Hard as You Can (37 page)

“Now, why did what I said about the room bother you?”

Her gaze dragged down his chest, needing a break from the intensity of his eyes. Crystal wasn’t sure she’d ever known anyone as observant as Shane. “I liked that you said it could be my space, but I guess . . . I was hoping . . . that we could share it. But I totally understand if you’d rather—”

His hand against the top of her hair, Shane settled his body against the side of hers and kissed her on a groan. His lips were commanding but not rough. His tongue, caressing but not aggressive. She threaded her arms around his neck, wanting to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. God, it had only been a matter of hours, but she’d missed this closeness with him.

When he pulled away, he traced his nose along the contours of her face. “I would love to share this room—
this bed
—with you, but I don’t want to make you feel pressured. I want you, Crystal. I’ve told you that before. But I don’t have a right to you. No man does. It’s your choice. And even if you say yes now, to anything, you can always change your mind, okay?”

She hadn’t yet told him much about what the last four years had entailed, but it was clear that Shane had deduced a decent number of things for himself. More important, though, was the fact that he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear. And that made her feel safe to consider sharing herself with Shane in a whole variety of ways.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Well, I like this a lot,” she said, pressing her lips to his. “And I like when you touch me. And I’d like to sleep with you in this bed.” She shivered, the unusual expression of her most honest feelings spiking adrenaline through her system. As she talked, he stroked her hair and face, and it made her feel adored. “I . . . I want you, too. But I, um . . .” Crystal shook her head. “I’m not sure that I’m ready for more tonight.” Nearly holding her breath, she forced herself to meet Shane’s gaze, and his eyes absolutely radiated desire and respect and understanding.

Shane brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, once, twice. “I understand. Thank you for telling me where you are.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows. “For the record, I like the kissing and the touching, too.”

Crystal laughed and felt her cheeks warm. “Good to know,” she said, dropping her hands on either side of her head. Out of nowhere, a yawn tackled her. Crystal turned her head so she didn’t yawn in Shane’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We could get changed, get ready for bed. That way if you start drifting off, it doesn’t matter?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” she said.

With a final kiss, Shane lifted off of her. And though she missed him immediately, her stomach did a loop-the-loop for the idea that in a few minutes, they were going to be lying in that bed for real, under the covers, together. He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet.

Crouching at one of his big green duffels, Shane yanked open the zipper. “What would you be most comfortable sleeping in?” he asked. “I’ve got plenty of T-shirts and sweats.” He rifled through a stack of folded clothing and pulled a few things out.

But Crystal’s gaze landed on the blue button-down on his back. Maybe it was ridiculous, but the idea of sleeping in something that he’d been wearing, that still held the heat of his body and the scent of his skin, sounded so thrilling that her brain refused to shake the idea. And he
did
say that he wanted the real her.

Crystal stepped forward and gently grasped the edge of his collar, and then she tugged.

“What?” he asked, looking up.

“I want to sleep in this,” she whispered. “I mean, if you don’t—”

Shane rose to his feet abruptly, and they stood so close that he towered over her. Roughly, he unbuttoned the shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. “Don’t you dare say anything in the neighborhood of an apology for telling me what you want. Because I think this is a damn good idea.” His gaze nearly scorched her as he spoke, spiking her pulse and heating her blood.

He whipped the cotton from his body revealing beautiful, masculine perfection. His chest and abdomen were made of sculpted muscles, graceful and powerful at the same time. The hard, curving lines beckoned her hands, which lifted without her telling them to. Her fingers landed on his belly, and he sucked in a breath that drew her gaze to his eyes.

Desire roared off him in the heat of his gaze, the opening of his mouth, the flicking of his tongue against his lip, his more rapid breathing.

In a slow revelry of movement, Crystal smoothed her hands and fingers over his skin, exploring the cut of muscle above his hips, the ridges covering his stomach, and the hard pads of his pecs. The feel of him made her mouth water and the nerves between her legs tingle.

She pressed a kiss to the winged-heart tattoo, so grateful he’d shared the image and the story behind it when she’d needed it most. Shane shuddered out a harsh breath.

It was clear from the bulge filling the front of his jeans that she was tormenting him—not that he complained. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to explore more of him.

Shifting to his side, she rubbed her hands up his arm where she found another tattoo on the outside of his right biceps, two crossed arrows beneath an upward-pointing dagger. Something military, maybe? Something hot, definitely.

As she stepped all the way around him, the large tattoo she’d only seen at a distance came into view. Crystal gasped. “This is magnificent,” she said, tracing her fingers over the wings of the aggressive bald eagle that covered his skin from his neck most of the way down his back. Its sharp beak was open as if in a screech, and its talons seemed poised to grasp its prey. “Why?” she asked.

“Eagles are the kings of the birds of prey,” came his deep voice. “They’re known for seeing what other creatures cannot and closing in on their prey before it even knows it’s being hunted.”

“And you admire these things?” she said, stroking her fingers down his spine and watching his muscles twitch.

Shane looked over his shoulder at her. “They were qualities that made me a damn good soldier. And the best feeling when you’re out in the field isn’t knowing your teammates have your back. It’s knowing that you have the ability to have theirs.”

Honor and conviction filled his words and gave her more evidence of the pure quality of this man’s character, heart, and soul. “They’re also majestic and beautiful and noble,” she said, coming around his other side. Just like him. She frowned at a healing wound across the top of his other shoulder. “What happened?”

“Gunshot, the night we rescued Charlie. Just a scratch,” he said.

Nodding, she slipped the shirt from his fingers and smiled.

“My turn?” he asked.

The smile dropped from her face. What he would find under her shirt was not beautiful.

He leaned down and cupped her face in his hand. “Every one of the men on my team has scars. And you know what those scars are?”

Heaving a shaky breath, she shook her head.

“They’re proof of survival. They’re badges of honor. They’re marks of strength.” Shane swallowed hard. “You don’t have to show me, Crystal. But you do need to know there’s nothing on your body I won’t love and respect. Because it’s you.”

The words reached into her chest and soothed her heart.

Was she going to live her life in fear forever? Hide forever? Or maybe, just maybe, could she trust someone to know the real her? To
love
the real her. Jenna had accepted her; maybe Shane would, too?

Crystal tilted her head to the side. “It’s not pretty.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Crystal. You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re sweet despite having been through hell and back. Nothing could change my opinion of that.” He stepped away. “There’s a bathroom right down the hall.”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. He was giving her an out. Question was, did she want to take it?

That she was even considering revealing herself made her heart gallop and her stomach squeeze like she’d crested the highest hill on a roller coaster. With the exception of finding Jenna missing, it was possible she’d never been more terrified than she was at that moment.

“Shane,” she said, like his name was a life raft. And then she tugged the floral shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor along with his button-down. Her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, soft and ticklish against her skin. White spots prickled at the corners of her vision, and Crystal forced herself to slow her breathing. Which got easier the moment she realized that Shane had not moved his gaze from her face.

“You don’t have to do this, Crystal. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m tired of being afraid,” she said, her breath hitching.

Shane shook his head. “The definition of courage is action in the face of fear. By that definition, sweetness, you’re the bravest person I know.”

A fat tear streaked down her face. How had she ever found someone with such innate goodness? Even if she only got to have him for a short while, she would remember him for the rest of her life as the man who had held her hand and helped her step onto the path to finding herself again. Reaching up behind her, she released the clasps on the white satin bra she wore and let the straps tumble down her arms, and then to the floor.

Shane’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a tortured, audible swallow, like he was as nervous as she was. The thought made her smile. “Touch me, Shane. Please?”

S
HANE WAS NOT
sure how he’d earned the honor of witnessing this woman’s strength and courage, nor the privilege of seeing her body and making her believe every part was beautiful. But he was determined to be worthy of both.

As much as he wanted to finally lay eyes and hands on her back, instinct told him to ease her into the exploration.

So he cupped her face in both hands and brought their lips together, which closed all the distance between their torsos, too. And, God, she was soft and warm against him, arousing and comforting at the same time. Kissing her softly, he let his hands drag down her throat and trace the fine line of her collarbones. From there, his fingers traveled over the curves of her shoulders and down her arms in a slow, teasing drag that made the fine hairs on her skin stand up.

Crystal trembled under his hands, but she stood firm, bright green eyes trained on his.

From her arms, Shane’s hands found the feminine curves of her waist. He smoothed his hands up and down from ribs to hips and back again, the heels of his palms caressing the sides of her breasts on each pass. Dragging his hands inward, he ran his knuckles over her smooth, flat belly, once again struck by how slight she was. It lured his protectiveness to the fore, reaffirming his commitment to do for her what it seemed no one had ever done before—take care of her, protect her, build her up.

On each upward stroke, Shane allowed his hands to brush the bottoms of her small breasts. Perfectly suited to her frame, he yearned to feel their warmth and their weight in his palms, to taste the pebbled flesh of her nipples in his mouth. But every instinct warned him to go slow and give her the chance to become accustomed to his intimate touch.

Shane had never wanted a woman so much, and they’d barely touched one another. With her gorgeous red hair and her flashing green eyes and her tight little body, Crystal was a total knockout. But it was the survivor in her that really spoke to his soul, that brought him peace and gave him purpose.

“You honor me with this trust, Crystal. I would never hurt you,” he said. This time, when his knuckles caressed her breasts, he turned his wrists and cupped the soft mounds in his hands.

Crystal jerked like he’d hurt her. “Wait. Stop.”

Shane tore his hands away and retreated a full step. “I’m sorry.” Damnit. He’d pushed too hard and fast again.

Breathing hard, she shook her head. “No. This isn’t right,” she said, her arm muscles tense, her hands fisted by her hips.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and handed it to her.

“No, it’s not that,” she said, stepping closer and rubbing her palm over her forehead. “I don’t know how to . . .” She dropped her face in her hands.

Shane was at a loss. If she hadn’t felt pressured, what accounted for the agitation rolling off her? “Talk to me, Crystal.”

“No. No, Shane. That’s just it.” Covering her breasts, she hugged herself, and the look of fear and despair on her face nearly broke his heart. What could— “I lied to you. My name isn’t Crystal.”

“Your name’s not Crystal?” he said, triumph surging through Shane’s blood so hard and so fast he could’ve roared it to the rooftops. He knew it.
He knew it.
Since that first night in her apartment, he’d known she’d lied about her surname, and he suspected “Crystal” had been part of her Confessions persona.

“Are you mad?”

Shane couldn’t hold back a smile. “Aw, darlin’, it’s okay. I suspected that from the beginning. I was just waiting for the day you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Come here,” he said, aching to comfort her. A hand in her hair, he pulled her into his embrace.

“You knew?” Her arms clutched at his back.

“I was pretty sure,” he said against her temple. Shane pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. “I’m really happy you decided to tell me.” He smiled, a jolt of anticipation lancing through him, and realized she needed him to throw her a rope. He held out his hand and turned on his Southern charm. “Hi, I’m Shane McCallan. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

Her cheeks flamed but her smile was grateful. She took his hand. “Hi, Shane, I’m Sara Dean.”

Sara. Yeah.
The name was real and sweet and feminine. “Sara Dean. A perfect name for such a beautiful girl.” Damn, but he was just about flying. This moment was why he’d told Marz not to reveal her name.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for, Sara? Protecting yourself?” Shane shook his head, his chest full with emotion. “Never be sorry for that. If you hadn’t done such a good job all this time, we might never have had the chance to meet.”

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a molten-hot kiss that set his body on fire. The aggressiveness of her lips, the tightness of her grip, the yearning, needful moans spilling into his mouth reflected a woman taking a chance, taking charge, taking control. This woman, his Sara, was like a phoenix rising from the flames, and somehow this magical creature had pulled him inside the ring of fire and allowed him to stand witness to the miracle of her rebirth.