She eased back to stare up into his eyes. "Because you're hurting more."
Monica arched up and pressed her mouth to his.
No doubt she meant it to be a tender, comforting kiss. She didn't move or even mold herself against him.
She didn't have to.
The ever-present combustible emotions and passion between them flamed to life, still barely banked from their earlier kiss. What damned inconvenient timing with the past scrambling his brain and wrecking rational decisions, the ability to strategize.
Her lips parted under his and he threw away rationale, took the healing forgetfulness that she offered. Warm, hot, moist Monica, and still he wanted more, had missed her, missed this so damned much. He banded his arms around her back and she melted against him with a familiarity and intensity that numbed his brain.
Hell, yeah. Immersing himself in Monica's soft curves and needy sighs seemed like a mighty good plan at the moment. Except the past three and a half months had taught him the hell of losing her. He didn't know what to do to keep her, or if he even deserved to have her.
Nipping once, twice on her bottom lip, he eased back, guided her head to rest on his shoulder. "It was easier when it was just about the sex." He anchored her to him. Anchored himself with the feel of her lush body against him, her aloe shampoo scent rising to greet him as he buried his face in her hair. "I'm a mess right now, Mon."
"So am I." Her lips moved against his neck, inching him closer to the edge of total loss of control. "I was a mess before we met, and no doubt I'm going to be a bigger mess after all this is over.''
Over. Them or the rescue? His arms twitched possessively around her.
Monica cupped his face in her cool hands. "I know all of that, but I also know we're married, for God's sake. Will we be tomorrow? Who knows? But today this is legally our right. Yes, our lives are screwed up. And yet I just keep remembering what Private Santuci said about how there are so many crises lately. Do you remember?"
"Something about losing his troubles with the Goo-Goo Dolls in concert?"
She chuckled against his mouth. "Close. He said we have to live life even in a crisis. We can worry about regrets later, and you know me well enough to know I certainly will. But right now I'm hurting so damned much for you and over you and over a thousand other things I don't want to think about. Let's make it stop for at least a while."
Damn but he wanted to believe her. "You're sure?"
Hints of amber streaked her green eyes, eyes wide open and not hiding a vulnerability that threatened to level him. "Jack, I only have one question. I need to know you're not using me as a substitute for her."
Christ, how could she even doubt him on that?
Because he hadn't been up front with her. And now he had to make that right. Even if he didn't end up in her bed now, he had to reassure her he'd known exactly who he was with in the months before.
He stared down at this proud woman who'd knocked him flat since the first time he saw her at a squadron cookout and knew what it cost her to ask that question. "You turn me inside out with the way you've taken up residence in my head. I'm confused as hell about a lot of things when it comes to us. But you can be damned certain I know exactly who it is I'm with right now. No substitutes. You're an incredible one-of-a-kind woman. I wish I could come up with better words to reassure you that I need to be inside you, with you right now...just you."
He let his knuckles glide along the side of her face and wondered if he'd said the right things so this wouldn't bite him on the ass later.
"Hell, Mon. This deep-water stuff is new for me. I'm not good at reading nuances and don't know if I've given you what you need here. I'm already being a selfish enough bastard by not walking out the door. The next move has to be yours."
A slow smile eased over her face in time with her fingers pulling his zipper tab all the way down. "Then just so you're clear on any nuances, how about I be bossy and tell you exactly what I need?"
Chapter 13
The stunned look on Jack's face was priceless. Any other time and Monica would have laughed.
She refused to feel guilty about needing Jack tonight. Her carefree lover had offered her more of himself in the past five minutes than he had in seven months. And now, by God, she was eagerly embracing the mantra of Private Santuci. Live, even in the midst of a crisis.
Yes, it hurt that Jack had held back something so vital from her. Thinking of him loving someone else was somewhere she damn well didn't want to go. She focused on the fact that he had told her the truth when he could have so easily had her flat on her back.
Or against the door.
Giving herself a second to gather her tattered control, Monica turned away, facing the room, searching for the perfect setting in her sparse quarters. Flat surfaces were limited with only a narrow cot, the tile floor, the desk completely covered with her gear. No nifty hot tub or queen-size bed. But if she waited for those...
Her eyes landed on the oversize office chair. Not flat, but with definite possibilities.
She gripped the back of the chair, wheeled it out of the cluster of furniture in the corner and spun it around to face Jack. "For you," she ordered. "I want you...here. Now. Will that do for a clear enough first move?"
His shock faded to a scowl, not that she was fooled. Instead she read his wariness.