Once she got the hell out of Rubistan.
What should have been a help—the Colonel's attraction—would actually be a hindrance. Having been reminded what it felt like to be free of fear, she couldn't let him slip away just yet. Simple enough to circumvent his concerns, because she did not intend to be shuffled aside. Ditching a few military security personnel would be simple enough after a year of evading Ammar's spies.
If Ammar came hunting for her, she fully intended to have Colonel Cullen at her side. And to achieve that, she needed to plaster herself to his side.
Monica froze. What the hell was she thinking, plastering her mouth to Jack's?
But, oh my, it felt so good. So right. Even just a simple thank-you kiss thickened her blood to syrup in her veins. Their attraction had never been in question and this quick lip-lock proved it. A lip-lock getting longer by the moment.
He gripped her shoulders. Yes. More. Have him take control, then she wouldn't need to think or choose.
Jack moved her away, their lips holding until the last...second. No, her body cried at the loss.
His fingers dug into her skin. "Monica, you're giving me whiplash here. What the hell was that for?"
Maple syrup. Definitely maple, still pulsing need through her veins and into her brain until rational thought slowed and emotions overflowed. " Froot Loops."
"What?"
"Because you gave me a beautiful Froot Loop story even though I gave you half-truths about my family. I should have told you about Yasmine, but I didn't. And I'm truly sorry. I know you're still mad at me, and you have reason. Still, you came in here to check up on me."
His hands slid down her arms in a caress soon to end. Indecision drifted through his eyes, rare for Jack, as if he wanted to say something more. His fingers hooked on hers held.
Whatever he'd been thinking about saying blew away from his expression. "Ah, hell."
He jerked her forward. Not that she put up any resistance. Their mouths met, open and hungry and so very familiar with just the right slant, taste and stroke to bring instant arousal. Her hands took their time exploring every inch of muscled shoulders until she looped her arms around his neck and held on before her knees became as weak as her will around this man.
She knew this was wrong and that she would regret it later, but with her emotions in chaos, the reliability of passion with Jack brought comfort. Her face stung with the bittersweet abrasion of his sandpaper beard against her tender skin.
Temporary forgetfulness rode the surge of nerve-tingling pleasure from her br**sts against unyielding chest, his erection hard against her stomach. Nerves and heat throbbed, gathered lower until Monica backed toward her cot, one step, two with Jack's saunter rolling his h*ps against her in a sensuous promise. She let her knees fold, not too difficult at all. Jack's arms held her upright.
Her eyes fluttered open as she eased her mouth from his. "I thought you said you wanted me if I wanted you. Well, you can be sure I want you very much right now."
His hands slid up her arms to her locked grip behind his neck. In spite of her whimper of denial, he untwined her hold on him. "I'll probably kick myself later. But as tempting as it is to take you up on your offer, I wasn't talking about wanting this from you."
Something so deep and sad shifted in his chocolate-brown eyes that she ached to cup his bristly jaw in comfort. Started to do just that when he lifted her hands in his.
He kissed her closed fingers before releasing her. "Don't forget to lock up after me."
The door clicked closed behind him, and without the support of his shoulders beneath her hands, her knees finally gave way. She sagged to the edge of her cot, rattled to her roots by how much she still wanted him, and not just on a sexual level, but for foot rubs and Froot Loops.
And he'd walked out on her.
She'd been ready and more than willing to give him everything, and still he'd left. Her conscience niggled with the reminder she wasn't giving him everything. Just her body, and that hadn't worked for them in the months past.
God, she was too tired and confused to sort through it all. She fell back, head on her pillow and stared through the cleared circle on her windowpane. Her sister waited out there. She needed to focus on that, couldn't deal with anything more. So she watched the sun climb on the same horizon her sister watched, and tried to pretend the connection held something more than a surreal television-screen quality.
Inside the C-17 mobile command post, Blake Gardner stared at the screen filled with black-and-white satellite feed from a recent flight of the Predator unmanned spy drone shooting images of the terrorist camp. He watched for Sydney to appear. Had seen the same footage countless times and still his heart drummed in his chest.
The inactivity of this waiting game was killing him. He'd chosen the Navy, specifically the SEALs, for his branch of service because he'd never been able to sit idle for ten seconds since childhood. A trait that worked well for him when growing up on his uncle's farm.
But it bit right now. While his work as a SEAL often put him into play early in any joint military action, there was no way around the teeth-grinding wait this time.
He folded a fresh piece of gum into his mouth right on top of the old one and chewed out his frustration with spearmint rather than the nicotine buzz he used to get from dipping. After thirty-six hours' more planning at this godforsaken air base, they would finally launch into the next phase, bringing him that much closer to where Sydney waited for rescue. Waited for him?
A low hum of activity circled around him even though he stayed silent. Flatbed pallets down the center track of the cargo hold carried all the high-tech computer systems of any bunker command center.
Colonel Cullen clipped through last-minute questions for Korba's crew, calling for counterintelligence affirmations from OSI Agent Max Keagan and ADVON leader Captain Baker. They'd worked most of the night, would finish up soon, then sleep through the rest of the day for their night flight.