Page 21 of Stolen Hearts

He pulled her to her feet, and he ignored all the questioning stares as he led her into the darkness.

He didn’t let her go, and she didn’t pull away. His brain felt like he’d just walked into the thick fog of a flash-bang used to disorient enemies, and his head ached like always. Somehow, he managed to guide them far away from the fire.

The black shapes of cattle grazing in the pasture and the silhouette of the mountain soaring high into dark sky were their only witnesses.

He stopped and turned to her. Christ, she was even more beautiful than he remembered, even from the memories etched in his mind. She fisted her hands, as if holding back a flood, and inched them toward her pockets.

His stare locked on hers, fierce and unyielding. “Is there a man in your life?”

Her eyes widened a fraction, but it was enough for him to catch. She shook her head, hair brushing on her coat. “No.”

He took an abrupt step closer. “Christ, Rhae. Where did you come from? How did you get here?”

She leaned in, and her face tipped up.

Unable to stop himself, he cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her silky hair, and lowered his lips to hers.

Her hands moved to his chest, but not to push him away. His heart thundered under her touch.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was raw and unrestrained. Months of longing filled him with desperation. His lungs burned with a growl of ownership he couldn’t release.

Angling his head, he deepened the kiss, plundering her sweet mouth and pulling little cries from her, the same noises that haunted his damn dreams.

He yanked her against him, pouring unasked questions into the kiss and receiving no answer in return, but she was here. With him.

She melted, going on tiptoe, delving her fingers into his hair that was longer than it had been in a decade or more, as if he might vanish if she let him go.

His lips moved across hers with an unwavering knowledge of her body, and she responded with the hunger of a woman who had been starved far too long.

A soft gasp against his mouth made him tighten his hold on her as he swallowed the sound and deepened the kiss even more, bracketing her face with his hands.

When they finally broke away, he was breathless and she was trembling. Hell, he might be trembling too, if he could ever admit a man like him was capable of such a thing.

Dropping his forehead against hers, he stared into her eyes, glimmering in the faint light of a moon tucked behind a shield of clouds.

“You’re here,” he whispered again.

Her thumb brushed the spot on his cheek that felt like it belonged to her—over the dimple that appeared when he smiled. His brothers-in-arms liked to tease him about it, but he always told them the ladies loved it.

Only one lady mattered.

“You’re here,” she whispered in response.

A quiet cry cut through the night, shattering the delicate spell between them. Rhae whipped around at the sound of her child—their child. Her instinct was as sharp and palpable as a SEAL’s.

His hand slipped from her waist, and he looked toward the glow of the fire.

“That’s Navy.”

He took her hand. “I’ll walk you back.”

He didn’t let go of her hand, even when the firelight grew brighter and they stepped into the circle in full view of his family and the ranch guys. The laughter surrounding them faded as they watched Denver and Rhae take their seats they’d abandoned in such a hurry.

Rhae looked to her baby cradled in Willow’s arms.

“She just woke up when I took her from Dutch. She’s settled now.”

Willow’s stare landed on him. She shifted the baby toward him, brow arched in question.

---