Welsh smelled of earth and gun oil, sweat and battle. It mixed with the fresh scent on her skin, doing things to her stomach she wasn’t prepared for. Curling her fingers into the crook of his elbow, Rose was disarmed by the crazy way her body reacted to his bulging bicep. Okay, she was a woman and stood on her own two feet. A frame of toned flesh shouldn’t reduce her to a pile of goo. But his accent, the spark of daring in his dark gaze, and the powerful build of his body made her heart pound. Maybe it was the hell she’d gone through today. Her knees still shook, and she had to lock them just to walk straight. As she leaned on his strength, feeling protected, feminine, and small next to his massive size, Rose wanted more than just a “thank you” at her door. She wanted to feel his warmth beside her as the night wore on. She wanted to hold on to this feeling that nothing could go wrong as long as he was with her.
It wasn’t right, and she could hate herself later for giving into weakness like this.
Still, it didn’t stop her thoughts as they came to the hospital bay and she found herself just moments away from losing his touch, from clinging to his arm. Welsh looked down at her, questions in his eyes that she couldn’t answer. Not right now. His large hand framed her waist, pulling her tighter against his body, against the evidence of his hard cock. He wanted this, too; she could taste it. It made no sense to her, this level of attraction she felt for him. Just in the span of hours he’d rewired her nerves to trigger for him. It frightened her, and yet she couldn’t stop it.
The humid air pressed against her skin, and her hair stuck in random places as her gaze locked with his. He curled around her, his size dwarfing hers and only heightening the sense of his control. Would he taste as dangerous as he felt? Would sex with him obliterate her sense, dash her apart, and put her back together haphazardly?
Either way, she wanted to try it.
“Coul—”
“Go get some rest. You don’t want to ask this right now and regret it in the morning.”
“What?” Her mind couldn’t keep up with his words.
Welsh sighed and traced her cheek with a callused thumb. Rose’s skin warmed at the contact, and a tendril of desire snaked through her bloodstream. That simple. A small, fragile touch hardened her nipples as she gasped for her next breath. He had to feel the connection—the way her body called to his, ignorant of the place or circumstances. She knew it wasn’t right, the urge she felt. She’d just met him. She could still feel blood on her hands. But she wanted to know his taste. The way his lips would feel on hers. Would he be rough? Soft? A blazing mixture of both?
“Emotions run high at times like this,” he said, still pressed closer to her, filling her space as she curled her fingers into the thick vest he wore.
It was decadent, the way she stood against his hardened body, with the knowledge he still held his sidearm in one hand and touched her with the other. A wicked blend of danger and sex. During her time in this war-torn country, with military men surrounding her, Rose hadn’t known this type of need lived within her. She worked her hours, saved who she could, cried for those she failed, but never once wanted a man in her bed more than she wanted Welsh right now.
“Yes,” she whispered, unsure of what she was agreeing to. She understood desire, the mechanics of visual, emotional, biochemical, and biomechanical cues to sweep the human form into sex. What she wanted now was nothing as cut and dry as that.
Welsh lowered his head, his mouth hovering just over hers. If she lifted to her toes she’d taste him. But she waited it out, enjoyed the warm curl of his exhales over her sensitive skin. She sucked in every time he breathed out, his essence permeating her lungs.
“This isn’t the time, Rose. Trust me.”
Welsh left her there, the words stuck on her tongue. Blinking against the sudden darkness where his face had filled her vision just moments before, she floundered in a sea of her need. Even clenching her legs together didn’t stem the flow. Her gaze searching the blackness before her, Rose found him, walking away, his back ramrod straight. Big Boss stood for a minute, watching her with narrowed eyes before he turned away. Stupid. How stupid had she been to attempt to proposition a man like that? The flame of embarrassment streaked up her neck and burned her cheeks as she dashed into the dormitory where her room was. The halls echoed her pounding steps, affirming she was alone and she shouldn’t have tried with Welsh in the first place.
Rose groaned, unable to contain the agonized sound. What if others had seen her act like that? In this sort of professional setting, her actions could be career suicide if it got back to her hospital. All the work she’d done to garner the status of Head Surgeon would be for nothing.
“Stupid move,” she chastised herself. Of course, that didn’t stop the ache between her legs or the way she inhaled, absorbing the last traces of Welsh’s scent into her pores. By the time she reached her room, she was a shaking mess. She curled her fingers into her palms until her nails bit into the soft flesh. Well, that was embarrassing. Warmth spread through her body and she clenched her teeth hard enough to grind her molars to ash. The weight of what she’d almost done, as well as his rejection, settled over her shoulders as she peered sightlessly around her room. What was she supposed to do, alone and filled with burning needs he hadn’t satisfied? It continued to follow her as she put up her shower gear, got undressed, and slipped into bed. Her thoughts of Welsh helped her go to sleep without thinking about the hell in Syria.