Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

Thoughts of having Kathleen had tortured him for years. Now that he would finally have her, he didn't intend to rush. Yeah, he looked forward to removing those leather pants, but with torturously slow precision, discovering, tasting, sinking into a fantasy he'd never expected to live out.

He forced a laugh to ease an ache that made his back's stint seem like a cakewalk. "Good thing one of us has sense."

Her tremulous smile faltered until it collapsed like a marionette with cut strings. "Sometimes those IQ points are a real pain."

"A few minutes delay won't kill us."

"Delay?"

"Yeah, until we get back to my room. Or yours. Doesn't matter to me." His fingers tightened on her shoulders. "It'll be worth the wait."

Kathleen stopped swaying. "I don't think you understand."

Tanner stroked his thumb along her neck. "Then explain."

"This can't happen." The rapid beat of her pulse beneath his thumb belied her words. "We can't finish."

"Can't finish?" He searched for indecision in her eyes and found a cargo hold full. Tanner advanced a step, slid his hands down her back and studied the mouth he planned to take again in another second. If holding her, kissing her was all he could have tonight, then fine. It would be enough. For now. "Then we'll just keep not finishing."

Her hand shot toward his chest, stopped, didn't touch. "No. I mean never."

His pinky started throbbing right along with another larger part of him. He backed two steps away from the tempting image of Kathleen perched on the hood. "Okay. I hear you. But why? And don't toss me that 'no pilots' line. We've known each other too long for it to be as simple as that."

When she didn't answer, he scrounged for the right words. He was trying like hell to be reasonable, sensitive … persuasive. The woman worshiped logic, after all.

"I want you, Kathleen. Hell, it's no secret I've always wanted you, and it's tearing us both up to the point we can't work." Tanner watched her grow still. And she wasn't arguing. He forged ahead. "We're both adults. Neither of us is seeing anyone else. What's to stop us from getting this out of our system once and for all?"

She sat at least four inches taller. "Get me out of your system?"

Uh-oh. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"Not that."

"Then what?"

He shifted from one foot to the other, checked out the stars for guidance, found none. "It's not like we're looking for anything long-term. You know you'd want to kill me inside a month."

"A week. Then we'd still have to work together."

He cupped her face with his palm. "But it would be one hell of a week." She tensed beneath his hand and he started to pull away. "Fine. You're right."

She stopped his hand with hers and held it to her face, pressed a slow kiss in his palm, before lowering it. "I'm sorry."

Damn, he deserved to have his other pinky twisted. He needed to quit thinking below the belt and remember this woman deserved better from him. He'd been a hormonal cretin from the minute he'd seen her sitting with the randy inspector.

"Tanner, if it helps, I'm just not a casual sex kind of woman. No matter who the guy is."

"It does help. And it doesn't." At least he didn't have to worry about Randall Fitzgerald anymore.

"Maybe I'm crazy, but somehow I got the idea you weren't into casual sex, either. Something about treating women the way you would want some guy to treat your mother and your sis—" She screeched to a halt, but not soon enough. "Oh, God, Tanner. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

The already cool night chilled another ten degrees.

In the wake of the icy shower of her words, Tanner heard the low rumble start in his ears. If he let that roar build, it could too easily lead him into begging for the forgetfulness only Kathleen seemed able to offer. "Forget it. It doesn't matter, and you're right. Enough talking. Time to down a couple of those muscle relaxers and pack it in for the night."

Tanner extended his hand to help her from the hood.