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  His voice choked off. He dropped his head into his hands.

  Angela shifted to sit beside him. “If you’d been sitting there with him, it wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”

  Juan looked up, his eyes tortured. “But if we’d made him go to bed, we would have been on the sofa. We should have been the ones hurt.”

  The teenager scrubbed his wrist over his tear-filled eyes, and his aunt hauled him in close.

  Her heart hurt for the boy, even as frustration stirred. Coming here hadn’t given her anything new to work with. No doubt, Tate’s lawyer would use this to discredit anything coming from Ricky’s family. And in the ensuing mayhem, the truth would be buried even deeper.

  Although had she been any better in sending David from the room so she would hear everything first in hopes of strengthening her case and to hell with the consequences for him or Caleb? She’d been so busy immersing herself in work to push back her feelings over Lowell’s death that she’d only thought about winning, not realizing the grief was still there, perhaps even clouding her judgment. But the best way to win justice for Ricky was by finding the truth, so he could pursue his quest for justice. Not that any amount of money would make up for what he’d lost, but at least things would be eased for him and for his family.

  Had she buried other feelings because they were too frightening to face? She’d never considered herself a coward. She was a uniformed warrior, for heaven’s sake.

  A warrior who wasn’t afraid of a gun but was terrified of getting her heart broken again.

  Damn straight she’d been hiding from her feelings for David for a very long time. She was attracted to him, intrigued by him, drawn to him. She’d been so busy demanding David to live up to her expectations, she hadn’t given a thought to being the kind of woman he deserved.

  There wasn’t anything more she could do for Ricky tonight. But she could meet David halfway, be an equal partner in this affair they’d started. No more hiding behind her fears.

  She was all in.

  * * *

  David downshifted the Scout as he turned into his driveway, wind and music whipping through the open-air ride.

  The streetlamps over the highway flashed by.

  The family life at the Vasquez home still left him feeling raw. And then for Sophie to shuttle him off while she questioned the teenagers? She was blocking him out on all levels. Sure, she’d briefed him afterward, but he wasn’t sure that was enough for him. Ever since that day when he’d been on the witness stand, she’d been throwing barriers up between them, keeping him from getting too close.

  “David?” When he didn’t answer, she tipped her head to look into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, why?” He shut off the engine, night sounds swelling around them.

  “You’re quiet.”

  “Just have a lot on my mind.” He reached into the back for the grocery bag. Sophie had insisted they stop on the way home to restock his refrigerator. He stayed a step ahead of Sophie on his way up the steps.

  Just to be on the safe side, David eased his gun from the holster and unlocked the door. He stepped to the side, shielding her. Aided by a tap of his toe, the door creaked open. After a quick sweep of the living area, he motioned her inside.

  She entered the guesthouse. “What a day.”

  David leaned forward, his cheek just beside hers. “Hold tight while I make sure we didn’t have any ‘visitors.’”

  “Did I get booted out of the military today and someone forgot to tell me?”

  She had a point. But damn it, he couldn’t stem the protective urges. “Fine, look along with me.”

  In sync, they swept the apartment, his daughter’s room and his bedroom. No signs of anyone or anything disturbed. One look at his daughter’s ribbons tangled up in a bowl threatened to knock his knees out from under him.

  He forced himself to turn away and return to the living room. He placed his 9 mm on the counter by the grocery sack. “All clear.”

  Sophie prowled restlessly, browsing his music collection and popping in a CD. New Orleans jazz pumped through the air. She met him in the kitchen.

  He followed her, pulling groceries from the sack and trying to decide how to confront her about the way she’d handled questioning Juan.

  Groceries?

  He double-checked the contents, paying attention now in a way he obviously hadn’t at the supermarket.

  David reached into the sack. “Do you think you got enough ice cream?”

  He tucked the third carton into the freezer.

  She slid in front of him, holding a fourth container—rocky road—the fire in her eyes so hot it could have melted the whole batch. “I wasn’t sure what flavor I would want after we have sex.”

  THIRTEEN

  The blast from the freezer frosted over his face. Music filled the silence since David couldn’t manage to put two words together.

  Slowly, he shut the freezer, pivoting on his heels. The woman lounging against the wall bore no traces of the reserved counselor. Her sultry eyes, dark and smoky with passion, called to him, promising him things he’d barely dared dream.

  He tilted his head to the side. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

  She opened her briefcase and pulled out a small paper sack. “We used my stash of condoms, and you haven’t offered any of your own.” She sent the bag sailing through the air until it thudded against his stomach as he caught it.

  Paper crackled as he opened the bag and discovered…a box of three dozen. His eyebrow lifted.

  “You’re ambitious.” His breathing double-timed. “I’ll take that as a yes to sleeping together.”

  “Smart man.” Her husky voice floated across the room as she draped her uniform jacket over the back of a dining room chair. Then she freed one button at a time down her starched blue shirt.

  She parted the fabric one flick at a time until her bare midriff showed through the shirt hanging open and loose. Full breasts swelled above her creamy satin bra. He itched to dip his hand inside, then his face, because tasting her beat everything else.

  She unzipped her skirt.

  He closed the last five feet between them. Their time together would show her how right they were for each other. He could convince her. He had to.

  Her skirt hit the floor, pooling around her feet. David forgot how to think, reason, or convince. She kicked it free, her shoes following, each landing with a thump as she flung them loose.

  Sophie’s shirt flowed over her curves, exposing those tan lines bordering every forbidden inch. He intended to take his time with her. Tucking a hand under the billowing silk, he filled his hand with the tantalizing swell. She gripped his wrist just before he touched the satiny flesh he burned to stroke.

  Slowly, she lowered his arm back to his side. “I want to touch you this time.”

  “You can touch me all you want.” He lifted a hand to her face so he could kiss her deep and long, without thoughts of stopping because they were wrong for each other.

  She grabbed his wrists again and pulled back. Smiling, she shook her head, pinning his arms to his sides. “I mean I do the touching. Just me.”

  He considered simply leaning forward and sealing their bodies together. He could win her over quickly. But the passion in her eyes urged him to reconsider. Her smile widened as her fingers lightly scored a path over his hands. He relinquished control, his body hardening in response.

  She skimmed higher. Cotton muted her caress as she skimmed over his wrist, up his arm, the near contact torturing him. Her hands played along his shoulders while she pressed a kiss to the patch of skin at the base of his neck. A need too long denied wrenched through him.

  Sophie took her time sliding down his flight-suit zipper, one torturous link at a time. Her knuckles grazed down his chest, lower, lower still, gently down the fly of his boxers. Five more seconds and he would trade his bed for the floor and sink inside her.

  His flight suit open now, she swept it down his sho
ulders until it bunched around his waist, and then she tugged his T-shirt over his head. Gusts of air over each inch of exposed skin raked across his already ragged senses.

  Finally, she flattened her cool palms to his chest. “Hmmm. Very nice.”

  He needed to touch her, had to soon, but pride demanded he see just how far she would go. She angled forward until her scantily covered breasts brushed him as she yanked the cuffs free. Muscles in his arms twitched, his hands manacled to his sides by her unspoken mandate.

  She reclined against the wall, smiling a siren’s call.

  “Sophie,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.”

  “Shhh.” One finger rested against his lips, rubbing back and forth.

  Sophie was right. They shouldn’t talk and risk losing what they both wanted, needed, to finish.

  David trapped her finger between his teeth. Blood pounded through him, roaring in his ears, then lower.

  He nibbled across to the tender palm of her hand, over her scented wrist. Her smile faltered, her brown eyes darkening as her pupils widened.

  All the while, his hands stayed by his sides. He thought of a hundred other places he planned to place his mouth. His body throbbed, and he hadn’t even touched her.

  Yet.

  With a brief caress against his jaw, she pulled free. Sophie skimmed a feathery light stroke down the side of his face, over his shoulder, and down his arm until her hand rested over his. Her fingers laced with his, guiding him toward her.

  If she stopped, he would seriously lose it.

  She didn’t stop.

  Her hand curved his around her satin-covered breast. The feel of her was so familiar, yet every sensation held an extra edge of awareness.

  Sophie held him against the generous softness straining into his palm, tantalizing him with firmer pressure. Less steady this time, she lifted his other hand to her bare midriff and moved it over the softest skin he’d ever felt, a texture he could never forget.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, then opened, staring straight at him. She slid his hand lower, urging his hand lower still, until he cupped her.

  David groaned deep in his throat.

  The clouds of dazed passion in her eyes shifted. Her bravado seemed to seep from her. He didn’t wait for her lead this time. His fingers slid inside the white satin panties and stroked, caressed, coaxed her into moving against him.

  Her hands fell to her sides. His stayed. Sagging against the door, she sighed.

  His mouth crashed down over hers, and she opened to him without hesitation. He anchored her to the wall, his hands trapped between them as he dipped into the damp core of her. She arched against him as their tongues battled for dominance, entry, satisfaction.

  “Sophie,” he growled against her lips between hungry, moist kisses. “Let’s move this to the other room, preferably one with a bed.”

  “What if I want to stay right here?”

  “I guess I’ll have to accommodate you.” He hooked his hands along her thighs and lifted. “Or convince you to see things my way.”

  Squealing, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her arms around his neck. “You’re going to throw out your back, and that would be so tragic for both of us.”

  “Not a chance. I’ve got you, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go.”

  He walked them both toward his room, kissing her the whole way. His hands slid to cup the curve of her bottom. His erection throbbed harder between them, and the jasmine scent of her filling his senses only made him harder.

  She had to know this chemistry was rare. Special. And something he intended to explore further starting now. He carried her down the hall, past the wall packed with family photos his sister had reprinted in black and white to give Haley Rose a sense of home when they’d moved in.

  But he didn’t want to think of his sister or his daughter right now.

  He lowered Sophie to his king-size bed. She sprinkled kisses across his chest.

  Her lips traveled over him, tasting as her tongue flicked across his nipple, drawing it painfully tight. Did she have to embody his every fantasy? He didn’t stand a chance.

  David tore into the box of condoms.

  His flight suit still around his waist, Sophie slid her hand into his boxers and freed his erection. In imitation of her earlier move, he curved her hand around him. She slowly stroked along his throbbing length. His control slipped away once again. He reached for a packet from the opened box and sheathed himself.

  Any hope of finesse went out the window. He tore her panties off and stretched over her, his feet still on the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him forward. He entered her in a hard, fast lunge.

  They clung to each other for balance in a world suddenly tilting out of control. Then she rocked her hips. He sealed his lips to hers, not sure whose moan floated free between deep, gasping kisses. Their bodies found a matching rhythm.

  She sighed his name over his mouth, along his jaw, against his neck. Her arms convulsed around him. Already he could feel her breath flow over his skin faster, heavier, hotter.

  Her satiny heat gripped him, tightening in spasms of pleasure until his legs gave out and he pressed her deeper into the mattress. His next thrust wrenched a cry of release from her. She pulsed around him in throbbing caresses that knocked him the rest of the way over the edge with his final stroke.

  Waves of pleasure crashed over him, shifting the ground beneath his feet. And shit, he hadn’t even gotten his flight suit or boots the rest of the way off. Still joined, he pushed them both farther onto the bed until he blanketed her fully, finally. Her renewed cries heated over his already flaming body.

  Shuddering in the aftermath, he buried his face in her hair until, slowly, reason filtered back into his passion-fogged brain.

  Damn straight, he wanted Sophie, the kids, the front porch, the whole deal. She had to see she was wrong about risking a relationship again. She was wrong about him being a risk taker in his job. He was careful, damn it, because that meant he could live to fight another day.

  And right now, he intended to fight for her, to be a part of her life, no more walls between them. No more holding back. He loved her, damn it, and she wanted no-strings sex. He should be happy. A hot woman wanted an affair.

  He just had to convince her they could have it all.

  * * *

  Sprawled beside David on his king-size bed, Sophie indulged in a full-length, tabby-cat stretch. His heartbeat thudded rapidly beneath her ear, slowing with each breath. His hands glided over her body without pausing, as if compensating for the day of distance. Staying at his place, in the guesthouse behind Madison’s, it felt like an island away from the rest of the world. She needed that right now, just losing herself in being with him.

  Dim light flickered across their bodies with each swish of the ceiling fan. Her fingers wouldn’t still, smoothing over his hair, across his temples, then along his top lip. Yes, she needed to store memories.

  He smiled, eyes closed. Lightly, she retraced a path over the bristly skin above his mouth. “What happened to your mustache?”

  His unshaven face scraped against the pad of her finger. Trembling with renewed longing, she remembered the rasp of his cheek against her tender flesh after they had moved from the door to his bed.

  The door.

  Thank goodness David’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t see the heat stinging her cheeks more than any scratch of a five o’clock shadow.

  She’d enjoyed sex with Lowell, but never as the initiator. Of course, she hadn’t minded the moments when David had taken the lead, either, but the give-and-take was new and exciting to her, so different from anything she’d experienced.

  “Huh?” David’s voice rumbled low under her ear pressed to his chest.

  “Your mustache. The day you testified in court, I couldn’t help but notice you’d shaved it.” The awakening he’d begun in the courtroom, he’d finished that evening. White cotton sheets were twiste
d around their damp bodies. Pillows dotted the floor after being tossed aside in a frantic need to clear the bed.

  “Haley Rose slammed the bathroom door into my elbow while I was shaving. Took a chunk out of my mustache.” His chuckle vibrated beneath her. “I’m lucky she didn’t cut off my lip.”

  Sophie stroked the pad of her thumb over his wonderfully perfect mouth. She couldn’t regret the courtroom awakening, not when it had resulted in her time with David.

  Scooting up his chest, she brushed her breasts against him, a dual-edged sword as his swirls of hair scraped against her already sensitive nipples. She kissed the bare spot above his lip, then focused her undivided attention on his mouth, her kiss deepening with renewed fervor.

  She nestled on top of him, enjoying the rare chance to study his face without him watching her. “Are you going to grow it back?”

  He shrugged, his hands moving in time with even breaths.

  If he did, would she lay beside him and stroke her fingers across it? Or would they resume exchanging greetings as they crossed paths on base?

  She didn’t want to think about the future or the risks and complications of an actual relationship. She wanted to enjoy this amazing pocket of time with David.

  Except time kept right on ticking.

  His touch no longer comforted. She rolled away and swung her feet to the floor.

  His eyes snapped open. “Where do you think you’re going, Counselor?”

  “Time to get back to work, Major. I always bring things home from the office. Have a problem with that?” She padded across the carpet.

  “I don’t think I’m really being asked.”

  The sheet gathered low around David’s waist as he reached for her. She almost succumbed to the temptation to crawl back into bed with him.

  Almost.

  Gusts from the fan and air conditioner rippled over her, reminding her of the warmth she’d pushed away. She felt so exposed to him physically and emotionally.