her off his lap. He bent to remove his combat boots, his gaze hungering over her body as she stood inches from him, skimming out of the rest of her clothes, torturing him with a heavy, bone-racking caress, a thick kiss, before she crawled onto the bed. He stood, shoved down his trousers, then kicked them aside.
Maxie watched him come to her, naked, ropy muscles and darkness, and her body reacted with a rush of liquid. He exuded power and raw sensuality, in his eyes, his walk, and Maxie knew she would never in her life be able to resist him. He was her greatest weakness. Yet the misgivings she was experiencing right now, about her feelings, their uncertain future, were a world apart from the blistering heat that constantly crackled between them.
That heat leaped beyond her anxiety when he ripped away the sheet she’d shielded herself with, his gaze scorching her body, his expression growing hotter by the moment. Defiantly she let her gaze tear over him, his shoulders carved broader and thicker from his recent training, the deep contours of his stomach, the nested maleness, thick and proud for her. Between her thighs she tightened, throbbed.
He’s leaving, she thought again, yet knew he wanted to go fight for his country. Maxie would never dream of trying to stop him. The scars still pink from his last skydiving jump and the past year of knowing him told her it was useless to even consider keeping him from the scent of danger. He lived for it.
Kyle pressed his knee to the mattress. “Come here.”
She lifted her chin, giving him that “make me” look that drove him wild.
Kneeling, he arched a brow, his gaze lowering to her breasts, watching her nipples tighten the longer he lingered there, before dropping to the dark curls between her thighs. She made a sound, half curse, half pleading, and he chuckled knowingly.
“It’s pathetic, this command you have over me,” she said, tingling for the moment when he would touch her again.
“Your body maybe—” Suddenly he snatched her by the ankles, and she let out a tiny shriek as he dragged her across the bed to him. “But you?” Slowly he shook his head. “Never.” They stared and her lips curved in a sexy smile that robbed Kyle of his next breath. She’s so beautiful, he thought, pressing his palms to her chest, dragging them over her full breasts, shaping their weight, manipulating her nipples. She growled lushly, covering his hands and arching into the pressure. Her gaze followed his fingers as they slid over her ribs, her hips, stroking her soft thighs before hooking her knees and pulling her closer and closer to his heat.
She lifted her gaze to his. A moment passed, their breathing labored. A dark hunger lingered in the air, bodies and hearts exposed. She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Then suddenly she was against him, straddling his bare thighs, her arms locked tightly around his neck. Kyle knew without looking that she was crying. He closed his eyes and held her for a long moment, his heart clenching over her soft sobs. The unfairness of their situation increased his frustration and he sank his fingers into her hair, tipping her head and forcing her to look at him. He searched her delicate features, a lump thick in his throat. He was going to miss her. And hoped she’d miss him.
“Make love to me, Kyle. Make it last.”
“We have all night. And in a few days, we’ll have a lifetime.”
Her eyes clouded, and she gripped him back. “No. We won’t. Don’t you see? You’ll be gone. We don’t know when you’re coming back!” A pause, a whimper of despair and then, “Maybe we should not rush and wait.”
In a heartbeat, he dropped her onto her back, covering her body with his. “I can’t,” he said, then filled her in one long, hard thrust. “I can’t. I need you too much.” He withdrew, then surged, again and again, wild and frantic, his mouth crushing hers, each touch, each stroke driving away her misgivings about their future and leaving only the untamed passion they’d shared for over a year.
He was unrelenting, his reality in the here and now and not days away. Not years away. But he felt her slipping from him. He knew he was reckless sometimes, knew he took chances any sane man would shudder at, but even when he felt the hot rush of fear that came with the risk and danger, he always knew Maxie would be here for him. He wanted to make it permanent. He had to. He couldn’t lose her, not even a fraction, refusing to believe their lives would change.
He kept making wild love to her, and when she trembled with her explosion, drenching him with her desire, he made love to her again, listening to her cries of passion and ignoring the words he was too terrified to hear.
Maxie sat on the edge of the bed in the cheap hotel room, her hands clenched on her lap. She toyed with her engagement ring until her finger was raw and red, then yanked it off and shoved it into her purse. Tears rained down her cheeks, splashing onto her fists. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. She needed them. She deserved them.
She glanced at the clock, the big hand refusing to move past the time of her wedding. Her gaze shifted to her gown, white satin and hand-embroidered lace tossed carelessly in the chair. Once today she’d put it on, if only for a moment to feel like a bride, and she’d almost weakened in her decision. That dress symbolized all she wanted—husband, home, kids. All she wanted. Kyle wanted only her. And danger.
Was marriage, right now—before he had to leave for Desert Storm—the wisest move for them? Or was it just fear pushing them to rush their wedding, their lives? Was she in love with the idea of marriage and family, or with Kyle? She tore her gaze from the gown. She’d asked herself the same questions over and over for the past hour, the urge to race to the chapel and marry Kyle staggering her.
Turmoil and fear held her back, kept her rooted to a lumpy bed in the darkened room. How could she do this to the man she loved? But she knew. Weeks of chaotic thoughts, of preparations for a wedding and for the groom to go to war, of Kyle refusing to discuss postponing their wedding, had brought her to this moment. This horrible, telling moment when she should be walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands, a deep sorrow tormenting her to the breaking point.
She’d felt it while he was away for desert training six weeks ago. That first-time separation had opened her eyes, scared and confused her. For without the physical passion, she realized they were on the same road, traveling in opposite directions. She loved him deeply, yet they wanted different things, and for a while, she let herself believe she could change him, change his wants to hers. He was thrills and chills, wanting only her and the corps in his life. She wanted a home and fat babies—and stability. The only thing they wanted mutually was each other.
Maxie knew blood-jolting desire wasn’t enough.
And it was the sole reason she couldn’t face him right now.
One look, one touch and she would never do what she had to do. His stare bore too much power, his kisses too much steam, and he knew how to make her forget. Their passion was always so strong, she had trouble seeing beyond it. Until now.
They were afraid and seeking some control in a hopeless situation. He was leaving and wouldn’t believe it was best to wait until he came back, that if they really loved, time would be on their side. Marriage in a panic was reckless, and getting unmarried would be much harder.
No, she thought, nothing could be harder than this. Yet she was willing to risk everything not to make a huge mistake.
Maxie glanced at the clock again and groaned, listlessly crawling onto the bed and curling into a tight ball. She tried not to imagine her groom, what he was thinking, the hurt he was feeling. If only he had listened...if only time wasn’t so short...if only there wasn’t a war waiting for him...
Clad in his dress blue uniform, Kyle Hayden’s spine was straight as a rifle stock, his eyes forward, his gaze on the chapel door. She’ll be here, he thought. Any minute. Around him, guests and attendants whispered, the tick of the church clock sounding like a gong in his head. His buddies were lined up alongside him, his older brother, Mitch, offering excuses: traffic, a flat or a woman’s incredible need to be