Chapter 30

If a man sound of mind, if not of body, wants to walk out of a hospital, they should damn well allow him to without all this hassle. Gabe scowled at the powerhouse of nurse blocking the door of his room, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. He didn’t need Audrey to translate. The woman’s posture and tone said it all.

You. Are. Not. Leaving.

Ha. He’d like to see her stop him.

The nurse and his doctor were not happy. Hell, Jesse and Audrey were not pleased either, but, dammit, he was going to be in on the raid. Period. He’d spent too many hours these past two days planning this raid, and had gone through too much shit this past week in the name of saving Bryson Van Amee’s life. Bitter or sweet, he would see this snafu through to the end.

Finally, the nurse backed away. Despite the language barrier, he understood Audrey had talked her down. Had to admire the woman. She had a knack for people. For talking and listening and truly caring about what they had to say. Left to his own devices, he would have steamrolled over the nurse, but man, this made things so much easier.

Audrey stood with her back to him and stared at the now-empty doorway. She wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself as if chilled, and Gabe ached to hold her, even took two steps toward her before he caught himself. If he held her in his arms right now, there was no guarantee he’d let go, and he had a job to do. She had distracted him enough already. To the point that he’d almost gotten himself KIA’d not once, not twice, but three goddamn times.

Audrey drew a breath, let it go in a rush, and faced him. “She’s gone to get the paperwork stating you’ve refused medical treatment.”

“All right. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He’d been in the process of changing into an olive green t-shirt and cammies when the nurse interrupted and finished now, skimming the hospital scrub bottoms down his legs. It hurt to bend over and pull them off, but he clamped his teeth together and worked through the pain.

Pain was a SEAL’s best friend.

Audrey made an exasperated sound. “Oh, for God’s sake. Sit down before you fall down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re weaving on your feet.”

Shit, he was, wasn’t he? He made himself stand still by force of will, and the room started spinning around him. Two days flat on his back in bed may have helped his healing side but had done shit for his equilibrium.

Audrey planted a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him down. The fact that his legs buckled under such light pressure did not hurt his ego. Much. But the fact that she was now undressing him like a mother did a baby, with nothing sexual to it at all, smarted big time.

“I can do it.”

She slapped away his hands and then reached over to yank the privacy curtain shut around the bed. “No, you can’t. You were shot less than forty-eight hours ago.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said mildly, but Audrey seemed not to hear him.

“Jesse says you’re an idiot for not letting yourself recuperate and I agree, but you’re too much of a pigheaded jerk to listen to either of us.” She pulled the scrub top over his head. “You need to be careful not to rip out your stitches, or you’ll start bleeding again. You don’t need to lose any more blood. And that splint on your foot is going to limit your movements. You won’t have the mobility you’re used to, so no running or jumping out of freaking airplanes or whatever it is you do on these insane missions.”

Was she…? Shit, she was. Crying. Fat tears poured down her cheeks.

“Whoa, whoa. Aud, stop.” He reached for her, but she jerked out of his grasp and refused to meet his eyes. Damn, she might as well have shoved a stake through his heart. Would have hurt less. He rubbed the center of his chest. “I’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” With jerky movements, she flicked away tears before yanking off the scrub pants and throwing them aside. She snapped up the cammies and stuffed his feet into the holes. Even as angry as she was, she was careful not to jar his bad foot. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere in your condition. Especially not out after dangerous terrorists.”

“My condition?” He almost laughed but wisely choked it back. “C’mon, this is nothing. I’ve done far more in far worse shape.”

“I’m sure you have.”

The bitterness in her voice surprised him. “Audrey, I’m trying to save your brother. Don’t you want him home safe?”

“Of course I do.” She stopped trying to dress him and laid her head on his bare thighs, wrapping her arms around him. Her tears felt hot on his skin, her sobbing breaths tickling his leg hair.

God, she had to notice the way his body, battered as it was, responded to her touch. How could she not? His erection was at half-mast, right there by her cheek, straining toward her, all but begging her to turn her head and?—

“But not at the expense of losing you.” Her breath whispered over his cock before she kissed him, a light caress of her lips down his shaft. The contact jolted and sizzled through his nerves like electricity. As she opened her mouth and took him in deeper, it nearly broke every careful link of control he’d spent his life forging. Again. He couldn’t afford that, not now when everything was situation critical, not when it left him feeling so raw and exposed afterward.

He reached down, threading his fingers into her soft, wavy hair, his grip gentle but firm. He had every intention of pulling her away but instead cupped the back of her head and guided her movements. His instincts betrayed him, his body responding to her touch in ways he couldn’t control.

Her lips were soft and warm against him, her tongue making his breath hitch in his throat. With a shuddering gasp, he gave into the pleasure for just a moment longer. The hospital room was momentarily forgotten, the urgency of his mission pushed aside as he lost himself in Audrey’s touch.

But then reality crashed back in. He tightened his grip on Audrey’s hair and pulled her away gently but firmly. She looked up at him with those green eyes, now glassy and swollen from tears. There was a plea in them that wrenched at his heart. She let him go reluctantly, her hands slowly trailing up his thighs as she rose to her feet.

“You don’t have to go, Gabe,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. She hiked her skirt and straddled his lap, sinking onto his throbbing cock with a shaky sigh. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she leaned her forehead against his, her breath warm against his lips.

“You’ve done enough. Let Quinn and the guys handle it.”

His hands found their way to her hips, gripping the soft fabric of her dress. Her perfume enveloped him, something tropical and sweet that made him want to bury his face in her neck and forget about everything else.

“I’m not that kind of commander.” Why didn’t she get that? He wasn’t going to sit safely behind the battle line while ordering his men to charge into the fray. If they had to put their lives on the line for the mission, he’d be right there with them, fighting shoulder to shoulder. “I won’t ask my men to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”

She lifted herself off him, then slowly slid down again, the friction causing a low groan to escape his lips. “You’re not asking them. They signed up for this. This is what they do. But you… you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. You need time to heal.”

His fingers tightened on her hips as she began to move again, her actions far more persuasive than her words. But he was a SEAL, and SEALs didn’t back down from a challenge or leave a mission unfinished. Even when that mission was complicated by a woman who stirred feelings he hadn’t thought he was capable of experiencing. Feelings he didn’t have a name for.

It wasn’t love. Couldn’t be. Love was for people who believed in happy endings, not for men like him who’d spent years thriving in a world of violence.

“Audrey,” he groaned and gripped her rear, guiding her down. “We should stop.”

She gasped, and her head fell back in pleasure. The ends of her hair tickled his legs. “Oh, please, Gabe. I’ll be careful not to hurt you.”

He snorted a laugh. “You’re not going to hurt me. The nurse?—”

“Two pump chump, remember? I won’t last.”

God, he realized, neither would he.

Her eyes, still spilling tears, never left his, and he saw her heart there, his for the taking if he wanted. He did. Christ, did he ever want it, want her. So much that he ached with a sweet need to make her his forever. But he couldn’t. It was impossible. He couldn’t be the kind of man a woman like her wanted for the long haul.

Then she started to move against him, and Gabe strived for control even as coherent thought fled and sensation engulfed him. Every lift of her hips off his cock was a slow, painful death, and he felt the loss of her warmth in even the darkest pit of his soul. Every languorous slide down was his salvation.

Control. Yeah, right. With her, it was nothing but a pretty illusion, and he was already lost. In her eyes. In her body. In her soul. He’d never had any control when it came to her. She was drawing him in, pulling him under with her every movement, her every soft cry. He was drowning in her, and the terrifying part was that he didn’t want to fight it. He wanted to go with her, lose himself completely.

His hands moved of their own volition, sliding up her back and tangling in her wavy hair. He moved to catch her mouth with his, halting the words that tumbled out in a desperate plea for him to reconsider his choice. But it was too late for that; he’d made up his mind.

The kiss tasted bitter-sweet, tainted by impossible promises and unspoken goodbyes.

Because this had to be goodbye.

Savoring the softness of her lips, he let himself sink deeper into the kiss, his heart pounding a painful rhythm against his ribs. This was it; this was the last time he would hold her in his arms, feel her body wrapped around his. This was what he had to remember—her taste, her touch, her soft cries of pleasure. He’d brand her on his memory for all the lonely nights to come.

A warning tremor shot down his spine. He gave up all pretense of resisting and met her stroke for stroke, their bodies moving together in perfect sync, the hospital bed under them creaking in protest. His chest heaved as his climax neared, his grip on her hips tightening.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

“Gabe,” she whimpered, her hands tangling in his short hair, pulling him closer. Her body trembled as she hovered above him, her orgasm locking her around his cock like a vise.

He clenched his jaw against the surge of pleasure that rocked him to his core. He arched into her one last time before his release roared from him with a force that left him gasping against her neck. He buried his face in her fragrant hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin as his body shuddered beneath hers.

Then it was over, the aftermath as crushingly silent as the joining had been sudden and intense, leaving them twined together, boneless and gasping, his face buried in the crook of her neck, her cheek resting on top of his head. He could hear her pulse thundering, matching his beat for beat, and closed his eyes.

Yep, he was raw again. As much as he enjoyed sex with Audrey—and, fuck, did he ever enjoy it, enjoy her—he did not like the way he felt right now. Like a throbbing, open wound. If she wanted, she could easily pour salt into him and scar him for life.

And he had enough scars, thanks.

It was too much.

“Promise me you’ll come back safe,” she whispered againsthis hair.

He refused to open his eyes, afraid of what he might see in her face, but even more afraid of what she would see in his. “I’ll do my best.”

“No. You promise me, Gabriel. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

All right. He’d known this conversation was coming. He could handle this, tell her like it is. Despite the cold, hollow ache that flash froze into a lump of ice in his chest.

“Audrey.” He touched her cheek and waited until she met his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t love me. We’ve been through hell, and in order to survive, we’ve had to rely on each other in ways most never have to rely on another person. It’s natural to feel the way you do now, but it’s not love. Believe me. I’ve been here before.”

Christ, he hoped that little speech hadn’t sounded as canned and phony to her as it had to his own ears.

But she seemed to believe him. The hurt of it shone in her eyes. “So you always sleep with the women you help?”

No, you’re the first. The only. You are… so much more.

Ha. Like he’d say that little gem of a thought out loud and kibosh his whole argument. Sure, she was special to him, and he had a feeling she always would be, but what he felt didn’t matter. A month, six months, a year from now, when the fear and adrenaline faded to nothing but bad memories, she wouldn’t feel the same about him anymore. He just knew it. If he hung around, if he let her continue thinking she was in love, it’d put them both in an awkward place when she realized she wasn’t. Better to extract himself now, before they reached that point.

Jesus, he never should have let things go this far between them to begin with, never should have allowed himself to give in to how much he wanted her.

“Sometimes,” he said slowly, searching for the right words to let her down easy without crushing all that wild spirit he admired so much. “Sometimes when you face a deadly situation, the natural reaction is to want to experience life. Sex is one of the good parts of life.”

Scoffing, she shoved him shoulder. Not hard, but enough that he knew she was seriously pissed. She stood, giving him her back, and straightened her skirt. He thought—hoped—maybe she’d see the logic and let it go without a fight. Then she whirled to face him and—surprise!—indomitable woman that she was, she called him out.

“Do you actually believe the crap you’re spouting?” Her eyes were blazing with hurt and anger, making them appear such a vibrant green that he had to look away. “For someone who prides himself on being so strong and capable, you sure run scared when it comes to matters of the heart.” She jabbed a finger at his nose. “This between us is more than adrenaline-fueled sex and we both know it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, so you can’t tell me?—”

“It’ll fade.”

She shook her head. “No. I won’t let you brush this off as some kind of trauma response. This is just you trying to justify your decision to run away from me. From us. Why?”

That was the question. The more he talked, the less he believed his own bullshit. God help him, he wanted her even though it made him feel so exposed. Maybe he loved her, he didn’t know. Never had any experience with the emotion to know if that’s what all the roiling, turbulent feelings of admiration, joy, fear, and lust meant. Even if it was love—not that he was ready to cop to that yet—but hypothetically, even if it was, they couldn’t… He couldn’t…

This was all too much. She was too much. And he was not nearly enough for her.

Okay, his thoughts were rambling, not making a whole hell of a lot of sense even to him. He rubbed the center of his forehead and then did something he’d never done before in his entire thirty-three years of life: he stood, pulled up his pants, grabbed his shirt, and chickened out.

“Audrey, I have to go.”

Standing in front of him, arms crossed over her chest in a stance that was both defensive and vulnerable, she glowered at him. “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk out of here and I’m supposed to… what? Thank you for your service?”

The disdain in her voice sliced through him. He wanted to reach out to her, to cradle her face in his hands and tell her she had it all wrong. That protecting her, being with her, wasn’t a service, but a privilege. That every minute spent with her was a gift he would treasure for the rest of his life. But those words remained choked in his throat as he buttoned up his shirt.

Audrey stared at him, waiting for an answer, and he just shook his head.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” Feeling like an utter coward, he edged around her and out the door. “I’ll call you when we have Bryson.”