Chapter 875
He took a deep, deliberate breath, inhaling the fragrance of her skin, her hair.
“Yours,” he murmured, and then he kissed her again.
This time, the kiss was soft, reassuring, a promise. And this time, Caroline didn’t fight it. She closed her eyes and let herself fall.
The second kiss was a gentle truce. When it ended, he didn’t let her go. He pulled her closer, wrapping his left arm around her, the splint a rigid presence against her back, and rested his chin on the top of her head.
Caroline leaned against his chest, the solid, steady rhythm of his heartbeat a calming anchor in the storm of her emotions. The questions, the doubts, they were still there, but for now, she allowed herself this moment of peace.
His voice rumbled against her ear, laced with a dark, teasing humor. “So, do I need to find a new aftershave?”
He was mocking her, gently, about the cedar and leather.
She buried her face in his uniform, her reply muffled but defiant. “Maybe you should get a new air freshener for your office.”
A low chuckle escaped him. He loved that about her. Even now, in his arms, a part of her was still fighting, still refusing to completely surrender.
He tightened his embrace, his tone turning serious. “I promise you, Caroline. She is nothing to me. A ghost from a past I’ve buried.”
It was a half-truth, a simplification of a far more complex story, but it was the only truth he could give her. And in that moment, she chose to believe it.
“And my evaluation?” she asked softly, pulling the conversation back to his original deception. “Was there really a risk of a concussion?”
His body tensed for a fraction of a second. “No,” he admitted, his voice rough. “It was a pretext. An excuse to get you here.”
His honesty was both disarming and infuriating.
She pulled back just enough to glare up at him. “So you lied to me again.”
He looked down at her, at her pouting lips and angry eyes, and found her utterly irresistible. He leaned in and stole a quick, hard kiss.
“Tactical deception,” he murmured against her mouth. “Necessary to achieve a strategic objective.”
He pulled back, his grey eyes locking onto hers, intense and serious. “My strategic objective,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, possessive whisper, “is you.”
The anger dissolved. How could she stay mad at him when he said things like that?
Just as the warmth of his words began to spread through her, a polite, pointed cough sounded from just outside the door.
Jarrod instantly released her, his posture shifting, his face snapping back into the cold, impenetrable mask of the commanding officer.
Dr. Reed entered, holding a file, her expression one of professional innocence. “Well, Corporal Thompson, since the Colonel has personally confirmed you’re not suffering from any ill effects, you’re cleared to return to your barracks.”
Her words were laced with a good-natured, knowing humor.