Chapter 26
Abby studied Derek. He looked as surprised as she felt.
Even after two nights of hard flying together, which revealed his competence and clear thinking, she hadn’t been ready for his intense inspection of her apartment.
She’d been with guys interested in a quick tumble and a faster goodbye.
Many stuck around for days, occasionally even weeks, but seldom months.
Their interest only rarely extended beyond the bedroom, which was usually fine with her. Yet Derek had started here.
And he was absolutely right, the men she’d dated didn’t like being outperformed by a mere slip of a girl—she’d heard that a thousand times too many.
In high school, the strength and agility from her summers and weekends on the family lobster boat had placed her at the top of most teams. That she could outplay any of the forty-three seniors in her class—female or male—in volleyball, soccer, and softball hadn’t won her a lot of good will either.
When she’d graduated at the top of UMaine Orono’s ROTC program and the Honors college, the instructors and professors had expressed their appreciation. Her classmates not so much.
She’d been ready for an enjoyable passage at arms with Derek; he would be shipped back to Fort Bragg soon enough as it was.
But she didn’t know how to react to his interest in learning more about her.
Abby had still been trying to process Trisha’s comment encouraging her interest in Derek.
It had seemed weird, except Trisha had married a D-boy herself, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange.
Except it was. Picturing the woman—whose nickname among the troops was PITA, Pain in the Ass—as a matchmaker because she wanted Abby to be happy was beyond laughable.
Except with Derek’s dark eyes watching her, she wasn’t much in the mood for laughing.
Unlike most men, he was waiting for the next cue from her.
Well, she definitely needed a shower after the night’s extended operation—the five-site roll-up had taken seven hours at full intensity.
Especially as she’d still been ragged from the prior night’s flight.
As the sole female in a house of men, the shower was her private place.
It was the one place she could, whether happy or needing a good cry, be truly alone.
She’d never before let a man join her in the shower.
On the verge of overthinking everything and changing her mind about letting Derek join her, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.
“Army spotless,” Derek didn’t make it a judgment.
Her boots were next, squared-up and laces untangled in case she needed to don them quickly.
Sock-footed, she headed for the bedroom.
A half-glance showed Derek doing the same.
A part of her wanted the mayhem of clothes tossed aside in a frenzy of coming together, but a bigger part liked not only the sense of order but the sense of being ready for action.
That was only emphasized when she spotted him tucking his backup piece in one coat pocket and unstrapping his ankle knife to slip it in his boot.
She’d creeped out civilians when doing that herself; to a Spec Ops Forces soldier, it was very sexy—a top warrior setting aside his cherished weapons to be with her.
Like being welcomed inside the careful shield, closer to the man crouched inside it.
With his back momentarily to her, she did shed one sock at the threshold to her bedroom and another just inside as a tease.
Not quite a scatter of rose petals, though she doubted neither of them had romance on their minds.
Her jeans and turtleneck landed either side of the bathroom doorway.
As she leaned in to start the hot water, his Delta-rough palms landed on her hips.
Derek’s approach had been as silent as it was welcome.
He didn’t slide her panties down or drag aside the sports bra that her figure only needed when working out or flying. He simply pulled her back against his still-clothed chest into an enveloping embrace. She reached to turn off the light switch that habit had turned on.
Derek blocked her and nipped her ear again.
It was silly. It tickled. And…it made her want to giggle with delight in the ridiculous way she’d heard other girls do sometimes but she’d never descended to.
After turning her to face him, he didn’t grab between her legs or crush down on a breast. Instead, those callus-rough hands remained lightly on her hips.
The slightest shift and he had her back against the glass, heated from the other side by the pounding hot water, as he picked up the earlier kiss where he’d left it at her collarbone.
It was the last time for a long while that she wasn’t running short of breath.