Charlotte Hawkes – Encounter with a Commanding Officer (страница 7)

He would control it. Just as he always controlled his emotions these days.

Dragging himself back to reality, he was just in time to see Fliss peering crossly at his right shoulder. He resisted the urge to twist away, knowing it was too late.

‘What’s that?’ she demanded.

He gritted his teeth. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘There’s a dark stain discolouring the fabric and it looks suspiciously like blood,’ she accused. ‘Did you think that just because it’s called multi-terrain camouflage pattern I wouldn’t spot it?’

‘It’s probably Corporal Hollings’s blood.’

The dark look she cast him actually made him ache. It was as though she actually...cared.

Something inside him cracked. The faintest hairline fracture, but it was there all the same.

‘What, after you’ve grabbed a shower and changed? Anyway, the line’s too neat for that. It looks as though someone’s tried to patch it up and it has seeped through the sides of a bandage,’ she said pointedly.

‘I advise you to lower your voice,’ murmured Ash, equally pointedly.

Her head jerked up sharply. He couldn’t blame her; she’d hardly been shouting but he had no idea who else might be around. She cast him a disappointed gaze.

‘Are you going to pretend you’re fine? Because I can tell you now that the macho soldier doesn’t impress me.’

‘So you think I’m trying to impress you? Do I need to remind you that I may not be your CO, but I am still a CO?’

She flushed but stood her ground. It was a trait he’d got to know very quickly. And one he liked. A lot.

‘As you wish, Colonel. But do I need to remind you that, CO or not, when it comes to medical issues I have ultimate authority, even over you?’

She was so damned sexy when she was being combative. As though she couldn’t bear to relinquish control any more than he could.

‘That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not discussing this here.’

‘So it is macho pride?’ She shot him another disappointed gaze. ‘I was beginning to think better of you. But, either way, you will show me that wound, Colonel.’

Unexpectedly, she marched up the corridor, unlocked a supply room door and held it open with a jerk of her hand to command him inside.

‘Or do I have to physically manhandle you in here?’ she muttered.

He’d like to see her try. He swallowed down a wicked grin. Scratch that, he wouldn’t like to see her try. He was barely controlling the impulse to pull her closer and kiss that defiant glower right off her delectable mouth as it was. Having her touch him, in any capacity, would be like striking the damn match.

He hesitated, then consented to enter the room, his voice low but clear.

‘It’s not about macho pride, as you call it. As you pointed out so succinctly yesterday, my men have already lost one colonel and morale is low. I don’t want it sinking even further because they caught wind of some rumour that their new CO had also been injured.’

A pretty flush spread up and over her neck as she realised the truth of his words. Ash wasn’t sure what was cuter, the Major mad at him or the Major embarrassed by him. Still, she recovered quickly enough. Or at least that was what she wanted him to think.

‘What’s more, injured on your first sortie,’ she pointed out shakily.

He couldn’t keep the wry tone out of his voice. ‘Indeed.’

Checking the corridor, she closed the door behind them and gestured to him to join her beside a clear countertop.

‘Take your shirt off, and whatever layers you’re wearing underneath, and let me see that wound properly.’

So clipped, so professional, but Ash thought he heard the faintest quiver beneath. For a moment he debated the wisdom of being in this claustrophobic room, half-naked and alone with a woman he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off, at least in the privacy of his own head.

And what about the scars?

He’d never worried about his scars before. He was an infantry soldier; other men who’d seen them knew better than to ask, and women who’d seen them had swallowed whatever superficial story he’d thrown at them.

But the Major?

Ash had a feeling she would be able to see right through him.

He locked his jaw irritably. Since when did it matter to him what she—what anyone—thought? Hooking his fingers under the layers, he pulled them over his head in one smooth movement before folding his arms, seemingly casually, over his chest.

With something approaching satisfaction, he heard the air whoosh out of her lungs, saw her pupils dilating as she backed up further. She was fighting it, this attraction. And yet, even as she did so, her eyes didn’t stop raking over him, with the results as real as if she’d actually raked her fingernails across his skin instead. His body burned up with desire.

They just had to get through this before he gave in to his baser instincts and, for the first time in his career on an active tour of duty, mixed his Army life with his personal one.

Every time he thought he was back in control, she slipped beneath the surface and unravelled all his iron-clad control like a kitten would toy with a ball of yarn. Suddenly, he didn’t want to fight it any more. He wanted to know how it would feel to give in—just this once—and steal one perfect kiss from those plump, quivering lips.

One kiss.

No, he’d survived ambushes, engaged in fifty-hour firefights and fought with the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. He’d pick any one of those over letting this woman get close enough to sneak behind his armour.

Just one kiss.

It was a constant battle between his baser instincts and his brain. Only an animal couldn’t control their baser instincts, he warned himself contemptuously. Besides, this woman could hurt him more than any enemy could.

But just one kiss.

* * *

The man was magnificent.

Her heart couldn’t work out whether to race or to miss beats, her eyes seemed riveted on the well-honed physique to which even her imagination hadn’t done justice and her nostrils filled with a fresh, citrusy shower gel scent mingled with the undertones of leather. Ever since she’d mentioned the shower, standing back in that corridor, she hadn’t been able to stop mentally placing him under the hot flow of water as it cascaded over those broad shoulders and down that all too sculpted physique. His proximity was so damned consuming.

‘Can you see it from there, or are you going to come a little closer?’ Deep and sensual, his voice reverberated through her, body-slamming her and sending heat pooling between her legs.

‘I need supplies first,’ she hedged.

Another eyebrow quirk. ‘Without inspecting the wound?’

She felt decidedly rattled. Whatever had happened to ‘stick of rock’ Fliss, with Army Rules and Regulations stamped right through her? She scrambled for an excuse not to step closer until she was sure she wouldn’t do something as improper as running her hands over him.

But what would it be like to feel those beautiful muscles bunching beneath her palms? Those callused fingers grazing her soft skin?

‘I can tell from here it’s going to need suturing,’ she lied, coughing to clear her throat.

In all her years within the military she had never—not once—fantasised about a fellow soldier. Fliss stopped abruptly.

Come to think of it, she had never in her life fantasised about anyone.

She hadn’t been able to see what purpose a fantasy served. No one before had ever set her pulse racing or filled her with such a raw need that her whole body actually trembled at the thought of their touch.

And then the Colonel had come along and she’d stood in that tent and felt as though she’d been hit by an armoured tank. Being in the field with him and seeing him in action, working with him in such harmony as though they’d known each other for years, had only intensified the attraction.

She’d seen a fair few heroes in her role as an army trauma doctor, but the Colonel was the stuff of action films. And he had something more, something harder, some inner drive. She’d been given a taste of what he was capable of, how loyal he was, and the physical attraction had expanded into something more.

It frightened her even as it excited her.

He’s just a man.

She tried to push the tumultuous emotions from her brain but, even now, he dominated the space, his backside resting on the countertop, his long, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed casually over the other. Her heart hammered so fast she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t tear her eyes from his body. The tiny room practically pulsed with his dark, powerful energy, sliding under her skin and into her veins to flutter wildly at her neck. His eyes slid to her pulse as if he could read her thoughts, swiftly followed up with his lips thinning as if in distaste.

It was a rejection she recognised all too well.

Hurt cut through her. Enough to kick-start her sense of self-preservation. What was she thinking, imagining a guy like him could really be interested in someone like her?

Focus, Fliss.

‘Right, let me inspect the wound,’ she bit out, shaking back hair which wasn’t there and advancing as confidently as she could, hands outstretched.

He braced himself. Only a fraction of a second but she didn’t miss it. Heat suffused her cheeks. He could read her silly schoolgirl crush and was embarrassed on her behalf. It was all she could do not to turn and flee.