Page 78 of The Woman Left Behind

“No.” He kicked the duffel across the threshold, and followed it inside, forcing her to step back.

From day one he’d been forcing her back. He was good at that, she thought, annoyed. Being annoyed felt good, it felt normal. “Then what’s with the duffel?”

“I figured I’d be here a while.” He wasn’t smiling; his expression was as hard as she’d ever seen it.

What? His dark gaze was so intensely focused she backed up some more to get away from him, then went still, the way a rabbit froze hoping the predator wouldn’t notice it. He was a blast force of energy; her skin prickled all over in reaction, overwhelmed by his size and heat. Just like that her condo felt too small, too crowded, and she had nowhere to run to.

He kicked the door shut, reached behind him, and locked it. “You aren’t on my team anymore,” he said, looming over her.

She stared up at him, so full of boiling emotion she didn’t know what to do first. She resented him, she wanted to slap him, she wanted to scream at him until she emptied herself of all the pain and anger she felt. She wanted to throw herself at him and take everything he could give her, because he wasmorethan any man she’d ever been attracted to before and the competitive part of her needed to know that she could match him. She wanted him; she wanted what he’d come there to do.

But she hadn’t quit the team so they could be together, she’d quit because she didn’t trust him anymore.

Logic, emotion; she hated them both. Why couldn’t the twomatch, instead of being opposites?

Quitting had been so hard she didn’t feel as if she had anything left over, but here he was, pushing and demanding, not giving her time to think about anything. What she felt about Levi was very like how she’d felt about quitting the team, her feelings for him all tangled with her stubbornness and competitiveness and resentment.

“You left me to die.” The words were low and hard, full of everything she’d been feeling for the past few weeks.

“I thought you were already dead,” he shot back, moving forward, forcing her to fall back. She realized she’d once again stepped back from him and jerked to a halt, glaring up at him. “When the truck blew up and burned, from our distance it looked as if the entire ruin had gone up. Nasser had started shooting at us and we took him down, turned toward the ruin, and that’s when the fuckheads hit us from behind and—shit, meet fan. Voodoo was hit first. By the time we got that handled, Crutch was down too, and they were both bad. I tried to raise you on the comm and there was no answer. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I had to get Crutch and Voodoo to the helicopter, then I was coming back to search foryour body.”

The last two words were raw and vicious, powered by a year of want and denial, by the gut-wrenching grief that had almost destroyed him when he thought he’d lost her. He reached out and gripped her upper arms, shook her a little. “I. Was. Coming. Back.”

“I know that!” She knew that he’d thought she was dead, anyway. She knew, and she still wanted tohithim. Some feelings were too big to contain, too painful to calmly examine. She saw the violence in his expression and it lit something violent in her. He might have wanted for a year, but for a year she’d not only wanted, she’d put up with so much crap from him she could barely hold herself back. She’d been a yo-yo that he’d jerked up and down, hurting her feelings, kissing her, enraging her, tempting her, and by God it didn’t matter whether or not he’d had good reason or she’d agreed with him, or any shit like that, because more than anything now she wanted him to be as miserable as she’d been.Love? She couldn’t love him because there was no way he could make her so angry if she “loved” him.

She wanted him to feel as unimportant as he’d made her feel.

There. That was it, the core of what had been eating at her for weeks, since the horrible night in the desert. She’d staggered and limped and fought her way through agony, exhaustion, terror, feeling the knowledge burning in her heart that she was theleast importantto him.

She jerked away from him, moved out of his reach. Angrily she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, trying to erase the scalding sensation of his touch. Because she couldn’t handle her emotional turmoil yet, she put it aside and focused instead on the bitter temptation of his presence here. “I suppose you took my quitting the team as a sign I wanted you to come here for a quick hook-up? Scratch the itch and get it over with?”

His jaw was set, his eyes narrow and fierce. “Adjust your expectations, babe. There won’t be anythingquickabout it.”

Her entire body tightened, her memory supplying in vivid playback how it felt to have him on top of her, his mouth and hands on her, the hard ridge of his erection rubbing against her crotch. She felt torn in two by the warring needs to throw him out and to have him inside her, to feed the gnawing hunger she’d held at bay for a year and couldn’t control for even a minute longer.

“Then let’s do it,” she snapped, and whipped her tee shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor. The cool air hit her, instantly tightening her nipples to points. “Let’s get it over with, then you canleaveand I can get some sleep—”

“Fuck leaving,” he snarled. “And fuck sleeping.” He looked down at her and his expression changed, hardening with sheer lust, color flagging the carved plane of his cheekbones. “Just look at those pretty little things,” he murmured as he moved closer, then his big hands closed on her bare breasts, cupping both of them, his rough thumbs rubbing over her nipples; the sharp sensation brought her up on her bare toes, gasping, and she seized his thick wrists—perhaps to steady herself, perhaps to hold his hands where they were. The heat of his palms seared the cool satin of her skin, making it feel as if her breasts swelled toward him, wanting more.

Because she wanted more, because she wanted everything, she released his wrists and stepped back. Fury and want and need burned in her; if she could control her emotions she’d shut them down, reduce everything she felt for him to ashes, but she didn’t have that superpower. What she had was... now. She had now.

She stalked to the bedroom, unwilling to make even the slightest soft or flirtatious gesture. This might not be war, but neither would she let it be lovemaking. It was sex, nothing more. She wouldn’t let it be more. But there was unfinished business between them, and she knew part of her couldn’t move on as long as she had doubt. She was on birth control, they were both healthy—there was no reason they couldn’t have this out.

He seized her arm, hauling her around and against him. With his other hand he pulled his own shirt up and off, then pulled her so close that her bare breasts nestled against him, soft against hard, delicate against the roughness of his chest hair. Mutely she stared up at him, body-slammed by the shock of being body to body with him like this, wishing she didn’t feel so small next to him but perversely reveling in his strength. The look in his eyes scorched her with intensity and suddenly she felt breathless, knowing what was about to happen. Dreaming about him, thinking about having sex with him, was far different in the abstract than in reality.

He didn’t kiss her; he simply picked her up and pushed her cotton pants down, tugged them off. Then he set her down; his gaze locked on her and he didn’t look away, didn’t blink, as he stripped off his clothes. She stood frozen, taking in every detail.

She’d seen him without his shirt; seeing him completely naked was on a whole other level of arousal, both his and hers. His clothing disguised how muscled he truly was, the thick pads on his shoulders and chest, the ridged six-pack of his abdomen. Her breath began coming faster as she looked at him, and those powerful legs and narrow hips, and the thick penis jutting forward, bigger than she’d expected. Her breath tangled in her chest, making her fight for every inhalation. She heard the soft panting sounds she was making and her cheeks burned. Because everything was moving so fast—at her own instigation—and she couldn’t handle everything at once, she turned away again.

She heard a low, rough laugh, then one finger traced a spot on her back. “Pretty,” he murmured, “and appropriate.” He traced the outline of the small, exquisitely detailed and shaded tattoo of a grenade on her back, a grenade that had been given winsome, seductive eyes with striking amber and blue irises. Way back at the beginning she hadn’t wanted to be called Babe and had suggested Grenade, and this way she had Grenade forever. It was a sly poke, an “I’ll show you” gesture. Despite herself she liked that he’d remembered, and got the meaning.

His finger trailed down her back, then he turned his hand and smoothed his rough palm over the cool, sleek curves of her bottom. She closed her eyes and stood very still under his touch, concentrating on the moment. Her nipples were so tight theyached,and she clenched her thighs together because she ached between her legs, too.

Tonight. She had tonight, this once. She had to indulge herself, this once. He had other plans, obviously, or he wouldn’t have brought a bag, but she was very much in doubt that there wouldbemore moments after this. She’d spent over a year wanting him and denying herself and no matter what else happened she wanted this one time of completion, of being naked with him, of having him inside her. She wanted to know how he looked when he came, how he sounded, what it felt like to hold his convulsing body in her arms and body during that most intimate of moments. She would take that, and to hell with what he wanted.

He moved close behind her, so close she felt his heat at her back, his breath on her shoulder as he bent his head to rub his chin against her hair. His hand slid farther down, into the heat and damp and softness, a softness he violated with the slow push of two big fingers into her.

Jina gasped, rising up on her toes, quivering under the lash of sensation. He anchored her with an arm around her, and probed deeper. She couldn’t stop the moan that reverberated in her throat, didn’t try to stop it. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he took advantage of the sensitive, vulnerable curve of neck she presented, bending down to bite her, his teeth clamping on the sensitive cord between shoulder and neck.

---