Under Seige (14 page)

She needed to lose herself in a raging hot night of sex with her husband.

* * *

Not surprising, since he no doubt suffered from a lethal case of deadly testosterone build-up months in the making.

Zach dropped his flight bag on his motorcycle seat and considered heading out for a long ride. Only around forty degrees and cloudless, it would make the perfect night for speeding under the stars. He could if he wanted, without worrying about the squadron since the last plane had landed.

He backed from the bike. Forget the ride, he would just lose himself in the kids as he'd done a hundred times the past two months to avoid looking at Julia. Talk about holiday mania.

The kids had enjoyed a blow-out Christmas.

He had a mind-blowing headache.

Zach eyed the kitchen door. With any luck, Shelby would have pierced her nose, or something equally as aggravating to keep his mind off Julia.

Marrying her was the smartest—and the most dumbass thing he'd ever done. Sure, the children were happy, but he was slowly losing his freaking mind.

Images bombarded him, so many accidental glimpses of Julia that turned him inside out. Julia in his bed.

Julia leaning over the bathroom sink wearing nothing but a sheer slip so short it displayed miles of legs.

Other images no less torturous kicked over him. Julia singing to Patrick. Sawdust glinting in her blond curls as she taught Ivy to hammer nails. Julia wrangling a smile out of Shelby at Christmas by doing nothing more than starting kitchen wars with cans of whipped cream.

Home-life intimacy was killing him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. If only he hadn't just flown. At least they would have their very own rugrat chaperones in residence.

Zach yanked the kitchen door open. He flung his helmet bag on the counter and turned toward the refrigerator.

Julia sat on the floor. Knees drawn to her chest, her back against the wall. Her pale face glowed in the darkened kitchen. What the hell was wrong? Something with the kids? "Julia? Is everything okay?"

"Hi," her husky voice whispered, strangely hollow in the silence. "You're home early."

He flipped on the lights. "The winds were too strong once we returned to base, so we cancelled the touch-and-go landings."

"Good."

Confused and more than a little worried, he crouched in front of her. Was this some kind of delayed post-partum depression thing? "Tough day with the kids?"

"Not at all. Shelby's at band camp, remember? Ivy's at a sleepover, and Patrick's down for the night."

She reached to touch his jacket, tracing his nametag. "I was just... thinking."

Beneath her fingers, his muscles twitched. He cleared his throat. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Talk was good. Something to take his mind off those elegant fingers gliding along his nametag.

"Not really." She tugged the jacket zipper down, link by link, the rasp taunting him almost as much as her shower-fresh scent and low-riding pajama bottoms.

Zach shot to his feet. "All right, then. I'll just go change. Is there any supper left?''

Damn, but he was hungry.

"I'll warm something up before you get back."

If things got any hotter, the kitchen would combust.

Zach shucked his jacket and slung it over the coat tree on his way back down the hall. In the computer room, he yanked on a black T-shirt and jeans. Tying gym shoes, he tried not to think about how he did not want to spend another night in that single bed. His feet hung off the edge and it was cold.

His
bed was right across the hall and belonged to a gorgeous woman—
his
wife—who spent her nights tangled in
his
sheets.

His wife. Who was upset about something. Time to shut down his libido—yeah, right—and take care of Julia.

He approached the kitchen as he would a loaded minefield. Fifteen years of marriage with Pam had taught him he had the unerring knack for stepping right on those land mines. Give him a plane to fly, a nation to feed and he was fine. Circumventing the female psyche in a snit, however, stumped him.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Julia spooned barbecue onto a bun, her drawstring pajama pants dipping to reveal an ivory patch of stomach. Her tank T-shirt outlined perfect breasts, small and high.

And unrestrained by a bra.

A land mine might make a welcome distraction.

She returned the plastic container of barbecue to the fridge, bumping the door closed with her hip. The door closed, the thump echoing in the silent house.

Silent house?

Hey, wait.
He'd been so focused on Julia's pale face earlier he hadn't really listened to her words. The kids were all gone or asleep.

He was alone. In the house. With Julia.

Hell and damnation.

Head pounding, Zach stalked into the kitchen. He jerked open the refrigerator and pulled out a beer bottle. He needed one. Or four.

He twisted the top. "So the house is empty until tomorrow."

"Pretty much." She passed him his sandwich like Eve handing over the forbidden fruit.

One bite and he would be toast. "On second thought, I think I'll save that for later. I'm going to unwind on the back porch."

He grabbed his leather jacket from the coat tree and bolted through the door to the screened-in porch.

Dropping onto the glider, he tipped his beer back and gazed at the night sky through the long neck. Like that could help him escape her. Julia filled his whole damned life.

She'd even made the glider for him for Christmas with the girls' help. Why Shelby had opted for purple paint, he would never know. But of course Julia, being Julia, cared more about making his girls smile than clashing colors.

He knocked back another swallow, the yeasty glide down his throat doing little to mellow his need to get the hell out. The gold band weighed heavy on his finger. He needed space.

Now.

Julia bumped the door open with her bottom, two more beers in her hands. "Hope you don't mind if I join you."

"Nope." Liar.

The gentle sway of her hips nudged those pajama pants perilously low. The thin T-shirt provided pathetic little barrier against the night chill.

It was cold and her body knew it.

Zach knocked back the last swig of his beer and studied...a tree. Yeah, that tree needed trimming. He would take care of it this weekend, along with a hundred other things he would add to his to-do list until he worked himself into a dead sleep.

Julia passed him another beer and sat beside him. Not that she ever actually sat like other people. She wouldn't think twice about dropping to the floor. Or perching cross-legged in a chair. Or in this case sitting sideways, hugging her knees.

She wriggled her toes in the wooly socks. "My feet are cold. Do you mind?"

Mind what? "Sure. Whatever."

"Thanks." Julia slid her feet forward.

Tucking them under his thigh.

Those toes weren't cold at all. Heat seared straight from the back of his leg to a throbbing ache higher up. Didn't the woman have a clue how she was torturing him?

He studied her through narrowed eyes. "Julia?"

She smiled. "Much better. Thanks."

"Here." He shrugged out of his jacket, shuffling the bottle from hand to hand. "Put this on."

The cooling breeze helped him. Some. Not nearly enough.

Slowly, Julia slid one arm at a time into his coat. She tucked the collar tight under her chin with two hands and burrowed into the leather with a sensuous sigh. "Ahhh. It's still warm from you."

Where the hell had she put his second beer?

Oh, yeah. In his hand.

He picked hers up from the porch and passed it to her. "Here. You'll sleep better."

"Are you having trouble sleeping, Zach?"

Hell, yes. "No."

"Well, I am." She wasn't smiling anymore. The Eve look slid away and left Julia. Open. Honest. And straightforward as always. "Kiss me."

The woman was giving him whiplash. "What?"

"Kiss me. Because it's a beautiful night and we're all alone on our porch."

If it sounded too good to be true, it was, and this sounded beyond too good. "Julia, there's no need to put on a show. Sure somebody might stroll by, but this little domestic scene will say enough to satisfy the gossip hounds."

"Zach, you make me crazy sometimes."

"The feeling's a hundred-percent mutual."

"Good." She rose up on her knees, pressing her body flush against him.

His arm locked around her waist to keep her from pitching off the glider.

"Kiss me because I want you to," she whispered the caramel-tinged invitation against his mouth. "You told me all I had to do was let you know, and you wouldn't turn me away." She slipped a finger into the waistband of his jeans, inching his T-shirt up and out.

He gripped her hand, his stomach going taut against the soft temptation of her fingers. If he could keep her talking, maybe he could stop himself from making a Texas-sized mistake. "I'm not turning you down, Jules. Just wondering about the big turnaround."

"No turnaround at all. I've always wanted you. I wasn't ready then and now I am. We could go inside and I'll prove it to you." She shook her hand free and tunneled under his shirt, fingernails scoring lightly against his stomach. "Or I can show you over there in the playhouse."

Her words blasted away the last of his restraints. Forget questioning what had changed her mind. He would dodge those land mines later. For now, he would take her to bed and do his determined best to show her how un-freakin'-believable he knew it could be between them.

Zach scooped Julia up and headed for the door.

Julia locked her arms around Zach's neck and eyed the door. Only three more steps to the total forgetfulness she knew Zach would give her.

She didn't doubt for a minute that he could deliver. The intensity of his gaze told her flat-out. She would be the lucky recipient of Zach Dawson's meticulous, determined, totally intense attention. He toed the door open, tucking sideways before kicking it shut.

Julia secured her hold on his shoulders. "I should tell you to put me down before you hurt yourself."

"You're kidding, right?" he answered, never breaking stride. "You don't weigh half as much as Bronco."

"Bronco? Thanks, I think." She laughed and loved the sound. She needed this, fun and Zach. "You carried Bronco?''

Zach charged down the hall, stopping outside the computer room. She wasn't about to question the locale. The daybed might be small, but there wasn't a baby in there.

He bent to grab the doorknob. "Fireman's carry during an emergency exercise. Fire drill from a plane."

Fire drill? Her heart thumped a nauseating pace. Don't think. She stuffed thoughts of fire drills and crash preparations deep into the mental trash where they belonged. Julia drew Zach's head back down to her as he strode into the room, kissing him, drinking the heady mixture of Zach and the lingering taste of his beer.

He stopped at the foot of the narrow daybed. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She traced his ear with the tip of her tongue. "I haven't made love with you, Zach, not yet," she whispered an altered echo of his words to her from two months ago. "But I still know I want you."

He growled his appreciation against her mouth, reaching down to swipe aside a pile of pillows.

One knee on the edge of the bed, he lowered her. She inched up the fluffy comforter, urgency pulsing through her as she extended her arms for him to join her. Zach's solid weight pressed her into the downy softness.

Three mind-numbing kisses later, he seared a path down her neck with gentle nips that sent her arching up, frenzied for more. He worked his way down with the methodical attention to detail she'd known he would shower over her. Her shoulder, the hollow of her neck, already her breasts tingled in anticipation, strained, yearned. His mouth closed over her, leaving a damp circle on her T-shirt before he lingered along her stomach.

He gently snapped the waist of her pajama pants with his teeth. "You ready for more?"

"Yes," she gasped, tearing at his shirt. Damn it, she wasn't thinking warm and gentle, not tonight. She burned with a do-me-baby desperation born of a need to forget the hurt.

Zach tugged her pajama pants down and off, flinging them away, leaving her in nothing more than her white T-shirt and tangerine panties. He devoured her with his eyes, melting every inch of her with heat, desire and a crooked smile. "That scrap of orange has haunted my dreams for months."

"The real thing's always better than dreams," she whispered, all the while longing to shout for him to hurry. She raised up on her elbows, lifted her foot to trail her toes down his chest.

He caught her foot before her path dipped lower and pressed a kiss to her ankle. "Do you know how crazy you've been making me for months? How much I've wanted to do this." Strong hands with callused fingers rasped a path from her calf, up further, dipping behind her knee, then along her thigh to travel further still. "No one should be allowed to have legs this long."

His husky growl slid over her with a heat equal only to that of his body stretching on top of her. The power of Zach, the words, his warmth pulled her into the moment as she'd hoped. She tugged at him, draped her legs over his and locked him to her, showing him just what those legs could do for them both.

He edged to the side, cool air wafting over her, too cool after the heat and musk of his body blanketing her.

"Don't stop." She clutched his shoulders. "Even for a minute."
Make me forget.

"Just bringing some birth control into the equation."

"In a minute. We haven't even finished undressing." Something she planned to change.

He clasped her hands to stop their restless motion and pinned them over her head. Linking her wrists overhead with one hand, he slid his fingers under the edge of her shirt. "Slow down. We have all night."

"So glad you came home early."

"Me, too."

"But you're here. And you're warm. Really warm." On fire like the coil of need unfurling in her belly and spreading through her.