Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (26 page)

"Physically there's not a mark on him. Colonel Cullen is as all right as any commander who just had one of his troops injured can be. But yeah, physically, he's fine."

She backed away from him, toward the door. "Thank you."

He thought about saying more, but what? Like her sister in more ways than one, it seemed Yasmine would only tolerate help and comfort in small, measured doses.

Jack glanced back at the plane. Monica needed his distance for now. Fine. But she had to come down off her hill sometime and she would need him then whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Even under all her calm, he hadn't seen her this rattled since the news about Sydney. God, if that was the case, then he probably shouldn't set foot anywhere near her.

Thing was, he'd learned long ago with Tina that he didn't always make the rational choice.

Gut-weary, Drew reached for the doorknob to his quarters. He needed sleep. He needed peace.

Above all, he had to get himself together if he expected his men to recover morale. Officially announcing PFC Santuci's death had been beyond hell. No matter how many times he performed that task, it always sliced away a piece of him he would never get back.

He swung his door open. And stopped short.

Yasmine sat at his desk, elegant, ramrod straight.

Her uncovered hair gleamed in the lamplight, her daisy scarf in her lap.

"How the hell did you get in here?" He slammed the door shut behind him before anyone saw her in his quarters.

"People were preoccupied with the tragedy outside, which made it easy enough to slip my guard." She shrugged. "I am very quiet."

"All right. Fine. I get the picture." He pinched the bridge of his nose, not that it did a damned bit of good easing the remorse biting the edges of his brain, hampering his thinking, impeding his already-compromised ability to be rational where Yasmine was concerned. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. I was worried. I needed to see that you were not hurt on the training exercise."

"Are there no secrets in this place?"

She pleated the daisy scarf between her fingers, her only sign of nerves. "I am sure there are many."

Unhooking his M-16 from his shoulder, he wondered why the hell he didn't just throw her out.

"Who was injured?"

"One of my men." He shrugged out of his flak vest.

"I know that much."

He glanced over his shoulder
,
questioning. "Major Korba told me. Will your soldier be all right?"

"No."

"Oh." Her fingers stilled their quilting. "Is he—"

"Yes." He turned his back to her and resumed the reliable routine of cleaning and stowing his weapons.

"Now get the hell out of my room so I can write the report."

"Do you have to write it tonight?"

"Before tomorrow. Yes. I do. That's my job." He emptied his pockets, his hand closing around a roll of LifeSavers.

A whispery rustle sounded behind him, his only warning that she approached until she eased close enough for him to smell her. A man could lose himself in that smoky sensuality.

And damn but did he ever need to lose himself tonight.

Anger, frustration and a pile of other emotions he didn't want to label popped through him like gunfire until he snapped at her, "Are you dense or just that pushy to stay where you aren't wanted?"

She stared back unflinching, her hands loosely clutching the scarf. "If I only went where I was wanted, I would not have anywhere to be lately, now would I?"

He would not allow himself to feel sorry for her.
"Well, lady, at least you're alive."

Her clasped hands inched forward until she hooked one soft finger over his clenched fist. "I thought perhaps you might be upset by what happened. You do not like for others to know you are sensitive, an understandable thing for a man in your position."

"Upset?" He jerked back. "Yeah, I'm upset."

He stared down at the roll of candy in his hands. His fist clenched tighter until the fire of emotions inside him built into a collective blast. He hauled back. Flung the candy with a curse.

The roll exploded against the wall, raining lemon- and cherry-flavored fury on the floor.

Yasmine flinched, but didn't pull away or even speak.

"If you had any sense, woman, you'd get the hell away from me right now."

Still she didn't move or answer.

He wanted to punch his fist through the wall, which would break his hand and put him out of action. Damn it, he needed an outlet for the rage bellowing inside him.

More than that, he needed Yasmine to leave his room before he lost what little control he had left. "What do you want from me? I'm not in the mood for games. Damn it, I'm not even sure you know what you want."

Although she'd made it clear not too long ago with her supple body draping all over him in a kiss that seared from the inside out. Even remembering brought heat, desire, darker feelings from a side of him far from sensitive. Shit, yeah, he was weak right now. One nudge and he'd fall over the edge.

She stepped closer, bringing all that smoky sensuality with her. "No games. And believe me, Drew, I know exactly what I want from you."

Her fingers went to the top button of her dress. Ah, hell. He knew he should stop her, but his battered brain went on stun. She couldn't actually be about to...

Black linen slid from her shoulders, hooked on pert breasts, before gliding free to pool around her ankles in a dark cloud. And she wasn't wearing a damned stitch of clothing underneath.

More than a nudge, she'd packed a full-out shove to a man already standing on the edge.

Yasmine willed herself to stand still as Drew's shocked gaze locked on her naked body. If he laughed at her, she would die. Or kill him.

She hoped she had not misjudged. She was so certain he desired her and would welcome comfort. Her comfort.

Stay resolved. She wanted this and perhaps she was selfishly taking advantage of a weak moment, but then, ultimately they would both be glad. Yes, she was being greedy, but she also saw the pain of loss in a man who looked out for everyone and had no one to look after him. For tonight at least, that would change.

Drew scrubbed a hand over his face. "Please tell me you haven't been like that under your clothes all the time."

She shook her head. "Only at night. Only for you."

His blue eyes flecked with molten steel. There was something a little ferocious about him tonight in his grief, but she kept focused on his eyes. She knew he would never hurt her.

Then he exploded into action. She forced herself not to flinch.

"Shit." He yanked his sleeping bag off his cot and threw it around her shoulders. "You don't know what the hell you're doing."

"You are wrong." She stepped closer, kicking her clothes aside.

"Wouldn't be the first time, and I'm not going to let it happen again. Not tonight." He scooped her dress off the floor and thrust it toward her. "Now get dressed. And for God's sake, find some underwear."

Embarrassment burned her chilled skin but she was not the type to quit. She released the sleeping bag.

"Damnation, woman!" Her dress fluttered to the floor again as he grabbed the quilted blanket and folded it around her.

Which brought them chest to chest, his fists between them securing the sleeping bag. The heat of the backs of his hands branded the sides of her breasts. Immobilizing her.

Him as well.

Yasmine peered silently up into eyes muting from flecks in the deep blue to that total silvery gray of arousal. His chest expanded and she knew he was catching her scent. Emboldened, she sidled nearer, flush against him. The rigid heat of his erection pressed against her stomach even through the fabric between them.

She smiled, slow, sure.

"Shit." Drew cursed low.

Yasmine clasped her hands over his. "You really need to quit saying that every time we are together."

"Then maybe you need to quit driving me insane."

Any fears of being rejected melted to warm butter in her veins. "I do that?''

"You know damned well you do."

Yasmine wiggled against him, longed to toss aside the blanket to feel the undiluted sensation of his hands on her flesh. Her skin cried out for his touch, for contact. For so long she had gone without the most basic of physical affection from even family. Her half sisters from her father's side resented her because of her mother. Her sisters from her mother resented her because of her father.

She was lonely and aching and so very alone. She'd been denied freedom and choices for too long. This moment was hers. Theirs. "Is it so wrong for me to want to comfort you right now?"

To steal some comfort for herself?

"Do you make it a practice to dole out comfort this way to any man?"

His harsh words sliced her. But then she had brought this on herself with her behavior. Even if he had guessed at her limited experience, he might not know just how limited.

Intuition whispered through her. Was he trying to push her away? "Take me and you will have your answer as to whether I have 'comforted' anyone before."

"All right, Yasmine, you can cut the crap. I've had worse days than this. I can assure you I'll survive without your virgin sacrifice."

A smile welled inside her but she stifled it for fear of angering him more. Of course he knew how innocent she was. He had kissed her and would undoubtedly have recognized her inexperience. "Before you can roll out any more excuses..." She paused, snaking a hand loose to reach down to fish in her dress pocket, tugging free a small packet to press into his palm. "I brought protection."

He stared down at the condom nestled in his hand with more shock than when he had found her note in the same place. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"From my sister."

He choked on a cough. "You talked to your sister about us?"

She couldn't help but laugh as she slid back against him. "No, although now I wonder if I should have sought advice from her after all. Apparently the fact that I am standing naked in your arms and you are doing nothing must mean either I am not attractive to you or I am too inexperienced to do this right."

"You're doing damned fine." His eyes strayed down to the hint of cleavage showing above the clasped material. His throat moved with a long swallow before he forced his eyes back up. "I just can't figure out why the hell you're doing this. How does a woman who's held out for twenty-three years make the decision to lose it with a guy she's known about a week?"

"Would you like to hear the whole list?"

"Yeah, I think I need to."

If he wanted to hear her list, then he wanted to be convinced. Yes.

"Number one, the opportunities were rare before." She counted down on her fingers. "Two, I am finally free to make my own decisions and three, I like you. Four, you are a sexy, fascinating man. And why am I so quick to decide? Well, women in my culture often end up married to men they've met only a few times after always being chaperoned prior. We've spent more time together than that, and this certainly is not about marriage. Which gives you five solid arguments right there."

All of which did not appear to be swaying him.

She would have to bare a little piece of her soul, far more daunting than baring her body.

"But the real reason?" She stopped her countdown and tapped his temple. "Your eyes. I trust from your eyes that you are the man who will treat my first time with care. So much of my life has been chosen for me. Right now, I choose. I want you. And as long as you want me, too, then as two consenting adults we have every right to this."

His stance adjusted, a slight shuffle of his boots that brought him even closer, his legs bracketing hers. She was not even sure he consciously realized his action of his body beginning to accept the feel of her against him.

"Are you a lawyer? Because you sure do argue like one."

With his warm thighs pressing against hers for encouragement, she allowed herself a laugh, surprising even herself with the low, husky sound that came from her throat. "No, I am just a woman very determined to have exactly what she wants, and more than anything, I want to make more memories of you to think about once we leave this place."

She left unspoken her desire to erase the torment in his eyes and repeated, "I want you, Drew."

The instant his name caressed the air between them, she saw his resistance evaporate. With deliberate hands, he eased the sleeping bag from her shoulders. The nip in the night air warmed under the heat of appreciation in his eyes.

Her hand glided to cup his face as she arched on her toes to press her lips to his. The freedom of touching him loosened threads within her tangled so tight from years of restraint she unraveled against the hard-muscled strength of him.

"Touch me," she whispered against his mouth.

His growl of surrender vibrated through his chest, against her skin, the coarse fabric of his uniform rasping an arousing abrasion against her nipples. His arms rose from his sides, his hands falling to rest against her back and stirring a low moan deep inside her. Her eyes slid closed at the strong warmth of his arms along her skin.

If his muted heat through his clothes felt this exciting...

He kissed her thoughts silent. How could she do anything but feel with his intensity poured on her, her mouth? Sensuality long denied flooded her. Too many emotions, sensations, jumbled through the waves sweeping away control.

She fumbled with the top button of his uniform, but her fingers shook. His hands fell over hers, brushed them aside, and just as she began to protest, he started down the row of fastenings.

The long overjacket went first, leaving him in just a brown T-shirt stretched taut across his broad chest, tapering down to trim hips encased in camouflage pants. Her hand itched to press against the flat expanse of his stomach, but she feared slowing him.

Or worse yet, doing something to jar him into turning away.

So she watched and soon realized that her undisguised appreciation apparently pleased him. And oh, but she was mesmerized by the honed cut of him as his T-shirt swept up and off to reveal an expanse of tanned muscle, defined pectorals.