Taking Cover (Wingmen Warriors 2)

And Tanner had followed her to the ground.

She stroked her fingers over his gunshot wound with expert hands. After finding reassurance, she let her hands rove into his hair, this time with impatient, lover hands. "Kiss me, damn it. Now," Kathleen demanded, even as his face was lowering to hers.

"Already on my way."

Her hands scoured over him, detailing every healthy inch with a need she didn't even try to delude herself into thinking was for medical reassurance.

He hadn't stayed with the plane and thrown his big reckless body into the line of fire. She couldn't think beyond celebrating that. Apparently, neither could he. Tanner's mouth feasted on hers, his embrace strong, solid and so damned exciting.

Like the man.

Kathleen tugged at his clothes, her hands frantic, powered by that relief and something else. She tore his shirt over his head, bemoaning the scarce second when her lips had to slide from his.

Clothes yanked off and flung free fluttered to the desert floor around them until wind whipped over her bare skin. Wild, invigorating gusts of gritty wind scraped at her body, reminding her they were both alive.

In a tangle of arms and legs, they fell backward onto the parachute, Tanner's body cushioning her fall.

God, how far she could fall if she let herself. And she did, for just a moment, giving herself up totally to sensation as she'd never done before. She kissed him while he kissed her back so thoroughly she couldn't have seen even if her eyes had been open.

From somewhere he pulled out a condom. From his wallet maybe? She didn't care. Why waste a second more even thinking about anything other than him?

Grabbing the edge of the parachute, she rolled, pulled Tanner on top of her, draped the silken folds around them until even the hazy moonlight faded away.

Nothing but silk, Tanner and the glide of his body sliding into hers, filling, stretching her until her thoughts scattered like sand in the breeze.

She locked her legs around his waist, locked him to her. Smooth parachute beneath her, Tanner above her. Bristly hair, hard muscles and callused skin rasped over her while silky nylon whispered under her.

Her body writhed against his, begged for release. She fought it off, not ready to lose this moment, unwilling to return to a world of thoughts, logic, reasonable worries that would steal more moments like this from her.

She scaled the rugged planes of his chest, her fingernails gripping, clinging. Like climbing a sheer cliff, she held on until she had no choice but to let go, to surrender control.

Tingling heat started low, pulsed, spread, burned over her. She set her teeth. Fought it back again.

Tanner's breath flowed hot against her ear. "Come on, honey, let it go. I'll catch you, then take you there all over again."

His words tore through her restraint, shredding it until she became like a parachute ripping open, sending her, screaming, catapulting down. And catch her he did. Right before he lunged into her again and, as promised, sent her right back on a second flight into a total loss of control.

She wasn't flying solo. With a hoarse groan of completion, Tanner collapsed on top her, a welcome weight grounding her as aftershocks trembled through her.

Burying her face in Tanner's neck, Kathleen tasted the warm sweat along his shoulder and wanted to stay wrapped inside their parachute forever, where she wouldn't have to face how much her complete loss of control scared her. Tanner deserved so much better than what she had to offer. Yet she knew too well those silken walls couldn't protect her from a risk nearly as frightening as any they'd faced that day.

The risk of letting herself love Tanner.

Tanner held Kathleen against him and breathed in her scent. Mint and Kathleen permeated their parachute haven, surrounded him in silk and Kathleen, just as she'd enclosed him, holding his body in hers seconds before.

The parachute slithered away as Kathleen slipped from beneath him. Tanner flipped to his back while she gathered her clothes, a shadowy, slim outline in the night as she dressed. Silently.

Of course, he couldn't put together more than a couple of words himself at the moment so he pulled on his clothes as well. Stuffing his legs into his pants, he ignored the throb in his head that had nothing to do with a gunshot wound.

Frustration churned through him, anyway, an increasingly familiar sensation around Kathleen.

There was nothing to do now but wait. A rescue plane or chopper would arrive soon. Upon landing back in the States, he and Kathleen would undoubtedly be separated for debriefing on the incident. He didn't expect there to be any legal fallout. They'd followed procedure down the line, resisted when possible, but the whole process could stretch into days. They would be lucky to make Cutter's wedding.

"Kathleen?" Tanner sat, his back against a tree. He held out his arms and waited.

Slowly she lowered herself, her back against his chest. He accepted her need for silence. He'd learned that much about her. She needed her space. But he needed to hold her, listen to her heartbeat and remind himself she was alive.

This would be his last chance for days. He refused to think this might be his final opportunity to hold her at all now that their last tie had been cut.