Whiskers covered his rugged jaw, giving him the look of a rebel. She let her gaze wander over his thick cheekbones, straight nose, and scar down the side of his face.
“What are you doing?” He didn’t twitch.
She jumped. “Looking at you.”
He opened his eyes, and they appeared more topaz than brown in the darkened room. They swept her, head to toe, and her breasts actually tingled in response. His gaze moved back up, lingered on her chest, and finished on her face. “Have you been crying again?”
She nodded, her throat thick. “In the shower.” It was a good place to cry, actually.
“Come here.” He held out an arm.
She hesitated for half a second and then walked over, sitting next to him on the sofa and leaning against him. He tucked his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
She licked her lips, her body humming. “Wolfe—”
“No.” He set his head back again and shut his eyes.
Huh. “You don’t know what I was going to say.” Heck. Even she wasn’t sure.
“Yes, I do,” he said, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. “It’s been a rough night and you’re feeling both vulnerable and happy to be alive. There’s this thing between us, we both feel it, and it’d be easy to fall in. It ain’t gonna happen again.”
She couldn’t find the energy to drum up irritation at his confidence. “I believe that’s arrogant.” Except it wasn’t—not from Wolfe. A tear leaked from her eye. “I just don’t want to be sad any longer.” Why couldn’t they escape for another night?
“If you’re sad, you feel sad.” He lifted her with one arm and settled her on his lap. “It’s okay to cry.”
She didn’t want to cry. His lips were close, but rejection would sting. He was so solid around her. “Do you feel things like other people?”
His eyelids opened. “No. I’m not sure I ever have, but definitely not after the explosion.” A vertical line showed between his eyes.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you have feelings?”
His right eyebrow rose. “Yeah. I haven’t turned into a sociopath or anything. My feelings are kind of under the surface and usually not as bright as before, but they’re still there. The numbness has made me a better fighter and a better soldier.”
Was that true? It seemed that Wolfe cared about his team and about her, and loyalty was definitely a feeling. “I think you’re selling yourself short.” Her gaze dropped to his enticing lips again.
They curved; an amused Wolfe was better than a grumpy one any day. “My feelings don’t matter.”
“What does?” She placed her palm in the center of his chest, marveling at the hardness.
“Your safety.” He planted his hand over hers. “It’s time for you to go to bed, Dana.”
Darn her curiosity, because she was probably about to get her feelings hurt. “Don’t you want me?” She had to know.
His pupils narrowed, and he shifted his weight, moving her slightly back. An erection beneath his shorts, hard and strong, pressed against her left buttock.
Her mouth opened. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Amusement now melded with need in his eyes. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in the forest outside of Hunter’s cabin, and after having you one night, without question I want more. A lot more.”
“You still owe me an umbrella.” Her breath quickened, and heat rolled through her abdomen in slow motion. She’d been heading over to visit her buddy Hunter, and Wolfe had found her, dragging her to the cabin. Then he’d asked her out once Hunter had explained they were friends. The second she’d gotten to know Wolfe, he’d turned off the charm and had placed her in the friend zone. “You’re not responsible for everyone around you. You get that, right?”
“Yeah.” His minty breath, with just a hint of whiskey, brushed her cheek. “However, things are about to get bloody. You need to be away from the danger in a safe house. I’m having Force look into one for you.”
Hurt sliced through her. So that’s why he’d put her on his lap. With his arms around her, she couldn’t move. “No.”
“Yes.” He leaned in, his gaze intense. “Somebody has taken a hit out on you. Even though I believe it was limited to those two morons tonight, you’re in danger. I need to know you’re safe while I take care of it.”
“I’m a journalist, and I never get scared off a story.” It was really difficult to argue with that hard-on right beneath her. “Plus, I made a promise that I’d figure out who killed Candy and finish her story. You wouldn’t let anybody put you in a safe house.”
