Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

He slept. All night long. No dreams. No more nightmares. Not that the one he'd had wasn't freakishly powerful, but it was only a matter of time before it happened. The crap in Somalia always lay close to the surface. Marlowe handled it better than he expected, but she'd lived in a tent? In Chicago? That was wrong on so many levels. No wonder she was a tough cookie. Holding her like he was, with her curled into his side, her head on his shoulder and one leg over his thigh? Best way to wake up ever.

Doc Fitz would be back soon. She'd peeked in a couple times during the night, just checking, she'd said. Which was gracious of her. Most doctors were strict about visitors just sitting on beds, but this wasn't your regular HMO hospital and Doc Fitz understood TEAM agents better than most.

Asher was still on way too many drugs. Between them, the massive surgery to repair his shoulder, and his blood loss, he knew he was lucky to be alive.

Marlowe stirred in his arms. Up close and personal, she was more kitten than pit bull. Coming out of that panic attack last night, to find her spread over him, her knees locked on his sides, giving him mouth-to-mouth, was one helluva wet dream come true. What man didn't appreciate a woman taking charge like she did? Better yet, one as fired up as Marlowe and in the perfect position. Legs spread wide over his cock. Her mouth a luscious temptation he needed more time to explore. Working him until she got what she wanted, which was him breathing and alive. It was too bad he'd been in the grips of a freaking attack. Hell, he'd had her in the best state of mind: hot, sweaty, willing, and ready. She'd been thrilled when he snapped out of it. Probably would've jumped him out of sheer excitement if Doc Fitz hadn't interrupted.

He smoothed his good hand down her biceps and pressed his lips to her forehead, wishing Marlowe hadn't witnessed his meltdown. Whatever preceded his attack must've scared her. He couldn't remember much, but afterward, talking about Somalia, telling that ugly truth had released something burrowed deep into his psyche that had been stuck there for three years. Until that moment, when he'd told Marlowe and Doc Fitz about Alissa, the only one who'd known the details of that awful day was his best buddy, Heston Contreras. He was a locked vault of secret missions and covert operations. He'd never tell.

Maybe it was time to talk with Heston, though. Really talk about Somalia. Find out which dirtbag bombed that women's shelter and what happened afterward. Lance the damned infection of a lifetime, and be done with it. Couldn't hurt to ask. If Heston refused to answer, so be it. All he could do was say no. Asher could accept that. Some ops were off the books.

He pressed his mouth against Marlowe's forehead again and whispered, "Good morning."

"It's about time," she grumbled, sleepily stretching against him. Damned if every nerve in his all-male body didn't stand up and take notice of her supple warmth. Marlowe in the morning was an innocent, fluffy kitten who wanted to be petted, and Asher wanted to pet her until she purred and mewed and… Yeah. That.

Marlowe's fierce I'll-kill-you-and-bury-your-body attitude made her seem larger and meaner than life, especially when she was in full-on attack mode. She could definitely reduce a full-grown, highly trained, armed male to tears. Been there, done that. But she couldn't weigh much more than a buck ten, and she was short, not nowhere near as tall as those robotic, unsmiling super models on magazine covers. Except for her lean, muscled physique, she was dainty.

"What's a girl got to do around here to get a decent cup of coffee?"

"I can buzz Doc Fitz if you'd like. I'm sure she'd bring us breakfast."

"Don't you dare. Oh, my gosh, am I…?" Marlowe pulled the blanket up and peered down at herself.

"No, you're not naked. Yet," he breathed into the top of her head. "So talk to me. Where's your beanie?"

A beautiful blush splashed up her neck and over her cheeks, Asher hoped because of his naked comment. "Yeah, about that" —she lifted her arm and ran a hand over her head— "Judy gave me, umm, a more feminine thing to wear. A headband, only I don't know where it is right now and" —she shrugged both shoulders— "turns out I don't need it."

She leaned in, her lips wet and ready, and Asher was a goner. He closed the inches between them and finally, at last, he…. Kissed. Marlowe. Softly at first, but the instant the tip of her tongue swept timidly over his lips, he took control. She was a novice. Tentative. Inexperienced. But willing.

Asher turned on his uninjured side to face her, instantly pressured by his damaged shoulder to knock off any and all moving. Not yet. No way. Not with this woman as close as she was. He swept his good hand down her arm to her hip. She responded in kind, her fingers sliding up his neck into his hair. The feel of those ten little digits on his scalp sent shivers over his belly. Every fiber in his body screamed more, more, more. This was not the place or the time. When he took her to bed, it would not be in a hospital. If he could even do what he wanted when the opportunity arose.

After a thorough, wet kiss that left her breathless, Asher pulled Marlowe in close and just held her. She'd changed, didn't fight back, didn't turn him down, or shove away. She seemed to be enjoying the moment. Had they turned a corner in their on-and-off again relationship? He was shaking. She was trembling. But what a relief to finally kiss the woman of his dreams.

"We need to slow down," he breathed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've never been with a man before, have you?"

She shook her head. "Not till now. But I'm with you, aren't I?"

Asher beamed at her total lack of experience. "Yes, but I meant intimate, you know, with a guy."

"Oh, you mean sex. Yeah" —she shook her head— "that. No. I've been busy. You know, saving the world, keeping my cover, trying not to get dead."

Asher leaned in and took her mouth hungrily. Desperately. He'd suspected she was inexperienced, but hearing it and knowing it was all the confirmation he needed.

"Wow," she breathed when he eased up.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"Me, too. But you're handsome, and I've been ugly for so—"

"You're not ugly." He reared back far enough to glare down at her. And damn, that tweaked his injured shoulder. But shit if he cared. "You're beautiful, Marlowe. Yeah, you hide behind one helluva right hook, and you can cuss like a sailor, but you" —he leaned in and kissed her full on her obstinate little mouth— "are beautiful, inside and out. Trust me. I know."

She swallowed hard. "You're just saying that."

How could she doubt him? Asher was fully into proving just how much he adored her when, damn it, Doc Fitz knocked, and he had to play nice. While Marlowe scrambled to sit up, he rolled to his back and ran a hand over his head. Frazzled, like some frat boy who'd just scored first base. No doubt about it, he needed to take this woman home with him.

"Good morning," Doc Fitz said cheerfully. She walked straight to his bedside and looked down at him. "Feeling better this morning?"

Asher couldn't hold back his smile. She knew what he was feeling. "Yes, ma'am. When can I check out?"

"Not happening anytime soon. Not until you can walk down the hall and finish the safe room at your place. Ready for breakfast?" she had the nerve to ask while injecting a hypo of something into his IV.

Oh, yeah, the safe room Alex had ordered every agent to add to their homes. Alex was paying for it, but Asher's was a work in progress. Slow progress.

"More pain meds?" He hoped not. That crap put him to sleep.

"No, it's the last dose of your antibiotic. I'd like to get you up on your feet this morning. Last time we tried you didn't handle it very well. You up for another try?"

"I'll help," Marlowe piped up.

"If you can. This man's stubborn. Reminds me of Beau."

"Beau?"

Uh-oh. Asher locked eyes with Marlowe. He'd heard the what-the-hell tone in her question. Might as well meet this one head on . "Yes, Beau. He's Doc Fitz's husband. He was with me the day we saved you."

"We?" Heavy sarcasm laced that single syllable.

Here we go . "Yes, we, honey. Beau covered our backs when we exfilled. If not for him, we wouldn't have made it to the helo."

"Yeah, but he—"

"But nothing. We had to get you out of there. We did the best we could."

The fire in her eyes simmered down even as her upper lip curled into a sneer. "He told you to punch me." Emphasis on me .

Asher shook his head. "He was reactive, that's all. The clock was ticking, and we had a ride we couldn't miss. We had to get you and the women you saved out of there."

Her nose twitched like she wanted to fight. At last, she muttered, "Oh, yeah. We did. Have to save them, the women, I mean. But he did tell you to knock me out, didn't he?" Her right hand curled into a fist.

Asher had to agree to keep this from elevating. "But I didn't, did I?"

"No," Marlowe answered, her eyes glistening. "You've only ever h-helped me."

Man, this woman could change moods in a heartbeat. He reached for her hand, needing her to understand. There was a time just days ago when she would've slapped him for touching her. But this time, she reached for him and interlocked their fingers. Ducking down, Asher kissed her knuckles. "Damned straight, woman. It's my job to help you every step of the way. You okay with that?"

Blushing, Marlowe nodded. He kissed her knuckles again, just to watch the reaction. Was his firebrand suddenly shy? Was she thinking about what he said about taking her to bed? A man could dream.