Grayson's Surrender

He thrust deep. Tension built, tightened, burned, then exploded free. A shout swelled behind his clenched teeth, and he pulsed within her, his face nestled in the vulnerable curve of her neck. Her hair draped around them as he let his hoarse cry slide free. In a downward spiral straight for earth at mach speed, Grayson surrendered.



* * *



He had decimated her. Completely leveled her defenses. Physically, Lori couldn't move so much as her pinky after the intense release Gray had given her.



Emotionally she wasn't much better off.



She could only sprawl on the blanket and stare up at a star. One star. Thirty minutes ago she hadn't known Polaris from Betelgeuse. Now she would never again stand under a night sky without thinking of Gray looking at that same sky while he dreamed of bringing his father home.



She hadn't stood a chance of resisting him.



Gray lay on his side, his hands massaging over her shoulders, gentling along her breasts. Her body throbbed with a tender, beautiful after ache. Those deft doctor-pilot hands soothed, finding just the places to make her eyes loll closed in lazy pleasure. "Is this why you brought me here?"



"No." His fingers skimmed the tender underside of her breast, tracing up to her jaw. "Maybe."



"Fair enough." She shivered, then arched her neck to allow him fuller access. "It's certainly why I came with you."



He cupped her face. "That honesty is about to get you rolled up in this blanket with me."



"Feeling ambitious are we, flyboy?" She twisted to her side and wriggled against him. His shirt flapped open. Moonbeams caressed an irresistible expanse of chest for her to snuggle against.



"Give me another ten minutes and we can find out."



Experience with him told her it would be closer to five before they began again. The next time would be fun and playful sex that could singe the leaves right off those trees overhead.



And she wanted that, didn't she? Of course she did. Only a crazy woman would pass up one last chance for that.



First she wanted more time, more lazy caresses and stargazing. Too often, they both rushed life, type-A personalities at full tilt.



Stilling his hand with hers, she carried it to her mouth and kissed his palm before placing it on her hip. "Why did you bring me to your parents' place?"



His eyes met hers with expected straightforward honesty. "To see my family in action, day-to-day stuff, not a restaurant good-behavior gig."



He flipped to his back, arm flinging over his eyes. "Lori, I don't know how to put a family together. Not the kind a kid deserves. Not the kind you deserve."



His words hinted at more than an obsession with his job this time. Suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted to understand, because his reasons might be all the more compelling. Yet, the idea that he might see his actions as protecting her started a trembling in her knees that made her grateful to be flat on her back.



"My dad has post-traumatic stress syndrome. This was a good day for him."



"I'm so sorry." Lori fit her hand in his.



He didn't look at her, but he didn't let go. Piecing together bits of Gray's childhood along with some professional observations slid the picture into place. Some children of PTSD sufferers had difficulty forming deeper, lasting relationships, having missed out on crucial early bonding experiences with their parents.



Maybe she should have guessed earlier when he'd talked about his father coming home, but had been too distracted by the pain radiating from Gray. It had reached to her across that blanket more effectively than a grappling hook. Still did.



"We didn't understand for a long time, years even. He wasn't violent or terrified. He functioned at work. But at home, he just … wasn't there."



"How awful for all of you." She didn't have to imagine what his childhood had been like. Her caseload with Social Services had offered ample background material to draw from, to stir an ache for the confused little boy Gray must have been. The strong, stubborn man he was now. Understanding helped—and hurt as their problems rooted deeper. "He didn't ever get much help processing it all, did he?"



Gray peeked from under his arm. "That obvious, huh?"



"Some of the signs are still there." She paused, then dared to push him further, never having been one to back off a tough subject before she met Gray. "The signs are there in all of you when you're together."



"Putting that training to work I see."



"I should have seen it earlier."



He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. "How could you? We never got close enough before."



"No, we didn't."



"We had other things on our mind."



His smile kicked in, and past experience told her he'd slipped away from her again, shielding himself with a smile.



"Things like making-up sex. Morning sex."



She gave him the smile he needed. "After-dinner sex."



"Welcome-home sex."



Their eyes met, and his last homecoming—the one that had prompted her to walk out on him—slid right between them like a slippery rogue ice cube. Gray's smile faded. He tunneled his hand deeper into her hair, looping it around his wrist until she couldn't look anywhere but into his eyes.



"Lori, I missed you so damned much during that England deployment." His grip tightened, almost painfully. "For years I'd razzed the guys who called home to their wives instead of going out. I was in England, for crying out loud, and the most sight-seeing I managed was from inside those red telephone booths. Then I found myself skipping out on a trip to a pub because I wanted to call you. Hell, I had to call you."



She caressed his bristly face. "Those calls meant a lot to me."



"I know."



He untwined her hair with slow, sensual deliberation, trailing the strands down his arm and through his lingers. "The minute the plane landed in Charleston, I blew off debrief with a lame excuse and met you at my place that night like we'd planned."



They'd been so hot for each other, only to discover Lori had forgotten her pill the morning before. Gray had insisted it wasn't worth the risk, and neither of them had back-up birth control. They'd sprinted for his car in a tangle of arms, legs and laughter ready to scout out an all night supermarket, and he'd found…



Gray winced against her. "You had planted flowers."



"Flowers?"



"Yeah. Don't you remember? While I was gone, you planted those yellow and purplish little flowers in pots in front of my apartment. I missed them when I ran inside in the dark. Other things on my mind at that moment. But when we stepped back out and the porch light zeroed right in on those homey flowers…"



Lori couldn't decide whether to cry or slug him. She'd attached so many hopes to those flowers, certain that if she worked hard enough, made his home life perfect enough he would stay. And she'd only sent him running. "Imagine that. The mighty warrior downed by a flat of pansies."



"Pitiful."



The rest unfolded with a clarity that had eluded her for a year. "So you asked me to move in with you, knowing full well I wanted a ring. You knew I would bolt." Lori had turned him down flat, and he'd stormed out. She'd called a cab and left before he returned. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you'd had an extra condom lying around and hadn't found those flowers until the next morning?"



The drifting wind carried his dark laugh over her. "More than once. One condom, and things might—"



A condom.



Lori jackknifed up and looked down into Gray's horrorstruck eyes. How could she have forgotten? The rumpled quilt mocked her with memories of their uninhibited lovemaking.



Unprotected lovemaking.



Icy whispers from a year ago teased over her. The lack of a single condom had once again launched her life into chaos. And this time she couldn't run away.



Chapter 15



No condom. Gray looked up into Lori's horror-struck eyes.



How could he have been so reckless? He even carried one in his wallet that he'd bought after his and Lori's near miss a week ago. Other than that brief, almost encounter with her, he had never lost control. Never. He thrived on control and structure, one of the aspects he liked and needed most in his job.



An hour with Lori had him losing sight of that, and it scared the hell out of him.



She drew her knees to her chest, her dress shrouding her legs. "So much for our talk."



He stared at Lori, a normal occurrence for him, and couldn't help but notice how totally alone she looked. How strange, since he usually thought of her as so competent, in charge, strong.



The moonlight caressing her face, she flipped her whiskey-brown hair over her shoulder. Her dress flowed around her gentle curves without a wrinkle to hint at the wild abandon she'd indulged in only moments before. Lori rarely lost her cool. Except for those moments when her incredible legs had been wrapped around his waist and—



Don't go there, pal. He zipped his pants and reminded himself to start thinking with his brain again. There could be very real—tiny, living consequences from their slip.



He knew she could succeed no matter what life brought her way. But she damn well wouldn't be facing it alone if she was carrying his child. "I'll make it right. Whatever happens, I don't walk out on my responsibilities."



"Be still my heart." Sarcasm dripped from her words like the Spanish moss draping the branches overhead.



"Lori, damn it, stop being flip." The humid night air wrapped around him with claustrophobic weight. He forced himself to breathe. "This is important, and you're not helping."



"Sorry. I know that was difficult for you."



He listened for more sarcasm, hearing nothing but determination.



Tread warily, pal. Land mines ahead. He wasn't going to get anywhere with her now and could too easily make things worse. "Let's save this talk for later. Better to wait rather than to say things we'll both regret only to find out we never needed to say them at all."



"Of course. Why even consider marriage unless I'm pregnant?"



A reasonable stance. Why then did her every word stab at him as if he'd fallen short of the mark?



"I'm sorry for losing contr—"



"Did it ever dawn on you that maybe you're not calling the shots this time?"



He paused buttoning his shirt. "What does that mean?"



"I was the one who crawled across that blanket. I wanted you. Granted, I wasn't thinking straight or I would have remembered about birth control. My brain gets scrambled around you."



Her words fizzled as the air crackled between them. How incredible to think he could move the imperturbable Lori.



For an insane moment he wanted to be exactly what she needed, and that absurd notion warred with his deep-seated need to defend. Protect. Protect her. "Lori—"



"Stop! I knew what I was doing, and I'm the one taking responsibility. No need to worry about being tied down. Go fly your planes, Major." She scrambled to her feet, shaking the wrinkles out of her dress while she slipped on her shoes. "It's been fun, as always. But I've got a child to check on."



She darted into the woods before he could untangle his brain.



Child? The word so close on the heels of their discussion had him wondering how she could already know… Then he remembered Magda.



He knew full well Lori wouldn't be giving up Magda at the evidentiary hearing. And a single, pregnant foster mother wouldn't go over well with the courts.



She would have to marry him.



The air grew heavier, then sparse, not unlike the rapid decompression the day before. He pressed his hands against the ground, the bed of pine needles giving slightly beneath the force.



It was bad enough he'd let Lori down. Adding that impish little kid into the mess left him wanting to ram his fist into the tree trunk, a dangerous thought for a man who made his living with his hands. But Lori frequently had him thinking dangerous thoughts.