Levi squatted down in front of her, his powerful thighs stretching the fabric of his cargo pants, those dark eyes boring into her as if he wanted to pin her to a board like he was some bug collector and she was the bug. “You fainted.” Accusation number one; she knew there were more coming.

And she hated the way he said that. “Faint” sounded so much more wussy than “passed out.” She put her cheek down on her knees again, picked up a small stick, and scraped at the winter-dead grass with it. “I won’t again.”

“Really? How you gonna stop it?” He sounded derisive.

“Same way fighter pilots do, I guess—grunt and stuff like that.” She was kind of vague on the procedure, but she could look up the details on the internet. She knew there was grunting involved.

“They grunt to force oxygen to their brains. Lack of oxygen isn’t your problem.”

No, sheer terror was. She didn’t know if she could grunt long enough and deep enough to overcome that, though maybe if she focused intensely on the grunting she wouldn’t pay attention to being in midair and falling at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, with the possibility of both the main chute and the reserve malfunctioning in which case she and Levi would die together, and the equal possibility that he’d undo the harness buckles and let her drop. Yeah, she had to stop thinking about that last one.

“You screamed, too.” Accusation number two.

Had she? Oh, yeah, she kind of remembered screaming as if she were being dismembered. Dang. There was no denying it; she hunched a shoulder as if to say So what? and kept her mouth shut.

“You didn’t tell us you’re afraid of heights.” Accusation number three.

Annoyed, which was nice because it meant she was feeling something other than terror and humiliation and the even-worse fear of failure, she lifted her head and glared at him. “I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling to my death. Big difference.”

His mouth quirked again in the way she couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a smirk. Going with “smirk” was a safer bet, because generally Levi didn’t smile at her. She both wished he would and wished he wouldn’t. Nothing was simple where Levi was concerned.

“Your ass is getting wet sitting on the ground.”

Was that an accusation, or an observation? Maybe both. “There’s no ‘getting’ to it, it got wet right away.”

“Is this your way of hiding that you pissed your pants?”

Not as outraged as she normally would have been, she still mustered the spirit to shoot out a foot and kick his boot. “I passed out. I didn’t pee my pants, and neither did I vomit! So there!”

He laughed and effortlessly rose to his feet, extending a big hand down to her. “Come on, here comes our ride.”

She didn’t need his help getting up. Even though she felt shaky and weak and numb and grateful all at once—the grateful was because he’d made her mad with the last comment and she had so needed that relief—she tucked her left foot under her, pushed up with her right, got her left leg under her to balance her weight, and stood without aid. Back at the beginning she’d practiced that move over and over because she’d seen how easily the guys got up from the ground, not holding on to anything, just getting their feet under them and standing. Part of it was just technique, but the rest was pure muscle tone—and now she had that muscle tone. What she didn’t have was nerves of steel, as witnessed by the last ten hours.

Just to check, she pulled out her phone and looked at the time. Crap, barely half an hour had passed since the Twin Otter had lifted off the runway. It felt like ten hours. Maybe part of hell was that the time seemed to pass so slowly, in which case she knew that hell involved both Levi and parachutes.

A pickup truck pulled up to the LZ and she straightened her spine. She had to do this. She had to ignore the nausea in the pit of her stomach, and the way her heart had started that sickening pound-pound-pound again, because the only other option was unthinkable. Silently she followed Levi, every movement so weighted with reluctance that her legs felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each.

There was something genetically wrong with men, she thought as she watched Levi striding in front of her, every inch of his big body infused with confidence. It likely never occurred to him to be petrified at the thought of parachuting; it would have been just one more skill to acquire to make him as self-sufficient and lethal as possible. Sometimes jumping out of a plane would be the best way to get to his target; therefore, he would jump out of a plane. She’d seen him practice his hand-to-hand skills, practice live-ammo shooting, push his body to what seemed like superhuman lengths. He dedicated himself to being as well trained and prepared as possible.

All the team members trained constantly, so they’d be ready for whatever mission came their way. Sometimes it was nothing more action filled than surveillance or intelligence gathering, but they trained at that with as much dedication as they did everything else.

She too had devoted herself to the training. What she did with Tweety the drone would help keep them alive when they were in dangerous situations, as well as doing some of the normal surveillance missions. But she got the sense that during the mission the guys would push themselves to and past the point of death, kind of like a racehorse. She’d read that stallions would run themselves to death in a race, but mares wouldn’t, that they had the good sense to stop before they reached self-destruction.

The revelation exploded in her brain. That was it! She was a mare, and Levi was a stallion. He’d willingly jump out of a plane, and she had better sense.

She felt much better about herself now—except for the fact that she had to forget she had good sense and jump out of a plane like the stupid stallions did.

They climbed into the pickup and the driver took them back to the airstrip. The Otter had just landed and was maneuvering back into position for takeoff again. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, just watching it. Pound-pound-pound. Was it possible for her heart to beat so hard it bruised itself against her sternum? Icy sweat drenched her. Could Levi smell her fear? Could he tell how utterly helpless she felt, or was she somehow projecting a can-do façade that kept him from seeing the truth?

The Otter swung around, propellers a blur, and she saw Boom crouching in the open door; even from where they were she could tell his expression was grim. Maybe he’d expected her performance to be better, after his tutelage. She squirmed inwardly, because she hated being a disappointment to anyone, especially to someone she liked as much as she liked him.

She approached the plane with her head down. Ahead of her, Levi effortlessly vaulted into the plane. Boom leaned down and extended his hand; she took it and he pulled her up. Levi gave her a long, cool look and she remembered how she’d declined to take his hand. Well, tough. It would take a long time before she forgot how nastily he’d declined her invitation, and showing up anyway didn’t make her feel any better about him. Neither did anything about the current situation.

“I passed out,” she mumbled.

“I heard.” Boom shook his head. “You should have said you’re afraid of heights.”

She didn’t feel like going into the difference between being afraid of heights and being afraid of falling, so she just shrugged. “I can do this.” Even to herself her voice sounded weak, kind of like a sickly frog, more raspy than usual. Maybe that was from all the screaming.

“Let’s get this over with,” Levi said and closed the door with a loud thunk.

Meaning it was her last chance? It couldn’t be. Boom said he’d packed more parachutes for today than he ever had before, so just two attempts wouldn’t use up the supply. She didn’t know which was most terrifying, the thought of having to do this whole thing again, or Levi tossing her out of training.

Realistically, what would happen if she crapped out of training? She’d go back to her old job and earn good money, though not as great as what she was currently pulling down. She’d get her weekends back. She’d be able to go to movies again, and hang with her friends, and see her family on a regular basis.

And she’d be a failure.

Jina began shaking as she slid onto a bench and strapped herself in.

Once again Levi took the seat beside her. His scent had changed, he had a more outdoorsy smell now, like cold fresh air. Guess that was appropriate, given that they’d just fallen through a couple of miles of fresh air. He seemed invigorated by it, his energy level up so far electricity was practically snapping around him. His big gloved hands rested on his thighs, relaxed despite the situation. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was looking forward to this.

She felt nauseated; hot moisture pooled in her mouth, forced her to swallow.

All too soon, they were in the air again.

Pound-pound-pound. Her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, the force of it vibrating through her body. She couldn’t breathe; her chest seemed to have tightened, preventing her lungs from expanding. Was she hyperventilating, or suffocating? How could she tell the difference, and did it matter anyway?

“Time,” Levi said.

What? No! They’d just taken off. They couldn’t be more than a couple of hundred feet—except when Boom opened the door she saw the earth far below.

Why couldn’t there be a group of them jumping? Maybe if she saw other people doing it before her turn, she wouldn’t be so terrified? Not only that, there would be a delay before her turn. But, realistically, even if there were a thousand people who jumped before she did, she’d still be as terrified. Watching other people do it wouldn’t help at all.

“Come on, let’s get hooked up,” he said, giving her thigh a light slap.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Resentment burned in her, that now he said something that could be construed as flirtatious, now he was treating her more like a team member than a team intruder. He must be confident she wouldn’t make the cut, that she was going to crap out, and the prospect of getting rid of her put him in a good mood.

She’d like to twist his dick off.

And throw it out of the damn plane, a dick without a parachute, and see if he’d dive out after it.

Of course he would. Men would march through hell for their dicks. But wouldn’t it be funny if a hawk or something caught the falling dick and carried it off to be eaten?

She was so distracted by thinking of the adventures of the flying dick that she didn’t move despite his prompt. Should she be ashamed she was thinking of mutilating him? It was just that the part of her that wasn’t terrified was so angry at him for everything, for the situation, for being who, what he was, for denying her attraction to him for months now and him throwing it in her face anyway so all that effort had been for nothing. Anger and terror didn’t make a good mixture, leaving her nauseated and exhausted.

Levi’s patience lasted a few seconds, then he hauled her in front of him with her straddling his legs like before and hooked their harnesses together. The heat of his body warmed her butt and legs, banishing the wet chill from sitting on the ground. Jina catapulted from thinking of dismemberment to wanting to lie back against that hard hot strength and let him cradle her while she rested. She was so tired, so scared, and so damn tired of being so damn scared.

He began moving them toward the open door. Jina stiffened, planting her feet against the floor and pushing back against him, even though she knew at best resistance would gain her only a few seconds.

“Just trust me,” he said in her ear, his tone rough and low. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. His dark gaze bored into her, intense and . . . something else that she couldn’t read. Trust him. She wanted to. She wanted a lot of things where Levi was concerned, and she was suddenly crushed under an avalanche of half-formed thoughts and wants and needs that sent her mind spinning. Before she could process any of it, he muscled them out of the plane and into nothing.

It was worse than the first time.

The wind tore at her. She knew she was screaming because she could feel the strain in her throat. She tried to take a deep breath, tried to control the terror that had exploded through every cell in her body the moment Levi took them out of the plane, tried to stop screaming. She tried to orient herself, to make sense of sky and earth. She could hear Levi yelling at her but couldn’t tell what he was saying, not that it mattered, because her body had overruled her mind and, screw reason, was in a battle for survival.

She fought him. She fought him with everything she had, her lizard brain telling her that he was the cause of her terror, her impending death, and logic had nothing to do with it. So what if he was the one with the parachute strapped to his back? She fought him anyway, tangling her legs with his, trying to flip him, trying to get away. That was all she wanted, just away, away from this horror of an experience and the complete lack of control. The pressure in her chest was enormous, crushing her, and she was too far gone to tell it was his arms wrapped around her trying to control her struggles. With his arms down instead of spread for wind resistance they were an arrow plummeting earthward, a bird without wings, without guidance, without control.

An eternity later, exhausted, her body simply gave up and she went limp. Only then did she dimly realize that he had her wrapped up, legs and arms clamped and controlled by his steely limbs. She sucked in a shuddering breath just as they were jerked violently upward. The straps of her harness dug painfully into the jointure of her thighs, and across her breasts. The universe swung sickeningly and then settled into proper position, with earth below and sky above, and instead of falling at full speed they were now swaying under the billowing canopy.

“We’re off course to the north,” she heard Levi say tersely. “I don’t have the altitude to correct. If I try for the LZ, we’ll go in the river. There’s a field just to the east of the country road, we’ll land there.”

What was she supposed to say? It wasn’t as if she had a choice in any of this. Then he said, “I’ll radio our exact position,” and she realized he was talking to Boom.

Everything felt very distant, as if she had disconnected, and Jina realized she had crossed an invisible boundary between terror and numbness. Some people might look around and enjoy the view from their altitude, but she had no interest in the view other than noting the ground seemed closer than it had the first time they’d gone under canopy.

Silently Levi reached across her chest and loosened the strap with a quick, economical movement, easing the pressure and giving her more comfort in the harness. The backs of his fingers unavoidably brushed against her breast, and she couldn’t work up any kind of reaction, good or bad. He wasn’t copping a feel, he was . . . he was taking care of her. Then she saw his gloved hands on the toggles, turning them away from a river that was on the left and toward a small overgrown brown field bordered on two sides by trees, the green of pines mingled with the bare leafless limbs of hardwoods. The field was coming up fast. Levi said, “Legs up,” and obediently she lifted her legs a couple of seconds before they were on the ground.

It was a rough field, not a clear, level landing zone. They went down, with Levi twisting them to the side so he didn’t land on top of her. Weeds scraped her face, hidden rocks and lumps and sticks dug into her side. So what? They were on the ground. The condition of that ground didn’t matter, so never mind the boggy smell and the dampness soaking into her clothes.

He said, “Are you hurt?”

Mutely she shook her head, and pulled off her goggles, let them drop. He unhooked their harnesses and said, “We’re down, A-okay.” He rattled off some instructions and distances, then removed his headset and goggles and laid them to the side with her goggles. She closed her eyes and rested, listening to him release the parachute straps and haul it in.

What now? She had failed again, miserably, even more miserably than the first time. She hadn’t passed out, she’d fought him, which was worse because she could have killed them both. Nausea churned in her stomach, thinking of the possibilities, all of them bad. He’d kick her out of training now; he had to. Even if she could somehow convince him to give her another chance, she wasn’t at all certain she’d live through another attempt. Even if she was doing a solo jump, at some point her heart would give out, had to, or she’d pass out again and though the automatic activation device would deploy the parachute if she was unconscious she wouldn’t be able to steer it and she might slam into a tree or power lines or even come down on a road in front of a semi.

Tears burned against her closed lids and fiercely she banished them. He might tell her she was finished, but damn if she’d cry over it.

His big hand closed on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Her eyes flared open and she stared up at him, silhouetted against the pale blue sky. He was close, so close, leaning over her until there was barely a hand’s width between their faces. His body heat seared her through their clothing, tempting her to roll closer, to cuddle against all that heat and strength and just for now let him be a buffer between her and the world. Her pupils expanded until all the amber ring that surrounded them was swallowed up, leaving only the blue outer edge; her heart rate, which had settled down, began pounding again.

“You could have killed us.” His face was hard and fierce, no give in him at all.

“Ready to go again?” she asked in a thin, watery voice. She couldn’t manage a smile, but she tried. “Maybe I can do it the next time.”

“Which? Kill us, or make the jump?”

“I’ll let it be a surprise,” she fired back.

He glared down at her. “Fuck,” he growled, then jerked her against him and kissed her.

A dam broke inside her.

For months Jina had buried her femininity, not letting any hint of flirting or sexuality intrude during the long, long hours and days of training. She hadn’t traded on her lack of muscle, she’d concentrated on building some. She hadn’t let the guys help her because she was a woman; she’d had to do it on her own for just that reason. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even worn mascara in so long the tube had probably dried out and needed to be thrown away. She hadn’t worn a dress, or pretty shoes, or had her hair styled. She had made herself as sexless as possible, trying to fit in with the guys and not cause any disturbance in the team force.

Then Levi kissed her, and all those inner controls and barriers melted to nothing. The relief was overwhelming, everything in her giving way and reveling in the sense of womanhood that flooded through her. His mouth was everything she hadn’t let herself think about, hot and male, his taste going to her head faster than wine on an empty stomach. Pushing him away never entered her mind; from the first moment she met him, something primal and powerful inside her had wanted him, wanted this moment, and from the center of her being she responded. She wound her arms around his shoulders, one hand sliding around the nape of his neck, and her mouth opened under his to give him what he demanded as well as making demands of her own. A little hum vibrated in her throat, a sound of pleasure and want and need, sending the call into his mouth.

He lifted his head and his gaze burned as it raked over her face. “Shit. Fuck. I shouldn’t do this.”

Now she thought about pushing him away, and maybe delivering a punch or two in the process. Damn him, he didn’t get to jerk her back and forth like this. But in any physical contest he was going to win, unless he deliberately let her hit him, and where was the satisfaction in that? Instead she stretched a little, moving her body against him, and smiled a faint, ironic, and utterly beckoning smile. “Then don’t. I’m sure you’re strong enough to get away from me.” As she spoke she burrowed her fingers under the hair at his nape and lightly stroked.

If anything his eyes got even hotter, more intent, and his gaze moved down her body. She didn’t have to glance down to know her nipples were tight and fully erect, the points showing even under her sweatshirt. She could feel their tightness, and the way every breath she took rubbed them against the fabric.

A dull red flush darkened his cheekbones.

He lifted his gloved hand, clamped the tip of one finger in his teeth, and pulled the glove off. He let the glove drop out of his teeth onto her chest, then slipped his big hand under the band of her sweatshirt, moved up to clasp over one small breast before sliding over to the other, then back. His rough palm rasped over her tender nipples, making her gasp, bite off a moan.

“From day one,” he said roughly, and she knew what he meant. From day one, this had been between them. She’d tried to ignore it, stifle it, forget about it. Evidently he’d been fighting the same attraction. “If you weren’t on the team, we could—” He broke off, shook his head. “You’re too damn good with the drone. Having you there will give the team a layer of protection we didn’t have before. I could have made things so tough for you that you couldn’t make the cut, but that wouldn’t be fair to either you or the other guys.”

“That hasn’t changed,” she pointed out, her breath coming faster as he continued rubbing her nipples. She turned her head against his shoulder, inhaling the utter maleness of his scent, the warmth of his body heaven on her chilled skin. Pound-pound-pound. He had to feel her heart slamming against his palm, and she didn’t care. Months of bruising herself against his hostility and coldness were abruptly washed away as if they’d never been.

Frustration darkened his face. “As long as you’re on my team, this can’t happen.”

“Then get your hand out from under my shirt,” she snapped, and kissed his throat.

A primal sound vibrated in his chest. In one rough movement he was on top of her, one muscled thigh pushing between her legs to spread them wide, then he took his place between them. His mouth crushed down on hers again, his tongue making forays that she welcomed with her own tongue. Why should she make things easy on him? He hadn’t been easy on her. She wanted him to suffer a little, wanted him to think about what he wasn’t getting. She welcomed him with her entire body, wrapping her legs around his hips and lifting her hips to cradle the hard ridge of his erection against her softness. A purely sexual pleasure speared through her, an effervescent joy that despite everything she was in his arms and he was in hers, that his hand was on her skin, and for these few stolen minutes there was nothing else.

She strained against him and his hips moved in rhythm as if there were no layers of clothing between them. He was so heavy despite bracing some of his weight on his arms, and she loved the pressure of him. Everything spun away; the fact that they were lying in a wet field of weeds, that their ride was on the way and would soon arrive, that the only way they could be together was if she failed in the training and despite herself she would try again, try her best not to fail. For now there was just this, the hard jut of his penis against her just where it needed to be, the fast spiraling lash of pleasure that started between her legs and spread upward, hot and liquid and so intense she moaned.

Briefly she tried to control her surging response but just as quickly surrendered to it because she wanted this moment, this pleasure. She came, driven by months of denial, of being painfully aware of him and having to keep it all under a lid nailed down so securely none of the other guys had any hint of it. He had known, though, maybe by animal instinct, and now like any predator he was moving fast on his prey. That was how she felt, like his prey, at his mercy, and she turned the tables on him by giving him all her sensuality, her femaleness, the wildness and completion of her response. She cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming, and dug her nails into his neck.

He swore viciously under his breath but cupped her ass in both hands and lifted her, grinding her, giving her more pressure, more pleasure, riding her through it.

She knew what he wanted. He wanted to strip her pants off and get inside her right there in that wet, muddy field, uncaring whether or not their privacy could be interrupted at any minute. She knew because that was what she wanted, with a degree of sexual madness she’d never before experienced.

And she wanted more—more Levi, more time, more of his companionship, his touch, his taste, more everything. The hunger she felt couldn’t be satisfied by occasional stolen moments; she wasn’t built that way, to be content with a clandestine relationship.

He rolled off her, breathing hard and scowling at the sky. Helplessly she stared at him, devouring every detail of his features, the strong bone structure of his lean face, the level dark brows, the curve of his mouth. He was a breathtaking man, not because he was handsome but because he was so damn masculine he practically oozed testosterone. When she thought the word “warrior,” he was the image she saw, muscled and lethal. He would look as natural with a sword strapped to his back as with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Civilization was a light cloak that he could throw off as needed; he was one of the rough men, as were all the men on the GO-Teams, ready to do whatever needed doing.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, but despite what had just happened between them, she felt constrained. Their make-out session hadn’t changed anything. He was still the leader of that team, and he’d do whatever was necessary for their operational stability because their very lives depended on it. Her job was to safeguard them as much as possible, to provide an extra set of eyes looking for trouble or gathering information without exposing them to unnecessary danger.

If she were in an arguing frame of mind, she’d yell at him that the guys wouldn’t mind at all if she and Levi began a relationship, but she’d be lying. It would make a difference. The others would subconsciously begin looking for signs of favoritism, which would foster resentment and a lack of trust. Any argument between her and Levi would necessarily cause tension among the others. That was just how team dynamics worked; a disagreement between any two members was one thing, but throw sex into the mixture and it became combustible.

She turned her head and stared at the sky as grimly as he was, and for the same reason. As things stood, she had two choices: she could quit training and have Levi—for how long was up for debate—or she could stay on the team and deal with the bitter truth that they couldn’t be together.

She. Couldn’t. Quit. Doing so would betray everything she was, every sense of self. Maybe she drove herself past what a sane person would do, but didn’t the guys also do that? Being who they were, doing what they did, required more of them than, say, a regular nine-to-five job.

She had been happy with that nine-to-five job, but now this was her reality, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, turn her back on it.

She rolled to her knees and picked up her goggles. Her clothes were wet all along her back, and on her right side. Her elbows and knees had mud on them, evidently from when they’d landed and skidded along the ground. Her forehead was beginning to sting, and she suspected there was a scrape there. Bits of weed clung to her braid, which was no longer stuffed down the back of her shirt. Fingering her face, she found some dirt and debris and wiped it off as best she could.

Silently Levi got to his feet and began gathering in the parachute, pulling it the rest of the way to him. She picked up his goggles, and the glove he’d discarded. “Here,” she said and tossed the glove to him. He released the parachute with his right hand and fielded the glove one-handed, pulled it back on.

The pickup rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the road, about a hundred yards away. Jina began trudging toward it, gearing herself up to do this one more time—and one more time after that, if necessary.

Whatever it took.