“Doc?” she asks after I tuck her in and reach for my shirt. “You’re coming right back? I don’t want to be alone.”
The shirt slips from my fingers. This woman is so fucking strong. She had to be to make it into one of the most elite units in the armed forces. But the desperation in her tone threatens to break me.
I lean down and brush my lips to hers. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Maybe less. You’re not alone.” The words I want to say stick in my throat.
You’ll never be alone again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Doc
Natasha’s eyesare closed when I slip back into the bedroom. If anyone gets within ten feet of the cameras, my phone’s alert is loud enough to wake the dead. But I still sent a message to Lucas with Emerald City Security to find out how quickly I can get one of their systems installed.
I still don’t know who’s after her—or why—but waking her is the last thing I want to do. So I tuck the gun between the mattress and the headboard, then stretch out on top of the duvet.
My jeans have been strangling my dick all day. I can’t help how I feel around her, even if it is inappropriate as fuck. She was half dead when I found her this morning, and I still wanted her. Getting her into my t-shirt almost killed me.
“When I asked you to come back, it wasn’t as a babysitter,” Natasha says. The sleep-roughened edge to her voice rockets my arousal up to eleven—or eleven hundred. With a groan, I try to adjust myself before I do permanent damage.
Her skin is almost cool when I touch my lips to her forehead. Thank God. Relief floods every muscle in my body. Before I can pull away, she cups the back of my neck and pulls me closer. The kiss is swift and hard, full of promises I’m aching to keep.
“We can’t, baby. Soon. But not yet.” I’d give anything to be able to take her. But we both need sleep, and I won’t rush this. I want hours with her. Days, even. Time to learn what she likes. To memorize her taste. To discover the parts of her body I can kiss to send her flying.
“Then get under the covers.”
“Natasha—”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. “Please, Doc. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But I’m terrified it’s going to break me. I…I need your arms around me.”
Fuck. I almost fall over trying to get my jeans off. Putting up the camera did a number on my back, and my left leg is half numb again. But I’ll give her whatever she needs. As long as she stays with me.
I tuck her against me, her head on my shoulder, and our legs intertwined. I can’t see her eyes in this position, but I hope that’ll make it easier for her.
“I didn’t want to be a Ranger.” Her fingers slide down my chest to trace the ridges of my abs. “I was happy where I was. I’d been in the army for seven years. I thought maybe I’d make it all the way to Sergeant First Class. Maybe Master Sergeant if I was lucky. Never gave a single thought to being an officer. I was good at taking orders. Hell, I spent as long as I could as a Specialist. That’s where the real fun was.”
I cover her hand with mine and chuckle. “The mafia was good to me too. A couple of us had desk plaques that said ‘United StatesChairForce.’ We used to see how long we could leave them out before our Staff Sergeant noticed.”
“I once spent three whole days taking inventory of a supply closet.” Natasha sighs, some of the tension returning to her muscles. “But right before I was promoted to Sergeant, the congressman from my district got a shit-ton of bad press. He’d sexually harassed some young aide and was desperate to find a way to redeem himself before the next election. He decided parading around the Army’s first female Ranger—from his hometown—was the way to do it.”
“What’s this idiot’s name? He’s not still in Congress, is he?”
She laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound. “Last I checked, he was still there. But I’ve had very limited access to the internet for the last eight years.”
I make a mental note to add this fucker to whatever list I end up giving McCabe. He’s toppled governments before. He can disgrace one measly congressman.
Her lips skim one of the healing bruises on my chest, and she squeezes my hand. “I failed out twice. Both times, I told the bastard to find someone else. But he refused. I was perfect for the job.”
“Perfect?” I ask. “How?”
Her sigh overflows with sadness—and sarcasm. “I was pretty. Not too hard or too jaded. Nice hair. A nice ass.”
I tighten my arm around her, but that only aggravates my bruised ribs, and I force myself to relax.
“The third time, I glued myself to another candidate’s side. Chris Bowers. We’d gone through Basic together. He was a friendly face, and God. I needed that. Most of the guys hated having a woman around. Especially one who’d washed out twice. Chris got me through. Talked me out of quitting when I got low, helped me figure out how to silence some of the assholes who kept making my life a living hell. And that last time, I passed.”
“How long were you a Ranger?”
“Nine years. We spent most of our time in Iraq. The last few deployments were in the Al Anbar province. Ihatedmy squad leader. He was a lecherous piece of shit who fucked every woman he could get his hands on—then bragged about his conquests whenever he could. But Chris and I were in the same squad, and as long as we stuck together, Bastian never tried to touch me.”
