long time, and her body was tight. He groaned low in his throat. She raised her hips, urging him forward, and he slid home.
Once there, he braced his weight on his elbows and kissed her. “No more worry about not being a woman, okay?”
She slipped her arms around to his back and stroked his skin. She could feel his muscles rippling under her questing fingers. “I’m not just a woman. I’m a warrior.”
He flexed inside of her. “Don’t say that,” he gasped as he withdrew and plunged in again.
“Why?”
The muscles in his neck and face tightened. “Because we’re making love and I’m inside of you. This isn’t the time to tell me I’m doing it with a warrior.”
She laughed.
He moaned. “That feels great. Laugh again.”
She giggled. “I can’t laugh on command.”
He continued to move in and out of her. “Sure you can. These two guys walk into a bar.”
She touched his face, and he glanced down at her. “What?”
“I don’t remember laughing before. Thank you.”
He smiled and said again, “My pleasure.”
“I think the pleasure is mutual.”
“Yeah?”
“It would be if you’d stop talking.”
“When’d you get to be so bossy?”
“Zach!”
“Okay, I’ll be quiet.”
He was as good as his word. He sank into her again and withdrew. Over and over until her body began to collect itself for another release. She tried to watch his face, wanting to see when he was near his climax, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the feelings between her thighs. He filled her completely and left her no option but to follow him into an ecstasy that left them clinging together in an aftermath of fire.
Zach woke sometime after midnight. He felt rested and figured he’d probably been asleep for nearly seven hours. A two-mile jog and hot sex were a powerful combination.
He shifted so he could face Jamie. Moonlight streamed in through the window above the bed; otherwise, the room was dark. Her blond hair spread over the pillow. He touched one strand, rubbing it between his fingers-silk, so damn soft, just like her skin.
He could make out her high cheekbone and the shape of her mouth. The rest of her features were lost in shadow. But he knew everything about her. The muscles defining her arms, the sweep of her ribs and narrow waist, the jut of her hipbones, the power of her legs. She’d changed a lot in the past seven years, yet he could still recognize her in the dark.
He inhaled, smelling the combined scent of their bodies and the musky fragrance of sex. Just thinking about what they’d done made him want her again. Desire stirred between his legs. It would be easy to part her thighs and enter her again. She wouldn’t protest.
But he didn’t. He would rather watch her sleep, at least for now.
He slowed his breathing so she couldn’t know he was awake. But Jamie was one of the best field agents. She sensed his attention and opened her eyes. A smile hovered uncertainly at the corner of her mouth, as if she wasn’t sure what her reception would be.
Unfamiliar feelings threatened. He wanted to tell her it was going to be all right. Yet he knew that wasn’t true. Whatever Jamie had come looking for, he wasn’t the person to provide it. If he kept up the emotional facade of being available for her, he was bound to hurt her. Logically he should tell her that right now. But he couldn’t. He needed this, too.
He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. Her breath caught, then she smiled.
He’d seen her smile dozens of times, maybe hundreds. This one caught him like a sucker punch to the stomach. Pain flared, and with it, vulnerability.
“How long have we been asleep?” she asked.
“Too long. I’m starved.”
“Me, too.”
He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. She stood up, then glanced around for clothes. Hers were in the other room. He thought about the skirt and blouse she’d had on. They’d been all wrong for her. Acting on impulse, he opened the wardrobe and snagged one of his cotton long-sleeved shirts. He tossed it to her.
When she caught it, she glanced at him. “An interesting kind of bathrobe.”
“Humor me. I want to look at your legs.”
It was too dark for him to see what she was thinking, but he hoped she blushed.
Together they walked into the kitchen, flipping on lights as they went. The clock on the wall showed the time to be nearly one-thirty-their usual hour for restlessness. But instead of escaping to the porch or wanting to be alone, Zach was content to spend time with Jamie.
While he started coffee, she opened the refrigerator. “We’ve got some defrosted steaks, potatoes, vegetables.”
“Too heavy,” he said.
“How about eggs and toast?”
“Perfect.”
He clicked on the coffeepot, then reached for the carton of eggs.
“I’ll cook,” she said. “You go sit down. This kitchen is too small for both of us.”
He allowed her to push him into a chair at the small dinette. Watching her work was hardly a hardship. The tails of his shirt fell to midthigh on her, but the sides exposed her legs nearly to her hips. She moved with the easy grace of a dancer; her breasts swayed against the cotton shirt.
Passing time had left her more comfortable with her body. He remembered the first time she’d cooked for him in his kitchen. She’d been wearing a nightshirt and nothing else. She’d spent the whole time tugging at the short hem.
So much had changed, yet one thing remained the same-the heat they generated in bed.
“Scrambled okay?” she asked as she pulled eggs out of the refrigerator.
“Great.”
She cracked several into a bowl, then whipped them with a fork. Her movements were smooth and practiced.
“Do you cook much?” he asked.
“Almost never. It’s impossible on assignment, and when I’m home, it doesn’t seem worth it to cook for just me.”
An uncomfortable thought occurred to him. “There’s no one else?”
She looked up. Her hazel eyes were almost gray in the bright light. “A man? As in a relationship?”
He nodded.
“Zach, I wouldn’t be here with you if I was involved with someone else.”
“I know, but what about before? It’s been a long time since you and I…” He trailed off, not sure what to say about them.
She poured the egg mixture into the frying pan, then put toast into the toaster. He stood up and headed for the refrigerator. While she cooked, he set the table, adding butter and jam, coffee cups and plates.
“There have been one or two interested parties,” she admitted. “But no one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. What about you?”
“I prefer to travel light.”
He watched her and wondered if he believed what she was saying. In seven long years, she hadn’t once fallen in love? It would be easy enough to ask the question-assuming he wanted the answer. He didn’t. The fact that he didn’t want to know about the men in her past annoyed him.
The toast popped. He stuck in two more slices of bread and set the brown ones on a plate. Jamie finished the eggs and served them. They sat down together.
