Her cheek rested against the steady percussion of his heart. "Jack, I can't have sex with you. Not tonight."
Not now when she was so out of control.
Oh, hell. Had even sex with Jack been about control for her? She'd controlled the relationship in the early days since he was chasing her. And heaven knew Mistress Monica had been in control in the chair.
Still, she couldn't think about sex with Santuci's blood, his death, still all over her. "I wish I could, Jack. God knows I'm wound tight and could probably use the release. But I just...I can't."
"I know." He walked backward, leading her into the room. Holding her firm with one arm, he reached with the other to pull a sleep shirt out of her suitcase. He tugged the jersey over her head, tugged one hand through, and then the other. "Sleep."
Her eyes strayed to the floor where they'd slept tangled in each other's arms before and wasn't sure she could even open herself that much without revealing too many wounds right now. "Is this really such a good idea—"
Jack scooped her up, strode to her cot and set her down. He lifted her feet and slid in under them to sit before dropping her legs into his lap.
Not sleeping against each other. He'd offered her an out, a way she could keep her distance so she didn't fall apart, while still being there for her.
She sagged back into her pillow. "Thank you."
For being here. For understanding she was so damned messed up she couldn't even accept the comfort of sleeping in his arms.
He started a firm massage along the arch of her foot. "There's nothing more you could have done."
"I know. He bled out. That simple."
His strong grip worked her ankle in a slow rotation, and damned if he wasn't peeling back layers of protective covering until her eyes prickled.
She flung her arm over her face as a barrier against tears. Instead her blank eyelids provided an empty canvas for memories of picking up the patient's field medical card to check his prior treatment. Seeing the name. Recognizing it. Looking up to the blood-covered face she'd been unable to identify before, and back at the card again.
"Oh, God, Jack, his name was Pete. Day by day, he was Private First Class Santuci. But right now, all I can remember is that his mama named him Pete."
"Doctor or soldier, we both work in jobs that take too many lives too young. Hearing their names is what keeps us human."
And also tore her apart.
Jack kept rubbing, and while her ache didn't ease, at least it was back under control. Thanks to Jack. He wasn't an easy man to be with, but she couldn't deny there was so much wonderful about him. If only she could open herself up enough to accept it.
Instead she cinched her pillow tighter and simply remained grateful that she hadn't lost all grip on her world. Her emotions.
Self-knowledge was a huge pain in the ass. She was scared of failing with Jack, of being abandoned again and having her grip slide away for good. Of course, she was already alone in her rigidly ordered little world. But then being alone by choice was a helluva lot easier to face then being left alone if Jack walked.
Foggy edges of sleep thinning, Yasmine blinked against the disorientation. And found herself staring into deep blue eyes looking back up at her as she sprawled over a decidedly male and na*ed chest.
"Good morning." Drew's gravelly greeting vibrated under her.
"Good morning to you, too." She stretched against him, worked out the kinks and slight ache in well-loved muscles, Drew's body making the most wonderful mattress. She arched forward to drop a quick kiss on his mouth, then on his furrowed brow that worried too much.
Had he even slept? She couldn't see him lowering his guard to rest. And of course he had every reason not to trust her.
Already the niggling truth diluted her morning-after euphoria. She tucked her face against his bristly chest to keep him from seeing the fears that likely flickered through her eyes. What would he do when he discovered the truth? Maybe he would never have to know. How easy to latch on to that notion.
His fingers stroked along her back, continually, as if he sensed her need for contact. "Yasmine, the next few days are going to be hectic. And then you'll be tied up with in processing and questioning once you make it to the States."
A chill iced through her skin to her bones. "Are you giving me the brush-off?"
"Do you want me to?"
She shook her head against his chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart.
"What's your plan once you're there?"