Way of the Warrior (Troubleshooters #17.5)(35)

For a split second he hesitated, their mouths so close the heat of their breath intermingled. But only for an instant. When his lips brushed hers in a tender, lingering kiss, it sent a shot of electricity through every nerve ending in his body. Had he not been drenched in sweat from his run, he would’ve dragged her against him and finally explored the mystery of those full lips in the way he’d longed to, but knowing she was on her way to work, he had to content himself with gently grasping the nape of her neck, sliding his fingers into the length of the silky chestnut brown hair that fell below her shoulders, and kissing her slowly, languidly, savoring the warmth of her lips as they sought his.

A tiny moan escaped her, buzzing against his lips. Encouraged, he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across the seam of her mouth. It was all he could do not to whoop for joy when her lips parted, inviting him in.

Sadie’s hands rested lightly against his chest, her palms a welcome warmth against his already heated skin. He took a half step closer but quickly stepped back when his raging erection threatened to give away just how badly he wanted her. “Ah, God, Sadie,” he murmured when her hands began to roam.

“I know,” she replied, her voice strained, breathless as she pressed kisses to the corner of his mouth, jaw, chin. “I know.”

Then her fingertips brushed against his abdomen, over his scars, and suddenly the spell was broken. He jerked so hard he stumbled backward in his haste to get away from her touch, his back slamming into the counter behind him. He snatched up a discarded dish towel and held it over his ruined skin—among other things.

Sadie’s eyes went wide with confusion and concern. “Oh my God, Joe! I’m so sorry!” she gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

She took a step toward him, but he held up his free hand, keeping her from coming any closer. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Uh-huh, riiiight… The woman he’d fantasized about since hitting puberty was finally in his arms and he has a total freak-out. Oh yeah, he was golden.

Sadie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she tilted her head to one side, her dark eyes boring into his as if she was reading his soul. She took a tentative step toward him. And another. Then she reached out and took hold of the dish towel. For a moment, he thought about tightening his grip, but he let go, allowing her to take it from him.

“You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Joe,” she assured him softly, clearly sensing the reason behind his response to her touch.

And, hell, why wouldn’t she? She’d been at his side during every step of his recovery, taking time off from her job as a high school English teacher to be there for him. She’d seen him through that dark time, had encouraged him to keep going. It was his fear of disappointing her that had gotten him through it all, that would be his driving force to continue getting through it. But he couldn’t help but think he’d disappoint her in the end. He was broken, damaged. His body was full of scars—inside and out. She deserved better.

“You should probably go,” he managed to grind out. “You’ll be late for work.”

She immediately drew away and forced a tight smile, then pivoted and strode toward the door—but not before he caught the hurt look in her eyes.

She was already down the steps and striding toward her car by the time he made it out the kitchen door.

? ? ?

God, she was an idiot.

What the hell had she been thinking when she’d given into the temptation to kiss him? The temptation that had plagued her since they were kids, that had filled her dreams every night he’d been on deployment—even when she’d spent those nights next to another man. She’d loved Joe for as long as she could remember; her heart full to bursting every time he smiled or held her close. But they’d always managed to stay “just friends,” wary of taking it further for fear of what they might lose. But the realization that she’d almost lost him to that IED had rattled her to the core, had forced her brain to finally come to terms with what her heart had always known: She was in love with him.

That knowledge made their platonic promise harder and harder to maintain—especially in moments like this morning when she’d walked into his kitchen using the spare key he’d given her, expecting to just leave the present and go. But there he was, standing in the kitchen in only shorts and running shoes, his bare chest still glistening with manly sweat, his hard-won muscles taut with exhaustion from his workout.

Damn, he was even more gorgeous than she’d remembered! With that mixture of Ryan Reynolds boy-next-door good looks, the sharp edges that stress and experience had added to his face, and the network of scars that marked him as a warrior in every sense of the word, he’d literally made her heart skip a beat. Maybe two. Okay, definitely two. And then there were those eyes… The color of whiskey, they used to melt her with a mischievous look, daring her to go along with whatever adventure he’d cooked up.

How many times when they were growing up had he sneaked out his bedroom window at night to come knocking on hers, needing only that look to convince her to go check out the old Conway house where blue lights were supposed to mysteriously dance? Or the old railway cars that had been long abandoned and sat rusting in their haphazard graveyard? Or the church cemetery where the white lady was supposed to walk every Thursday at midnight?

Scared to death and shivering, she’d always go along with his latest scheme for adventure, clinging to his hand—yet knowing that no matter what they came up against, her gallant hero would protect her. Because he’d promised he would. And Joe Dawson never broke a promise.