Soldier's Christmas (Wingmen Warriors 8)

One brow shot up so high he didn't need to say a word.

"Or at least try to let it go." She twisted the damp towel around her hands. "I know it's been eight years, and yes, I still have boundary issues. I have some serious trust issues as well way beyond whether or not to let go during sex."

He hunkered beside her, letting her talk, giving her space. But did he have to be so broad and big and

looming in doing it?

She combed her fingers through her hair, more for something to do than from any real need to tame her short locks. A few months after Ben's death, she'd chopped off her long hair that had impeded her view on that horrible night. One of a million little ways she'd struggled to resurrect her confidence.

"My head can tell me all day long that he was just a creep, but I trusted that creep for nearly two years. And when a person you trust betrays you in such a fundamental way... It breaks something inside that I'm not sure I can ever fix. So yeah, you were right when we argued back at the apartment about me not giving my all to the marriage. I haven't been a hundred percent yours in ways that had nothing to do with sex."

There. She'd admitted it. God, why couldn't he just put his arms around her and tell her everything would be fine? Her body still hummed with the awareness from the way he'd seduced her with a simple hair wash.

And she suffered no delusions. She'd been thoroughly seduced by his touch. But where did they go from here? "Will you just sit down," she snapped, then felt like a total witch. "Please. Don't you want to talk?

Or ask me questions? Or yell at me for not telling you sooner?"

He lowered beside her, his long legs stretching to the end of the bedroll. "Do you want to talk more?"

About as much as she wanted an icicle in her eye. "Do you?"

"Right now isn't about me. It's about you. And actually, I think you've had enough of talking for one night."

Her stomach twisted tight with nerves ... and an undeniable anticipation that transcended good judgment.

"Oh. So do you, uh, wanna go to bed?"

Chapter 6

Go to bed? Hell, yeah, he wanted to go to bed with Alicia. More than he needed air he longed to toss a few more logs on the fire, recline them both along the padded length of the stacked sleeping bags and celebrate that they were still alive. They wouldn't even have to worry about birth control thanks to her Norplant.

He always burned to bury himself inside her, an ever-present desire Josh didn't see waning anytime soon.

If ever. Especially not with her on a blanket wearing nothing but a red plaid bra-and-panties set, looking like the best gift ever waiting to be unwrapped. Her slicked-back hair reminded him too well of the feel of her seeping into him while he massaged soap into her scalp.

But right now, more than sex, he needed to hold her and he suspected she needed the same. So he watched for some sign that she wouldn't bolt if he gathered her pride-filled body against him and offered her the comfort he knew she would never let down her guard enough to request. Sex could wait.

Sex?

Making love, he amended, because hell, yes, he loved her.

Even as pissed as he was right now over her keeping such an important part of her past from him, he couldn't deny the obvious any longer. He still loved his wife.

How damned inconvenient that he should figure it out at a time when things between them seemed bleaker than ever, with her words still hammering around inside him, pounding echoes of emotions that were anything but gentle. Anger. Rage. All at a dead man, which left no outlet.

He shoved aside his own selfish urge to stomp out his frustrations and focused on Alicia. "Bed it is. We both need sleep."

"Sleep. Right."

Tension dissipated from her lowering shoulders so visibly he almost laughed. Then he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

She wanted to do more than sleep? Whether it would be making love or sex for her, his body still shouted a great big throbbing go for it!

Not wise. She deserved the cosseting, holding, sympathy no one had known to give her eight years ago.

He tossed two extra logs on the fire. Flicking aside the edge of the double sleeping bag, he slipped inside onto his back, arm cranked under his head, and closed his eyes.

"You're not fooling me with that laid-back attitude, Joshua Rosen."