His lips brushed her temple without thought, lingering just long enough to memorize the way she sighed in her sleep, her body instinctively leaning into the touch.
Mine.
The word settled in his chest like a dangerous and undeniable live grenade. He glanced at his watch. There were so many things he could have been doing to get ready for the mission, but instead, he found himself counting the freckles dusted across her shoulder, tracing the path his mouth had taken earlier with his gaze. The marks he’d left there sent a fresh wave of heat through him, followed by a sharp, unexpected twist of guilt. She wasn’t some fling, no was she just a warm body to get lost in. Enya had somehow snuck in under his defenses when he wasn’t looking, and that changed everything.
I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, and then I’ll get up.
Sleep pulled at him, and he wasn’t able to fight it. His last coherent thought was the press of her breath against his skin, the way her fingers twitched once, twice, as if dreaming of him. Then the dark claimed him, too.
“Rowe—shit—sorry.”
Rowan’s eyes flew open at the sound of Gael’s voice. Enya murmured something, her voice thick with sleep, her face nuzzling deeper into the crook of his shoulder.
A knock sounded. “Rowe.” Gael’s voice carried through the door. “You up?”
Rowan exhaled through his nose and forced his body to uncoil. The digital clock on the nightstand read four, seventeen.
Shit.
He was cutting it too damn close. He moved carefully, extracting himself from the tangle of sheets and limbs, being careful notto wake her. He snatched his sweats from the floor, and pulled them on along with a t-shirt.
Thank fuck I keep my cammo in my cage.
Enya didn’t stir, but the sheet had slipped, exposing the curve of her shoulder and the faint, purplish marks his mouth had left there, and his heart clenched.
Fucking beautiful.
Gael knocked again. “Rowe. You gotta move.”
“I’m up,” Rowan answered. He cocked his head to one side and heard footsteps retreating down the hall. He turned, his gaze snagging on Enya again, tracing the line of her spine where it disappeared beneath the sheet. For a heartbeat, he considered texting Gael, telling him to go on this mission, climbing back into bed, and staying there.
Gael went last time.
He’s not supposed to deploy, damn it.
Sighing in annoyance, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead in the dark. “I’ll see you when I see you, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing the words against her skin.
He shut the bedroom door softly behind him and scrubbed a hand over his face.
Gael was waiting just down the hallway, his posture tense, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Not a damn clue.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AF-PAK BORDER REGION, NURISTAN, AFGHANISTAN
“Seahorse One, M-TOC.”Theo’s voice rattled softly over comms from his Mobile Tactical Operations Center. “Bet you two shots of Jack that you’ve been lonesome for that bush near the wadi right there, sir.”
“M-TOC, Seahorse One. You’d lose that bet, asshole,” Rowan replied softly. “I never have time to miss this damn place, because it fucking visits my nightmares every fucking night of the week.”
Except last night.
Last night?—
Nope. He refused to allow himself to be distracted and locked that thought down hard. His men, his mission, and Mikey all relied on him keeping his head in the game. His AN/PVS-31s, high-end night vision goggles, bathed the world in an eerie, phosphorescent green. “M-TOC, anything pinging?”
“That’s a negative, Seahorse One.”
