He lowered his head, resting the crown of it between her breasts so he could see to undo his fly. His rapid, hot exhales fanned her skin as he grappled with stubborn buttons. When all were free, he raised his head and looked at her. “I may be able to make it to the bed. If we hurry.”

He took her hand and towed her into the bedroom. Not bothering to turn on the light, he flipped open the louvers of one panel of shutters to let in light from a lamppost down below. They formed stripes of light and shadow across the bed.

His boots hit the floor in two solid thuds, then he unsnapped the buttons of his shirt and pulled it off. From their time in the garage, Jordie remembered the hair-dusted pecs, corrugated rib cage, and enticing line of sleek hair that had directed her eyes to his waistband. But now the goodie trail widened into his open jeans, and the sight of his fully aroused sex stopped her breathing.

He pushed his jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. Then, noticing that she was arrested in motion, he asked raggedly, “You need help?”

“No.” Quickly, she kicked off her shoes, unfastened her pants, and pulled them off.

He lifted her by the waist and set her in the middle of the bed, then followed her as she lay down. Even as their mouths met, he pushed her panties only as far as he could reach, then came up on his knees and finished removing them.

His hands skimmed over her breasts, pressing them briefly before moving past her ribs to bracket her hips. He bent down and nuzzled the V of hair, then slid his tongue between the lips of her sex and continued down with it until, by the time he’d parted her thighs and got between them, it was making sweeping love strokes around and inside her.

She gasped his name and reached for him.

He rose above her, entirely male, physically dominant, intent, but his expression was vulnerable with longing. The broad head of his penis probed her, found her tight but yielding. He made a low sound and, in one thrust, buried himself completely. His shuddering sigh became an echo of hers as he settled on her heavily.

“All I’ve thought about,” he said, breathing the words against her neck, “being like this…inside you.”

Her response was to clench.

“Ah, dammit, Jordie, don’t. I don’t want to rush it.”

“Neither do I.”

“But I can’t help moving.”

“Neither can I.” She arched her hips up and rocked against him.

He groaned, planted his hands above her shoulders, and levered himself up. Then, as he’d promised her, he told her straight out: “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

After several minutes of lying replete, he left the bed and went into the bathroom. By feel, he found fresh washcloths in the cupboard, waited for the tap water to turn warm, washed himself, and then carried another cloth to the bed where he washed her.

Meeting her gaze as he moved the cloth across her stomach, he said, “Pulling out. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I hadn’t asked your permission.”

“You never ask permission for anything.”

“This is the one exception.”

“You’re mama raised you better?”

He couldn’t hide his wistful smile.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

“It’s okay,” he said, setting the washcloth on the nightstand. “She did raise me better.”

As he was lying back down, Jordie sat upright and gave a soft cry of alarm. She touched the bandage on his side. “You’re bleeding.”

A few spots had seeped through the gauze of the bandage and showed through the outer layer. “The incision leaked a little when Wiley and I were running after Hickam.”

“Let me check it.”

“I already did. It’s fine. And even if it was a hemorrhage, you’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her down beside him, took her hand, and placed it over his resting penis.

“Good,” she said. “I like it here.”

He grunted with pleasure at the squeeze she gave him. “I noticed you looking before.”

“How could I miss it?”

He shot her a crocodile grin. “In my dreams, you couldn’t keep your hands off it.”

“You dreamed about me?”

“When I was coming out of anesthesia. Really dirty stuff.”

“Dare I ask?”

“Not unless you want to be embarrassed.”

She laughed and rubbed her nose in his chest hair before resting her head on him. “That night in the bar, I wanted him to be you.”

“Him who?”

“The man who called me there.”

“It was me.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know that then. I saw you walking toward me. My heart rate kicked up. But you went past, didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge me. I was disappointed.”

“That is such bullshit,” he said. “You didn’t give me a second’s notice.”

“Oh, I noticed.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. I thought, ‘Bad boy alert.’”

“What’s that mean exactly?”

“Dangerously sexy.”

“Keep talking.”

She laughed and raised her head, propping her chin on his sternum. “I’ve said enough. You get the idea.”

“I couldn’t get enough of looking at your ass. On that bar stool? Oh man. And I smelled your perfume. Made me want to bury my face in your neck. And in your cleavage.” Turning his voice smoky, he said, “I think you can guess where else.”

She ducked her head shyly then came up and looked into his face, outlining the C on his chin. “Are you ever going to tell me how you got this?”

“One of Panella’s guys.”

“One you had to—”

“Yeah. He was a knife man. I defended myself with a nine-millimeter, but not before he got in one good swipe.”

“My God, Shaw. How can you be so blasé about it? He could have disfigured you.”

“He did.”

She kissed the scar, then whispered against his lips. “How little you know.”

Keeping their lips together, he said, “One thing I know…your thumb is the second best thing that’s ever happened to my cock.”