Of course she didn't have any, either. Abstinence had ensured that. It also fostered a lack of readily available birth control. "There's nothing here, Gray. No birth control."
His cheeks puffed on a heavy exhale as he straightened his clothes. "I'll just run to the store—"
"No."
He sagged back. "Okay."
What? She could barely breathe, think, talk, and he gave up with a simple "okay."
"Okay? That's it?" She slugged his arm, hard. "You could at least argue with me! Pretend to be disappointed, you damn jerk!"
The seasoned warrior rubbed his arm with an exaggerated grimace. "Why should I be disappointed? It doesn't have to be over."
Were all men jackasses? Or just this one man she had the unfortunate luck to want more than air? Lori turned away.
His arm snaked around her waist, and he flipped her to her back, looming over her. "We'll do without birth control this time."
Shock twisted her stomach. He couldn't mean what she thought. He couldn't be willing to risk pregnancy. He never had before. Never.
Heaven knew she wasn't ready to risk it. Not now.
A year ago she might have caved to the moment, to the beautiful image of Gray's laughing green eyes peering from the face of their little boy, but now… Things were more confusing than ever.
"It wouldn't be fair, Gray."
"Shhh." His lips nipped along her collarbone, over her breasts.
She tried to shove his hands away, weak halfhearted pushes. "We can't take that risk."
"No risk." He kissed her stomach, rasped his beard-stubbled face over her skin before toying along the edge of her boxers with his teeth. "I'll take care of you, honey."
Realization seeped into her, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. Of course he didn't mean to risk a pregnancy with her.
How many times would she make a fool over herself with Gray? Lori grabbed his shoulder to stop him, promising herself she meant it this time.
"We can't. For more reasons than pregnancy." Anger, frustration and old-fashioned heartache made her words harsher than she'd intended.
Wincing inside as well as out, Gray rested his forehead against Lori's smooth stomach. Of course she was right. He'd just lost it. Waking up with her in his arms had wrecked his remaining defenses. Thank God Lori had come to her senses.
Not that it made him feel any better. He hurt. Bad. He needed to touch her, taste her, more than he'd ever needed anything.
And that scared the hell out of him. Their need for each other a year ago had been so strong it nearly destroyed them both. He hadn't thought he could ever want anyone as much as he'd wanted her then.
One night back in her bed proved him wrong.
Lori slid out from under him. Braced on his elbow, Gray watched her charge toward the bathroom as if racing for a fallout shelter with incoming imminent. Those blasted boxers hooked low on her hips. Still, he could feel the moist heat of her clamping around him as it had for that brief moment when he'd lost his mind and slipped inside her.>He listened to the whir of the vaporizer, Magda's slight but steady snore, Lori's even breathing as she slept beside him.
Gray turned to look at her, the edge of the mattress rubbing along his neck. Lori slumped asleep, propped in the corner created by the end table and mattress. Her arm draped up to the bed, her hand on Magda's arm.
Unable to stop himself, he reached to rest his hand on top of Lori's. She didn't wake, but still laced her fingers with his. He held on to her soft hand and stared out the door again.
He hadn't meant to tell her so much. There was so much more he could have said. Not that it made any difference except to leave him feeling as if he'd taken a load of shrapnel internally.
Lori had just listened and held his hand, like now. She gave to others even in her sleep. Just like his mother.
And he'd pushed her away. Just like his father.
Gray freed his hand if not his thoughts.