. I want kids.”

  “You want a baby?” He looked so surprised, she had to smile.

  “Generally, kids start as babies, so . . . yeah, I guess I want one. Or two.”

  Now she’d totally freaked him out. He glanced at the strip of condoms on the nightstand and she slapped his arm.

  “I’m not talking about now. This minute. But soon. I’m in my thirties, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

  The look on his face made her sad. He was just now seeing how impossible this was, and she’d seen it for months.

  She gazed down at her lap and smoothed her fingers over her bandage. Her stitches felt sore, but she hadn’t wanted to take a pain pill that might numb her senses tonight.

  “You know, when I was little,” she said, “we used to be a regular family. We’d eat dinners together, go camping. My mom’s a teacher, so she was off in the summers. We used to go on picnics and sometimes my dad would come if he could get away from work. Christmas would roll around and he’d get out the ladder and put lights on the roof. Every Fourth of July, he’d put out the flag.” She looked at Gage. “He was really proud of Joe’s service. Even as a kid I could see that.”

  He was watching her, but she couldn’t read his expression at all.

  “Then one evening my mom opens the door and there’s this trooper standing there. My dad was gone. That was hard enough to deal with—this big hole in our lives. And after a while . . . it was like my mom started to disappear, too. She didn’t make picnics anymore, or put out the flag. She never got out the ladder.”

  She looked at him. “I don’t want to be like my mom. I don’t want to be this lonely shadow of a person, and that’s how I feel all the time you’re away.” She paused. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Gage.”

  He tipped his head back and raked his hand through his hair. “I hear what you’re saying, but . . .” He looked at her. “You’re asking me to leave the teams, Kelsey. I can’t do that. That’s like asking me to cut off my arm.”

  “No, you don’t hear what I’m saying.” She looked him in the eye. “I understand now, Gage, and I’ve accepted it. That’s why I’m not asking.”

  • • •

  “Dial it down, LeBlanc. You’re getting too rowdy.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the man on the stool beside her. Attractive man, she corrected herself. In case she’d failed to notice, the dozens of other women sliding looks in his direction served to remind her.

  “Seriously, you haven’t said a word since we got here. What’s the problem?”

  She turned to face him and reaffirmed the fact that this was a mistake. She should be holed up in some room with her laptop, not sitting in a pub.

  “This just—” She glanced around. “I haven’t been in a bar like this in a while.”

  “What, you mean one that serves beer?” He caught the bartender’s eye—no surprise, since the bartender was female and had a pulse. “Speaking of, what are you drinking?”

  Elizabeth looked at the row of bottles lined up in front of the mirror.

  “Beer? Rum and Coke?” he prompted. When she didn’t respond, he looked at the bartender. “Give us a sec, would you?”

  “A martini, please. Tanqueray. Make it a double.”

  He blinked at her. “Well, damn. All right, then.” He turned to the bartender. “Make it two.”

  “You drink martinis?”

  “I do tonight.” He smiled. “I’m good like that. If it’s wet, I drink it.”

  She glanced around again, still uncomfortable. She really didn’t go out much—not that she planned to tell Derek that. It would just give him one more advantage tonight. For some reason, it seemed like they were keeping score.

  The bartender made their drinks and delivered them with a warm smile for Derek. Elizabeth was pretty sure she’d missed a wink somewhere along the way.

  He lifted his glass. “Here’s to good outcomes.”

  Her stomach churned. “A man getting hit by a truck is a good outcome?”

  “I mean Gage.” He clinked glasses with her. “An innocent man not getting hauled off to jail is a good outcome.”

  Elizabeth looked down at her drink, no longer thirsty.

  “Drink up, Liz.”

  She took a gulp. It went down like water and quickly turned to fire.

  “So, you’re headed back to Texas tomorrow?”

  She nodded, certain if she tried to talk, she’d sound like a frog.

  “Morning flight? Now, that’s brutal.”

  “I’ve got meetings tomorrow afternoon.” There. That sounded almost normal.

  “You work too hard,” he told her.

  The gin was already starting to kick in. She plucked the toothpick from her glass. Maybe nibbling on an olive would balance out the alcohol.

  “You need a vacation. Why not take a few personal days, enjoy the coast? You ever driven down Highway One?”

  “No.”

  “Best drive in the world. Perfect view of the ocean.”

  A commotion arose in the back of the bar, and she glanced at the cluster of men near the dartboard. That was all she needed tonight—a bar brawl. But a quick check of their faces told her the shouting and shoving was good-natured.

  She glanced back at Derek and he looked amused.

  “That was your cop face.”

  She raised her brows at him.

  “I recognize it.” He smiled. “You used it on me back in Utah.” He set his glass on the bar. “What, worried you might have to haul those guys in for disorderly conduct?”

  “I’m not hauling anyone anywhere tonight unless they hold up a bank in front of me.” She sipped her drink again. “I’ve filled out enough paperwork today to last me a year. Next topic. How did you know about this place?”

  “Buddy of mine told me about it.”

  “Who, Gage?” She leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her chin on her fist. He gave her one of those smiles, and she noticed he had nice teeth. It was the sort of thing her mother would notice.

  “This might come as a shock, but Gage isn’t my only buddy. Mike Dietz told me about this place.”

  “Oh my God.” She sat up straighter.

  “What?”

  “That was textbook. Your gaze just darted up and to the left when you said that.”

  He gave her a curious look. “That drink’s going to your head.”

  “It is not.” She laughed. “You are lying about your friend Mike Whoever-He-Is. Admit it.”

  “What are you talking about? Mike’s from Oakland. Took me here last time we were up visiting. Damn, when was that? Back last fall sometime.”

  She downed another sip, feeling a rush of unexplained pride for nailing him. “Nice try with the details, but you are such a liar. You’ve never set foot in this place before tonight.”

  A slight smile twitched at the corner o
f his mouth, and she slapped the bar.

  “I knew it! How did you do that? On the way over here, you were like a homing pigeon. What was that? Three blocks? Four?”

  “Five.”

  “How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty good bet. Anywhere there’s a hospital, there are bound to be people blowing off steam after a rough day, right? There are plenty of watering holes around here.”

  “And you chose this one because . . . ?”

  “It looked halfway decent.” He set down his glass, and she noticed it was nearly empty. “And I figured if we walked too far, you’d change your mind and leave me hanging.”

  She shook her head. She picked up the toothpick and plucked another olive off the end. “I can’t believe you lied to me.” She gave him a stern look. “Again.”

  “I can’t believe you fell for it. Again.” He eased closer. “Pay attention, Liz. It’s all in the delivery. You plan to tell a lie, you have to sell it.” He clinked her glass again, but it was empty now. The attentive bartender stopped by, and he signaled for another round.

  Elizabeth watched him and a warm buzz settled over her. She glanced at her watch. She really needed to leave now. She’d hardly eaten today and the liquor was starting to get to her.

  Fresh drinks were delivered and she took a sip, watching him over the rim of the glass. When he wasn’t being infuriating he was really attractive. And nice. And she really should go. Elizabeth put down her glass and looked at him. She knew what she should do, but didn’t want to. She was actually enjoying herself.

  A wave of guilt crashed over her. How could she enjoy anything today of all days?

  “Uh-oh.” He pushed her glass closer to her. “Drink up. I sense a confession coming on.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ve got that look.” He smiled. “I’ve been the recipient of a few booze-induced confessions, and you definitely have one on the tip of your tongue.”

  She picked up the new toothpick—this one was green instead of red—and nibbled another olive.