Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

"Why didn't we hear anything about what happened to your crew?" She unfurled her fingers and cradled his hand in both of hers, starting a gentle massage. Did she even realize or was her healer instinct in overdrive?

God, it felt good, though, somehow making words he'd only spoken in the mandatory psych evals easier to spill. "When things are hot in another country, you don't hear much about other things going on in the military. We were a blip in the news, downplayed—a good thing as far as I'm concerned."

"Can you tell me why you were there?" she asked with a rarely found understanding and acceptance that he couldn't share all. So many relationships broke up over just that.

"We were there transporting intelligence equipment that picked up on terrorist chatter and the like." The reason OSI agent Max had been along, although Tag had been forced to destroy all the data before they crash landed, so what the hell had they accomplished? He could almost feel the sun burning the back of his neck as he'd run full-out across the desert, searching low dunes for somewhere to evade and set up a rescue beacon. "Can't say much more than that, but you get the idea."

"I think I do." She blinked hard and brought his hands one at a time to her lips. "If you landed in a country we're not at war with, how did this happen?"

"That doesn't mean everybody likes us there. We were picked up by tribal warlords first

—" A ragtag and rabid group in beat-up trucks with plenty of weapons who'd found the crew trying to evade them by lying flat in a dug-out sand pit. "I got a little cocky. Dared look a warlord in the eyes. Had my right hand stomped, the other bashed with the butt of an AK-47 before Tag rolled between me and the next blow."

He shrugged, forcing himself to relax while she continued her subtle massage along one finger at a time as two tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't sniffle or sob, just kept rubbing even after the tears dripped from her chin onto his wrist.

More determined than ever to shield her, he left out the rest of why they'd been flying over Rubistan. The OSI had been trying to track the link from drug-trafficking terrorists through a military traitor handing shipments over to a U.S. civilian pickup point back in the States. Kurt Haugen. That much information she did not need and he would damn well carry it to his grave.

A fierce protectiveness pounded through him, primitive, irrational and likely unwelcome.

But he'd be damned if he would cause Paige one more ounce of heartache.

His sense of honor pinched at his gut. Hard. As much as he told himself he was doing the right thing in keeping this relationship light, he still saw the shadows in her teary eyes he knew would still haunt his dreams. Which gave him all the more incentive to delay sleep as long as possible.

Bo dropped a kiss on her nose, red-tipped from crying tears for him. "Let's go get that ice.

Although I have better ideas for using it than on my hands.">And there was no mistaking that she had his complete and undivided attention—the most enticing aphrodisiac of all. Just the two of them. No fancy mood music. No dim lighting or BS extras, and that swiped away any lingering doubts or ridiculous insecurities about the size of her butt.

Rising from the edge of the bed, she kicked her sandals free and shimmied out of her shorts before he could make it across the room. A low whistle of appreciation sounded from Bo, echoed in his eyes, crystal blue deepening to royal hues.

"Now, that's a view to carry a man through the night—you in just my shirt." He sauntered closer, grasping her h*ps in broad hands and urging her forward until they stood flush against each other again. "Let's slow down so I can enjoy it."

His mouth brushed one corner of her lips, then the other, tormenting until she opened in an unspoken demand that he do the same. And how wonderfully accommodating he was while still taking his slow, sweet time as promised, standing in the middle of the room to neck like two teenagers.

Starting at the strong column of his neck, she unbuttoned, delighting in each inch of toned, tanned chest coming into view. Military dog tags nestled in the dusting of hair across his pecs. Even while his hands moved over her arms, back, teasing along and up the outside of her thighs, his eyes never left hers as if he savored watching her reactions as much as her touch.

Air swirled over her chest in a surprise burst since she couldn't recall him unbuttoning her shirt. She suspected this man could well steal reason and thought. Which happened to be exactly what she wanted right now.

She skimmed his shirt over his shoulders, muscles rippling under her hands. In reaction?

Or from restraint? Both equally heady notions.

Her shirt—or rather his on her—slithered down and off to pool at her feet, quickly followed by her bra, leaving her in nothing but her panties while he stood in only his khaki shorts. Thank heavens she'd thought to indulge in pink satin after her shower.

She glided her palms along his chest over sun-heated skin taut across muscles, around to his back to pull him against her bare br**sts and sighed. She'd forgotten how good skin-to-skin felt.

Or had it ever felt this good?

He danced her backward until the mattress bumped her thighs then— whoosh—she fell onto the bed, tugging him with her. He swept aside her glasses, resting them on the bedside table before stretching along the length of her.

And she'd thought skin-to-skin felt good. The solid press of his weight against her, even propped on his elbows, stirred primal longings that defied description.

She tore at his shorts with frantic hands. "Enough foreplay."

"There's never too much foreplay." He nipped his way down her neck to her breast. He lifted his face to blow cool air over the taut peak of her nipple.

"Says you." She pitched aside his boxers and cradled the weight of him in her hand until she could see him fight to keep his eyes open.

"Two can play that game." His stroked down her hip, lower until he cupped her damp heat in his palm, the gentle pressure of slow circles threatening to send her leaping out of her skin. "Maybe you're right about enough foreplay for now."