Free Fall (Elite Force 4)

“Seriously, Stella? You’ve been holding back?” His erection throbbed against her thigh, his jeans not doing much to disguise how much he wanted her. “I think I would know by now if you had… edgier tendencies.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, but not knowing how to tell him.

“Too bad.”

Whoa. Wait a second. “Really?”

“Nah…” He stopped teasing and cupped her hip, his eyes dark and serious. “I’m not into pain myself and the last thing I ever want is to hurt you. So, what do you want that you’ve been hesitant to ask?”

Stella stared back at him, the face of the only man she’d ever loved… and she couldn’t say it. She could face down armed gunmen, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice how much she wanted happily ever after with Jose. She was afraid he would say no.

Maybe lighthearted was the way to play it this weekend after all. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

“Hand to God…” He clapped a palm over his heart. “I would never laugh at anything to do with you and sex. I take that very seriously.”

“A kilt.”

His jaw went slack. “What?”

“You promised not to laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. I swear. I’m just… stunned.”

“Never mind.” She sniffed.

“No, hey, I’m not backing down.” His arm slid around her back and he pulled her flush against him. “I’m starting to groove on the whole kilt thing if that’s what you want. I just didn’t expect it. You’re so logical.”

“Logical women can’t be fanciful?” And have dreams that didn’t involve guns and international plots, instead settled into desk jobs where they could serve their country and still have a life.

“What else goes with this kilt?”

A home filled with his babies. “You shirtless, of course.”

She swiped the edge of her wrap along his chin. “We could even use a sarong as a tartan.”

His brow furrowed and he watched her while cars honked and beeped on the street below. “You really are dreaming big. How did I miss that about you these past five months?”

Suddenly, they weren’t talking about sex or playing dress-up games. She couldn’t hide her longing for more. “Do you ever wonder what we’re doing here?”

“I’m here to save lives. One at a time. How about you?”

“Pursue bad guys around the world, I guess.” Uncover the truth about her mother’s death. “Except sometimes it’s tough to tell who the bad guys are when some seem to keep switching sides back and forth.”

He traced the furrows in her forehead. “There’s an Arab proverb that goes something like ‘People fear time. Time fears the pyramids.’ Which I interpret as ‘take each day as it comes. There’s a picture bigger than us going on.’”

“You’re not helping me.” Not when she so desperately wanted to talk about the future, their future, not some existential view of the whole freakin’ world.

“Okay, how about this one?” He lifted a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.’”

His alcoholism. There it was. The big pink elephant in the room, the issue that guided every decision he made regardless of how long he’d been sober.

She accepted that but couldn’t understand why he couldn’t allow himself to celebrate his success, to move on and have the happiness he deserved. “Where do we fall in that philosophy?”

“Honestly? If I had my way, I would tuck you someplace safe, because thinking about you out there…” He reached into his jeans pocket and tossed a coin onto the mattress where it bounced once before settling.

His five-year sobriety coin.

He stared at her with tortured eyes. “I want to get you the hell out of this place.”