Under Fire (32 page)

His mouth slid from hers and he angled back. She bit back a whimper of protest. She would not be that girl—needy or pathetic. She would not be the insecure little girl sitting on the sofa while her mother showed her literature on plastic surgery. What kind of parent offered a daughter a boob job and chin implant for her sixteenth birthday?

“Cat, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to apologize or not.” He scooped up the water bottle again and rolled it between his hands as if wondering what to do with them next. “I only know that for the first time in months, I wanted to connect with a person. If I took advantage of our friendship, then I am sorry for that.”

He was
apologizing
to her for the kiss? Apologizing for wanting to connect with her? The thought that he wanted a relationship with her absolutely rocked her socks—and scared the hell out of her. How could she trust him? Was he only reaching out to her because of his own vulnerable state right now?

“Brandon,” she blurted before she even formed the thoughts, “would you have even seen me in high school?”

He looked genuinely stunned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not asking if you would have dated me.” Of course he wouldn’t have. “I’m asking if you would have noticed I existed. I’m the kind of person who fades into the woodwork of life. If someone had to describe me to a police sketch artist, they would be hard-pressed. There’s nothing wrong with my features, but there’s nothing unique. I just… am.”

She held up a hand. “I’m not fishing for compliments here, simply stating facts. Essentially, I don’t want to be any man’s pity fuck.”

He choked on a gulp of water.

“Surprised you, did I?” And she took more than a little pleasure in that. She tugged the water bottle from him. “I may look timid, but I can stand up for myself.”

“Are you finished?”

“For now. But I reserve the right to climb up on my soapbox again without warning.” She tipped back the water, thirsty and nervous.

“Fine.” He took the bottle, set it aside and clasped her hands. “First off, I resent the assumptions you made about my character.”

“Your
high
school
character, and was I wrong?” Why did she feel the need to push this?

“We’re not in high school.”

“Cop-out answer. I’ll take that as a yes to your being a part of the popular crowd back then.” The kind of people who’d walked past her as if she didn’t exist. She tugged her hands but he didn’t let go.

“If you want to know the God’s honest truth”—his thumbs worked along the inside of her wrists—“I’m starting to think you’re the one hung up on looks, because you sure do talk about appearances and popularity a lot.”

She stopped tugging and just let herself soak up the sensation of his caressing touch. “I’m just trying to make a point.”

“So am I. You want to talk about high school? All right then. Try this one on for size. Would you have been drooling over me because I was the football quarterback? Would you have been drawn to the uniform and the so-called status?” His blue eyes shone with clarity, honesty. “Sure sounds that way to me.”

“You’re muddying the waters.” Along with making her feel uncomfortable and even every bit as shallow as her mother.

“Did it ever dawn on you to think I might have been the vice president of the chess club?”

“Were you?”

“No—”

“See!” She squeezed his hands, laughing.

“I was the president, actually.” He smiled, the first shadow-free grin she’d seen from him. “And of the math club too. I’m a smart guy who wasn’t born wearing a pocket protector.” His smile faded. “That’s a part of why I was privy to overhearing some of the confidential crap in the Middle East. They saw me as a bodyguard without ears or the sense to put together what I was hearing. Shame on them. And shame on you.”

His words deflated the air and fight right out of her. She really was every bit as awful as her mother. She slid her hands free and bracketed his face. “You’re right. I was wrong, and I apologize, truly.”

Peace settled inside her as she saw him with new eyes, found depths in him she hadn’t realized before. He was everything she could have hoped for—and more. Her insecurities had limited her perceptions, but not anymore. Not with Brandon.

“Apology accepted.” His eyes shifted to violet blue again, the kind so deep a woman could climb right in for a swim. Did he know he was looking at her that way?

Her heart rate sped up. “I guess I should go back to sleep then.”

“You could.” He slipped his arms around her and settled her on his lap effortlessly. “Or you could find out what it’s like to make out with the president of the chess club.”

Brandon had been told again and again by his therapist that he could have a second chance at regaining his life. But until this moment with Cat, he hadn’t really believed that could be possible.

He threaded his fingers through her loose red hair, the fine strands almost translucent in the intermittent flashes of lightning. And she was here with him now, which scared the hell out of him. She should have been at home with her dogs and friends, enjoying a normal day with people who didn’t have screwed-up lives.

Definitely not on the run, in some remote cabin, hiding out from drive-by shootings and criminals who bombed homes and God only knew what else. Fear had gripped his gut and clouded his mind until all he could think about was making sure he didn’t let her out of his sight.

She deserved so much better than what he had to offer, but for some reason she wanted him anyway. He reached past her to lock the door before angling back to slant his mouth over hers again. The soft plumpness was so much sweeter than he’d even imagined over the past months. And hell yes, he’d imagined kissing her more than once, only to hold back.

Her stroke was featherlight along his chest, just enough to arouse without veering into ticklish.

“You can touch me too, you know,” she whispered against his mouth, the scent of honeysuckle filling the space between them. “I’m not going to break.”

“I don’t want to scare you off. You’re so… fragile.” Which made her career choice all the more curious.

She’d forged an unconventional lifestyle from work that was fairly physical. She was running against the mainstream in two ways—by not following the customary expectations of her community and by working with her hands in a way that was fairly humanitarian.

“I’m going to just accept that as a compliment rather than get offended at the implication I’m some fragile helpless innocent.”

Well, yes, he had been thinking that. Although these past days were making him rethink a lot of things about her. He should have looked deeper before now. She might be a quiet sort, but she was living a renegade lifestyle with her dogs on the beach. Plus, she was living alone, no one protecting her except her dogs.

“Honest to God, Cat, I’m not sure what to think right now.”

“How about just listen while I dispel some more preconceived notions?” She sat back on her heels, her hazel eyes fierce in the dim night. “I’m tougher than I look. I’ve learned how to go after what I want from life, and from the minute I first saw you walk onto my property, I wanted you.”

The determination in her words was unmistakable—and one hefty turn-on.

“O-
kay
then.”

“Just to clear up another point, I’m not innocent, but I’m not particularly experienced either. Wait—” She held up a hand, then twirled it in a circle. “Back up. I have had relationships and they were sexual, but it wasn’t great, so it wasn’t like I learned much from the encounters.”

Her words stunned him quiet. Not what she said, but that she was discussing this at all. He’d planned on kissing her and she was already fast-tracking to discussions of getting naked. Or maybe that was how those other guys had handled being with Catriona.

“You’re saying the guys you dated were duds in bed.”

A smile chased away some of the worry on her face. “That sounds better than saying I was the dud.”

And right there, he saw it. What he’d been misunderstanding about her all along. She seemed so at peace and confident in her world. He’d put her on some kind of “serenity goddess” pedestal. While she had accepted him, flaws and all, he hadn’t looked clear through to
her
, to see her insecurity—over what, he didn’t know. But apparently somewhere along the line something or someone had done a number on her, making her lose sight of how perfect she was—an original.

She’d certainly pulled him out of the fog he’d been walking in.

And then there was the way she’d insisted on being here with him rather than being tucked away at a hotel with another PJ team member watching out for her. She’d packed her clothes, loaded up his truck while he flipped in and out of flashbacks and flights of panic. Her quiet determination yanked him through a time in his life when he could have easily lost it altogether. But she wanted to be here.

She’d refused to be anywhere else.

Brandon lifted her hands and kissed her knuckles. “If he had an orgasm and you didn’t, that makes him the dud for not doing his part of the work.”

Her eyes went wide, then she coughed through a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. While I’m not a hundred percent sure I agree, it’s a lot more fun to think of those guys as duds than just jackasses.”

Those
guys
. Plural? How many men had let her down? How many times had she opened her heart to an unworthy bastard who hadn’t given a damn about her? He didn’t want to know. He didn’t need to know.

He did know that if he was ever lucky enough to sleep with her, he would make sure she came—more than once. Although the jury was still out on whether he could close the deal for himself. No matter how many times the shrink told him the cause was in his mind—or rather in the head above his waist rather than the one below—the end result was the same.

There was no end result for him…

A branch smacked the window and he realized he’d zoned out and Cat was staring at him patiently, waiting for him to return. He tucked her to him and put his all into kissing her, thoroughly, the way a man should kiss a woman. With his whole focus on her.

Tuning into when she tugged him closer.

Listening for those kittenish sighs that told him he’d touched her in just the right place.

For the first time in too long, he enjoyed the hell out of having a woman in his arms. There was no rush, because he wasn’t going to take advantage of her trust. He wasn’t going to screw her on the floor of a cabin with too many people a wall away.

So like a kid in high school again, he was just making out on a quilt. Lying alongside her, hands roving, he kissed her, and hey wait, she was guiding his palm to her breast. He eased back to check her eyes, make sure she was in the moment and not just doing what she thought he expected. Although it was tough to see her eyes, with her lashes closed and her head thrown back in pleasure.

Yes.

A distant part of his brain told him this was going beyond just making out. This was heading toward something more—everything more. She’d meant what she said about knowing her mind, being strong and determined. Right now it was clear she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

Damned if he had the strength to tell her no. He would gladly take this as far as she wanted.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled her neck, which stirred another of those purring sighs from her, so he kept right on. Tasting, listening, feeling her nipple harden.

And so did he.

The blood rushing south caught him unaware, then settled while his thoughts scattered. He bunched the hem of her T-shirt in his hands and inched it up, slowly, revealing inch by inch of creamy pale skin and freckles. Regardless of what she said about being tough, unbreakable, he couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone so delicate. Actually, he couldn’t think of anyone else period. She filled his eyes and hands and senses.

She raised her arms and he tugged the shirt the rest of the way over her head. She shook her hair free in a gingery cloud that settled around her bared shoulders. Wearing nothing but her shorts and a sports bra, she wasn’t overly exposed, but there was something erotic about her natural beauty that didn’t need glamming up.

As he stared, her nipples went harder, pushing against the gray cotton of her bra, letting him know just how much he turned her on. And wasn’t that heady stuff?

She shimmied out of her shorts, revealing gray cotton bikinis with lace along the edges, the high rise making her slim legs stretch even longer. She started to pull the matching lace-trimmed sports bra upward, and he swept away her hands.

He traced the straps over her shoulders—lace and cotton, sexy and down-to-earth at the same time. “Call me greedy, but I want to do the unveiling.”

“And if I want to go the striptease route?” Her plump lips went pouty and sultry.

“Next time.” God, he hoped there could be a next time. So far, his body was still full on, hard throttle.

“Or I could undress
you
.” She punctuated each word by kissing his chest, moving lower and lower still, all the way down to his navel. Her hand landed on his fly in an unmistakable message. In a moment of clarity, he realized she was operating off some old agenda from those jackass duds who took and never gave back.