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“Doing what?”
“Saving me. I might get used to being a damsel in distress.”
“You’re no damsel in distress. You’re one tough, persevering bitch.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Gee, thanks, Prince Charming.”
He grinned, then sobered. “All kidding aside, I would never want to do anything to hurt you in any way.”
She nodded, caressing his face. “You never would.”
His face relaxed and he nodded, then his sexy eyes heated in that all-too-sexy way. “Woo-woo, sex train it is. Hoo-yah!”
She folded her arms on his chest and stared into his eyes. “That’s a military saying, isn’t it?”
He looked wary. “Yeah, it’s an expression of enthusiasm.”
She smiled and rubbed at his stubble. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, then kissed her palm.
“Makes me wonder all over again what American military branch you belong to. Delta?”
He scoffed loudly.
“Okay, that’s decisive. Not Army. I’d say Navy, but there are no tats on you. Not an anchor in sight.” She ran her fingertip down over his shoulder and his impressive biceps. “Don’t sailors usually love ink?”
He smirked.
“Well, when I’m stumped, I do the process of elimination. So, not Delta, definitely not a flyboy Air Force guy. They don’t go around rescuing hostages. And the Marines only roll out when they’re storming beaches, doing recon, or saving special-op asses.”
He chuckled at that, and she smiled into his mischievous eyes. “You are so bad,” she whispered. “You’re definitely special ops. Black ops I think.” She breathed out, the thought of lying on top of the kind of man who was one of the most elite warriors in the military made her quiver. “There is this small branch of the Navy who put their guys through a wringer, weeding out anyone who can’t make the cut. I believe these guys are called SEALs and unlike flyboys and jarheads, these guys do hostage rescues with a quiet professionalism that is extremely admirable.”
His brows rose. “Maybe I fudged a little and I’m a mercenary.” There was a tone of warning in his voice.
She laughed at that. “You’re too nice.”
He chuckled, clutching at his heart. “You’re killing me,” he added emphatically. “How would you know if I’m a SEAL?”
She gave him a suffering, guileless smile. “I couldn’t comment one way or the other until I see how you balance a ball on your nose.”
He rolled her beneath him. “Is that right?” he said with a laugh, digging into her sides until she was laughing hard.
She made an impudent face at him. “Don’t they teach you that in special ops school?” she said her words broken by laughter. “Stop it,” she begged as he tickled her relentlessly.
“We’re ruthless commandos. We never stop when we have the upper hand against the enemy. Spill, woman. I want to know why those shoes are so important to you?”
Her laughter cut off and she stiffened. At that moment, she felt a sudden shift between them. Her pulse leapt, and she realized she didn’t like being on the receiving end of such an analyzing stare. For as much as she liked observing and scrutinizing a person’s personality and actions when she was a saleswoman, she felt completely exposed when someone tried to delve beyond her public mask.
And that was what it was, a mask. She always felt empty behind it, always peeking in on other people’s genuine lives, but keeping her own authenticity hidden away. She constantly felt threatened that someone might realize her ploy. It terrified her that Easy might have that ability and it made her feel too vulnerable. Because while it looked like she was a woman who mostly had it together, sans this terrible episode in her life, her perfect persona, and that was what it was, in plain sight, inside, she harbored scars, buried deep, and she had no desire to allow anyone close enough to unearth them. Vulnerability was right up there with failure.
She brushed at his hair, and said softly, “I told you. They’re mine and they were expensive. I worked hard for them.” Even her words sounded superficial to her.
His mouth quirked, disappointment flashing in his eyes before it was gone, and she wanted to cry as her mask, while still in place, felt suddenly ill-fitting.
8
Okay,Easy thought as he drove trying to process everything that had happened in the day and a half. He was now firmly within the city limits of Fuckville. He was paying taxes, owned a home, turned on utilities, and Jack was the sexy-as-hell mayor.
He looked over at her sleeping so peacefully. His greatest wish was to make sure she would be able to do this on a regular basis back in her own bed. But last night had been an experience with her he wouldn’t trade for anything. She had been so aggressive, filled with a kind of energy that arced between them as if that energy recognized his. With her dual assault on his body with her mouth and her hand, he was almost mindless with the kind of pleasure he knew was possible but had never experienced. He’d closed his eyes, and threaded his hand through her hair, riding her mouth and that energy, the wet heat of it surrounding him, her hand stroking him, and her body a warm and lovely weight on his.
