Chapter 27 #2
Ghost became aware of how close he was. How his hand was still on her thigh, how warm her skin was under his palm. He stood, putting distance between them before he did something stupid.
When he looked at her again, the tactical assessment fell away. He wasn't checking for injuries anymore. He was just looking at her.
She looked wrecked, barefoot, hair tangled, dirt smudged across her cheek, scrapes marking her skin. But she was standing. Breathing. Here.
The relief that hit him was so intense his hands shook.
She was stronger than he'd given her credit for.
Rachel looked up at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I didn't know if you'd come."
Ghost's jaw clenched. "I will always come for you."
The words were out before he could stop them. Before he could think about what they meant.
His hand rose to her face. His knuckles grazed her cheek, finding a smudge of dirt near her jaw. His touch was rough but careful. Rachel's eyes closed and she leaned into his palm. He felt some of the tension drain out of her.
When she opened her eyes again, her breathing had evened out. Ghost let his hand fall away.
"They finally left around five a.m.," she said quietly. "I stayed hidden longer, just to be sure. Then I came back up to see what they'd done."
Ghost dragged a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, Rachel."
She managed a half-smile. "Survival instincts."
He almost laughed but there was no humor in it. His eyes hadn't left her since she'd crashed into him, but now he really looked at her. His gaze traveled down and he stopped.
Stared.
"You did all that in... this?"
Rachel followed his line of sight and her face flushed. She was wearing a thin red nightgown, silk that barely covered her thighs, straps so delicate they looked like they'd snap if he touched them.
"I didn't exactly have time to change," she said.
Ghost's hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushed from her hip up along her waist. His knuckles grazed the side of her breast and he felt her breath hitch. Heat spread through him.
He caught one of the delicate straps between his fingers, rubbing the silk. "This doesn't leave much to the imagination."
Her voice came out quieter. "At least I had something on..."
Ghost's eyes went dark. His nostrils flared. For a second his hand pressed firmer against her hip. Every instinct screamed at him to pull her closer. He forced himself to step back instead.
He saw what it did to her, the flash of disappointment in her eyes before she hid it.
Ghost dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself back into tactical mode. "Did they take anything?"
She shook her head. "No. I think they were looking for something specific."
"The evidence?"
She nodded.
"I put everything on a thumb drive. Wiped my phone and laptop clean before I flew back to San Diego."
Ghost's whole body went rigid. "You said something about illegal arms trade in your voicemail. Is that what this is about?"
"Yes."
His hands curled into fists. "Did you uncover this in Afghanistan?"
Rachel hesitated, then nodded.
Ghost closed his eyes. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. "Jesus Christ, Rachel. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want you to get hurt."
Ghost's eyes snapped open. The words hit him harder than her fist had. "You were worried about me?"
She looked at him like the question didn't make sense. "Of course I was."
Ghost exhaled hard, the breath shuddering.
"You protect everyone," Rachel said quietly. "Who protects you?"
The question gutted him.
Rachel reached up. Her fingers brushed along his jaw, the touch gentle. Her hand slid down to his chest.
Ghost caught her wrists. His grip was firm but careful. He couldn't decide if he should push her away or pull her closer.
She was so close now he could feel her breath on his skin. Her chest nearly touched his. Her lips were parted, eyes still holding traces of fear but something else too.
"Logan," she whispered.
His control broke.
Ghost leaned in and kissed her, gentle at first, almost careful, like she might shatter, then the restraint snapped and he kissed her the way he’d been wanting to for weeks, hard and deep and desperate.
She pushed closer, hands gripping his shirt, pulling him in. Ghost's fingers dug into her hips, holding on. She was soft and fierce at the same time, her mouth demanding, her touch claiming him in ways that made his head spin.
The kiss turned desperate. Ghost's tongue swept against hers and Rachel made a sound low in her throat, soft and needy. The sound hit him like a live wire, heat spreading from his chest down through his gut.
Rachel shook in his arms. Her nails dragged up the back of his neck, scraping against his skin. Ghost shivered, his hands tightening on her hips, fingers digging into silk and the warm flesh underneath. She kissed him like she was drowning and he was air.
He pulled back when his lungs screamed for oxygen. His forehead dropped to hers. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving. Ghost could feel her heartbeat racing where their bodies pressed together.
His hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Her skin was soft under his callused fingers. He slid his hands into her hair, the strands tangling around his fingers, and he couldn't make himself let go. Couldn't step back.
"Say it again," he whispered, wrecked. "Say my name. Not Ghost or Hayes. My real name, baby."
Rachel looked up at him. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, red and wet. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "Logan."
Hearing his name in her voice. It sounded different than when anyone else said it. Like it meant something.
He kissed her again. Slower this time, savoring it. His tongue traced the seam of her lips before delving deep. He could taste her, mint toothpaste and something sweeter underneath. His hand cupped the back of her head, angling her mouth exactly where he wanted it.
Rachel's hands slid under his shirt, palms flat against his stomach. Her touch burned through him. Ghost's abs flexed involuntarily under her fingers.
He broke the kiss long enough to lift her.
His hands gripped her thighs, thumbs pressing into soft skin just below the hem of that ridiculous nightgown.
He set her on the bathroom counter, the marble cool under her legs, then stepped between her thighs, spreading them wider to make room for his hips.
Rachel's legs wrapped around him immediately, her heels digging into the back of his thighs, pulling him closer.
Ghost reached for his holster. The movement was automatic, ingrained. He unclipped his sidearm and set it on the counter beside her hip, close enough to grab in under a second if he needed it, far enough not to be in the way.
Then his hands were on her again. He couldn't stop touching her. His palms slid down her sides, feeling the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips through thin silk. The fabric was so delicate he could feel her body heat through it, could feel her breathing.
She was warm under his hands. Alive. Here. Safe.
The thought of what could have happened, what would have happened if she hadn't been smart enough to hide, fast enough to escape, made his stomach twist.
Ghost's jaw clenched. His grip on her hips tightened hard enough to leave marks.