Page 47 of Tormented Hearts

He skated a hand up her side, and the sleeping bag made a swishing noise. Her laugh bubbled out, uncontrolled and contagious as hell.

“Let’s get these things off.” He felt along her body until he located the zipper, but every time he jerked it downward, it freed more giggles from her.

“There’s nothing smooth about this.” Frustration edged his voice, but he finally yanked hers open and worked at his own.

“Tell me the zipper’s not stuck.” Her voice fizzed with amusement.

He whipped his bag open and tugged her into the gap so there was no space left between them.

“Not a chance.” He slammed his mouth over hers, trapping her soft noise of desire. The kiss went from zero to sixty in a blink, leaving only heat and her body sliding against his.

She found the hem of his shirt and shoved it up, unmanicured nails scraping his stomach with impatience. He groaned low in his throat and helped her get it off because he needed her hands on his skin more than he needed air.

He found her shirt too, and in a fierce motion, he pulled it over her head. Bare skin brushed bare skin, and they shared a moan.

Under the rustle of them shedding the rest of their clothes and the thunder of his heart in his ears, he dialed into the night sounds outside the tent. For a beat, he tracked the wind, an owl’s hoot and an insect humming outside the tent flap.

And something else.

A soft clink, metal against rock, followed by a scrape that didn’t belong to any of the sounds he’d already catalogued.

He was up and moving before he fully registered deciding to, weapon in hand, diving through the tent flap buck naked into the cold night air, senses locked and ready for a threat.

A raccoon froze mid-lunge at their food stores, beady eyes catching the moonlight, one paw still hooked around one of the nuts Sinead hadn’t eaten.

Hawk exhaled hard, adrenaline draining out of him all at once. “Seriously?”

The raccoon didn’t dignify that with a response, just scurried off into the brush with an offended chitter, leaving the container rocking gently in its wake.

He stood there a second longer, catching his breath, weapon lowering, and heard Sinead’s muffled laughter drifting out from inside the tent.

“Everything okay out there, soldier?”

“We’re under attack,” he said dryly, ducking back through the flap. “By a raccoon.”

“Did you neutralize the threat?”

“He surrendered and fled the scene.”

She was still grinning when he knelt back down beside her, some of the stress from the day finally broken by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Confident they were safe—from the raccoon, at least—Hawk braced his body over hers again. Soft curves conformed to his harder body, and she issued a low gasp as his erection pressed into her lower belly.

“I see the cold air didn’t have any ill effect on you,” she breathed.

He huffed a laugh and kissed her. The heat between them quickly escalated to an inferno, and soon she was rocking into him.

“Heath!”

The sound of his name on her lips shredded his control even more. He delved his tongue into her mouth and spent long heartbeats showing her just how damn much she deserved to be loved.

Her story about her father had weighed on his mind ever since she told him. What he never expected was to identify with it so much where his own father was concerned. He thought he’d buried that part of his life, but finally, he saw it clearly.

Her father expected something Sinead could never be. Hawk’s flat-out rejected him by walking away.

Somehow, he felt the hole he’d carried all his life had been filled just by her being near.

Tearing from the kiss, he dropped his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes. She sank her fingers into his hair, and he moved down her throat to spatter kisses over her breasts. He trapped her nipple between his lips and gave it a sucking pull that ripped a low cry out of her.