Her enthusiasm, however, seemed boundless. She wiggled closer. Ah, hell. What now, Cullen?
While her untutored enthusiasm wasn't a turnoff, it sure as shit brought a splash of cold water reminding him he had no business doing this. With her. To her. She would have to find another man, another day.
Another man? Drew's grip tightened. Primal possessiveness snarled through him. What was it about this small bit of a woman that had him twisted in knots until he forgot who the hell he was, even where he was?
Where he was. In front of an open door.
He tore himself away from her. "Shit."
Swaying, she blinked. She dropped her hand to his chest to steady herself. "Shit? Well, thank you very much, Colonel. I do not believe I have ever been so prettily romanced after a kiss before."
Not too steady himself, Drew gripped the edge of her cot. Beside her hip. A hip his hand itched to explore. Irritation throbbed in time with his erection. "Lady, if you were looking for romance, you picked the wrong man to hit on."
She straightened away from him. Hurt or embarrassed or just plain pissed? He couldn't tell for certain. But look out, she was spitting fire.
"To hit on? And I assume little, defenseless me hauled a big man like you right into this room and forced a kiss."
"Anyone who calls you defenseless is an idiot."
And he was acting like an idiot himself. Funny as hell and yet not funny at all that frustrated hormones turned a man cranky at any age.
The fact that he had no business taking a test run with this woman made him crankiest of all. Twenty years in the field had taught him well that live fire exercises sometimes left a guy taking a bullet. And he sure felt gut-shot at the moment.
None of which was her fault. "But yeah, you're right. No one forced me to kiss you."
He let himself touch her hair again, to reassure the innocent part of Yasmine that he wanted this. Wanted her. And yeah, because at the moment he was a weak-willed man around her.
Drew hooked a silken strand behind her ear. "You're a damned pretty woman and I let myself get caught up in the moment. I'm madder at myself than I am at you. Hell, anyone could have walked by. The talk would have been...bad. For both of us."
To say the least. His hand fell to his knee.
Scooping her scarf from the floor, he started to push to his feet so he could get the hell away from her before he repeated his mistake. Or made a worse one. "Which is all the more reason I should—"
"What is your name?"
She stopped him half rising with just her voice.
His hand fisted around the scarf as silky as her hair. "What does that have to do with anything?" He lowered back to one knee, jabbing a thumb to his chest, which had his last name stitched on. "And I know you can read English. Cullen. My name's Cullen."
"No." She stroked her finger over the name tag. Her slim finger seared right through Kevlar more effectively than shrapnel from a mortar round. "I mean, your given name. Everyone calls you Colonel Cullen or simply by your rank. You do not wear tags that I have seen with your complete name."
Something done for battle-time safety. The less information the enemy had about a POW, the better. Many of the fliers opted not to wear anything that gave away crew position for just that reason.
Now she wanted his full name. The request stirred suspicions he didn't want with the taste of her still filling his mouth. He stayed silent so long he could feel her anger growing in a power struggle of wills.
Almost as powerful as the one going on inside himself. The soldier within him shouted warnings to stay on guard. The man inside demanded he was honor bound to a few things because he'd kissed an innocent woman.
A damned pissed innocent woman. "Have I overstepped, Colonel Cullen? Silly me, but I thought since you had your tongue in my mouth a few moments ago, it would be all right for me to know your name."
God, she made his head hurt. And turned him on all at the same time.
She folded her hands in her lap, a prim contrast to her lips still full from kisses stirring a whole new host of fantasies.
"Having your name does not equate with some grand commitment. I realize that while you are attracted to me, Colonel, you are not interested in anything more. Territory well covered and understood. And of course you also believe we have nothing in common because of our differing ages and cultures, and you are too honorable to offer a fling."
The buzzing in his ears quieted. Was she propositioning him? If so, her blush at a simple word like "fling" made "flinging" with her even more out of the question. Although flinging her on her back was a mighty damned enticing prospect.
With his hand clenching around her scarf still in his fist, he focused on her blush instead of her words.