He needed to get Monica away from here and leveled out, just in case the worst came around later. He ignored the damned voice of reason in his head that insisted he was concocting excuses to be with her. To reassure himself she was alive in a place where women were killed all too easily.
Jack angled sideways into the circle of fliers and gripped Monica's upper arm, tugging her toward the hall. "Time to go."
The feel of her under his hand sent a jolt of hunger through him that he was too damned raw to fight tonight.
Her smile pulled tighter, leaving high cheekbones prominent. "I'm okay.''
"I know you are. But things are winding down anyhow. I'm tired, but I won't be able to sleep if I'm worried about you. We had a deal when I let you come here. You're not walking around alone when there's an option otherwise." Especially not while the images of that woman being crushed to death under thousands of pounds of rocks and cement pounded hard and fresh in his memory at a time when Tina had decided to crawl back into his head.
Yeah, Monica wasn't the only one about to snap. >"Of course." Understatement of the century.
She missed both her parents. How easily she had taken for granted something like a cruise with them to celebrate her graduation from the university.
Tears burned after all. Much more talk of her parents and she would start blubbering all over this man who already found her childish enough.
"Urn—" she tried to sniffle up her tears "—I think I would like to spit some more fire now if you do not mind."
A whisper of air brushed by her cheek a half second before his hand fell to rest on the back of her head. His fingers cupped the base of her skull with firm comfort.
No movement. No stroke. Yet the heavy touch of his hand against her hair was so alien and sensual. Forbidden, which made it all the more arousing. She held still and savored the moment because undoubtedly once she looked up, things would change forever. Either he would jerk away and scramble for his nice safe distance from the woman who seemed determined to chase him down hallways.
Or he would kiss her.
And that scared her all the more because then her lies would someday send this honorable man running faster than any meaningless age difference.
Chapter 11
He should run. Drew knew it deep in his battle-seasoned bones that insisted a wise man who wanted to live to fight another day understood when to retreat.
Right this moment with his fingers buried in Yasmine's dark hair and her exotic scent drifting all around him, he wasn't feeling particularly wise. As a matter of fact, he was feeling downright reckless and unable to stop staring at a perfect pair of lips. Perfect lips on the face of the most exasperating woman he'd ever met.
With her jet hair caressing her face, she looked more American, less foreign, more approachable. Drew cupped the back of her skull with a firmer touch, nudged her forward and, God help them both, Yasmine didn't need much persuasion. If she'd shown any resistance, he could have scavenged the grit to pull away.
Instead she drifted forward into his arms with more of that fluid grace that sent lust hammering through him until he couldn't think about anything but getting na*ed with her. Taking the release his libido demanded with sex, long, hot, physical sex, her hair tangled around their sweaty bodies as they both worked through whatever the hell insanity twisted them inside out.
Lust. It had to be lust along with the sense of the forbidden. He refused to consider it could be anything more. Once he kissed her, she would become like any other woman in his mind, and therefore easy to walk away from. The sooner he kissed her, the sooner he could forget her.
Yeah, that made sense.
His mouth met hers partway, slanted over, found the unique feel of her. Taste of her. Mint toothpaste and pure Yasmine.
His other hand slid up to grasp her arm, his fingers wrapping around the delicate give of womanly flesh. In a world of hard dirt beds and harder decisions, he'd forgotten anything could be this soft. Brushing another kiss over her lush mouth, he tried to stay gentle, to remember this woman was half his weight. Half his strength.
Half his age.
Damn, but he didn't want to remember that just yet with her lips moving under his. Parting with enough encouragement to assure him he hadn't misread a thing here.
"Well, Colonel, I never would have expected a big, bold man like you to be a shy one." Her warm breath and challenge washed over him and washed away the last of his restraints, as well.
A growl rumbled in his chest. His fingers tightening in her hair, his other hand dropped to her waist, pulling her nearer. She leaned into him, br**sts to his chest and, ah, shit, but he'd never hated the bulk of his Kevlar vest more. The bulletproof protection shielded him from the feel of her softness giving against his unyielding chest, a sensation that surely would have knocked him on his ass faster than any bullet.
As if he wasn't already falling. The warm velvet inside of her mouth had him harder than hell and in need of more. More of her.
Her hands feathered over his head, through his close-shorn hair, down his neck, teasing him with the sensation and notion of having those soft hands all over him. He explored the warm recesses of her mouth, more softness, and wondered how hot and soft the rest of her would be.
At the hesitant touch of her tongue to his, he discovered the answer to a question he damn well didn't want answered right now. Innocent. The word blazed through his mind.
She might talk a good game about her informed decisions, but her information leaned more toward book knowledge. Her in-the-field experience was definitely limited.