“Gulnar!”
He dipped his hands under his scrubs, snatched his headscarf out of his pants pocket and in two violent movements wiped and wrapped his head, cornered, angry. “You’re a hazard, Gulnar. For God’s sake—you have no idea what you’re asking for!”
He snatched the scrubs over his head, volleyed them into the laundry bin, exposing his massive chest and ridged abdomen. But even his beauty didn’
t distract her from the searing sight of his healing wound.
He turned away, heaving in steadying breaths. Her arms wound around his chest back to front, her fingers digging into his solid muscles, her lips quivering where the bullet had almost taken him from her. Her eyes brimmed with unspent tears, her body quaked into his precious flesh with all the horrific could-have-beens.
“Say yes, Dante.”
“No.” He tore at her hands, stumbled away and snatched open the locker they’d been given to keep their clothes in.
He put more distance between them, eyeing her as he prowled in slow, tense figure eights, buttoning his shirt. A caged lion taking stock of his tormentor.
Had she misunderstood it all? She’d thought their shared ordeal gave her some special status in his eyes, that he shared her attraction—however partially. It didn’t seem so any more. She couldn’t pretend any longer not to understand his withdrawal, his rejection. He didn’t want her, not in any way, no matter how fleetingly. She was the one dishonoring and erasing anything that they’d shared.
Oh, hell—what had she done!
Then something even more crippling hit her.
“I just realized—I know nothing about you. I don’t know whether you’re married, or involved…” She stopped, shame shriveling her up.
His sharp inhalation suspended her agitation. The next second stretched out, the eternity before the verdict. Then he exhaled. “No. I’m not. Not any more. And I never will be again.”
Air disappeared. She groped for it and it came, tearing, burning inside her chest.
He’d been married? Or deeply in love?
Of course he had been. He hadn’t just emerged into existence the moment she’d lain eyes on him. He had to be in his late thirties, and…
It hurt to imagine someone, another woman, loving him, his body eager for hers, his eyes telling her what she meant to him, his heart racing, welcoming her.
It hurt even more that it had ended—and in pain? The thought of his pain, his loss was unbearable. What had happened? Had she died? Had he sworn off caring again, not wanting to be hurt, unable to lose again? Like her?
Was this why he went to areas of conflict, risking his life, daring death? Was it that his grief, still fresh and overwhelming, was prodding him for release, for an end to it all? And she’d intruded on the sanctity of his mourning.
Just leave him alone. Remember your own rule.
She never cared. Never got close. And Dante was probably the one man she shouldn’t come near. The one man courting danger and death.
But it was too late. It had gone beyond caring, beyond closeness. It was beyond even what she had with Evraim.
And if it were only about her, she would have broken all her rules, invited devastation for that one night with him. But it wasn’t about her—only he mattered now.
A nauseous claustrophobic sensation crushed down on her. Just get out. “I’ll just go…” She got the words out somehow. “Goodbye, Dante…”
“Gulnar!” His imperative bark jolted her. She closed her eyes. No more humiliation, please! She ventured a look at him—and almost fell to her knees.
The burning intensity in his gaze! Did that mean…?
He prowled over to her, eased her back until he plastered her to the wall. He held her eyes until she whimpered. Then he said it. “Yes. Yes, Gulnar. Satisfied?”
She flung her arms around him, her tears flooding her cheeks. “Oh, Dante—not yet, not yet.”
He crushed her mouth in a near-violent kiss. The pressure of longing was a heavy, viscous quicksand sucking her consciousness. He snatched his lips away, and his eyes. “Just remember—I did try to step back.”
“I’ll remember. And I’ll try not to hate you for it.”