High Octane (Texas Hotzone 2)

He didn’t give her time to argue, exited to allow her to undress, returning once he was sure she was in the shower to leave her one of his Army T-shirts. He had no idea why, but he really wanted to see her in that shirt.

Pausing in the doorway, Ryan went completely, utterly still; the sight of Sabrina’s naked silhouette against the shower curtain was so damn erotic, he had to swallow a groan. His hand went to the doorjamb. He was the one who suddenly was in need of steadying, his body raging with awareness, his cock expanding against his zipper. Down, boy, he silently ordered. Now was not the time.

He forced himself to set the shirt down, to walk out of the room. By the time the shower turned off, Ryan had grabbed some soda from the machine outside and changed into army sweats and a T-shirt to match Sabrina’s. He intended to sleep in the sweats to ensure he kept his raging body in check until she was well.

He was in the kitchen filling a glass with ice when Sabrina appeared in the doorway, looking a bit tentative in his green shirt with Army stamped across it, her hair damp around her shoulders. Her nipples puckered against the thin material. Oh, yeah. He would never look at that shirt the same way again.

He held up the glass. “Soda?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she said, closing the small space between them and drinking.

“Not too fast,” he said, reaching for the glass. “You’ll make yourself sick again.”

“You’re right,” she said, eyeing the room. “Bed. Yes. That’s what I need.” She headed in that direction, no hesitation about climbing under the covers. “I hate the idea of wearing those clothes again tomorrow,” she said, her eyes fluttering, lashes lowering.

Ryan sucked in a breath at the sight of her in his bed, adrenaline rushing over him. Images of all the ways he’d have his wicked way with her played in his head. He forced himself to slowly exhale and then inhale again. Willing his body to calm.

He forced his gaze from Sabrina, looked around the room, the barren, dismal room that wasn’t much to see at all. A room meant to be temporary, but then temporary was comfortable, temporary was what he knew. Temporary housing, short-term missions and short-term women.

The only thing he’d ever believed was permanent in his life had been the Army. They’d been his family. The discovery he’d made had been a hard blow. Even now, he couldn’t think about the betrayal that had led to his departure without his blood boiling.

Ryan’s gaze flickered to where Sabrina lay peace fully sleeping in his bed, the sight of her calming the rise of turbulence inside him. His woman. The thought swelled inside him and expanded with a rush of possessive intensity that he’d never felt in his life.

The idea of Sabrina in his life, in his home, both enticed him and scared him. He was a fool for thinking like that. This wasn’t even his bed or his home. It was a damn hotel. The same old temporary living arrangement called his life. And Sabrina would be the same old temporary relationship, too. He couldn’t let himself forget that, couldn’t let himself, or her, be convinced that this was more.

He’d been burned that way in his youth, thinking he was where he was supposed to be, with whom he was supposed to be. The only difference with Sabrina was, instead of him being the one making a short stop, it was her. Because, unlike him, she had a home—and that home was in New York. Ryan wasn’t going to forget that. Which meant he’d better shake himself back to reality. Enjoy her as he did everything in life. Like it wasn’t going to last. Because it never did.

14

SABRINA’S LASHES FLUTTERED OPEN, sunlight stroking her senses as readily as did the scent of something sweet and vanilla-scented cooking nearby. She lay there, snuggled in the blankets, her back to the kitchen, then cringing when the events of the night before crept into disturbing clarity. Oh, good grief, she’d made a fool of herself. She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory of hanging over the toilet while Ryan held her hair out of her face. Way to turn a guy on, Sabrina, she chided herself silently. She didn’t even want to imagine what she must look like right about now. If it compared to the taste in her mouth, it was pretty horrendous. But she’d made her mess, as her father would say, now she had to clean it up. Besides, her stomach was, remarkably, grumbling with demand.

Sabrina sat up, bringing Ryan into view, where he slaved over a stove. He seemed to sense her attention and turned to her.

“Morning,” he said. His hair was damp, his face clean-shaven, more handsome than rugged this morning. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat.