Chapter 896

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscle of his legs tangled with hers. And she could feel something else. The undeniable, rigid proof of his arousal pressed against her belly.

The air in the cave, already thick, became charged, dangerous.

He cleared his throat, a rough sound in the quiet. He shifted slightly, trying to create a sliver of distance that wasn’t there.

“You, uh…” he started, his voice strained. “You’re on your period.”

He gestured with his chin toward the fire. Lying on a flat, clean rock was a small, neat pile of soft moss and a few squares of white gauze from his survival kit, torn by his teeth into rough, uneven strips, arranged as neatly as his one functional hand could manage. A makeshift pad.

The sight of it, the sheer, unexpected thoughtfulness of it, broke through her embarrassment. This man, this warrior who commanded armies and fell from the sky, had taken the time to solve this most intimate, most mundane of problems for her.

A wave of warmth, entirely different from the fire, spread through her. It was a complex mix of gratitude, affection, and a sudden, wicked sense of amusement.

She decided to push him. Just a little.

She snuggled closer, deliberately rubbing against him, her voice a low, husky purr. “Oh? You took care of that for me too, Colonel? Is there anything you can’t do?”

The words were meant as a joke, a lighthearted jab born of relief and a newfound sense of safety.

But in the charged intimacy of the cave, they were a lit match tossed into a pool of gasoline.

His entire body went rigid. A deep, guttural sound, halfway between a groan and a growl, was torn from his chest. His self-control, already stretched to its absolute limit by the trauma of the last few hours and the feel of her naked body against his, finally snapped.

His breathing became harsh, ragged. He looked down at her, and the man who had been her gentle protector was gone. In his place was a predator, his eyes burning with a raw, primal hunger that terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.

She saw it then, the mistake she had made. She had played with a fire she didn’t understand.

She went completely still, her own breath catching in her throat.

He stared at her, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped violently. He was fighting a war inside himself, a battle against an instinct so powerful it was shaking his entire frame.

He knew. He knew if he stayed there, holding her, for one more second, he would take her. And he would not, could not, do that to her now. Not when she was weak, vulnerable, and utterly dependent on him.

With a sudden, violent movement, he tore himself away from her. He practically threw the parachute lining over her, covering her completely.

The abrupt loss of his warmth was a shock.

He surged to his feet, his back to her. His entire body was a taut line of agonizing restraint.

“Stay here,” he ground out, his voice a choked, unrecognizable rasp. “Don’t come out.”