Chapter 455

[ 505 words ]

Chapter 455:

He kicked off his dusty combat boots, the thud loud in the quiet tent. Without removing the rest of his uniform, he stretched out on his side, facing her.

He made no move to touch her, no attempt at intimacy. He simply lay there, his body a tense line of exhaustion. Then, slowly, he shifted, wrapping one arm loosely around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his breath warm against her hair.

It wasn’t a gesture of passion, but of anchor. He was tethering himself to her, the only solid thing in his world.

Nestled in the familiar curve of his body, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, Caroline finally allowed herself to relax. The tension drained from her own muscles, and within minutes, she was asleep.

The first light of dawn was a thin, gray line filtering through a gap in the tent canvas. Caroline stirred, her body stiff and sore, but the deep, gnawing ache of exhaustion had finally receded. She was aware of the solid warmth of a body pressed against her back and the loose weight of a forearm resting over the blanket near her waist.

She shifted slightly, turning her head. Jarrod was still sound asleep, his face relaxed in a way she had never seen before. The hard lines were gone, replaced by a boyish vulnerability. His right arm remained locked against his chest inside the heavy brace, and his splinted left hand lay lax on the blanket, close enough to keep contact but unable to hold her properly. A profound sense of peace settled over her.

Carefully, she tried to slide out from under the light, awkward weight of his left forearm, needing to use the makeshift latrine and get some water. The moment she moved, his body went rigid behind her, his forearm tightening only slightly before pain or the brace stopped the motion.

He didn’t open his eyes, but a low, sleep-rough murmur rumbled from his chest. “Don’t move.”

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She froze, a small, exasperated smile touching her lips. “I just need to get some water, Jarrod.”

He slowly blinked his eyes open. They were clearer now, the angry red of exhaustion faded, but they held a sleepy, sensual haze that was just as dangerous. He looked at her, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face.

Instead of letting her go, he shifted closer with slow, deliberate care, his movements stiff around the brace. He did not roll smoothly over her. He could not. His right arm stayed trapped against his chest, and his left hand was too damaged to bear weight, so he used his shoulder and the narrow mattress to angle himself nearer until his face hovered above hers. He lowered his head and gave her a long, languid good-morning kiss. It was a kiss of pure possession, slow and deep, a stark contrast to the desperate, frantic kiss from the night before. This was a claim being reasserted, a territory being marked.

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