CHAPTER 9
CAITLYN WOKE SLOWLY, the golden light of sunrise peeking through the slats of the shutters, and immediately wished she could fall back into ignorant oblivion. Good God. She had cried last night. And worse yet, in front of Kurt.
What the hell was wrong with her? She rarely shed tears, and sure as hell not in public. He seemed to bring out all of her vulnerabilities.
Like now, for example. Not only had she dragged the bedspread over to the couch and let him comfort her, she had fallen asleep in his arms. Then, at some point during the night, he had moved onto his back and now she lay sprawled across his muscled torso, using his broad chest as a pillow. He was warm and solid and delicious. Her legs were twined with his thighs and his erection pressed against her hip, thick and hard.
How easy it would be to move over a few inches, push aside her panties, and make them both happy. Her stomach dipped. If their earlier kisses were any indication, he wouldn’t protest. But it wouldn’t be fair to lead him on. He wanted a wife and a family, and she could offer neither.
The tears burned again. Goddammit.
Trying to avoid jostling him, she let her right leg slide down until her foot hit the floor. Then she pushed against the back of the couch to lift herself up, the bedspread pooling at her feet.
His dark eyes opened and he stared up at her, blinking once or twice before he jolted upright and crossed his wrists over his lap. “Morning,” he said, his voice rusty.
“Sorry.” She tugged on the hem of her T-shirt and folded her arms, though it was probably too late to hide the see-through nature of the thin cotton. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He glanced at his watch, his cheeks turning pink. “No problem. I’m usually up by now.”
Her gaze strayed to his residual limbs—the correct term for his stumps, according to the research she’d done after he told her about his injuries. Last night, it had been too dark to see them clearly, and she had expected much worse. Basically, his thighs looked…normal, muscular, in fact, until tapering just above where his knees would be. The skin at the end was hairless and stretched, and each leg had been rounded off into a pillowy shape with a shiny scar along the bottom.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry.” She was stuck in apology mode now. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
He shook his head. “It’s okay. I’d rather you stare than be afraid to look.”
She swallowed. “Does it hurt to walk on them?”
“Not anymore.”
He didn’t want or need pity, but she still hated that he’d gone through so much pain and struggle. “How long were you in the hospital?”
“In-patient and out-patient combined, I lived at Walter Reed for almost two years.”
Jesus. “That long?” She couldn’t even imagine.
“I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it if Sara hadn’t quit her job and moved in with me.”
Because their parents had died, and he’d had no one else to advocate for him. Sara was a much better sister than Caitlyn had ever been. “That’s where she met your physical therapist?”
“Yeah, Soham. He makes her happy, so I let him live.” Kurt gave her a cheeky smile.
Her chest constricted. “I’m glad you lived.” As if she would have wished otherwise. The words sounded stupid as soon as they came out of her mouth.
“Me too.” His smile turned into a full-blown sexy grin. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here half naked after spending the night with you.”
Half naked and sexy as hell. Up close she could clearly see that the tattoo on his left pec was a curling ribbon emblazoned with “That Others May Live.” The second half of the pararescue motto was a summary of Kurt in four words, and it only made him more desirable.
Her cheeks burned. Damned fair skin. “All these comfortable beds and we ended up on the couch. I hope it wasn’t too bad for you,” she said, keeping her voice light.
He laughed, deep and playful. “I will happily sleep under you anywhere, anytime, Braveheart,” he said, invoking the stupid play on her last name Terrell had been so proud of.
“Oh, God.” She rolled her eyes and bent to grab the bedspread and wrap it around her shoulders. With luck, the move hid the jolt of lust that shot straight to her core at his suggestion. “Men.” Tamping down her unwanted attraction, she straightened. “Do you need to use the toilet?”
“Go for it. I can wait. If I get desperate there are two other restrooms in the house.”
Snatching up a change of clothes, she threw the quilt on the bed and shut herself into the bathroom without a backward glance.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat refreshed, she scrounged through Brandon’s cupboards and started a pot of oatmeal and, more importantly, a pot of coffee.
Kurt joined her soon after, back to full height. Had he waited for her to leave the room this morning so he wouldn’t have to walk on his residual limbs in front of her? He’d done it last night, but it had been dark then, and he’d thought she was in danger.
As much as she rejected the idea of being a damsel in distress who needed a man, the memory of him rushing into her room ready to fight for her sent a ripple of pleasure through her chest.
“I’ll pick up some groceries later if I can find anything open,” he said, breaking into her reverie.
“Good idea. I hate raiding this guy’s cupboards, and there’s not much here anyway.”
While the oats simmered, Kurt switched on the enormous flat-screen TV that hung on the wall across from the sectional sofa. A local morning news show talked about another tropical storm developing to the southeast. This year, the Atlantic had already seen more than its fair share of hurricanes, with multiple storms devastating Puerto Rico and the Leeward Islands, along with Mexico, Texas, and Florida.
Barbados and St. Isidore had been spared this time around, but everyone was on edge about it. St. Iz was only now starting to recover from a hurricane followed by a series of earthquakes three years ago.
When the coffee finished, Caitlyn poured herself a cup and added a smidge of powdered creamer and sugar. “How do you like your caffeine?” she asked Kurt.
“Strong and hot, one sugar, no cream.”
She prepared his cup and brought it to him where he stood in front of the television looking sinfully handsome with damp hair and dark stubble. He even smelled good.
“Thanks.” He lifted the mug in a little salute. “Unfortunately, I may not be able to get any of my guys here for a few days. There’s a tropical storm sitting off the mid-Atlantic, and airports up and down the coast are shut down due to high winds.”
“You were planning to bring your team here? For what?” They hadn’t even talked about it.
He glanced at her, eyebrows darting up as he took a sip of coffee. “To increase security around this house. And so they could be ready to help when we figure out where Rose is.”
Caitlyn sighed. She had fought so hard for control over her life that it was hard to step back and let him take charge, even though they needed all the help they could get. But she didn’t need to antagonize him. He was, as always, trying to help.
“I’d appreciate it if you could keep me in the loop.”
“No problem. I didn’t mean to cut you out, I’m just used to—”
“Being in charge.”
His self-deprecating smile softened her more than she liked. “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to being the boss.”
She scoffed. “No, you’ve gotten used to being the savior.”
He didn’t even balk at her characterization, he just smiled. “PJ training only made me more insufferable. But then I lost my legs.” He huffed out a laugh. “That’ll teach you who’s really in charge.”
Any remaining irritation leached out of her. Based on his faraway expression, he hadn’t said it to garner sympathy or pity or even to sway her. He was merely musing.
“I was at the mercy of the hospital staff and my injuries for so long… I hoarded every piece of my world that I could control. How hard I worked in physical therapy, how much I practiced with my prosthetics, what I ate, what I read, what I watched, my attitude. Starting Steele Security let me take charge again. Not just of my team, but of my life.”
And couldn’t she understand that? Caitlyn cringed inwardly. Kurt’s injuries had made him more vulnerable than she could imagine, especially looking at him now, standing tall and strong. He had to hate it. He’d always been the protector, the one who swooped in to save others when they were weak and helpless. There was nothing in the world worse than being knocked down, defenseless against the vultures, ripe for others to take advantage.
Which was why she so carefully guarded her own independence. “And it proves just how uncreative you are at naming things,” she said with a straight face.
He laughed and seemed to snap back to the present. “You mean like Brevard Charters?”
She smiled against her will. He had her there. “Touché.”
Their gazes met and she melted. How bad would it be to kiss him for no good reason? Just being near him made her breathless. She couldn’t run from it, but maybe she could make him feel just as helpless and vulnerable and out of control.
She took a step back, forced herself to lean away, and broke eye contact. The fake engagement was irrelevant. They no longer had a reason to play the happy couple. And yet…
She didn’t want to desire him. She didn’t want to need anyone. But her body and her heart—no, not her heart, never that—hadn’t gotten the message.
Kurt frowned and something flickered in his dark eyes. Disappointment?
Caitlyn cleared her throat, “I don’t know if you have some grand plan, and I know you’re better at this than I am, but I want and need to be included in the process. Otherwise I’ll go crazy.”
He nodded. “I understand. We’ll come up with a plan together.”
“Thank you.” She managed not to kiss him.
First step, find Rose. Simple.
Kurt studied the news, not hearing a word, far too aware of the woman next to him. The couch hadn’t been all that comfortable last night, but with Caitlyn draped across his body, he hadn’t cared. He’d lain awake for hours, unable to sleep, intoxicated and tortured by the feel of her soft skin, her breasts pressed to his chest, and her sweet scent.
The sensation had settled on him, an invisible layer of dust that wouldn’t wash away, and now anytime she moved near, his heart sped up, his throat turned dry.
She’d seen his stumps this morning, and she hadn’t been disgusted by them. Still, he’d waited until she went to the restroom to slide down from the couch and walk to his room.
His sister, Soham, and the nurses at the hospital had all assured him that the loss of height didn’t diminish him, that anyone who truly cared about him wouldn’t care about his legs. But it wasn’t so much being short that bothered him as the constant reminder of his vulnerability. No matter how strong he got in the gym, or how smart he was in any area of his life, he had lost the sense of invincibility that one has to cultivate as a PJ.
Neither he nor his teammates ever believed themselves bulletproof, but he wouldn’t have been able to leap from a plane or ride a helo into a village taking enemy fire if he’d been thinking about his mortality every moment. Now he was faced with it every day, every morning when he pulled back the covers and every night when he removed his legs.
But he had lived. And after the initial shock and pain and anger that had come with his injuries, he was grateful for that. If nothing else, he had learned the fragility of life and how little he could count on tomorrow. He’d learned how important it was to go after what you wanted because life gave no promises.
Which was why he was willing to risk emotional evisceration for a second chance with Caitlyn. She was worth it.
For a brief moment when she’d joked with him about his company name, Kurt had thought she was going to lean in and kiss him the way his body was begging to be kissed. His muscles had gone rigid with the anticipation of tasting her lips again, every nerve on alert. But then something in her expression had changed and the thread had snapped, and she was all business, trying to wrest a shred of control from this crazy situation.
He sighed. His need to be in charge had blinded him to the fact that he hadn’t consulted her. This was her show. He might have the resources to help, but she had put everything in motion, and she deserved to have input and full say on everything they did and everyone they involved. As long as he didn’t feel her decisions put him or anyone else in unnecessary danger, he would support her one hundred percent.
It was tougher than it should be to take a backseat, but—as his sister kept telling him—he could learn a little humility. Sara knew his heart was in the right place, but maybe Caitlyn assumed he was an arrogant asshole. Sometimes he didn’t even know why she and Terrell had put up with him when they were in the maintenance squadron together.
Maybe she knew she could trust him with her life. Maybe she instinctively got that part of him.
But did she realize much of a fool he was? Specifically, how much of a fool he was, and always had been, for her?
She had returned to the kitchen, and was now dishing oatmeal into bowls. He turned off the TV. Outside, the ocean caressed the shore with an insistent shushing sound, and the palm trees that divided the backyard from the airfield rustled in the wind. Inside, the house was quiet as they sat together at the breakfast bar and slowly ate the hot cereal, which she’d flavored with raisins and cinnamon and walnuts.
“Thanks for cooking.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
His laugh faded quickly. He wanted to get used to everything about her.
The doorbell rang. Kurt jerked at the sound. Who the hell would come knocking at seven a.m.?
He pushed to standing and slipped softly into the front hall where a video monitor showed two St. Isidore police officers standing on the front porch. Shit.
Caitlyn had followed to investigate and at his signal, she tiptoed close to him, staying out of the line of sight of windows, and careful not to cast a shadow across the peephole in the door. The shutters were mostly closed, but they weren’t a solid screen.
Afraid to move lest they make any noise to give away their presence, they huddled in the hall, watching the monitor. Caitlyn’s green eyes were wide with concern but she didn’t tremble, or bite her lip. She stood strong and ready to take action. A warrior goddess with the beauty to match.
Had someone tipped off the police, or were they going door to door? Or was it unrelated to him and Caitlyn altogether?
Logically, if the police knew they were there, they’d have brought a bigger team. And they wouldn’t have come politely to the front door. Then again, maybe the house was surrounded by SWAT.
A loud knock echoed in the hall. She flinched at the noise, but didn’t make a sound.
His heart pounded as time slowly ticked forward, an eternity in the space of a minute.
Voices rumbled through the door, their words muffled, and then finally retreated as the men on camera left the porch. Silence descended on the house.
Another minute passed, interrupted only by the sound of Kurt’s pulse in his ears.
He crashed as the adrenaline drained from his veins and he gripped the wall. He met Caitlyn’s gaze and saw the same jittery relief wash over her.
“Too close,” she whispered.
“Not close enough,” he said. Then he tugged her against him and kissed her.
Caitlyn froze in shock at the unexpected lip lock and then sank into the kiss, sank into Kurt’s warm, strong embrace, and let herself fall into the delicious whirlwind. They came together with a spark, igniting like flash paper. She’d never experienced anything even close to this with another man.
Lips, teeth, tongue, hands, all hungry and searching, seeking and driving them closer. Their bodies fused together.
His breath was her breath, his heartbeat hers.
She pressed him to the wall slipping her leg between his thighs while wrapping the other one around his hips, bringing them together where it mattered most.
He groaned deep in his chest and flipped them around so that she was caged between him and the cool plaster. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, eager for the feel of his hot skin against her fingertips. He was so goddamned sexy with all his hard muscles and quiet strength. She couldn’t even remember why she didn’t want this. He kissed her face, her neck, nipped at her shoulder, pushed aside the collar of her shirt and worked his way down her chest. She willed her clothes to disintegrate, or maybe combust, leaving her instantly naked and ready.
Ding dong.
Shit. What now?
Kurt froze, his muscles rigid, his breath coming hard and as fast as hers. They both looked at the monitor on which a mail courier was visible, placing a package against the door with a thump before retreating.
“Jesus.” Pushing away from the wall, Kurt disentangled himself from her grasp and ran a hand through his hair, staring at her with dark eyes full of desire and… regret? “That was—”
“Maybe what we both needed,” she finished.
His eyebrows rose.
She lifted one shoulder. “You know, adrenaline can have that effect.” She was such a liar. Maybe even a coward.
His face blanked. “Adrenaline. Right.” He took a deep breath, turning away from her to peer through the viewer in the door.
Caitlyn stared at his broad back, still able to feel his warm skin and the contours of his muscles under her fingertips. Her entire body was keyed up from their red-hot make-out session. What had she been thinking kissing him back? Why hadn’t she pushed him away?
Maybe because he was the best kisser ever. Or maybe it was because kissing him was almost better than flying. She didn’t go home with a guy every month or anything, but she hadn’t been celibate. She had kissed other men, she’d had sex with other men, but none of them affected her like Kurt.
It made him far too dangerous. She couldn’t risk getting emotionally tangled up with him, giving him that kind of power over her. Which meant rejecting him again, and it fucking sucked. Kurt was not for her. Not for the short term and definitely not for the long term. The loss of “what could be” was nothing compared the pain of loving someone and losing them. Case in point, her sister. Lambert hadn’t intentionally taken Rose to hurt her, but the end result was the same.
If she fell in love with Kurt and he left—because that’s what men did—or died, she’d never recover.
She nearly snorted at her assumption that she would live long enough for it to matter. Lambert presented himself publicly as a jovial man, but she had gravely injured his only son. That would be unforgivable for anyone, and he could be ruthless.
Kurt turned away from the door, and for second she could swear there was a residual heat in his eyes.
An answering fire flared deep in her belly, and she looked away to break the connection. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to hide out after all.”
“This is why I wanted some of my guys here. They can keep watch, warn us when someone’s coming, help us fight off any threats.”
“But they can’t get here anytime soon. Not with all the airports shut down.”
“No.” He followed her back to the kitchen. “Once we have phones and a computer, I can get Valerie to look into Lambert. If there’s anything online that can help us, she’ll find it. Tara will work on getting a few guys out here, and whatever else we need.”
“You’re lucky to have such a loyal team.”
“I am,” he said. “I have good friends.”
Rockley was the most loyal friend Caitlyn had. How pathetic. But it was her own fault. She couldn’t avoid connections and still expect to have a stable full of people ready to sacrifice for her.
Except Kurt was here doing just that, despite how she’d treated him when they were stationed in Oklahoma. He deserved so much better. If she could take back how much she’d hurt him…
“I didn’t cheat on you when you were at Indoc,” she blurted.