The word grated, but she compressed her lips and considered his words. The senior agent hadn’t said she couldn’t pursue the investigation. He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. He asked her three, salient, pointed questions and then ordered her to run all her reports through him for review. The first order didn’t bother her as much as the second. “If you discover a conflict—don’t care what it is or why you feel it—just tell me and I’ll take it from there. No questions asked.”
Rowdy’s eyebrows raised, his expression daring her to deny his words. She opened her mouth to refute it, but the words wouldn’t come out.
He leaned a little closer. “I’m sorry, what?”
The snicker escaped before she could contain it. “You must drive your commanding officers batshit crazy with your attitude.”
“Nah, they love me.” He grinned. “But I’m right—aren’t I?”
“Yes.” She sighed and relaxed into his embrace. He never let her go, never let her push him away or shut him out. Odd, less than three hours acquaintance and he had her number. Scary, too.
And really freaking attractive.
He nuzzled another kiss along her jaw, melting the stubborn tension and anxiety. “So what are you unhappy about now?”
“I’m not unhappy.” But she couldn’t stop the half grin from taking up residence on her lips.
“Okay, pensive, then.” He let her go, but not far, propping himself up on one elbow. He used his free hand to trace light patterns against her skin—the action relaxing and intoxicating at the same time. “Do you ever stop thinking?”
“Do you?” She retorted, grinning wider now. He hadn’t gone for officer and it surprised her. The man kept chipping away at her resistance.
“Yes.” He slid his hand down to her hip and tapped it lightly. “I’d love to stop thinking anytime you’re ready.”
Snorting, she rolled onto her side, and faced him. “Why did you sign up for a one-night stand?”
“I was lonely.” The frank answer startled and pleased her. “You?”
“Yeah…I get tunnel vision sometimes. I like to do a good job, and I forget that it’s okay to feel things even when they suck.” No shame or embarrassment accompanied the admission. Her pride didn’t twinge either. “I wanted to feel something good for a change.”
“And do you feel good now?” Despite his playful leer, an undercurrent of seriousness flowed along the words.
“Hmm. Not bad.” She cut her gaze down, studying the length of him.
“Not bad,” he repeated. “Not sure whether to be offended or challenged.”
“Would you like a hint?”
“No.” He nudged her onto her back and slid down to kiss her belly button. Her body tightened in anticipation. “I’m going to go with challenged.”
Her retort strangled on pleasure when he locked his mouth on her clit and sucked. It wasn’t long before she forgot to think, too.
***
It was after midnight. They’d eaten their food cold and laughed all the way through it. The storm continued to pound against the windows. Kim curled against him, her red hair spilling over his chest, her gentlest of snores telling him she slept deeply. All the lines of worry erased from her face. Comfortable and replete, he watched the flashes of lightning. Sleep, however, remained elusive.
“You’re doing it again,” her drowsy voice purred against him.
“I blame the high-minded company I keep.” He could almost feel her smile. Running his fingers through the silken length of her hair, he combed it away from her face. “Go back to sleep.”
She sighed and her breath tickled his chest. “Sleeping makes the night go by too fast.”
He didn’t disagree with the sentiment. “But you’re tired.”
“So are you.” Lifting her head, she looked toward the window. “It’s still raining.”
“Yeah.” What a gorgeous sound it created. Rain spattering the glass, the steady drum of it—he could almost imagine the smell and hear the wind.
“How long were you in the desert?” Of course, she’d clued right in.
“On and off—three deployments.” He liked the desert with its dry heat, golden sand, and merciless sun. But he missed the rain, the sound and the smell of it. “You?”
“No, I was afloat for most of my time in—we were on standby, but….” She shrugged.
“Good.” He liked the thought of her anywhere but the sandbox—the brutal, unforgiving, and, often as not, deadly-on-a-daily-basis sandbox.
“You’re perilously close to patronizing.” The lightness in her tone softened the edge on the word.