Zeke nodded back. He still didn’t like the guy, but perusing his military file this afternoon had been impressive. Zeke was grateful he’d bested the commander in their two short fights, to prove America was superior, but Lewis was a well-trained, proven, top medal-earning, and loyal soldier. If Lewis was the Sneaky Stalker, everybody from his basic training drill sergeants on up had been wrong about the guy. His career was impeccable and above reproach.
But it didn’t mean Zeke had to like him. The comment about Mia being brilliant at intimacy would always bug him.
He held on to Mia’s hand and they hurried up the sidewalk, punched in the code for the front door, and then entered the house, locking and arming everything behind them.
Neither of them said anything as they entered Papa’s bedroom. He helped her out of her coat and then she said, “I’d love to put some tracksuit bottoms on.”
She looked incredible in anything. He was tempted to ask her to put his shirt back on, but that probably would cross those lines he was worried about crossing for the first time in his life.
“Okay,” was all he said. He waited while she used the bathroom and changed, then he used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and put on some comfortable shorts and a T-shirt.
When he walked out of the bathroom, only the bedside lamps and the gas fireplace were on. Mia was sitting with her feet tucked under her in that small loveseat that he’d sprung out of last night. Last night, he’d thought that chair was far too small. Tonight it looked massive, especially with Mia’s small frame in it. How would she react if he strode to her, swept her out of chair, held her tight to his chest, and settled down in the seat with her in his arms?
He rubbed at his neck. It was one thing to have these new and compelling thoughts. It was quite another to know how to implement them. Fighting and training and shooting and battle tactics had been as natural to him as breathing. Cuddling and kissing with the most intriguing woman in the world might be more of a learning curve. But their kiss in Joseph and Holly’s entryway sure had been natural to him. As natural as breathing and more exciting than skydiving.
She smiled up at him and patted the seat next to her. Zeke tried to look casual. Cool. He strutted to her and settled down. Close. Their arms and legs brushed, and a fire ignited inside him.
She pivoted her body, leaned her back into the cushions, laid her legs across his thighs, and gave him a look that said he could come closer anytime.
The fire turned into an inferno.
“You can rest your hand across my legs,” she prompted.
“Can I?” He sounded like an overeager teenager, but he didn’t care. Apparently it didn’t bother her either, because as he laid his palm right above her knee, his wrist brushing her other knee, she let out a soft moan. How soon could he kiss her again?
“You could put your other hand on my arm, shoulder, neck, or even in my hair,” she said so quietly he barely heard her.
His heart was hammering so fast. He loved her suggestions. He took his right hand and slid it along her arm, up to her shoulder, across that smooth neck, and then entangled his fingers in her silky hair.
“Perfect,” she whispered, smiling up at him as if he’d just defeated an entire terrorist contingent.
“Do you mind if we turn off the fireplace?” he asked. The room was far too warm.
She laughed, picked up the remote on the small table next to her and clicked it off. The room got a little darker. He hoped he hadn’t ruined any fireplace romance, but him sweaty and stinky wouldn’t be impressive to her either.
He rubbed his fingers along her scalp, and she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. She probably was exhausted.
“Do you need to rest?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes opened. “Do you mean rest rest orrest?” She pumped her eyebrows.
He grinned. He could do this. “I’d love torest,but Holly was right that you have been through a lot the past few days. I want to do what’s best for you.”
She shifted closer and his hand was suddenly across her thighs instead of her knees and her hand rested on his abdomen. He was sweating. Good thing they’d turned the fireplace off.
“You’re what’s best for me, Rambo,” she said softly, blinking those long lashes up at him and enticingly biting at her lower lip.
“Am I?” he asked. It was hard to believe. Though he was still ticked about the way her dad had treated her, he didn’t blame the guy for instinctively knowing Zeke was nowhere near good enough for this captivating angel.
“I love how you can strut over here and look like you’re the king of the world and yet you’re humble. Selfless. You have this innocence about you that I would never have guessed looking from the outside in …” She peered up at him. “Zeke. Have you ever kissed a woman before me?”
He stared at her, thinking he should probably laugh at such a question. He was thirty years old. Of course he’d kissed women. Well, mostly they’d kissed him and he’d tried to not shove them away, more a gentle distancing except for with Rachel.
A horrifying thought hit him, and he couldn’t stop himself from asking the humiliating question. “Was I horrible at kissing?”
She did laugh, and his stomach sank. “No, Rambo, no.” She ran her hand up to his face and tilted it toward her. “You were absolutely fantastic at it. Those kisses in the entryway … best kisses of my life. Absolute ace, I promise.”
He relaxed a little, hoping she wasn’t just trying to make him feel better. “Okay.”