Just Give In...

Test well? Now Brooke was intrigued. This was oil country, the land of black oil and undiscovered riches. Her home.

“No,” snapped the Captain, apparently not so intrigued.

“Why?” his former wife asked, a perfectly reasonable question in Brooke’s opinion.

“After the discharge, I moved out here to be by myself. The last thing I want is people hanging around here.”

“You need the money,” Sonya argued.

“You mean you need the money,” the Captain replied. “You have the house in Killeen. I have this place. You got the better deal. Case closed.”

Sonya glanced at Brooke. “Let’s not have this argument in front of the girl.”

Brooke grinned. “Don’t mind me. I’m thinking of making popcorn.”

“Jason!”

“Brooke,” the Captain warned.

Brooke held up her hands to keep the peace. “No popcorn.”

By now the Captain’s color had returned to normal, his scar faded to the color of bone, and Brooke was happy to see the smile at the corners of his mouth. He was having a good time…just like she’d intended.

He leaned back against the couch, legs splayed, the faded jeans clinging to powerful thighs that were as hard as bricks. Remembering exactly how they felt beneath her, Brooke felt a momentary throb between her legs, a reminder of an itch that had yet to be scratched. Secretly, she checked the digital clock on the wall. Eight-seventeen. It was still early. Darn it.

“How’s Tom?” the Captain asked.

Sonya crossed her legs, uncrossed her legs. “He left, and please don’t lecture me. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” the Captain said, and his former wife’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Did you love Tom?” Brooke asked, which was not any of her business, but Sonya seemed heartbroken and Brooke wanted to know exactly who had broken her heart. The Captain or this Tom?

“I thought I loved him.” Sonya peeked under lashes at the Captain, apparently still fostering some hope. “I was wrong.”

While the Captain watched his former wife, Brooke held her breath. If there were still feelings involved, she certainly would get out of the way. It was the honorable thing to do, but…

Brooke frowned, not nearly so intrigued anymore.

Sonya stood. “I’ll leave now. I’m sorry for interrupting. Think about the well, Jason. At least then you could hire someone to haul away this junk.”

Brooke kept quiet, this wasn’t her concern, and after she heard the door close, she found the Captain watching her. There was no fire in his gaze, no feeling at all.

The apathy hurt, and she wished it didn’t.

“There’s a bunk in the shed outside,” he started, and Brooke managed a smile.

“I’ll sleep in my car. It’s more comfortable and I bought this goose-feather duvet in Oklahoma. It’s very nice.” Brooke moved toward the door, but the Captain took her arm before she could leave.

“I’ll take the shed. Sleep in the bed. You need the rest.”

Okay, rest wasn’t what she’d been thinking. The Captain noticed her look, and his hand fell away. “I knew this wasn’t smart.”

“You still love her?” Brooke hadn’t meant to ask, but the words were out before she could stop them.

“No. A long time ago I was stationed at Ft. Hood. I met Sonya. We got married. After I was in Iraq, she met Tom. Three months later we were divorced.”

And instantly Brooke understood the depths of Sonya’s betrayal. Wishing she could do more, Brooke covered his hand, marveled at the strength, the competence, the heart within him.

For a moment he held on before opening the door. Brooke frowned, wondering what she had missed. “Why are you leaving?”

He touched her hair, smiled sadly. Somehow the Captain seemed worldly wise. “It’s not right.”

“You think I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No. I think I’m taking advantage of you.”

The anger simmered slowly inside her, building, spilling over into something more dangerous. “Do I look stupid?”

The Captain took a cautious step back. “No.”

“Then why have you decided that this is a bad idea? You were a happy man earlier. You seemed thrilled.” She glanced at his crotch. “All of you.”

The Captain flushed. “It was a mistake. You’re in an uncertain situation. I’m the only person you know in Texas.”

“Except for Austen,” she reminded him.

The Captain’s expression was alarmed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see him.”

Brooke sighed. “Well, no, not until I get back on my feet. And I will,” she added, seeing his skepticism.

“I know, but sex confuses things.”

She glared. “Do I look confused?”

“No.”

“Are you confused?”

“No.”

Somehow the Captain could be very dense. “Then why are you still wearing clothes?”

This time, she was happy to see an appropriate level of apprehension. “You haven’t eaten,” he pointed out, an obvious stall tactic, and Brooke took a predatory step closer.

“If I was hungry, I would say so. I have a tongue in my head. I know how to use it.”

The Captain took another step back. The door snapped shut.

“This is gratitude,” he argued.

Her hands went to the hem of her T-shirt.

“Not the shirt. Not again.” He swore, and Brooke realized that she needed to change her tactics, so she did.

She came to him, rose up on her toes, and laid her head on his heart. It was a good heart, a noble heart, and Brooke was pleased that Sonya had thrown him over.

Sonya was an idiot.

Ever so slowly, his arms wrapped around her, iron bands made of steel. Everything faded to silence, except for the beat of her blood. He tilted her chin, met her eyes, giving her a last chance to leave. However, he felt right, this felt right, and she reached up to trace the jagged edge of his scar with a gentle touch.

Instead of letting her touch him, the Captain bent, covered her mouth with his, kissing her urgently, with no gentleness at all. His strong hands skimmed lower, molding her hips to his, and when she felt the hard ridge honing between her legs, Brooke groaned happily.

This was what she wanted, he was what she wanted. He pulled her shirt over her head, and his mouth moved to her breast, her nipple, sucking until the flesh was taut and needy. The stubble on his jaw was rough against her skin, a friction that was both pleasure and pain.

There was something about this man that spoke to her, aroused her. Underneath the scars and the machines was a man who cared. A man who didn’t want to.

Tonight, she wanted to give him what he had given her. Peace. Hope. Happiness.

Needing to feel him, she tore at the buttons on his shirt, ruining a perfectly good garment, but his mouth was making her crazy, the prodding pressure between her legs was making her crazy. Her hands explored the smooth planes of his back. With her lips she tasted the warm salt of his neck, and her fingers teased his nipples until he told her to stop. The couch was too far, the floor so convenient, and they fell there, the Captain stripping off her jeans and her panties, thrusting a finger inside her. Her eyes locked with his, the gray darkened to smoke. With each stroke, her muscles pulsed, the pressure building higher and higher.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt. The pleasure, yes. The security, no, and that was the most erotic thrill of all. Her nails dug into the wall of his shoulders, anchoring there because her body was about to explode.

She could see the sheen of sweat on him, feel the strain in his body, his arms. Total control.

Her legs flexed and she shuddered, and still his hand moved. Faster, harder…

Yes…

A low whimper broke from her and when she was ready to come, he stole his finger from her. She whapped at his back, but then his mouth trailed kisses down her breasts, her stomach. With rough hands, he parted her legs, and Brooke’s heart stuttered and then threatened to stop.

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