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He blew out a breath and searched my face, but he didn’t speak.
“I mean, you probably know more than I do about Levi.”
That comment had his eyes widening.
“Not sure if you remember hearing anything about it. But I got the impression his death made waves somehow. Of course, I was never given the full story.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he dropped down next to me on the blanket.
“That’s partly to protect the families too. So they don’t have to hear the gory details of the worst days of our lives.” He swallowed thickly. “It’s already the worst days of theirs.”
“Maybe.” It was the type of sentiment they offered when giving condolences to anyone. “Levi’s team only ever told me there was nothing more to be done for him.”
He huffed. “More can always be done.”
Holding my breath, I studied him, wondering how many times he thought he could have done more. I could only imagine how difficult his job was.
He pulled me tighter into his side. “Time isn’t always on our side.”
The way he said it made it feel like there was a deeper meaning behind it, though I couldn’t grasp what it was.
“How long has it been?” His leg obviously still bothered him, so it probably wasn’t all that long ago.
“Since I was shot?”
I nodded.
“Less than a year.” He ran a hand up and down my arm. “I deployed in June of last year, and I was sent home in November.”
We sat like that, watching as the sun made its journey past the trees on the horizon. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. He looked down at me twice, searching my face, like he had something on his mind, like maybe he had more to say. But both times, he swallowed harshly and turned back to watching the sunset.
My heart ached for him. Why did I even bring up any of that heavy crap?
I leaned into him, closing my eyes and wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
Running his fingers up and down my arm, he shifted. A low groan escaped him, then his lips were at my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “Tina,” he whispered, the sound tortured. Like my name was a plea.
I tilted my head to meet his gaze. His intense green eyes were set on me, stealing all the breath from my lungs. He cupped the side of my face and tilted my head back until our lips were inches apart. I shivered when he ran his thumb along my bottom lip. And then his mouth was on me. Fierce. Demanding.
And I was here for all of it. He nipped at my lip, then used his tongue to soothe away the sting. When he did it again, he ran a hand down my body and gripped my thigh. In one swift movement, he pulled on my leg and laid me back on the blanket. With his mouth still fused to mine, he planted one arm beside my head and covered half my body with his. Breaking the kiss, he heaved a breath and grasped my thigh tighter, his fingers digging into my flesh.
His irises were swirls of chaotic color, full of uncertainty and questions and desire. I pushed a few pieces of hair back from his forehead and threaded my fingers through the longer locks on top. He closed his eyes, his jaw locked tight.
“Kyle,” I whispered between us.
His eyes popped open, his pupils dilating.
“Touch me.”
As if a dam had broken the last barrier between us, he groaned and slammed his lips to mine, thrusting his tongue hungrily against mine once I opened for him.
I bucked against the hard thigh he’d wedged between my legs, seeking friction. He shifted slightly, and then his hand left my thigh and inched closer to where I needed him to touch me.
Yes. Oh please, yes.
There was absolutely no hesitation. Still propped up on one arm, he grazed his fingers up my thigh, his focus fixed solely on my face. The second his fingers touched the lacy material of my thong, he slid it to the side and ran two fingers along my slit.
“Oh,” I moaned, arching up off the ground.
