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“You can sleep in my shirt.” Porter was already unbuttoning his oxford style shirt and handing it to her before she could think of saying no.

Part of her wanted to protest but the most feminine part of her really wanted to see what was underneath his clothes again. When he bared himself to her, it took a moment to catch her breath. Yep, still as sexy as ever. Her fingers itched to trace along the taut muscles of his chest and trail down the ripped eight pack of his abdomen. And she would follow with her mouth. Slowly.

When Porter cleared his throat, her head snapped up and she realized she’d been blatantly staring. Her face flamed as he gave her a knowing, almost satisfied look. Brushing aside her embarrassment, she stood and grabbed the shirt from him. “Thanks,” she murmured.

It was definitely going to be a long night. Tired or not, the thought of sharing a bed with Porter made her knees go weak and the already growing heat between her legs increase to scorching hot levels.

After buttoning up his shirt—which smelled deliciously like Porter, all spicy male goodness—she exited the room to find Porter already lying in the bed. He’d turned off the lamp on the nightstand so the neon lights from the sign outside shined through the thin white curtain, providing their only illumination. The cover was pulled down and only the sheet covered Porter’s lower half. When she spotted his pants on the chair on top of his jacket she wondered if he was wearing boxers or anything beneath that sheet. It was dark so it was too hard to tell.

Unfortunately her imagination ran rampant. Mentally shaking herself, she hurried to the bed and slid under the sheet, careful to avert her gaze from checking him out too much.

Turning on her side and away from him, she stared at the outline of the flickering neon light. Several moments passed and while his breathing was steady, she knew he wasn’t sleeping. Despite her adrenaline crash, the need to talk to him was overwhelming. “So…was hotwiring cars a skill you learned in the Marines?” She knew he’d been in for eight years before going to college then working for his father. But the hotwiring thing was something he’d never told her about.

He chuckled softly behind her. “Definitely not. Though that skill came in handy once or twice overseas when I needed to get out of a tight spot.”

The sheet rustled beneath her as she turned over to face him. “I know how long you were in, but how much time did you actually spend overseas?”

As he shifted a little and turned fully in her direction, it was hard to see more than the outline of his face with the light behind her. “Almost seven years.”

Her eyebrows raised. “That’s like ninety percent of your military career. Was it all…in a warzone?”

He nodded. “For the most part, yes. I spent about six months in Africa though. Not fun, but not a warzone.”

Lizzy paused for a moment. “I didn’t even know we had a base there…Do you mind me asking you these questions?”

Porter shook his head, making a quiet swishing sound against his pillow. “No, and if you’re interested, the base is in Djibouti, in the Horn of Africa.”

“Oh. Why don’t you mind me asking? When we were, uh, together, I kind of got the impression that your military career was off limits.”

He was silent for a long moment, but he eventually spoke. “I normally don’t like talking about it with anyone. It had nothing to do with you personally. After what you’ve been through today, I figure you can ask any damn thing you want. You reacted better under first-time gunfire than some trained men I’ve seen.”

Lizzy’s eyebrows drew together. “Really? I still feel like a mess, like I can’t get a grip on the shakiness inside me…I’m afraid that feeling won’t ever go away.”

Wordlessly he scooted a few inches closer and wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her toward him. She didn’t even think about resisting. She laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d needed to be held until that moment, but his arms were like solid anchors. “Thank you,” she whispered against his bare skin.

In response he squeezed her a fraction closer and kissed the top of her head. “Get some sleep, Lizzy,” he whispered.

Lizzy. She loved when he called her that. Sighing, she snuggled closer. His heartbeat was so soothing and just like that, calmness threaded through her and she listened to what her body desperately needed. Sleep.

Chapter 7

Porter tried to move without jostling Elizabeth but found he liked the way her lithe body draped against his a little too much. Last night it had been impossible not to hold her close to him. Not when she’d so obviously needed that extra contact.

About an hour ago she’d shifted in her sleep and was now wrapped around him and holding on tight. As if he was her pillow and she couldn’t bear to let him go. One of her slim legs was thrown over his lower body and all he had as a barrier was boxers. Now he was rethinking his decision to sleep in only them.

In all the fantasies he’d imagined of Elizabeth in bed with him, none of them had included this much clothing or a hard-on he couldn’t do anything about. When she rubbed a hand down his chest and burrowed her head deeper against his neck he let out a soft groan, unable to hold it back.

At the sound, Elizabeth stirred and slowly looked up at him. Her espresso-colored eyes were confused. Frowning, she blinked a couple times then looked down at their entwined bodies. The shirt of his she’d worn had pushed up to the enticing curve of her hip and with the sheet thrown off them, a lot of her skin and very skimpy underwear was showing. He could see the soft curve of her butt and it was taking all his restraint to not trace his hand down her back and keep going until he’d cupped her even tighter against him.

His own reaction was obvious and she had to feel it on her inner thigh considering her leg was slung seductively across his body. When she looked back at him, her cheeks flushed pink but she didn’t make a move to get off him.

Instead, she licked her lips. Slowly. Nervously. She almost appeared half asleep but it was the fire and heat in her eyes that pushed him over the edge. That wasn’t sleep, it was lust.

He was a goner.

Uncaring about the consequences, he tangled his fingers in her dark hair and brought her mouth to meet his. Her tongue met his stroke for stroke. Feeling almost frenzied, he flipped her over so that he was on top of her. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t stop the hunger raging through him.

After opening up to her last night, even as short as that conversation had been, he wanted to take from her. Take and give her so much pleasure she couldn’t see straight. To lose himself in her sweet body. Ever since their breakup he’d been fighting his damn feelings for her and he was tired of it. Tired of trying to pretend she hadn’t gotten under his skin in the worst way.

She didn’t attempt to stop what they were doing. No, she completely molded against him. Elizabeth spread her thighs wider to accommodate him as he settled between her legs. What he wouldn’t give to strip away the few barriers of clothing between them and sink deep inside her.

This had disaster written all over it. Her emotions had to be high and after two near-death experiences yesterday she might not be thinking straight. Might even regret this later. With her writhing underneath his body, so willing, so pliant in his arms, the voice of reason in his head was silenced.

She spread her hands across his chest, slightly digging her nails into him when she reached his shoulders. The feel of her touching even that expanse of skin made him ache. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have her hand grasped around his erection. Holding him. Stroking him.

With that thought, his hips jerked against hers and she moaned into his mouth.

Reaching between them he blindly tugged at the buttons on her shirt. Well, his shirt. Seeing her wearing his clothes had done something primal to him last night. She looked sexier in that than any lingerie. And now his scent would be on her. Soon, in more ways than one. How he wanted to slide his cock into her over and over until she was crying out his name.

He pulled the flaps of the shirt back and sucked in a quick breath as he got his first view of her naked body. The woman was absolutely perfect. Just like he’d known she’d be. Small breasts, perfect brown nipples—he’d wondered so many damn times what color they’d be—and soft, kissable skin he wanted to rake his teeth and tongue over.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and he realized he’d been staring too long. Without pause, he dipped his head and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Using his teeth, he lightly tugged until the nub was rock hard and she was quietly moaning underneath him.

“More,” she whispered.

Gladly. Smiling, he began lightly circling the taut bud with his tongue and enjoying the way she moved under him with each stroke. He’d barely stimulated her but she was so reactive.

As he kissed his way toward her other breast, a litany of shouts from the next room made them both pause. A woman was shouting obscenities at someone. A man, if the return shouts were any indication. He could ignore them if Elizabeth could. Right now the voice of reason in the back of his head was telling him to put the brakes on. To stop this before things went too far and he fell for her even worse than he already had. Nothing about their relationship had changed between last night and this morning. Keeping his gaze on her bared breasts, he tried to pull back. To listen to that voice in his head.

When she slid her fingers through his hair and tugged him toward her breast, he lost the battle.

Dipping down again, he slowly ran his tongue around her areola. As he did, he tweaked her other nipple with his forefinger and thumb, gently rolling and teasing it.

Breathing hard, she wrapped her legs around his waist and began slowly grinding against his erection as he played her body.

“Porter,” she breathed out his name so reverently it was like a punch to his system. Her fingers clutched his shoulders and tightened with each stroke of his tongue. “That’s perfect.” The words were more moan than anything.