“We were coming back to base when there was a bang, and the Blackhawk began to shudder. It got progressively worse until I thought we were going to shake apart.” I carried the glass over to the couch, sat, and stared at the drink in my hand. “Main rotor failure. We all knew we were going down, and the crew chief picked the clearing on the mountain. He said we were going to make it.”
My gaze slowly worked its way over to him. Ethan leaned against the side table, and although he tried not to look it, he was obviously tense.
“There wasn’t enough momentum left in the blades to control the descent.” I took a sip, and the smoky warmth spread across my tongue. “We fell out of the fucking sky. I don’t remember the impact. When I came to, the chief, Damon, and the two Rangers we’d picked up... they were already gone. The other pilot, Gonzales, he was in rough shape. A lot rougher than me.”
“Wait a minute,” he said, straightening from the table.
“Yeah. The media left that part out, for his family.”
His chest moved with his rapid breath. “Jesus, what happened to him?”
Part of me didn’t want to remember. It had taken ten hard years to push it down, even when I knew it wasn’t healthy. Why risk telling him if it was going to bring that horrific night back into my thoughts? Yet I only felt alive when taking risks. Maybe it was better to feel the pain than continue not living, being numb and empty inside.
“He died, bawling like a baby and begging me to kill him. I spent the last thirty minutes of his life trying to keep him quiet so no one would find us.”
His expression was heartbreaking, and I couldn’t bear it another second. I took another sip of bourbon and stared at the coffee table.
“That was when Kathryn died,” he said.
It was barely a whisper. “Yes.”
Since I’d taken my eyes off him, I didn’t know he’d moved. He was always silent. The couch cushion shifted as he sat next to me. He pulled the glass from my fingers and drank from it. The simple of act of sharing a drink shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But it wasthisdrink, the one we both drank whenever we were missing home.
Our fingertips grazed as he handed the glass back.
“I don’t remember where the grenade came from,” I said. “Probably one of the Rangers brought it on board, or the chief had it. There was a munitions box I was worried the Taliban fighters would go after, once they discovered the crew was dead. I pulled the pin and tipped the box on the safety lever, right next to the leaking fuel tank. I was so stupid. I didn’t know how big the explosion was going to be.”
Or how much it was going to hurt.
Even after the fire was out, I was sure my back was engulfed in flames.
“Look at me,” Ethan commanded.
I held my breath, not wanting to see the pity and horror in his eyes. But it wasn’t there. It was only that intense, inescapable stare.
“You’re a hell of a woman, you know that? And you’re so beautiful, it hurts.”
Why did he do that? My stomach lifted into my chest like I’d hit an air pocket midflight. His gaze strengthened and heated until it was smoldering.
“You’re doing it again,” I said on an uneven voice.
“What’s that?”
“Looking like you want me to kiss you.”
His dark eyes didn’t waver. “Because I do. What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Something broke inside me, maybe the wall I’d put up to hold myself back.
I all but attacked him, climbing into his lap so I was facinghim, the bourbon sloshing in the glass as I did it. When our mouths crashed together, it drove away the dark memories I’d worried would reappear if I told him. My only thought was knowing more about this man. And right this moment, that meant knowing what he tasted like.
Bourbon.
And sex.
His hands were tight on my waist as we kissed, and his mouth was hot. Urgent. Greedy. His tongue dipped inside my mouth and caused electricity to flow down to the center between my legs. The heat of it made me grind against his lap, which sent more sparks of pleasure darting through my body.
Shit, I wanted him like nothing else.
