Page 23 of Over the Edge

But she had yet to make her first combat kills or come under actual incoming fire. He had no desire to find out the hard way that she panicked in the presence of either. Unfortunately, the only way to find out how anyone reacted to real combat was to put them in real combat. He had no desire to be the guy who had to peel her off the ground and take care of her if she lost her cool. He would have his hands plenty full with tracking down Kenny. He couldn’t also babysit her.

Nope, he definitely had to dump her once she got him safely into Zagistan. Sure, he was grateful for the cover story. But he had no time to spare for holding her hand through her rookie mission.

In the meantime, he might as well enjoy her company, though. This was the first time they’d been alone together for any length of time. He might know almost everything about Anna the soldier, but he was curious to get to know Anna the woman.

As she reached their row of seats, he noted the determined look glinting in her eyes. Amused, he waited to see what she’d figured out in her timeout from flirting with him.

Of course, he’d been flirting back with her. And she’d gotten progressively more nervous the more physical contact he had with her. Truth be told, he’d reacted out of all reasonable proportion, too. He ought to leave it alone and stay away from her. But a compulsion to know her better, to get inside her head—hell, to get inside her clothing—goaded him.

In foxholes, they’d practically lain on one another. He’d dragged her through the woods, and she’d dragged him. They’d had their hands all over each other in the past year of working as closely as swim buddies did. In a work environment, he didn’t struggle to set aside the attraction always simmering beneath the surface.

But something had changed with that kiss at Mabel’s. She was a fever coursing through his blood, now.

A simple touch of their knees today, a light rub of his arm against hers, and he was as hot and bothered as she was. What the hell was up with that? Correction: he knew what was up—it was hard and throbbing behind the zipper of his pants. Thank God he’d worn tight athletic trunks under his jeans.

He never should have kissed her in that damned parking lot. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to regret having done it. She had kissed him back like a Greek Siren in full on goddess-seductress mode. Memory of her body undulating against his as she all but inhaled him was seared onto his mind in a way he wouldn’t soon forget.

She likely wasn’t half as attracted to him as he was to her, but she definitely had a thing for him.

Were it not for his upcoming junket to find Ken, he would have been totally down with making a move on her in the next few months. Anna and Lily’s training was almost finished, and they were all but full-fledged operators. At which time, they would be free to date whoever they wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with their field operations.

When Sherri and Griffin had come clean about being together, Cal had asked Trevor his opinion of letting the women date other operators. He’d suggested that trying to stop them from dating other SEALs would probably cause more problems than just treating them like all other women soldiers. As long as they didn’t date anyone in their direct chain of command, it shouldn’t be forbidden.

He swore under his breath. As wrong as it might be, it was tempting to make the pass at her, anyway. She was starting to be an actual obsession with him.

But…Kenny.

And probable death.

Thatput a damper on his hard-on. If he gave a half a damn about Anna, he wouldn’t drag her into a relationship with him and then turn around and die. It would be completely unfair to her.

She stopped by her seat, hands on her hips, staring down at him. She was so puffed up with purpose that he struggled to keep a smile off his face and his expression neutral.

“We’re swim buddies, right?” she demanded.

“Correct.”

“And that means we have each other’s backs. Take care of each other. Right?”

“Right.” Where was she going with this? Fascinated, he leaned back and waited for her to get to the point. Whatever it was, she was having to work herself up to spitting it out.

“Then I need your help with something. As my teammate.”

“Name it.” Interesting. She was invoking the ironclad rule of teammates looking out for one another? He couldn’t wait to see where she was going with this.

“You promise to help me?” she asked.

“Of course. The Reapers always take care of their own.”

“Great. Then I need you to teach me how to flirt with men.”

He stared at her while his brain no shit went blank—blue screen of doom blank. Eventually, he managed to mumble, “You want me…to teach you…how toflirt?”

She huffed and flopped into the seat beside him, studiously not making eye contact. Amused as hell, he noted a pink bloom climbing her cheeks.

“Yes. I—“ she hesitated as if reluctant to say what came next, and then she barged on all at once, in a rush. “I don’t have much experience with men. And most of what I do have is negative. I have no idea how to flirt with a halfway decent guy.”

“I’m only halfway decent?”

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