Chapter 5
5
“Don’t worry about that right now. You were having a bad day.”
“No excuse,” he rasped out. “I embarrassed you for no reason.”
She shrugged, keeping her voice light. “Everyone has a crappy day sometimes. Even badasses.” He chuckled, and his breathing got a little bit better. She gave him a half-smile, liking him more and more as each minute passed. “Doesn’t make you an ogre. Tell me what’s happening. I want to help you.”
“Can’t breathe,” he whispered. His jaw clenched in a flare of anger, and his eyes flashed with the same spark of fury. “Worthless to you.”
“Am I too heavy?” He shook his head with an are-you-kidding look. She was breathing just fine, so it wasn’t the physical space that was hampering him. Fresh air was coming through the stair slats, along with all the terrible noise that indicated the bomb had injured many people. She had the uncontrollable urge to be out there to assist. She hoped his team was all right. There was also plenty of ambient light to see his face, and he was in crisis. She was highly tuned to facial expressions, eyes especially. When diving with a partner hundreds of miles below the surface of the ocean, they had to be in perfect sync and read every nuance. Twister was caught in something he couldn’t seem to shake.
She studied him for a moment, from the tension radiating off his body to the self-reproach in his gaze. He made it seem as though he was responsible somehow, and that was so far from the truth. “What? That’s complete bullshit.” His mouth curved. God, he was so attractive when he did that. “You risked your life to get me to safety. We’re safe right now, Twister, thanks to your quick thinking.” She moved closer, wanting him to know how much that meant to her. “I’ve never been the center of anyone’s existence. It seems like I’ve always been the one taking care of everyone else. I needed you, and you were there for me, and I’m so glad that I’m here for you now, and you aren’t alone.”
His sensual lips tightened. “You fill up every space,” he managed around his ragged breathing.
His voice was soft, sincere, and almost awed, and she didn’t want to read anything into those words, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. No one had ever said anything so sweet, so deep, so body- and mind-hugging as those words. After years of being strong and holding herself together, she was conditioned to keep her emotions locked away tightly.
So, she went all soft and liquid. Her pulse tripped all over itself, and she was suddenly much too aware how close their bodies were as she lay on top of him, his body as hard all over as he looked.
He closed his eyes, and his breathing ramped up again. She felt his fear as if she was experiencing it, his body trembling, his breathing fast. “Hold on to me,” she whispered. He squeezed her, then suddenly grabbed her close, almost painfully, and Sadie simply held on. He breathed hard into the curve of her neck, his fingers digging into her skin as he fought the scream she felt boiling up in him.
She blinked, feeling helpless, and angrily clenched her jaw. What could she do to help? They were wedged in here, the remnants of a wall blocking the opening, and this strong, magnificent warrior was having a terrible panic attack…flashbacks…something that was breaking him down, and she could barely stand it. Her heart ached for his pain. He and his team hunted the worst criminals who possessed no conscience, no moral center. They faced monsters with unparalleled courage and determination, and it took something awful to get one of these men to unravel.
He released her enough that she could look into his face. There was that strength in his features, along with the chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. Something so intriguing, something that moved her in the most profound way—a depth of character, an inner strength, but also revealing an imperviousness that had been carved by sheer and unwavering determination. It was the face of a man who had forged on with everything he possessed, a man whose sensuous mouth had been hardened by grim hardship.
Sadie felt an immediate kinship with him that she had never felt for another human being. Her keen awareness of him as a man had a disabling effect on her, and she was conscious of nothing except him.
Without realizing it, she reached out, pushing strands off his forehead, the dim light shining on hair so black. His eyes opened slowly, and he held her gaze for a long moment. Damn, the man was so freaking intense, but she loved that about him. His gaze was, as always, penetrating, but there was something…almost desperate in his eyes, something that he begged her for that she was more than willing to give. Connection. It sizzled in her nerve endings, causing her heart to beat that much faster, that much harder, her breath to come to an abrupt stop as if she didn’t want to miss one moment of looking into his eyes and be distracted by something so mundane as breathing.
She was utterly suspended as she met his steady gaze. There was a compelling attractiveness about him, an attractiveness that was unfeigned and indestructible. At first glance, it was easy to say his eyes were brown, but as she looked deeper, she could see they were more a bronze color like a burnished weapon, but instead of cold like metal, they were more velvety, luxurious, and shot with flecks of gold. His long, thick lashes accentuated their hypnotic intensity.
The dim light illuminated him like a dark, fallen angel. Suddenly, she could feel every part of him, his corded arms around her like bands of steel, his hard chest beneath her breasts, his taut, rigid belly, and lower to his groin, and everything that made him so heart-stoppingly male.
Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard as she tried to get back to thinking of him as her protector. But she couldn’t get that image of his well-built body out of her mind, making her feel delicate and feminine. He had a light stubble on his jaw, and Twister, during a panic attack, seduced her without even trying. What could he do when he was fully committed? That question sent a wave of desire over her.
“Can’t stop thinking about how fucked up this is,” he rasped, his rough tone telling her that he was still in the danger zone.
And it dawned on her how to distract him, telling herself this was all about him. Yeah, right…. “Maybe then I can give you something else to think about.”
Her lashes fell to half-mast as she skimmed the pad of her thumb across his full bottom lip, aching to kiss him.
He jolted beneath her, and she realized this was the last thing he’d expected. His breathing changed rhythm, and that was just as sexy as his reaction to her. The rumbling of pleasure instead of fear vibrated against her mouth. Oh, the promise of those sliding, soft lips on a hard man. She pressed down, wanting all his raw, powerful masculinity. She got so much more than she bargained for. What she thought was a way to distract him backfired on her. He cupped the back of her head in that big, powerful hand, returning her kiss with a hot, hard demand.
There was no teasing or sweetness. There wasn’t any room for any of that innocent shit. He took her somewhere she’d never been before, discovering for the first time in her adult life true passion. This is what it meant to want, as all she could absorb was searing heat, ravenous hunger, and insatiable lust.
He turned so that she slipped off his body, then he pushed her against the back wall, the hand at the nape of her neck tightening, trapping her there with the insistent press of his thighs and hips against hers. The solid length of a growing erection branded her with a need so primal, she ached to feel every inch of him inside her.
With her now effectively pinned, he slanted his mouth across hers and deepened the kiss further. His tongue stroked across hers. One palm glided down over the curve of her waist and around to her bottom. He cupped her, dragging her hips harder against his.
She moaned against his mouth, and arousal, liquid and warm, spiraled its way down to her belly, then between her thighs. She automatically arched into him.
She couldn’t stop her own hands, wanting to feel his burning skin against her, increasing that intoxicating sensation through him as well. As she smoothed both of her hands down his chest to his abdomen, then teased her fingers along the waistband of his pants, his big body shuddered. Before she had a chance to go any further and get to that tantalizing, jutting erection, he abruptly ended the kiss. He jerked back, his breathing ragged.
“Yes,” he said. “A few cuts and bruises, but we’re unharmed.”
Then she realized he was talking to one of his teammates…sounded like Dagger. “Are you safely away from this area?”
“We’re wedged all the way to the back. We’re clear.”
“We’ve got some heavy equipment ready. It’s going to get really noisy and dusty for a few minutes. Cover your noses and mouths.”
The whir and revving sound came from the pile of debris blocking the entrance, and there was no more time for talking.
Twister bowed his head, clearly trying to regain his equilibrium from both his panic attack and the kiss.
That kiss made her assess everything she believed about who she was…the kind of woman she was. He incinerated her with his hot, plundering kiss, and she almost felt reborn by that fire.
“Copy that,” he growled, scrubbing his hand along his partially stubbled jaw. As the heavy machinery started up, he turned back to her, and Sadie got hit with a sudden riveting rush that set her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. His burnished eyes bored into her, searing her with that burning look. Then he grabbed the back of her neck in a lightning-quick move. With a low growl, showing both his frustration and urgent need, he slanted his mouth across hers, and sank his tongue deep, kissing her in such a reckless way, she wondered if he was really over that panic attack. His mouth tasted of hardcore sex and uncontrollable desire, and Sadie had never known this fever of need, this raw, acute hunger. She gave herself up to the maddening sensations, knowing without a doubt that Twister would catch her before she fell.
“Twister,” she said against his mouth.
“Shane,” he whispered. “My first name is Shane.”
Her senses disintegrated. His name wasn’t just sexy, but he offered it to her like a gift, and she couldn’t help the vision it created in her mind. That of a lone gunman who had saved a whole town, expecting nothing in return, riding away, that crushing loneliness in the stiff set of his shoulders, and the pain in his heart captured in that little boy’s voice as he called to him with such despair.
The debris shifted, and a small backhoe bucket broke through, shifting the remnants of the wall. On a jagged intake of air, Twister caught her jaw and dragged his mouth away. His breathing raw and labored, he tried to gentle his hold. “Sadie,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hot against her ear. “You do fill up every space.”
His words were…intense, as if they had another…aching…meaning, and she wanted to know what it was. What had he meant?
The bucket tore away some more of the rubble—chunks of drywall, splintered wood, insulation, wiring, and rebar—widening the hole enough for the light to come streaming in. Dust swirled across the small space, drifting back to them. They covered their noses and mouths.
The grind of the backhoe squealed into their small space, and she endured the horrible noise as it shifted position and raked the rest of the wreckage out of the now large-enough hole. There were more voices than she could distinguish from each other, all of them right outside the now gaping opening. Dust settled on them as Twister said, “Let’s go, babe.”
Babe? Oh, that was nice. She liked that a lot.
He rose into a crouched position to help her up. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk? Any pain?”
“I’m all right,” she said with a mixture of dismay and relief. It was stupid and certainly not a place to have sex, but there had been more than enough room. If only they could have rescued them just a little while later.
He didn’t seem to register her words, or he wanted to keep his hands on her just a little bit longer. He banded his arm around her waist and helped her to the hole, giving her over to his waiting teammate, his hands reluctantly leaving her. Dagger grabbed her wrist, and she maneuvered over the rubble beneath her feet.
The area was full of carnage and much more rubble…and, she swallowed hard, blood. A lot of blood, but Twister was greeting his teammates with a look of profound relief to see them all whole, albeit with cuts and gashes, but no one was seriously hurt.
“Damn, when we couldn’t find you, man, we were worried like hell,” Flash said, giving him a hard, backslapping hug.
“Where’s my kit?” Twister said, going immediately into medic mode. Brawler handed it to him, blood on his face, and a scrape on his arm.
“There’s a lot of people who need you, buddy.”
He nodded, turned to her and gave her a look that told her to sit and rest, then he was off.
Dagger took her arm and took her over to a mostly intact restaurant, righting an overturned chair. He left for a few minutes and came back with some paper towels and two bottles of water. “Thank you,” she said as Twister moved from person to person, giving what aid he could, working feverishly over one man who was struggling to hold on. When Easy touched his shoulder as he tried to revive the man, his face said it all. Utter devastation.
That was when she realized how strange it must be for him to operate with these two conflicting goals. Healer and operator. The giver of life, and the taker of life. She had to wonder if that was adding to what she’d witnessed in their “bomb shelter.” Or if it was something else. She hungered to know him as she watched him give aid, knowing that he must be utterly exhausted.
Finally, all the injured and dead had been tended to and bundled up and raced to the hospital. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. He was kneeling near a pool of blood, the fatigue in him tangible. He dropped his head, his altered position accentuated the strong contours of his jaw and the muscled thickness of his neck, and Sadie was struck again by his powerful build.
His dark hair shone in the light almost as if it was at that moment when coal turned into diamond. He turned his head, and even as that fatigue dragged at him, he got to his feet and treated every single one of his teammates. His glances at her said he was saving the best for last.
When he finally sauntered over, he was watching her with an intent that Sadie found unsettling, making her even more conscious of what they had done together in a moment of great personal need. God, what a man—so masculine, his looks, his size, his strength, even the way he moved. But now everything was rigidly contained behind a wall of the coolly reserved professional.
But she could still taste the passion on her lips and knew better. She had seen that fiery core of him, something she wouldn’t soon forget. With that memory came the deep, dangerous waters in the form of vivid images, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. The sensation intensified as he reached her with that confident stance of a warrior in action.
He was standing very close to her, and Sadie was transfixed by the intensity of his gaze as he reached out and slipped his fingers under her chin, turning her head to the side. He studied the side of her face for just a moment before releasing her and dipping down to his bag, pulling out alcohol and gauze.
Very gently, he cupped her face and, with his focus on the wound on her temple, he cleaned it gently and thoroughly. “You don’t need stitches,” he said gruffly.
She nodded.
He cleared his throat, not looking at her. “That was an interesting response to a panic attack,” he said, deadpan. “It would take the world of therapy by storm.” His eyes lit as he nearly smiled, and Sadie felt her knees go weak. She wanted to get a full smile out of him, but the humor was oh-so-charming.
“I have a PhD in flying by the seat of my pants.”
He laughed and she got the full force of that disarming and heartstopping smile. Okay, he had a sense of humor. Thank God. He shook his head, the amusement fading way too soon at her next words.
“I see someone that needs help, and I come up with a solution.” Her tone went serious.
“That was one hell of a solution,” he said under his breath.
“If you ever need to talk about it?—”
“I won’t,” he said. “It’s under control.”
She bit her lip and wanted to say more, but his whole demeanor warned her off. “The invitation stands,” she said stubbornly, knowing he was in denial big time.
He looked over his shoulder at the guys finishing up with airport security, then, his voice compressed, said, “You won’t say anything to my?—”
“Of course not. That’s not my place or my business. My lips are sealed.”
At the mention of her lips, his gaze dropped to her mouth, and he looked like he wanted to devour her, but his defenses were now firmly in place.
Beneath that undercurrent of sexual chemistry was a cool, calculating mind, and there was a wariness that hadn’t quite gone away, buried in that look of deep, aching loneliness she’d glimpsed.
He set a bandage over her cut. Then Tex was calling them over, and it was time to go to their barracks. She pushed up, exhaustion pulling at her, and followed Twister to the team, then they all left the airport in a van provided by the government.
There was very little conversation. The oppressive events and their weariness took them all over.
The driver navigated through the heart of Denpasar, wading through the heavy traffic of the major capital and a bridge to the other pleasure centers of the province. The city was made up of tightly knit villages with Hindu temples surrounded by communal family compounds. They passed the shopping district featuring lively street markets, department stores, and trendy boutiques. They went through a square, past the governor’s office, the Bali Museum, and a number of hotels and banks to a compound that looked like a former recreational center. It was closest to Serangan Port, where they would be ferrying back and forth to the USS Kittiwake wreckage.
With the reminder that she was here for a job, she shifted gears in her head, her body was much more reluctant to cooperate, and she pushed away that craving to get closer to the man who sat a seat ahead of her.
She was here for a job, a very important job. There was a possibility that she would recover the remains of her great-grandfather, and the urge to give her grandmother some peace before she passed surged up in her.
Their family had been waiting such a long time for word about him. It was time to bring all those boys home from a war fought seventy-nine years ago, one that set the course for how the world had formed in the wake of evil and devastation.
She was part of a force that worked to keep everything in balance, and she wasn’t about to shirk even one iota of the work required to raise the Kittiwake and repatriate the sub and hopefully everyone aboard.
She thought about what the last moments must have been like for her great-grandfather, aching that he had died in such terror, aching that she never got to know him except through pictures of a young man in a Navy uniform. Proud that he had served his country and given the ultimate sacrifice so that her mom, aunt, and their children would grow up in a world that had been rendered safe from Nazism.
When the van stopped, she rose and stepped to the door. Twister was there to offer her his hand, and she took it, feeling that same electric sizzle from his touch.
Inside, Tex said, “Get some rest. I don’t want to see any of you until oh-seven hundred for PT.” There was a grumble of assent, and they went through the simple lobby to the elevators that took them to a floor where they had their sleeping quarters. She was at the end of the hall, and as one of the sailors working with the SEALs hauled her bags into the room, she closed the door. The room was sparse, with a dresser, large bed, and nightstand, but it was all she needed. She wouldn’t be spending much time here.
She wanted to fall on the bed and collapse, but she couldn’t stand being so dirty. There was still grit on her skin and some dried blood.
She jumped into the shower, washed thoroughly, donned a fresh T-shirt and underwear, and made a beeline for the bed, but there was a sudden knock on her door.
She frowned and sighed, quickly grabbing up a pair of shorts and stepping into them. Her heart was pounding when she reached the door and turned the knob. Twister was there, a hard look on his face.
“What—”
Before she could even get the words out of her mouth, he pushed his way into the room and closed the door behind him. Then she was up against the wall, and she locked her arms around his neck, her breath catching as he claimed her mouth again, his thick hardness fused against her.
He smelled heavenly, freshly showered, his hair still damp. “I don’t have time right now, but we’re going to talk about…things later. I have lights out, and Tex doesn’t tolerate delinquent SEALs. But he always leaves the punishment to Bondo, and that exacting bastard doesn’t pull any punches. Tell me right now if what happened between us is something you’d rather forget, and I’ll back off completely.”
Her response was instantaneous. Sadie’s heart started pounding, and it was impossible to breathe. Pulling his head down, she brought his mouth into full contact with hers.
The kiss was slow, soft, and so unbelievably gentle that it left her absolutely breathless, and her whole body turned to jelly. Regardless of the fact that he was a stranger or that they were here to do a job, she wanted more from him.
Trembling and weak, and feeling as if every bone in her body had been liquefied, she folded around him, aware of how tightly he was holding her, aware of how badly he was trembling.
She couldn’t explain how this had all happened. That hard man on the plane wouldn’t have gotten the time of day from her, but the guy that had unraveled in front of her, that vulnerable, besieged man who had no option but to expose his weakness to her, latched onto her heart and wouldn’t let go.
She sensed that he needed her, not only her body, but her comfort, her understanding, and her compassion. He was breaking down, and he was denying it. She wasn’t sure if he even realized how much he needed her.
As he broke the kiss with a soft moan, he turned his face against her neck, his beard silky against her skin, his hand tight around her nape. Then, as if too spent to move, he gently shook her a little. His voice muffled, he said, his tone very gruff. “I like the way you communicate, babe. I can be such an aggressive bastard.”
“I like everything about you,” she whispered, overcome with the need to comfort him. She pressed her mouth against his temple, slipped under his untucked T-shirt and ran her hand up that gorgeous, muscled back, his skin like satin over steel. Her own voice was very uneven. “Especially braving the scary Bondo to see me.”
He let out a hard laugh. “You have no idea,” he whispered.
“I could make it quick,” she said breathlessly, sliding her hand over his very impressive, hot, and hard erection. He shuddered, bucking against her hand. His nostrils flared, and stark male desire heated his eyes.
He dragged in a ragged breath on a rumbling groan. “Fuck the Navy and Bondo,” he bit out, grabbing her wrist away, then lacing his fingers through hers, bringing their joined fists to his chest, right over his heart. He chuckled with such a cute sheepish look on his face.
“Goddamn woman, I’d rather have an aching dick and these tight blue balls tonight then give into some quick jacking off that won’t be satisfying at all.” He thrust his hips into hers. “I’m going to settle for thoughts and dreams about fucking you hard and deep, until I make you come.” His head turned sharply toward the door when he heard Bondo’s distant voice getting louder. “Fuck, I’ve got to go,” he said with true regret.
Then he was gone, all except the promise of his lips against hers and his reaction to her kiss.