Jenna looked down at the photo again. “Did you find them?”
“Who?”
“The bastards hiding in the caves, the sniper’s buddies.”
Derek nodded. “We found them, and we sent them to hell.”
“Good.” Jenna’s face crumpled again.
“Hey.” Derek released her hand, got to his feet, and went to sit in the chair beside hers. “Come here.”
He drew her into his arms, her sweet floral scent filling his nostrils as her head came to rest against his chest. He stroked her hair, savoring the feminine feel of her.
“He adored you. He told me so many stories about his little Punk. How you’d broken your ankle in soccer tryouts and your father had forbidden you to play. How you’d thrown up in your father’s lap when he’d forced you to eat escargot at some fancy restaurant. How you got sick of your dad telling you how to wear your hair and cut it yourself with a pair of kitchen scissors.”
Jenna sniffed, laughed. “My father was so angry. It looked awful, but I loved it.”
Derek wanted to comfort her somehow. “Jimmy was the closest thing I ever had to a real brother, but you and he shared a special bond. Now you share Afghanistan. He would be proud of you—I know he would.”
Jenna looked up at him, her cheeks wet. “We share one other thing—you.”
Derek told himself not to do it. She was Jimmy’s little sister, and she was crying. They were in rural Afghanistan, pretending to be brother and sister. He was on the job, for God’s sake. Hell, shewasthe job.
But then she reached up and ran a hand over his cheek.
Aw, fuck it.
He shifted her in his arms, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her.
* * *
Jenna’s bodycame alive the moment Derek’s lips touched hers, the sweet shock of it making her pulse go wild. He tasted her lips one at a time, teasing them with his tongue, nipping them with his teeth, sucking them into his mouth, paying attention to all the little details. The cleft in the center of her upper lip. The corners of her mouth. The curve of her lower lip.
Oh, she had always wanted to be kissed like this—slow, sensual, seductive.
She slid her arms around his neck, kissed him back. “Derek.”
A big hand fisted in her hair, angling her head to allow him better access, his tongue seeking hers. She met him stroke for stroke, the intensity of the kiss building until she could barely breathe. But it still wasn’t enough.
Jenna pulled back, stood, and straddled him, bringing them face to face. She caught his cheeks between her hands, his stubble rough against her palms, his pupils dilated, his lips wet. Her gaze locked with his. “Kiss me.”
This time, he crushed her against him with strong arms, that deliberate tenderness gone as he claimed her mouth with his, ravishing her in the best possible way. His strength was intoxicating, his body so much bigger than hers, his pecs hard against her breasts, the firearm he carried pressing into her ribs.
She wrested control away from him, biting down on his tongue, nipping his lips with hers, only to yield once again, savoring the sensation of being overpowered.
“God, Jenna.” He slid the fingers of one hand into her hair, the other moving beneath her shirt to cup her right breast. Pleasure made her gasp as he squeezed, his thumb teasing her already tight nipple. “You fill my hand.”
She pressed her breast deeper into his callused palm, arousal pooling in her belly, making her ache, driving her hips forward.
Beneath his jeans, he was rock hard.
God, she wanted his cock inside her. It had been six months since she’d had an orgasm, even longer since she’d been with a man.
She had an IUD, a precaution against sexual assault, but did she really want to have sex with James’ best friend in a generator shed in Afghanistan?
Abso-freaking-lutely.
Craving release, she ground herself against the hard ridge of his erection, but the pressure only made her need for him sharper.