She would have to bare a little piece of her soul, far more daunting than baring her body.
"But the real reason?" She stopped her countdown and tapped his temple. "Your eyes. I trust from your eyes that you are the man who will treat my first time with care. So much of my life has been chosen for me. Right now, I choose. I want you. And as long as you want me, too, then as two consenting adults we have every right to this."
His stance adjusted, a slight shuffle of his boots that brought him even closer, his legs bracketing hers. She was not even sure he consciously realized his action of his body beginning to accept the feel of her against him.
"Are you a lawyer? Because you sure do argue like one."
With his warm thighs pressing against hers for encouragement, she allowed herself a laugh, surprising even herself with the low, husky sound that came from her throat. "No, I am just a woman very determined to have exactly what she wants, and more than anything, I want to make more memories of you to think about once we leave this place."
She left unspoken her desire to erase the torment in his eyes and repeated, "I want you, Drew."
The instant his name caressed the air between them, she saw his resistance evaporate. With deliberate hands, he eased the sleeping bag from her shoulders. The nip in the night air warmed under the heat of appreciation in his eyes.
Her hand glided to cup his face as she arched on her toes to press her lips to his. The freedom of touching him loosened threads within her tangled so tight from years of restraint she unraveled against the hard-muscled strength of him.
"Touch me," she whispered against his mouth.
His growl of surrender vibrated through his chest, against her skin, the coarse fabric of his uniform rasping an arousing abrasion against her nipples. His arms rose from his sides, his hands falling to rest against her back and stirring a low moan deep inside her. Her eyes slid closed at the strong warmth of his arms along her skin.
If his muted heat through his clothes felt this exciting...
He kissed her thoughts silent. How could she do anything but feel with his intensity poured on her, her mouth? Sensuality long denied flooded her. Too many emotions, sensations, jumbled through the waves sweeping away control.
She fumbled with the top button of his uniform, but her fingers shook. His hands fell over hers, brushed them aside, and just as she began to protest, he started down the row of fastenings.
The long overjacket went first, leaving him in just a brown T-shirt stretched taut across his broad chest, tapering down to trim h*ps encased in camouflage pants. Her hand itched to press against the flat expanse of his stomach, but she feared slowing him.
Or worse yet, doing something to jar him into turning away.
So she watched and soon realized that her undisguised appreciation apparently pleased him. And oh, but she was mesmerized by the honed cut of him as his T-shirt swept up and off to reveal an expanse of tanned muscle, defined pectorals.
And a toned stomach she vowed she would explore soon.
Some vaguely rational part of her brain also realized he was using this time to give her a chance to adjust to the newness of this moment. To the newness of a na*ed man's body in front of her.
His boots settled beside the chair next, followed by his pants until he stood only in his military-brown boxers. Impatience jabbed like hundreds of tiny needles against her skin. No more of his slow adjustment time. She wanted to see all of him. Now.
His thumbs hooked in the waistband. "Last chance to walk away, Yasmine."
Instead she walked toward him, clasped her hands over his to urge his shorts down and off. Then she really looked, followed the broad bare chest down to where his skin lightened with a tan line. Lower.
Her breath hitched in her chest. Nerves increased the pin-prickly sensation. Okay, apparently there would be some serious adjusting going on for her soon.
He flung his shorts and uniform pants over a chair. A flash of color snagged her eye. She used the distraction to steal a moment to steady herself.
Rose silk? She reached past him, hooked her finger on the hint of pink fabric peeking from his pocket and trailed it free, inch-by-inch, like the magic show on the cruise she'd taken with her parents...
Her scarf.
Her mind raced back to the last time she'd worn it, how she'd linked their hands while they'd kissed. He'd kept it.
A heady rush pulsed through her, something alien, exciting. Powerful. Her insecurities vanished. "You kept my scarf?"
"I guess it's a good thing this attraction is two-sided." He echoed an altered version of her words from before.
"That it is, Colonel." She draped the length around his neck, tugged his head down to hers. "That it most definitely is."
He did not speak, but the presence of her scarf secreted away in his pocket was reassurance enough. Interesting how being desired heightened her own desire all the more.