Down Range (Shadow Warriors - Book 2) (12 page)

“Damn you! I don’t have anything on under this
T-shirt!” Her voice broke, and she stared malevolently back at him, just daring him to try cutting the fabric. It was her T-shirt, and she wasn’t about to strip naked in front of him! And then he got a crazy smile on his face. He chuckled as he slipped the SOG back into the sheath on his waist.

“What the hell is so funny?” Morgan demanded angrily, pulling her knees up against her chest, arms wrapping around them. The care burning in his eyes never left, but she could see another emotion in them she couldn’t interpret. Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t because she was afraid. It was because Jake was too close and she felt incredibly vulnerable after the night’s action.

Jake sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs. “You. It isn’t like I haven’t seen your breasts before, Morgan.”

Shocked, she blinked once. And then she started to laugh. Jake’s laughter joined hers. Pretty soon, she was laughing so long that she started hiccuping. It was a release, and she knew it. Hand across her mouth, she felt tears running down her cheeks, she’d laughed so hard. Morgan saw Jake wipe tears from his eyes, too, his mouth pulled into a silly grin.

Finally, she stopped. Her stomach hurt. The silence settled around them. “I guess we needed that.”

“Yeah, been one helluva night.” Jake reached out and pushed some of her red hair behind her ear. “All laughing aside, I need to examine your shoulder, Morgan.” He saw her eyes go wide, and Jake finally got it. She felt vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her before. Combat did that to everyone. Especially after a firefight like tonight. And she’d been on the tip of the spear and taken a bullet. Reaching out, he leaned over and murmured, “Babe, you keep your T-shirt on. All I’m going to do is slip my fingers beneath your neckline and ease the fabric to one side and take a look at the area.” He pulled out a penlight from his cammie pocket.

His breath warmed her cheek and jaw. His roughened fingers gently curved beneath the material. Carefully, Jake pulled the fabric away from her neck just enough to expose her upper shoulder. He was so close to her. Inhaling his male scent, Morgan closed her eyes, tense. Jake smelled good, despite no shower, fear sweat and dirt on his flesh. With his other hand, he pulled the T-shirt aside even more and carefully observed the area. The bruise was located well above her breast.

Morgan opened her eyes looking up at him. Her pulse was twitchy. Jake was so close…
oh, God, too close.
She felt blood rushing to her lower body, desire keening through her like an out-of-control flood. Her chest tightened with so many emotions. The urge to lean upward a few inches, tilt her head and close her mouth over his nearly unstrung her.

“That’s a hematoma,” Jake muttered, barely turning his head, meeting her eyes. Morgan’s lips had parted, her eyes trained on him. Instantly, his body responded. And so did his heart. Jake’s hands froze in place on her T-shirt. Her mouth was bare inches from his, and he inhaled her feminine fragrance. Her expression was shadowed with wariness and longing. For him. And God help him, he wanted her just as badly. What was he going to do? What did she
want
him to do?

Chapter Thirteen

Jake released her
T-shirt,
holding Morgan’s mutinous gaze. Damn, every cell in his body ached for her. It had to be different this time. He couldn’t do what he’d done in the past. Before, he’d have just taken what was his, kissed her, loved her. He’d never asked permission from Morgan before, just assumed she wanted him as much as he wanted her. His voice came out husky as he asked, “Morgan, can I kiss you?”

Swallowing hard, she whispered brokenly, “Jake, I can’t….” And she couldn’t. Emma needed a father who would be at her side no matter what happened in her life. Jake ran when things got piled up with too much responsibility. If she gave in, she’d be lost and never keep control over protecting her daughter. Never break the cycle between them that served neither of them any longer.

His face changed, sorrow coming to his eyes, his mouth a hard line. But she also saw something else. Maturity. Jake eased back, as if understanding.

“Okay,” he rasped. “You got your blow-out kit in one of your leg pockets?”

“Yes, right lower pocket,” she said, her voice unsteady. Every cell in her body screamed to kiss Jake, make love with him. Morgan felt tortured as never before, cursing whatever it was that made them like sex-starved animals around one another. And it would be great sex, but Morgan couldn’t handle the aftermath.

Swallowing his remorse—and his frustration—Jake leaned over and carefully peeled back the sleeping bag and pulled the Velcro open on the right thigh pocket of her trousers. Every SEAL had two blow-out kits, medical supplies that could save their life. There would be a battle dressing, nasal-pharyngeal tube, Celox, a blood coagulant and other items needed to treat a gunshot wound or a sucking chest wound. He placed the items he needed in a row on her sleeping bag.

“You need two things for that hematoma,” Jake went on, trying to sound casual. His body throbbed, and he gritted his teeth, trying to will away his physical hunger for Morgan. It was more than physical pain. Jake couldn’t stop the grief he felt in his heart over her telling him no. He hadn’t come in here thinking of kissing her or making love to her. He’d wanted to hold her after seeing she was injured. Yeah, his body wanted sex, but his heart was guiding him elsewhere: to give Morgan genuine care, something he’d never afforded her before. Amanda had taught him that a woman needed to be held, cared for, and that it wasn’t always just about sex. She’d drawn him out of his selfish shell and made him see that love had a hell of a lot more facets, a much broader and deeper landscape. And she’d taught him how to hold their son, Joshua, in his arms.

New feelings Jake had never realized he’d had came to the surface as a result. That tiny baby boy, so innocent and vulnerable in his large arms and hands, had made him aware of his own ability to nurture another human with pure love. Between his wife and his son, they had changed him for the better. But that wasn’t the man Morgan knew. She only saw the immature boy, and she didn’t realize how much he’d changed and grown.

Jake had never seen Morgan as anything else other than a sex partner. Sure, he knew how to pleasure her, make sure she enjoyed it just as much as he did. But he’d never extended himself to hold her afterward, to feed her emotionally in another, less physical way. Now he wanted to, and Jake knew he could, but she’d turned him down cold. Their past always hung between them. He’d grown; he’d changed; he’d become more sensitive to a woman’s needs, but Morgan wasn’t about to let him through that barrier from their past to prove it. Jake couldn’t blame her.

“We’ll start with ice and a pain reliever,” Jake said.

Warily, Morgan watched his expression in the shadows. Jake seemed tense, and she could tell why. But she couldn’t make love with him now. Her shoulder was a mess, and she was in constant pain. Compressing her lips, she watched him pull out the chemical ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen. His hands shook slightly. Hell, she felt like so much jelly inside herself right now, too.

It hurt to see the disappointment cross Jake’s face. What amazed Morgan the most was that he was allowing her to see how he felt. In the past, any time he’d felt threatened, that game face would settle into place, completely unreadable. Detached. Maybe Jake
was
changing. He’d never asked if he could kiss her before. They’d always come together like hungry, primal animals in the midst of heat. It was volatile, earthy and utterly satisfying to both of them. Afterward, he’d roll out of the sack, get dressed and leave. Morgan needed more.

Jake handed her two ibuprofen and pulled over her CamelBak and placed it into her lap so she could suck some water after popping the pills into her mouth. When his hand touched her palm, heat seared up her fingers. His touch always brought her pleasure, igniting her lower body, triggering every hungry sexual need she possessed. Morgan thanked him, her voice barely above a whisper. Dutifully, she took the medication, drank water and laid the CamelBak aside.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think to put the ice pack on this,” she uttered, lying down and pulling the cover of the sleeping bag up to her waist. She needed to put something between her and Jake. Her pulse was rapid and rising. He was so damned male that she could feel the grating sensation of longing deep within her. Jake was a consummate lover, and now, of all times, she wanted him for all the wrong reasons. He was a hunger she could never satisfy.
Damn.

Jake gently slid the pack beneath her T-shirt and positioned it over the worst of the swelling. “None of us think clearly after being shot at. Don’t be hard on yourself, Morgan.” He tried to ignore the way her hair created a halolike effect around her head. There was confusion in her eyes, her gaze never leaving his. Without thinking, he eased several errant strands away from her brow.

“How’s it feel now?” It usually took about a minute or two for the chemicals in the bag to produce the icy coldness. The pack would remain cold for about thirty minutes, able to markedly reduce swelling. It would allow a SEAL to keep walking after wrapping the ice pack around his ankle and using dark green duct tape to hold it in place. Plus, the duct tape would provide support to the weakened area, as well. With her shoulder, it would be impossible to rig it up.

“I feel it,” Morgan said, relief in her voice. Her brow tingled where he’d briefly grazed her with his index finger. Jake’s touch had startled her. Frowning, she dug deep into his dark gaze as he knelt on one knee above her. “Thanks. The ibuprofen will reduce the blood-clot-forming possibility.”

“Yeah,” he said, resting his arms across his knee. Jake felt starved for intimacy with Morgan. He felt driven almost beyond his massive control. Maybe it was triggered because she could have been killed out there tonight. “The ice pack will reduce the swelling.”

She grimaced. “I couldn’t position the butt of the sniper rifle against my shoulder up there on the roof tonight. Pissed me off.”

“I knew something was wrong. I saw you grimace once, and it isn’t like a sniper to keep repositioning the rifle against their cheek and shoulder once it’s set in place.” He knew Morgan wouldn’t have told him about the pain or swelling. In the SEALs you didn’t bitch when you were hurt. You just kept moving with the team to complete the mission. There was no whining. It was just part of the price that was paid out in these badlands.

Morgan touched the ice pack. “God, this is beginning to feel good. Thanks, Jake….” She gave him a grateful look and forced her hand to remain still no matter how much she wanted to touch him. She could feel that powerful, sensual animal energy of his invisibly embracing her. Despite the pain throbbing in her shoulder, the ache building in her core was devastatingly painful to her in another way. Morgan felt needy, like a cat in heat looking for action. It was Jake.
Only him.

“You’ll probably quit moaning in your sleep now.”

“And waking you up.”

Jake smiled a little and slowly rose to his full height. “You didn’t mean to. I just wish, Morgan, you’d have told me earlier you’d been hit.”

Seeing real concern in his eyes, she whispered, “Jake, I’m so used to being hurt on missions, I just didn’t think.”

Understanding, he started to turn away.

“Wait…”

He halted and slowly turned his head, meeting her shadowed eyes. “What?”

Morgan took a deep breath. “Why did you ask to kiss me, Jake? You’ve never asked me in the past.”

A grimace pulled at one corner of his mouth. “You always accused me of being self-centered and never caring about anyone but myself, Morgan. That and running when things got too hot to handle.” Weariness coursed through him. “I don’t know…. I wanted you to want the kiss as much as I did.”

A ragged breath escaped her. “Why the change, Jake?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen you wounded before, Morgan. It pulled on me in ways I’d never felt. I…” He raised his gaze to the low, dark ceiling, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to comfort you, was all.” And then he dropped his gaze to hers. “When I asked to kiss you, it wasn’t about sex, if that’s what you were thinking. I just wanted to take your pain away. Maybe hold you for a while and maybe you’d feel better.” Just as he’d held Joshua when he cried in his crib at night and Jake would go in, slip his hands around his tiny son and hold him against his chest. Joshua always stopped crying and Jake began to understand the value of human touch, human compassion.

“I…didn’t know…”

“I don’t want to make you feel any more miserable and upset than you already are with me being around.” Jake lifted his hand. “Get some sleep, partner. Tomorrow is coming early.”

Morgan lay there alone in the silence for a long time before sleep overtook her. Something remarkable had shifted between them. She was too exhausted and emotionally strung out to figure out what it was. Whatever had happened was new. And good.

The last thought Morgan had as she dropped off to sleep was Emma needed a father. One who would not run if she got sick and needed his continued support. Had Jake stopped running from personal responsibility? If she could believe the care that burned in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice that said all he wanted to do was hold her, comfort her, then Jake had made a monumental shift and change.

Time would tell, but as Morgan plunged into sleep, her heart reacted with intense love for him. Because she’d always loved him. She’d never stopped loving him. But now that feeling was intensified by his tender concern toward her. It wasn’t just about sex. It was one human responsibly caring for another and wanting nothing in return for it.

Morgan jerked awake
when she heard the door creak open. Sitting up, her hand automatically going for her SIG, she saw Jake come to a halt in the doorway. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she realized sunlight was pouring brightly into her room.

“What time is it?” she muttered, throwing off the sleeping-bag cover. The ice pack slipped down through her T-shirt and flopped out onto her lap.

“0900,” Jake said, coming over with a plate in his hands. “I let you sleep in.” He knelt down and handed her the plate and a fork. “Here, breakfast. Eat.” He noticed the confusion in her eyes, her hair tangled, making her beautiful to him. Jake quieted his need for her.

“But we were supposed to ride at dawn!” Morgan protested in a strained husky tone, looking up at the window. She took the plate, their fingers touching momentarily. “Thanks…” There were five fried eggs, some goat meat and thick, dark slices of hot bread on the plate. Her mouth watered. Crossing her legs, she set the plate in her lap, starved.

Jake sat down, one leg tucked beneath him, the other pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around it. “I got a call from Vero at 0400 this morning,” he told her, seeing how her cheeks were flushed. The night’s sleep had helped. Morgan’s green eyes were clear this morning, not muddy-looking like last night. “They got one drone up and working.”

“That’s good news!” She used the warm, fresh bread to mop up the broken yolks on the plate. Jake’s thoughtfulness touched her deeply.

“Yeah, because right now, that drone has spotted Khogani about twelve miles south of us up on that mountain. He’s continuing to head south, moving in and out of caves and tunnels. The drone is catching him out in the open, but not long enough to launch a missile at him and take him out of the fight.”

“Thank God, they got one drone up and working,” Morgan whispered, relieved. “Why aren’t we going after them, then?”

Jake twisted his head so he could get a good look at the side of her neck. The bruising darkness was still present. “Let me look at that hematoma when you’re finished with breakfast?” He waited for her to give him permission. She had finished off the meal and set the plate and flatware aside.

“Go ahead and check it out.” Morgan found her voice, sounding husky. She sat relaxed as he eased his fingers beneath the collar of the fabric. Her skin reacted hotly to his grazing touch. And then her breasts tightened. Worse, her nipples hardened, and she groaned to herself. She knew Jake would see them pucker against the fabric.
Damn.
And when Jake stood up on one knee, his face so close to hers, she unconsciously held her breath for a moment. Morgan felt the material being gently moved aside. The ache in her breasts increased. He was being extremely gentle, and it affected her deeply. Looking up at his solemn face, Jake’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the hematoma, she released a softened breath, trying to hold on to her escaping emotions.

“What do you think?” she managed. Morgan was going to die of embarrassment. She’d turned down his kiss, but she couldn’t keep her traitorous body from telling him differently.

Jake brought her T-shirt back into position, easing the material back into place along her shoulder. Jake sat back down on his other leg and said, “The swelling’s reduced by about fifty percent. That’s good news.” It took everything he had not to stare at her nipples pressing against the T-shirt. Her cheeks burned a bright red, a hue he’d never seen on her before. Jake didn’t want to humiliate Morgan or make her feel embarrassed. And, yeah, he sure as hell wanted to cup those beautiful breasts of hers, feel their firm roundness in his palms, place his mouth over one of those nipples and send her into another world of heat and wanting.