J.T. lowered the gun to his side and feasted on the luscious sight of his wife's incredible ass while she feasted on whatever held her attention in the refrigerator.
Adrenaline surged through him alongside relief. Lust raged at Mach speed, leaving him totally at the mercy of memories from last summer when he'd returned home from TDY—temporary duty. He'd been on the road so much over the past few years with Afghanistan, Iraq, and regular TDYs to supply troops all around the world, he'd spent little time in his wife's bed. In his wife's arms.
In his wife's body.
He'd eased into the kitchen last summer after his return from Guam, dropped his helmet bag softly to the floor. She'd heard, her spine straightening as she stood on a ladder stenciling an ivy border along the walls.
A smile had tipped her profile, but she hadn't moved, just waited for him to cross to her. He'd stopped behind her, so damn grateful for his son's band camp because—oh yeah—now Rena was alone in the house and he could wrap his arms around his wife to lift her off the ladder. Slide her back along his front as he lowered her to the ground.
He'd taken the green-soaked paintbrush from her, cupped the gentle weight of her br**sts in his hands as she pressed her bottom against the already straining length of his erection.
Seconds later she'd been gripping the edge of the counter, her dress had been up, his zipper open, her thong snapped.
An awesome memory. No chance of repeating it anytime soon, though. He needed to stay his course. No risking sex until he convinced her he should stay.
He crossed, placed his gun on top of the refrigerator.
Rena jumped, glanced over her shoulder. "God, J.T.! You scared a year off my life." She blushed, thrusting the bowl forward like a peace offering. "Want some chili?"
Peace would be nice. Except he couldn't get past the temptation of her unrestrained br**sts against the satin nightshirt. Who turned the air conditioner on so cold? "Heard a noise, and since you shouldn't be up at all it never crossed my mind it might be you. What the hell are you doing up, anyway?"
"No chili? Okay, then. More for me." She popped open the lid on the Tupperware bowl, snagged a spoon and started shoveling. She shouldn't have appeared graceful in the midst of a feeding frenzy. But she did. "You seemed so intent on what you were doing in the study, I didn't want to bother you. Can you reach down there for the grated cheese, please?"
She'd been watching him, too? Adrenaline surged hotter, faster, throbbing low and south fast. Kneeling in front of her to find the bag of cheese didn't help. He was at the perfect level to hitch up that satin and—
"Thanks." She snatched the cheese from his hand and sprinkled some on top of her chili. "I woke up to, uh, go to the bathroom. God, I'd forgotten the seven thousand bathroom runs a night that come with being pregnant. And then I realized I was starving. In the morning I can't eat without being sick, and then I spend the whole rest of the day unable to eat enough. Crazy, huh?"
Crazy? He stood. Yeah, he was definitely going nuts talking about puking when all he could think about was pressing her against the counter and hiking up her nightshirt. Reenacting that memory of a better time before their world exploded. He'd known the split was coming, always expected the end. Considered every day with her another dodged bullet. Nope, he hadn't been in the least surprised when his hand weights sailed out the window and bounced off his book onto the lawn.
However, he hadn't expected another chance three months ago, a chance he'd blown. A mistake he wouldn't repeat. Which meant no jumping Rena in the kitchen.
Her eyes flashed with inspiration. She snatched a pudding pack from the refrigerator door. "Cravings."
"Like before."
"Textbook." She limped to the minuscule kitchenette table. Sighing, she sagged into a seat, swinging her injured foot up onto one of the other chairs. "Hope you don't want any pudding, because this is the last one, so you'll have to pry it out of my hormonally tight grip."
J.T. kicked the refrigerator shut. He dropped into a chair across from her and watched her savor alternating bites of chili and chocolate pudding. She licked the spoon clean every time. Rapture spread across her face.
His knuckles itched to glide across her high cheekbones as a prelude to kissing away the chocolate on the corner of her mouth. Damn, she was beautiful. "I can't believe I missed it."
"Missed what?"
He shook his head at his own blindness the past few months. "That you're pregnant."
He let himself reach, touch just his thumb to the corner of her lush lips.
Ducking his touch, she grabbed for a napkin. "Because I'm eating like a pig? Thanks. I'm now totally reassured you don't want to come back home or you would have never made that comment."
Her hands fell to her stomach. His hungry eyes followed her gesture to the slight swell. He could almost feel the taut skin over the growing proof of their child. Had in fact felt it in days past when she'd carried their other children.
Would he be allowed to feel the roll of their baby under his hand this time? "Lower the hackles. I wasn't commenting on the food."
"Oh, uh, well, you probably didn't notice because I wore loose clothes."
If ever he'd needed the Bard's way with words, it was now. He'd just have to settle for simple honesty. "That still isn't what I meant." He angled closer, elbows on the table. "You know I'm not much of a guy for woo-hoo stuff. But that pregnancy-glow thing—there must be something scientific to it. I mean, hell, Rena, you've been in a wreck. Suffered a concussion. Damn near broke your foot, and you're still glowing so bright I could read by it."
Not an intimate touch to her tummy, but he could see his words warmed her nearly as much. Victory chugged through him.