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Always a Warrior(32)

By:Patricia Bruening




“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern.



“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure,” she said, breathless and sorely tempted by his close proximity.



“Turn around,” he ordered quietly and his voice wrapped around her heart.



This was not the man who had treated her like a clumsy recruit all day. She obeyed his quiet command and turned her back to him. Anticipating his touch, her breath caught in her throat. His hands settled on her shoulders, his fingers pressing firmly into muscle. His thumbs rotated over the base of her neck, slid to the base of her skull. His hands were lethal. She admired his skill.



He swept those killer hands down her back, his thumbs and fingers pressing into flesh along her spine, then back up to her shoulders as he kneaded the aches from sore muscles. His touch did not scorch but warmed gently. Her nerves hummed. Her pulse sang in her ears. Blood turned sluggish in her veins.



“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard,” he whispered, his breath making warm little puffs over her ear. “I wanted to make sure you had a chance to survive what’s coming.”



His fingers, patient and firm, worked the tension from her neck before sliding into her hair to massage her scalp. The very air thickened as he weaved a sensual spell around her.



Could she resist him? Tonight, of all nights, did she even want to resist him? The savage storm heightened the tension, crackling with sexuality, around them. The romantic glow of the flickering flames softened the urgency.



“I can’t tell you what’s going to happen,” he admitted, that deep husky tone sending tremors of need through her. “But I wanted to make sure you survive it.”



“What?” she muttered and lost herself in him, his touch, and his very presence.



“Shhh.” He soothed minor aches with confident fingers then pulled her back against his chest. His arms slid around her and he simply held her close.



Knowing she should move away, Laurie gave in to the rightness of his embrace and leaned on him, enveloped in a warm, hazy blanket of exquisite sensation. Her deep sigh of contentment was almost a purr. She turned her head slightly and his heart beat steadily in her ear.



“I can’t do this to you,” he muttered darkly in her hair. His arms tightened fractionally as he tensed behind her. “There’s got to be another way.”



That stark ambiguous statement managed to penetrate the sensual fog around her brain.

Puzzled, Laurie turned in his arms and peered into those dark glittering eyes.



“Do what? What are you talking about?” The storm and the soft glow of the flames demanded she lower her voice so it was only a shaky whisper.



He blinked, then looked down at her with what looked like surprise. His eyes went even darker with a flicker of something she had seen before but had yet to define.



“I meant I can’t just walk away from you—not like this.” He paused and let out a ragged, possibly frustrated, groan. “Damn it. I don’t have time for this.”



Her inner danger alert clanged rudely in her head. She flinched and his arms tightened a little more.



“Damien?” she said on a squeak of uncertainty.

ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

48



“I want you. You want me,” he stated without preamble.



Struck momentarily speechless by that blunt statement, Laurie only gaped at him. Her jaw went slack. Her mouth dropped open. Her pulse spiked then raced. Her heart stopped then started again with a painful thud. She shook her head in automatic denial of what she knew to be true. Her unsteady gaze dropped to his chest and she tried to pull away but his embrace did not allow escape.



“Lust, Damien?” She mentally cursed her weak breathless voice. “I told you. I can’t do that again. I don’t want to make another mistake.”



You already did, her inner voice snidely reminded her. You fell in love with him.



She clutched his upper arms, just above his elbows, and pushed. He loosened his hold but did not release her.



“Please, Damien,” she continued weakly. “Don’t ….”



“Shhh,” he murmured as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. He kept his other arm firmly around her waist, holding her against him.



“The jerk left you pregnant,” he deduced, his expression grim. But his eyes carried only compassion as his gentle fingers stroked the curve of her jaw.



Reluctant to admit her gullibility, she sighed but lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze.

“It was a one night stand, Damien—what he intended from the start. I was stupid enough to want more but he was gone the next morning. I never saw him again. I found out later I was pregnant.