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Her scent, part sweat and part soap, entered his nostrils. He felt her lift her head away and he looked down. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and filled with emotion. The next thing Mace knew, he was pressing small kisses across her hairline, along her temple, then tasting the salt of the tears on her smooth, high cheeks. He felt his control dissolving, his hunger surging for her. And then, the unthinkable happened.
She kissed him.
Mace groaned as her soft, wet lips slid hungrily against his. For a second, he froze. His whole body exploded with all the need he’d been forcing down deep within himself. Her mouth was opening, coaxing him to reciprocate, her breath ragged, tears tasted between their lips. Automatically, he held her more firmly, feeling her breasts fully against him. He curved his mouth gently against hers, not wanting to hurt Sierra, not wanting to scare the hell out of her with the animal need screaming through him. The last thing he wanted to do was drive her away. Frighten her. He felt her sob, the sound caught between their clinging mouths. He absorbed it, deepening his gradual exploration of her, feeling her go soft in his arms, feeling a quiver race through her as he cupped her face with his large hands, angling her to taste him even deeper. Wanting more. Asking for more.
CHAPTER 15
Sierra drowned inMace’s mouth as he caressed her lips. The nightmare that had held her in its grief-ridden depths dissolved beneath the slow exploration and building heat of his mouth worshipping hers. All her senses were honed in on Mace. She could feel his heart thudding against her own, crushed against him, glorying in the strength of his arms around her, holding her, responding to her need for physical connection with him. Her nostrils flared, drawing in his scent, the sweat and scent that was only him. His mouth skimmed her lips, tasting her. There was nothing urgent about his kisses. They were tender, asking her to participate as much or little as she wanted. Her tears stopped as she felt wrapped in the cocoon of his male strength and gentleness.
Never had she been kissed like this before! Closing her eyes, she sank fully into Mace, entrusting him with her life, entrusting him with her heart that was so torn and bleeding right now.
If she’d ever doubted Mace’s intentions toward her, Sierra knew, without him even saying anything, that he was serious about her. His breath was moist and warm against her cheek, his mouth deepening their kiss, her own opening more to his request. A new ache took root in her heart. Everything about Mace was the opposite of Jeb. This man was boarded up, holding on to so much grief himself. But so was she. And when he carefully threaded his fingers through a few strands of her hair, she moaned softly, clinging to his lips, wanting more of him. Every touch he bestowed upon her was galvanizing, her body aching with its own special hunger and needs.
Reluctantly, Mace withdrew from her wet lips. She slowly opened her eyes, looking up at him. As more of the lightning strikes flashed nearby, she saw his eyes were hooded, piercing, as they watched her. Sierra saw heat and arousal in them, knew he wanted her. She desperately wanted him back. And she saw something else that shook her to her soul: there was love for her in his gleaming gray gaze. For her alone. Swallowing through her tightened throat, she reached up, sliding her fingertips against the hard line of his jaw. Sierra could feel Mace holding himself in check, felt the tension vibrating powerfully through him. Knew he wanted to love her. Here and now. It was such a wrong time for everything between them.
“Talk to me,” Mace rasped, continuing to smooth her hair away from her face and shoulder. “What was that nightmare about?”
Her chest tightened. Sierra felt more tears gather in her eyes as she stared helplessly up at his dark, shadowed face. “I-I, Mace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you—”
“Hush,” he growled, leaning down, kissing her brow. “Just talk to me, Sierra. What was it all about?”
An inner tremble went through her. Her lips tingled in the wake of his kiss. How badly she wanted more of this man who had turned out to be so amazingly gentle and understanding with her. Just to look at him, he seemed cold, hard and tough. No one would ever suspect Mace was a man with a tender heart in his chest. But he had one, and it gave Sierra the courage to speak about something she’d never given voice to before.
“W-when Jeb died in my arms on the MH-47 Night Stalker helo that picked us up, I must have screamed and cried for the hour it took us to fly into Bagram.” She wiped her cheek with a trembling hand, grief serrating her. “I went with him as they wheeled him into the morgue. I was going to tell him good-bye there.” She glanced up at Mace. His face was set, his gaze never leaving hers, his eyes alive with raw emotions. “I held him. I cried on his chest for so long. I don’t remember how long. Finally, one of the women doctors who was there, gathered me up and walked me out. I-I was hysterical. I had lost Jeb. His blood was all over my hands. All over my chest and arms, but I didn’t care… I didn’t care…” and her voice grew hoarse.
“You loved him,” Mace said in a low tone, cupping her jaw, looking deeply into her tearful eyes. “You were in shock. Anyone would be, Sweetheart.”
His words flowed like healing hands through Sierra. She couldn’t explain it, the catch in his deep voice, the softened look in his eyes. Mace felt her pain. Understood it as few ever would. “It wasn’t over,” she admitted in a strained voice.
“What do you mean?”
She closed her eyes and sank against his shoulder, her fingers curving around his thick neck. When his hand came to rest against the back of her head, she sobbed once. Tears squeezed from her eyes. “I-I’ve never told anyone about what happened except my folks. Only they know.”
“Know what, Sierra? Talk to me. I’m here. I care. You know that.”
Yes, she did she know that. Just the scent of him, his hand lightly caressing, following the waterfall-like cascade of hair that flowed down her back, gave her the courage she needed.
She said, “The forensic’s doctor was walking me down the hall, toward the entrance doors. I-I had to go over to the Marine Corps headquarters there at Bagram and fill out a sit rep, situation report, on what happened. I was in shock; I couldn’t see where I was going. She had her arm around my shoulders, guiding me, trying to help me.”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes. Then she lay her head against his shoulder. Her voice became scratchy with tears that refused to stop.
“I was almost to the doors when suddenly, I had such horrible, painful cramps that I bent over and nearly fell. I gripped my arms to my belly and screamed in pain. I didn’t know what was going on, only that I had stopped in the middle of the hall, bent double, feeling suddenly faint. If the doctor hadn’t held me up, I’d have collapsed on the floor, Mace.” More tears fell and she nuzzled into his shoulder, brow against his jaw. “I felt this hot rush of blood between my legs. At first, I thought I had been wounded and didn’t know it. But then, as it gushed out of me, I realized I had been pregnant.” Her voice lowered with grief. “And I didn’t even know it. I didn’t know it until I miscarried right there on the spot.” She felt Mace groan and hold her a little tighter, his chin resting against her brow.
Sierra had to get it out of her. It was like a living thing twisting and roiling through her. It had always felt like that, but tonight, right now, it was worse. Painful. Filled with such grief and loss. “I-I remember collapsing to the floor. The w-woman doctor was shouting for help. She prevented me from face-planting, but then, the pain was so bad, I fainted. It was the last thing I remembered.”
“I’m so sorry,” was all Mace could utter. He held her tightly against him, his eyes shut.
“I woke up two hours later. They’d gotten an ambulance and taken me to Bagram ER. There was a woman ob-gyn who was there and took care of me. I lost a lot of blood and had to have a transfusion. I had aD and C. I woke up in such pain. She gave me pain meds through the IV and told me that I’d been three months along, that I’d been pregnant. With Jeb’s baby…” and her voice trailed off. “In one night, I lost him and our baby. Even worse, I’d never known I was pregnant. Three months earlier, we’d been back for R&R in the states. Jeb always used a condom. I guess… I guess it broke…”
“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” he rumbled near her ear. “So damn sorry for you…” and he pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her gently against him. “What happened then?”
It felt like the balloon of grief that always been within her had suddenly been punctured and deflated as she shared the story with Mace. Sierra had no explanation for it. Being in his arms, being cradled and held safe, held with love and care, must have given her the necessary courage to finally give the loss of her baby a voice.Finally.Mace, of all people, would understand.
Sierra sniffed and tried to wipe the tears away from her eyes. “I-I cried some more. I was a mess, Mace. The doctor gave me some anti-anxiety medication because I was hysterical. I remember very little after that. Just… blips… pieces. I got sent home on a C-5 two days after I was stabilized. I went back to Camp Pendleton, to the hospital there, got checked out and told I was fine. That my lab tests were normal, that I would be given a sick chit for two weeks in order to recover. In the meantime, Jeb’s body was flown back on another C-5 to Joint Base Andrews. I called his parents. They knew how much we loved one another. I-I told them what h-happened, but not all the gory details. They wanted him buried at Arlington, so I met them there for the funeral. It—it was such a sad time for all of us, Mace.”
“Did you ever tell them you were pregnant?”
“No… I couldn’t. Why compound their grief, Mace? They were such a tight, loving family. We’d spent time with them every year. We’d come in for a visit to their farm in Tennessee. I knew them well. I just… couldn’t… tell them.”
