"Tanner!" She looked into his eyes, silver-flecked sapphire eyes glinting with tears. Still as full of pain as they'd been twelve years ago. All the defenses she'd built against him fell away, leaving her way too vulnerable to a man she already had trouble resisting. "Tanner, please—"
"Every two minutes in America a woman is sexually assaulted. Over three hundred thousand women a year." Tanner's forehead fell to rest against hers, his breathing bursts of ragged emotion. "I won't let another woman—you—be a statistic, damn it! I won't."
His hoarse vow sliced through Kathleen. The healer within her couldn't resist this wounded man any more now than that night in the Academy barracks. No matter how she tried to tell herself she would ache for anyone in so much pain, she knew otherwise. Tanner had a way of stirring her emotions that no one had ever matched.
She couldn't turn away from those glistening eyes.
Kathleen cupped his face in her palms and once again silenced him with her lips.
Chapter 8
The roar inside his head quieted. And just like twelve years ago, Tanner welcomed the forgetfulness offered in Kathleen's kiss. Except this time the roar had been brought on by her, the fear of her being the one trapped, hurt. Dead.
He cupped the back of her head. Anchored her to him. Anchored himself in the moment with her intoxicating heat.
His fingers stroked through her hair while his tongue stroked through her mouth. Minty shampoo tempted him outside, the sweet flavor of lemon and Kathleen inside. He tasted, drank the sweet assurance that she was alive.
Man, was she alive.
Her arms looped around his neck, and she kissed him back. Really kissed him. No question about whether she wanted this or not.
His gut-twisting fear for her eased, leaving in its place a raw hunger for Kathleen, one that he'd shoved aside for far too long. He didn't stand a chance of battling it now, not when she tangled her tongue with his. Nipped his bottom lip. Lightly moaned into his mouth.
Her toned body pressed against his—as closely as she could, given their height difference. Impatient to feel all of her all over him, Tanner cupped her bottom and lifted.
Warm leather and softness filled his hands. Groaning, he pulled her closer. Her legs locked around his waist.
Did this woman have to be so damned perfect? He lowered her to sit on the hood of the car. Gently, carefully. He couldn't forget how small she was.
Not that she seemed concerned.
Kathleen tightened her legs, strong and taut around him, and she nudged closer, closer still until she fit. Who'd have thought leather could become that hot without melting?
Her breasts, small, firm, perfect, pressed to him, beaded against him in an unmistakable invitation. No way could she miss his throbbing reaction to her, either. And still she didn't pull away.
With surprising strength and purpose, her fingers gripped his shoulders, arms, face. His hands trembled with the effort to keep his touch gentle, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.
He'd wanted her for so long, had endured more dreams about this woman than he could count, and here she was. Hotter, better, sweeter than any dream.
And she was in his arms. His. He smoothed his hands over her hair as if he could brush away the image of another guy's hands on her.
A car roared past, honking. "Hey, you two!" a man shouted out the window. "Get a room!"
Tanner mumbled his frustration through kisses along her jaw. However, the driver of the car had an excellent point. Once he got Kathleen all to himself…
"Stop, Tanner." She gasped against his cheek, but the words came between her kisses, which didn't show signs of slowing. "We've got to stop."
Kathleen's trembling voice whispered past his increasing need to take her. Now. In a bar parking lot.
Reason edged a bit further into his consciousness, and Tanner reluctantly tore his mouth away. Her neck made a logical resting place for his face while he regained control. Of course breathing the scent of undiluted Kathleen offered almost as much satisfaction as tasting her.
His late-day beard snagged against her satin. Skin or her shirt? Both so soft, how could he tell?
But this wasn't the place.
He peeled his body from hers, allowing himself to touch her only by cupping her shoulders. She looked in need of the support. Her eyes cloudy, she swayed under his hands. Massaging the satin over her skin, Tanner promised himself the pleasure of gliding that shirt off her body later. Then those leather pants that had been torturing him all evening.
All evening?