The struggle to get down the river. The exhausting march through the swamp. The perfect house, seen through the mangroves as if it were a mirage.
And Tanner.
Tanner, she thought, and the memory of him making love with her in the hall, in the shower, in this bed sent a rush of warmth through her blood.
She rolled over, needing the sight of her lover…
But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere in the room.
The bathroom door stood open and she could see that he wasn’t in there, either.
She sat up.
Where was he? Had he gone outside into the storm? The rain was still heavy. The wind still prowled the house like an angry wraith. If he’d gone out alone…
Alessandra shot from the bed. Her clothes. Dammit, where were her…?
“Try the closet,” a deep voice said.
She spun around.
Her heart almost stopped beating.
He stood in the open doorway, hipshot, arms folded over his chest.
He was barefoot, shirtless, wearing only a faded pair of jeans that clung to his lean hips and long legs in a way that surely would have reminded any woman lucky enough to see him why they liked seeing guys wear jeans.
Guys who looked like this, anyway.
Guys with muscled shoulders and washboard abs, the kind that came of necessity instead of vanity. The scars she’d noticed last night, the little ones on his pectorals, the puckered flesh in his shoulder, made her want to put her mouth to them and soothe them with her kiss. She wanted to kiss the other scars, too, the ones she’d only glimpsed. The thin red line low on his belly. The angry-looking one on his calf.
She wanted to kiss them, too, even if it was crazy. You couldn’t heal wounds with kisses…
But you could try.
He was beautiful All of him. The short dark hair. The stubble on his jaw that felt so incredible against her nipples and between her thighs. His smile, the kind that promised things women dreamed about.
And his eyes.
Those gorgeous eyes.
They were moving over her now, hot with appreciation, dark with promise, and for the first time, she realized she’d been so caught up in looking at him that she’d forgotten she was naked.
Automatically, she swept one arm over her breasts. Silly, of course, because the rest of her was still bare.
Besides, after the night they’d shared, nothing, absolutely nothing about her body was unknown territory.
But, oh, the way he was looking at her. As if he’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. As if she were…
“Beautiful,” he said as he stood straight and then came slowly towards her.
“Lieutenant,” she whispered, and he laughed softly as he gathered her into his arms.
“Such formality, Bellini.” He bent his head, kissed her throat. “Do you need a reminder of why you don’t have to call me lieutenant anymore?”
She smiled as she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders.
“I have another name for you, too, remember?”