“Neither do I.”
“But I can’t help moving.”
“Neither can I.” She arched her hips up and rocked against him.
He groaned, planted his hands above her shoulders, and levered himself up. Then, as he’d promised her, he told her straight out: “I’m gonna fuck you now.”
After several minutes of lying replete, he left the bed and went into the bathroom. By feel, he found fresh washcloths in the cupboard, waited for the tap water to turn warm, washed himself, and then carried another cloth to the bed where he washed her.
Meeting her gaze as he moved the cloth across her stomach, he said, “Pulling out. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I hadn’t asked your permission.”
“You never ask permission for anything.”
“This is the one exception.”
“You’re mama raised you better?”
He couldn’t hide his wistful smile.
She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”
“It’s okay,” he said, setting the washcloth on the nightstand. “She did raise me better.”
As he was lying back down, Jordie sat upright and gave a soft cry of alarm. She touched the bandage on his side. “You’re bleeding.”
A few spots had seeped through the gauze of the bandage and showed through the outer layer. “The incision leaked a little when Wiley and I were running after Hickam.”
“Let me check it.”
“I already did. It’s fine. And even if it was a hemorrhage, you’re not going anywhere.” He pulled her down beside him, took her hand, and placed it over his resting penis.
“Good,” she said. “I like it here.”
He grunted with pleasure at the squeeze she gave him. “I noticed you looking before.”
“How could I miss it?”
He shot her a crocodile grin. “In my dreams, you couldn’t keep your hands off it.”
“You dreamed about me?”
“When I was coming out of anesthesia. Really dirty stuff.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Not unless you want to be embarrassed.”
She laughed and rubbed her nose in his chest hair before resting her head on him. “That night in the bar, I wanted him to be you.”
“Him who?”
“The man who called me there.”
“It was me.”