The Two and the Proud(9)

“Shock me.” He ran his fingers over her thigh. Her skin was still warm and flushed from their lovemaking. The musk of sex lingered in the air, underscoring the sweeter fragrance she wore. Odd how he hadn’t even noticed it earlier, too captivated by the power of presence she cultivated. Bare ass naked and flush from sex, she still held him in rapt attention.

“A case doesn’t give a crap who solves it, and most of the time when I’m on an investigation, they don’t see me. They see the badge. Of course being a woman affects it sometimes—some people will tell me more because I’m female and some will tell me less.” She shrugged. “But it’s not maneuvers to see who gets to the door first or who picks up the check, or maybe I want to pick out my own damn wine.”

The chafing at being treated like a lady bothered him. He couldn’t put a finger on why, so he said nothing and tried to look at it from her viewpoint. She was a Marine. She served at least four years, the standard contract, and she didn’t have officer written on her, which meant she took the grunt route—like he did. She worked for NCIS, so she stayed involved even after stepping back from active duty.

Tough. Resourceful. Smart. The labels all applied. So why chafe at being treated with respect?

“You’re thinking awfully hard down there.” The lines between her brows wrinkled into a frown. “We’re supposed to be having a good time.”

“I am having a good time. I’m getting to know you—just haven’t quite figured it all out.” Rowdy sat and scooted down the bed to grab another water bottle. The fridge only had four when he opened it. He could call room service—again—but he didn’t want any other interruptions. Not to mention they still had food to eat and more exploration to do.

“Figure me out?” The dangerously soft question suggested he reconsider his phrasing.

“Yeah. I like you. I want to do right by you, and I was brought up to show a lady respect. It could be awkward if you’re offended by the same ideas.” He watched her chew the thought over while he drank.

Her expression barely rippled, but one corner of her mouth twitched. “It’s not that it offends me….”

“No? If we walked out right now, would you get upset if I held the door for you?” He finished the second bottle in three full gulps. Dammit, he would have to order some more.

“Probably, but then it would have more to do with being naked than you holding the door.” The logic and her grin combined to unravel his argument and he laughed. Tossing the empty bottle into the trash, he dropped down on the bed next to her and slid a possessive hand around her breast.

“So I think your feminine power argument is bullshit.”

“Yeah?” Her eyebrows lifted.

“Yeah. Okay, if you want to shovel the manure, I’m a big boy. I can take it. But you have something else going on and I want to hear it.” He stroked her nipple, firm little brushes—meant to be more comforting than tantalizing. But the water and the rest did the job. His energy returned.

She sighed and all the amusement in her face evaporated. Looking at the bottle in her hands, indecision shifted in her eyes.

“Sweetheart…I’m serious. You tell me anything you want. I’m a vault, it won’t come back out. But I know a little something about needing a friend. You need one right now.” He pushed. It was in his nature to push, something his superiors reminded him of each time they suggested officer training, but he didn’t want to lead. Knowing how to lead and having a desire to were two different things. But he also knew how to listen and to be a friend.

The silence stretched out and he waited. Her expression rippled, darkening like the storm outside. “You know Camp Whitehorse?”

Everyone knew about Camp Whitehorse. Some stains didn’t get washed out. They didn’t talk about it, and most didn’t fault it. War was hell and it was ugly. He shut down the train of thought and focused on Kim. “Yes.”

“So you know about Nagem Hatab.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a statement, but she glanced at him anyway. He knew the name, an Iraqi implicated in the capture and torture of a female Marine private. His subsequent death and the abuse involved had generated scandal—it was war—war was hell.

He nodded once, waiting.

“It wasn’t the only incident being investigated. Reports of—of others came to light during a different investigation.” She sighed and started to roll away from him, but he locked his arm and pinned her. Anger flared in her eyes, but he met it steadily.

“Not going anywhere. You don’t want to talk about it—you don’t have to.”