She cried a little bit as she drove to the training area, knowing that she had to tell the guys in person, she couldn’t just let them hear about it from someone else. Maybe they already knew, maybe MacNamara had immediately called Levi, but that didn’t matter: she’d quit, but she couldn’t let herself be a coward about it.

Her heartbeat hit double-time as she parked, looked around at a place that, for the past year, had been more familiar to her than her own condo. There was nothing glamorous about it: the dirt, the sand, the buildings for practicing shooting situations, the obstacles and pits and soul-destroying humidity, the coolers of bottled water placed at strategic points, the dust kicked up by pounding feet, the groups of sweating and swearing men working through different rotations. She spotted Kodak and his team, working with the new drone trainee whose name she didn’t know because she still couldn’t get past the ache that Donnelly was gone and this was his replacement, so she’d been ignoring the man’s existence. She wouldn’t be able to do that now, though; she’d be training him in the drone program.

What she didn’t see was her own team—correction, her former team. The thought made her heart ache, but she knew she’d made the right choice. She took out her phone and shot a text to Boom. Maybe she should have texted Levi, but today she was taking the easiest path she could—because she was now a quitter.

Quitter. The word jolted her down to her bones, knocked her world askew, and she had a feeling it would never be on quite the same plane again. She’d spent her life measuring herself against Jordan and Jaz, pushing herself to keep up with her brothers, and when she’d been assigned to the teams she’d carried that compulsion to the point of insanity. She had even jumped out of freakin’ planes, and what sane person did that? Pride and stubbornness had kept her plugging away at something she didn’t want, until she’d become fond of the guys, of Terisa and Ailani, of the kids, and made a place for herself in their world—never mind that their world had never been anything she’d wanted.

Training the drone operators was so much more in her wheelhouse; she’d look forward to going to work every day, instead of dreading what she’d have to put herself through to prove that she wasn’t a quitter. There had been days she’d enjoyed; she’d learned to like being in good shape. She would never look at running the same way, not after the desert, but the truth was if she hadn’t done so much running here in training, she never would have been able to survive that brutal run. Being on the team had put her in a desperate situation, but it had also given her the ability to handle it.

With a sharp pang of surprise, she realized she wanted to keep up part of what she’d been doing. She wouldn’t have a team she could train with, but she could run, she could join and gym and lift weights, do some rope climbing, keep those skills sharp and her conditioning up.

Who knеw? Someday she might have to run for her lifе again. If that kind of situation ever arosе—maybe running from a mugger—then she wantеd to be able to do it. Shе wantеd to leave any muggеr in thе dust.

Hеr phone buzzеd with an incoming tеxt. She glanced at thе screеn to sее Boom’s short reply that thеy wеrе on thе way.

She would have gonе to thеm. Did they think she wasn’t able to makе it that far undеr her own stеam? Or did they alrеady know shе’d quit, and shе was no longеr allowеd on the training sitе?

Tears burned her eyes again, bеcause likеly she wouldn’t be back on this site unless something camе up with one of thе drone trainees. Making this change was tough, and not just bеcause she’d had to turn hеr back on how she’d always defined hersеlf, though perhaps it was equally truе that shе’d let the challеngеs of othеrs definе hеr. Regardless of that, thе guys on her tеam mеant a lot to hеr, and not having them in hеr еvеryday lifе from now on would leave a hugе holе.

Her world had changed drastically the day shе’d bеen assignеd to the GO-Tеam, and now it had changеd drastically again bеcausе shе’d left thеm. Before, she’d had friends with whom she shoppеd, went to moviеs; she’d dated, though not seriously. She had gone to musеums and plays, to ball games. Shе’d had a life. Now she hadn’t touched base with any of thosе friends since shе’d been assigned to the tеam, because shе’d barеly had time to do her laundry and еvеry othеr minute of hеr day had bеen taken up with training, еating, and sleеping.

If thе guys didn’t want to associatе with her anymorе—what thеn?

Shе’d handlе it, that was what. She hadn’t had any friends whеn shе’d moved to D.C., but she’d made thеm. Shе was friendly, and social. Shе could start over.

Shе could, but shе didn’t want to. Shе wantеd thе best of both worlds. Shе wanted to stay friends with them, but she didn’t want to go out on missions; she wantеd to train Tweеty operators.

Likely she wanted more than shе could have.

Through hеr dusty windshield she watched Boom, Snake, Trappеr, and Jelly approaching. Levi wasn’t in sight. Eithеr he didn’t want to talk to her because hе was furious she’d quit the tеam, or hе wasn’t here. Shе markеd thе odds at fifty/fifty.

She climbеd out of thе car and went to lean against thе hood, waiting for them. Thе scorching August sun bеat down on hеr bare hеad, sеnt wavеs of hеat against her sunglasses and forming swеat whеre the frames touchеd hеr face. Maybе if she swеatеd еnough thеy wouldn’t noticе any stray tears.

As thеy got closer she could see the tеnsion in their еxpressions, and her stomach twisted. But as they nearеd, Boom tossed a bottle of water at her and said, “Crutch?”

Automatically she caught the bottle and twisted the cap off, another internal organ affected by the one-word question. “Not Crutch,” she said hurriedly. “Me.”

They formed an arc around her, four big men standing with their boots firmly planted, sweat dripping off them, guzzling from their own water bottles. “You?” Snake asked, sending a quick look down at her feet. “What’s up? You having problems?”

She could just say that she’d been reassigned, which was true as far as that went, but definitely not the whole story. She took a deep breath and sagged against the hood. “I . . . I quit,” she said, almost strangling on the word. Then she looked down at the ground, because she couldn’t bear looking at them and seeing the disappointment on their faces.

Trapper was the first one who spoke. “Quit? Babe, you never quit anything. A couple of times I thought you’d kill yourself rather than back down.”

“I quit this,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it anymore.”

Boom moved to her side, leaning his bulk on the hood. His deep voice rumbled as he asked, “Is it because of what happened in Syria? You don’t trust us now, to take care of you?”

“I could hear,” she said hurriedly, sidestepping the issue of trust because she hadn’t worked through that yet. “My comm was damaged and I couldn’t transmit, but I could hear y’all. I knew Crutch and Voodoo were hurt, I knew you had to get them out. It was on me to get myself to the extraction point. And I did. But I don’t want to do it again.”

They were silent, shuffling their feet a little. She swallowed hard, fought back the impulse to bury her face in her hands and sob. “The thing is . . . I loved being a part of the team, being with y’all, but the rest of it was something I had to force myself to do. I’m a nerd. I want to do nerdy things, like working with Tweety. I don’t want to be in situations like Syria. I don’t want to be a moron who jumps out of planes, no offense to you morons who think doing that’s normal. I’ll always be a liability to y’all, because deep down my heart isn’t in it.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “So I quit. Mac reassigned me to training the drone operators.”

More silence. Then Jelly said, “So . . . now that you aren’t on the team, does that mean I can ask you out?”

Jina’s head snapped up, and her mouth fell open. Her expression must have been one of shock and horror, because the other three men started laughing. Jelly wiggled his eyebrows at her, then Snake gave him a quick slap on the back of his head. “Dumb ass,” he said.

“What?” Jelly rubbed the back of his head. “Ace said no fraternizing when she joined the team, but she isn’t on the team now, right? So—fraternizing.”

Aghast, Jina pointed an accusing finger at him. “You made me get a tattoo,” she said. She liked her tattoo, but still. “No. Way.”

He assumed an innocent expression. “You could have said no to the tattoo.”

“I know that. Doesn’t matter.”

Boom straightened away from the car, heaved a sigh. “I wish you would still be with us,” he said. “Damn.”

“I know.” And she did. “Being a part of the team was great; it was doing what the team does that wasn’t great.”

Boom blew out a breath. “Does Ace know yet?”

“Not unless Mac has contacted him. I thought he’d be here. I was going to tell everyone at once.” But he wasn’t here, which meant she’d have to go through all of this again, but with someone who wouldn’t be as accepting.

Boom looked at her, studied the misery in her expression. “I’ll tell him for you, if you want me to.”

Relief flood her and said, “Yes, please,” the two words tumbling on top of each other in their hurry to get out of her mouth. Quitting was hard enough as it was. Dealing with Levi was still more than she could handle.

The doorbell ringing at night signaled nothing good. Jina glared at the door. She knew who it was, because no way could she end this day without another confrontation. Boom had to have told him hours ago, but her phone had stayed silent and she’d begun to hope that he either wouldn’t contact her or he’d put it off until tomorrow, or even that the team, depleted as it was, would be tasked with something easy like a pattern of life mission and they’d already left the country. She wanted time before she had to deal with Levi, time to settle into her new job, time to get squared away with herself.

No such luck, though. Just for form she checked the peephole, and as seemed to be the norm in their interactions she considered not opening the door. She was in her pajamas; she could stuff cotton in her ears and go on to bed, leave him out there leaning against the door frame. But he’d want to know why she’d quit his team and the showdown had to happen sooner or later, so it might as well be now.

She jerked open the door and barked, “What?” at him. He wasn’t her team leader now; she didn’t have to do what he said. She wasn’t just prepared to fight with him, she wanted a fight, wanted some outlet for her resentment and emotional turmoil.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the glitter in his eyes, or the duffle bag at his feet.

Taken aback, she looked down at the bag. “Another mission so soon?” She’d hoped, but she was still surprised.

“No.” He kicked the duffle across the threshold, and followed it inside, forcing her to step back.

From day one he’d been forcing her back. He was good at that, she thought, annoyed. Being annoyed felt good, it felt normal. “Then what’s with the duffle?”

“I figured I’d be here a while.” He wasn’t smiling; his expression was as hard as she’d ever seen it.

What? His dark gaze was so intensely focused she backed up some more to get away from him, then went still, the way a rabbit froze hoping the predator wouldn’t notice it. He was a blast force of energy; her skin prickled all over in reaction, overwhelmed by his size and heat. Just like that her condo felt too small, too crowded, and she had nowhere to run to.

He kicked the door shut, reached behind him and locked it. “You aren’t on my team anymore,” he said, looming over her.

She stared up at him, so full of boiling emotion she didn’t know what to do first. She resented him, she wanted to slap him, she wanted to scream at him until she emptied herself of all the pain and anger she felt. She wanted to throw herself at him and take everything he could give her, because he was more than any man she’d ever been attracted to before and the competitive part of her needed to know that she could match him. She wanted him; she wanted what he’d come there to do.

But she hadn’t quit the team so they could be together, she’d quit because she didn’t trust him anymore.

Logic, emotion; she hated them both. Why couldn’t the two match, instead of being opposites?

Quitting had been so hard she didn’t feel as if she had anything left over, but here he was, pushing and demanding, not giving her time to think about anything. What she felt about Levi was very like how she’d felt about quitting the team, her feelings for him all tangled with her stubbornness and competitiveness and resentment.

“You left me to die.” The words were low and hard, full of everything she’d been feeling for the past few weeks.

“I thought you were already dead,” he shot back, moving forward, forcing her to fall back. She realized she’d once again stepped back from him and jerked to a halt, glaring up at him. “When the truck blew up and burned, from our distance it looked as if the entire ruin had gone up. Nasser had started shooting at us and we took him down, turned toward the ruin, and that’s when the fuckheads hit us from behind and—shit, meet fan. Voodoo was hit first. By the time we got that handled, Crutch was down too, and they were both bad. I tried to raise you on the comm and there was no answer. What the fuck was I supposed to do? I had to get Crutch and Voodoo to the helicopter, then I was coming back to search for your body.”

The last two words were raw and vicious, powered by a year of want and denial, by the gut-wrenching grief that had almost destroyed him when he thought he’d lost her. He reached out and gripped her upper arms, shook her a little. “I. Was. Coming. Back.”

“I know that!” She knew that he’d thought she was dead, anyway. She knew, and she still wanted to hit him. Some feelings were too big to contain, too painful to calmly examine. She saw the violence in his expression and it lit something violent in her. He might have wanted for a year, but for a year she’d not only wanted, she’d put up with some much crap from him she could barely hold herself back. She’d been a yo-yo that he’d jerked up and down, hurting her feelings, kissing her, enraging her, tempting her, and it by God didn’t matter whether or not he’d had good reason or she’d agreed with him, or any shit like that, because more than anything now she wanted him to be as miserable as she’d been. Love? She couldn’t love him because there was no way he could make her so angry if she “loved” him.

She wanted him to feel as unimportant as he’d made her feel.

There. That was it, the core of what had been eating at her for weeks, since the horrible night in the desert. She’d staggered and limped and fought her way through agony, exhaustion, terror, feeling the knowledge burning in her heart that she was the least important to him.

She jerked away from him, moved out of his reach. Angrily she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, trying to erase the scalding sensation of his touch. Because she couldn’t handle her emotional turmoil yet, she put it aside and focused instead on the bitter temptation of his presence here. “I suppose you took my quitting the team as a sign I wanted you to come here for a quick hook-up? Scratch the itch and get it over with?”

His jaw was set, his eyes narrow and fierce. “Adjust your expectations, babe. There won’t be anything quick about it.”

Her entire body tightened, her memory supplying in vivid playback how it felt to have him on top of her, his mouth and hands on her, the hard ridge of his erection rubbing against her crotch. She felt torn in two by the warring needs to throw him out and to have him inside her, to feed the gnawing hunger she’d held at bay for a year and couldn’t control for even a minute longer.

“Then let’s do it,” she snapped, and whipped her tee shirt up and off, tossed it to the floor. The cool air hit her, instantly tightening her nipples to points. “Let’s get it over with, then you can leave and I can get some sleep—”

“Fuck leaving,” he snarled. “And fuck sleeping.” He looked down at her and his expression changed, hardening with sheer lust, color flagging the carved plane of his cheekbones. “Just look at those pretty little things,” he murmured as he moved closer, then his big hands closed on her bare breasts, cupping both of them, his rough thumbs rubbing over her nipples; the sharp sensation brought her up on her bare toes, gasping, and she seized his thick wrists—perhaps to steady herself, perhaps to hold his hands where they were. The heat of his palms seared the cool satin of her skin, making it feel as if her breasts swelled toward him, wanting more.

Because she wanted more, because she wanted everything, she released his wrists and stepped back. Fury and want and need burned in her; if she could control her emotions she’d shut them down, reduce everything she felt for him to ashes, but she didn’t have that superpower. What she had was . . . now. She had now.

She stalked to the bedroom, unwilling to make even the slightest soft or flirtatious gesture. This might not be war, but neither would she let it be lovemaking. It was sex, nothing more. She wouldn’t let it be more. But there was unfinished business between them, and she knew part of her couldn’t move on as long as she had doubt. She was on birth control, they were both healthy—there was no reason they couldn’t have this out.

He seized her arm, hauling her around and against him. With his other hand he pulled his own shirt up and off, then pulled her so close that her bare breasts nestled against him, soft against hard, delicate against the roughness of his chest hair. Mutely she stared up at him, body-slammed by the shock of being body to body with him like this, wishing she didn’t feel so small next to him but perversely reveling in his strength. The look in his eyes scorched her with intensity and suddenly she felt breathless, knowing what was about to happen. Dreaming about him, thinking about having sex with him, was far different in the abstract than in reality.

He didn’t kiss her; he simply picked her up and pushed her cotton pants down, tugged them off. Then he set her down; his gaze locked on her and he didn’t look away, didn’t blink, as he stripped off his clothes. She stood frozen, taking in every detail.

She’d seen him without his shirt; seeing him completely naked was on a whole other level of arousal, both his and hers. His clothing disguised how muscled he truly was, the thick pads on his shoulders and chest, the ridged six-pack of his abdomen. Her breath began coming faster as she looked at him, and those powerful legs and narrow hips, and the thick penis jutting forward, bigger than she’d expected. Her breath tangled in her chest, making her fight for every inhalation. She heard the soft panting sounds she was making and her cheeks burned. Because everything was moving so fast—at her own instigation—and she couldn’t handle everything at once, she turned away again.

She heard a low, rough laugh, then one finger traced a spot on her back. “Pretty,” he murmured, “and appropriate.” He traced the outline of the small, exquisitely detailed and shaded tattoo of a grenade on her back, a grenade that had been given winsome, seductive eyes with striking amber and blue irises. Way back at the beginning she hadn’t wanted to be called Babe and had suggested Grenade, and this way she had Grenade forever. It was a sly poke, an “I’ll show you” gesture. Despite herself she liked that he’d remembered, and got the meaning.

His finger trailed down her back, then he turned his hand and smoothed his rough palm over the cool, sleek curves of her bottom. She closed her eyes and stood very still under his touch, concentrating on the moment. Her nipples were so tight they ached, and she clenched her thighs together because she ached between her legs, too.

Tonight. She had tonight, this once. She had to indulge herself, this once. He had other plans, obviously, or he wouldn’t have brought a bag, but she was very much in doubt that there were be more moments after this. She’d spent over a year wanting him and denying herself and no matter what else happened she wanted this one time of completion, of being naked with him, of having him inside her. She wanted to know how he looked when he came, how he sounded, what it felt like to hold his convulsing body in her arms and body during that most intimate of moments. She would take that, and to hell with what he wanted.

He moved close behind her, so close she felt his heat at her back, his breath on her shoulder as he bent his head to rub his chin against her hair. His hand slid farther down, into the heat and damp and softness, a softness he violated with the slow push of two big fingers into her.

Jina gasped, rising up on her toes, quivering under the lash of sensation. He anchored her with an arm around her, and probed deeper. She couldn’t stop the moan that reverberated in her throat, didn’t try to stop it. Her head fell back against his shoulder and he took advantage of the sensitive, vulnerable curve of neck she presented, bending down to bite her, his teeth clamping on the sensitive cord between shoulder and neck.

Electricity flashed through her. She almost came, almost went over the edge. If he’d bent her over and pushed his cock into her right then she would have, but he didn’t and desperately she regrouped, pulled her response back. She didn’t want to come the way she had before, without him even inside her. She wanted him as desperate as she was, as hungry, as on fire and blind to everything except the sensation of being together.

She jerked away and fell back on the bed, her gaze angry and defiant and daring. Take me if you can, big guy.

He could.

The fire in her would scorch him alive. He knew it, and relished the burning. She challenged him, she pushed him, she dared him. She absorbed him on a level he’d never experienced before. Even her invitation was like beckoning him to a fight—and a fight was something he’d never backed down from. They might never settle this between them using words, but they would, by God, settle it in bed.

He crawled onto the bed, grasping her knees and pushing them apart. He paused a moment to look down at her crotch, dark pink and soft and wet, the sight setting him on fire. He slid between her legs and pulled her to him. He didn’t stretch out on her—that was something he intended to relish when he didn’t feel on the knife-edge of both tension and orgasm—but sat back on his haunches with her hips in his hands and her ass on his thighs. The expression on her face was so belligerent he wouldn’t have been surprised if she took a swing at him. Nothing she dared would surprise him, yet on another level she was always surprising him, amusing him, interesting him.

He leaned forward a bit, gripped his cock in one hand and brought the thick head of it to her body, rubbed it back and forth, nuzzling her with it until he felt the soft give of her body as she opened to him, then he pushed forward and inside. He watched as the thick head of his penis slid inside her, stretching her around him. She sucked in a quick breath, stiffening a bit. He rubbed her belly, comforting, reassuring. He was big and she wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to hurt her by being too fast or too rough. He went slow, savoring every inch, burnt through and branded by a year of wanting exactly this, and now having it, having her.

She made a gasping sound, her body arching, her eyes closing. Watching her, he saw her nipples tighten and darken even more as he sank deep into her, pausing when he felt resistance, pulling back a little, then nudging ever deeper. Sharp pleasure arrowed up his spine, drawing his balls tight. Just the sight of his cock sinking deep into her, seeing the wet sheen on his skin when he drew back, was enough to send him dangerously close to climax and he willed himself to stillness, taking the time to look at her and memorize every detail of this first time.

She lay there completely exposed and penetrated, her head tilted back, eyes closed, fists knotted in the sheet beneath her. She felt fragile to him, small and slim, her skin soft. His hand would span her hip bones. Inside her, slick, wet muscles gripped him, clasped and relaxed on his cock, gripped again. Jesus, she could milk him dry, make him come with just that inner pulsing.

He pulled back, pushed in again, watching sensation ripple through her muscles.

Her.

The single word reverberated through his brain, shot power and heat and sensation all through his body. His balls tightened to the point of pain, his cock throbbed.

Her.

He stroked over the smoothness of her belly, up to tweak those tight little nipples, rub his palms over her breasts until they were harder and rounder, pushing into his touch. Jina’s eyes were still closed, her neck arched, her lips parted as she reached for every sensation.

Shutting him out.

She was taking his body, but she was closing him out and taking only the sex, masturbating with his cock. She wasn’t trying to touch him with her hands at all, wasn’t reaching for him, wasn’t gripping his thighs where they framed her hips.

Fuck if he’d let her.

Swiftly he changed position, letting his weight down on her, the movement sending him so deep she gave a small involuntary cry and her legs came up, clasping his hips as if she could control his penetration.

Her.

It had been her from the beginning—not just sex, not just interest or attraction or any of the other terms he was more comfortable with. This was a sea change, crossing a boundary into completely new territory without a map, GPS, or any other means of navigating. All he could do was what his instinct drove him to do . . . which was claim her.

He captured her head with both hands, sinking his fingers deep into her hair, and ravaged her mouth with a kiss so deep he lost part of himself. He lifted his head, snarled, “Look at me,” and when her eyes flared wide, startled, he pushed in as deep as he could go, as deep as she could take him, and kissed her again. Angrily she bit at him and he laughed, kissed her again, fucking her mouth with his tongue as he fucked her body, wrenching a response from her and feeling her catch fire under him.

Her.

The knowledge slammed through him. Her. Only her. Forever her.

He pulled her legs high and took her as he’d wanted to take her for this past damned year, deep and hard, giving her everything he had and taking everything she had, pushing her into pleasure, blasting through the mental barrier she tried to keep between them, feeling her lose control and bite and claw as she came, riding her even harder through his own climax. Fucking her was like fighting a wildcat and he exulted in it.

Her.

His.

He stayed.

Jina lay limply, exhausted and devastated by the almost violent response he’d forced from her. She had almost done it, she had almost managed to reduce their coming together to nothing more than sex, but he hadn’t allowed it and now, hollowed out and emptied yet again, she thought she might be glad. She’d thought this would never happen but now he was here with her, naked in her bed, and what they’d just done was more intense than she’d ever imagined. Levi made her feel. Even when she didn’t want to, when her bruised emotions wanted nothing more than to hide, he read her and destroyed her barriers.

She expected him to leave—despite the scary presence of his duffle—but he didn’t. He got up and turned out the light, then got back into bed with her and pulled her tight against him. Having him there was a shock to her system; she wasn’t used to sleeping with anyone, much less someone so big and hard and hot. He threw off heat like a furnace. She thought about making him leave . . . for about two seconds, which was when exhaustion swamped her. She melted against him, finding a comfortable resting place for her head in the curve of his shoulder, and went to sleep with his muscle-corded arms wrapped around her.

He woke her in the darkness a couple of hours later, his heavy weight on her, her body already lifting to his as if she recognized him even in her sleep. He stretched out a long arm and turned on the lamp, as if what was between them needed the light. The first time had been fierce and intense; this time was slower, hotter, and she gave up even the thought of keeping him at a distance. She couldn’t, didn’t want to. She felt richly feminine, strong enough to take him, to wring pleasure from him and also seize it for herself. She matched him, she fought him to a draw, climaxing twice before both of them were satiated and exhausted.

Yes! This was what she had wanted, to see him sweaty and almost unable to move, his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, a faint smile curving that hard mouth. She loved feeling him come inside her, loved the deep sounds he made, the way his powerful body flexed and shuddered. She brought him to that, put that expression on his face.

“We need to shower,” she muttered when she had her breath back. She hadn’t had a choice about going to sleep after the first time, but now she was acutely aware of how sticky she was. The realities of bareback sex were pretty great, but not neat.

He groaned, but didn’t disagree. They showered together, slept, and he woke her again with her legs draped over his broad shoulders and his mouth on her, doing other things to her with his fingers that made her choke and cry out and come so hard her body bowed under his ministrations.

She’d thought: just one time, and she’d be done with him.

She was wrong.

Waking up with him was oddly more intimate than what they’d done together during the night. They had slept tangled together, with her more on top of him than not, and even when she’d rouse and think she should probably move to her own side of the bed, she hadn’t. He made an excellent pillow and cover, all in one, giving off so much heat she didn’t need covers despite the air conditioning. She liked the feel of that big muscled body next to her, the roughness of his chest and legs, the calluses on his hands when he stroked her. There was nothing smooth or soft about Levi, but she had her own smoothness and softness, she didn’t need more from him.

It was startling to realize how well they fit together, how evenly they matched.

Having him there while they prepared breakfast together was both strange and familiar, as if this might be the first time but it was also how things were supposed to be. The dichotomy kept her quiet; she didn’t want to think about their situation or wonder about the future, she wanted to rest for a while and let things happen.

He let her mull; in that, he didn’t push. In every other way, he was all over her. Even eating breakfast—he pulled her astride his lap, onto his erection, and held her there while they fed each other, rocking her just enough to keep him hard, keep him inside her. It was a whole new way of eating pancakes.

Though she wanted to keep that emotional distance, she couldn’t stay on guard through the day that followed, or the night, or the next day. Levi showed no signs of wanting to go home. He texted the guys, he went for long runs—she joined him for one, though her feet got sore before the run ended and she had to stop—but he didn’t go home. There were moments when she forgot, when the sheer joy of being with him burst through her dam of resentment. One was when she touched the PBJ tattoo on his bare shoulder and said, “Old girlfriend?”

He snorted, glancing at her over his shoulder with a wry gleam in his eyes. “Peanut butter and jelly. I was drunk.”

Surprised, she had to laugh. “You’re lying!”

“God’s truth. I was drunk, and I was evidently hungry. I haven’t been drunk since. I don’t want to wake up with ham sandwich tattooed somewhere on my body.”

His sense of humor unsettled her, though she’d seen flashes of it when he interacted with the other guys, but seldom with her. He would never be Mr. Fun and Games; his was the temperament of a hard-core soldier, normally wary, intense, dedicated. That he felt he could relax with her was—

She pushed the thought away. Being different with her indicated intimacy and connection beyond that of sex. She could handle sex with him. She couldn’t handle anything else, not yet.

He was obviously giving her time to think, to come to terms with what had happened, and for some reason that annoyed her. She wanted to forget, not keep gnawing at details, not think about what-ifs and maybes. She’d quit the team, and even though the decision had been what was best for her, forgiving herself for quitting would take a while, despite knowing deep inside that for her she’d hit a wall and leaving the team had been her only course.

She was brooding about it, on the second day, when he showed an acuteness of understanding that alarmed her. Baseball was on TV and he was watching it, an opened beer by his hand because somehow beer for him had come to share space in her refrigerator, when he said calmly, “Quitting is hard for you.”

She flashed him an angry glance, and didn’t take the bait. Probing at a sore tooth didn’t make it feel better, and the subject was a very sore tooth for her.

“You’re the prototypical middle child,” he pointed out.

“Do not analyze me! I figured it out for myself years ago.” She was squarely in the middle, nothing special about her at all. She was neither the oldest nor the youngest in anything; she had an older sister, and a younger one. She had an older brother, and a younger one. Every family slot with any built-in specialness had been taken by someone else. She had forged her place by sheer determination, never giving up, in constant competition with her brothers but not competing in any way with her sisters because she had the buffer of age between them. Ashley was several years older and they’d never been in the same age group until they were adults. Caleigh was several years younger, and ditto, though she was just now becoming adult enough for it to matter.

“I’m not analyzing, I don’t have to. I’m just saying I get how tough it was for you.”

Did he? Could he grasp how bone-deep wrenching it had been for her to come to that place where she knew she had to quit, that she couldn’t keep on?

“It wasn’t so I could have you.” She glared at him, though he hadn’t suggested anything like that.

“I know.”

“It broke me.” The words were wrenched out of her. “The desert broke me.”

“You don’t look broke. You look pissed.”

Her scowl intensified, which she guessed verified his assessment. “I didn’t want to be on the teams,” she snapped. “I liked what I was doing, but I was assigned to the teams and once I was there, damned if I’d let you make me quit.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to quit, from the minute I saw you. You know why.” His face was impassive but his eyes glittered with heat, going over her from head to toe and making her feel as if he’d be on top of her if she made the slightest move.

She took the chance and gestured anyway, a wide wave that took in everything: her, the bedroom, for heaven’s sake even the TV and the beer, because of the cozy intimacy.

“I didn’t undermine you.”

“I know,” she grumbled. “I’d have hated you if you had. I wish you had.”

“So you could hate me?”

“Would have worked out better that way.”

Her statement worked in another way. He moved like lightning striking, snagging her with one arm and dragging her onto his lap. “I like the way things are working out now,” he drawled, one eyebrow lifting.

“They aren’t working out. We’re having sex. That’s all.”

“For now.” He paused. “Because I have trouble giving up, too.”

After that threat—promise?—and not giving her time to mull it over, he dragged her along to the training site. She didn’t want to go, because she couldn’t work out with the team and that loss still ached. “I thought I’d be banned from there, now that I’m not on a team,” she grumbled as she vaulted into his Vadermobile. Vaulted. Unbidden came the memory of the first time she’d ridden in his truck, and how much difficulty she’d had getting in, and despite herself she grinned.

“Nope. There are rules, but we aren’t military. If anyone doesn’t like it they can take it up with me.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Not many team members, tough as they were, wanted to take on Levi. They would, each and every one of them, but they wouldn’t want to.

“Why are we going there?”

“I’ve been away for two days. I need to work out.”

Annoyed, incredulous, she demanded, “What am I supposed to do, bounce up and down on the sidelines and cheer?”

He laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

“Well, you aren’t going to. Just give me the keys so I can leave when I get bored, which will be, oh, about three seconds after we get there.”

“You won’t be bored. The guys want to see you.”

She wanted to see them, too. They’d been a huge part of her life for a year, to the point that she hadn’t gone more than twenty-four hours without seeing them except for the two times she’d gone home to visit.

On the way, Levi tossed his phone into her lap. She gave it a questioning look, then turned the same look on him. It was his personal phone, not his work phone. “What?”

“Link our phones, so I can find you and you can find me.”

“What the hell. That’s kind of intimate, don’t you think?”

He snorted out a laugh. “We’re just getting started, babe. And that’s babe with a little ‘b,” not a capital one.” He paused. “I’ve always had a hard time thinking of you as Babe, instead of Jina.”

And she’d thought of him as Levi, rather than Ace. She stared straight ahead, more struck by that than she wanted to be, undermined by the uneasy sensation that this thing between them was more than she’d anticipated. After a minute she silently linked their phones, then gave his back to him.

“What does this mean?” She shouldn’t have asked. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she screwed up her face at her inability to keep her mouth shut.

He didn’t let her off the hook. “Exactly what you’re afraid it means.”

Afraid? He thought she was afraid? She started to argue, then subsided into disgruntled silence, because he was right. He meant they were a couple, and couplehood implied all sorts of things she didn’t know that she was emotionally ready for, because it was such an abrupt change from what they’d been before. On the other hand, if she unlinked her phone from his, he’d get the message.

She didn’t unlink them.

She was still dealing with the idea that they were a couple, when they reached the training site. She started to open the door and jump down, and he said, “Wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t open the door.”

She could see the other four guys walking toward them, and Levi’s order made no sense. Even better—there was Voodoo! He was very thin, he was on crutches, but he was there. “Why? There’s Voodoo! I want to—”

“Just wait a minute,” he said impatiently. “I have my reasons.”

“It had better be a damn good one, because I—”

He got out of the truck and slammed the door, cutting off her irate comment. He crossed in front of the truck, came around to her side . . . and opened the door for her.

Her mouth fell open. “What’re you doing?” she whispered furiously.

“Making a statement.”

When she showed no inclination to get out of the truck he reached inside, grasped her waist with both hands, and lifted her out. Then he closed the door and draped his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders.

The five men approaching the truck skidded to a halt, three of them with their mouths open.

“What the hell?” Trapper said, and scrubbed his hand across his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“She’s not on the team now,” Levi said bluntly. “And she’s mine.”

Silence.

Then Voodoo, leaning on his crutches, shrugged and grinned. “You’re a braver man than I am.”

Jelly found his voice and said indignantly, “You’re not braver than me! I asked first—”

Levi shot a rigid forefinger at him. “Don’t make me kill you.”

Boom shoved a big shoulder into Jelly, nudging him a couple of feet. “You never had a chance, kid. Snake and I knew how it was from the beginning.”

What? What? Jina gaped at them. “You did not! How could you?”

“We’re both married,” Snake said. “We have experience with insanity. You two couldn’t even look at each other. Anyway—sorry you’re not on the team, Babe, but welcome to the family, Jina.”