Page 16 of Boomer
Gott help her,he was blowing her up all right, straight out of the water.
This just wasn’t fair.
She stepped out, managing a tight nod, and started toward the doors. The badge finally appeared, clipped to her jacket pocket, and she swiped it without looking at him, praying the swipe would distract from the heat rising in her cheeks.
The door clicked open. She stepped forward and his hand touched the small of her back.
A warm press through the thin fabric of her blouse, instinctive, natural, unconscious.
But it hit like a match to dry kindling, grounding, gentle, as if guiding her forward was his default setting.
She inhaled sharply. Her knees nearly buckled. Her entire nervous system lit up like a wire had been stripped bare and suddenly live. He didn’t say a word. She didn’t either. But every cell in her body screamed the truth. She was in major trouble.
Then her body betrayed her. She caught the edge of the doorframe with the toe of her boot and stumbled like a rookie, pitching forward. It wasn’t much, just a quick misstep. But her balance slipped, and she tensed for the inevitable collision with the floor.
Boomer moved faster than she thought a man his size could, reflexive, instinctive. One arm snapped around her waist, the other braced her shoulder, and suddenly she wasn’t falling. She washeld.Held against him.
Her chest slammed into his with a quiet, muffled thud. Muscle and heat and something solid enough to shake the breath out of her.
Just like that, she was surrounded. Her breath caught as she looked up and found her face inches from his. All she had to do was rise onto her toes. That was it. One small lift, and her mouth would be on his.
His eyes.
Dark forest green, burnished with gold, framed in lashes that didn’t belong on a man who broke things for a living. Everything inside her felt hot and disoriented. Her fingers had fisted in the fabric of his T-shirt without permission, and she was suddenlyawareof everything.
His height. How her frame fit into his like something made for it.The curve of his hand against her lower back. The press of his palm, warm, wide, wanting.The way her heart stuttered at the idea of that hand against her skin. She inhaled, trying for logic, for oxygen, foranything. But all she got was him. Heat and gravity and memory andwant.Her mind screamed for composure. Her body whispereddon’t move.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, too close, too careful.
That slow, rough Southern drawl that could read off a shipping manifest and still make her toes curl. How the hell was she supposed to function,focus,day in and day out, withthatfloating in the air like steam off asphalt?
“I’m…not sure,” she murmured, hating how soft the words came out.
She pulled back, breath catching, and only then did she hear the vans pull up outside the open door, approaching footsteps.
The rest of the teams.
Of course.
She stepped away fast, like it hadn’t happened, like she hadn’t just been cradled against a furnace of muscle and scent. Boomer stepped aside, too, like the gentleman he always was, gracious, unfazed, so respectful itinfuriated her.
She turned, posture crisp, chin lifted as the two teams filed in.
“I am sending your room assignments via an app, and it’ll also be your keycard,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even, trying not to let it drop into that husky register that betrayed exactly how close she still was to unraveling. “Follow me.”
They moved into the interior compound. These rooms had to be efficient but well-appointed since diplomats stayed here as well as military types. Clean, neutral-toned rooms. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you the armory, your cages for your gear, and give you a tour of the facility. There will be two enlisted to a room.” She stopped at the first set of doors. “Skull, you’ll be solo with Bones. We removed the second bed to make room for his crate.”
Skull nodded, then opened the door and went inside.
“Preacher and Kodiak, here.” Then she moved on to the next room. “Hazard and GQ.” Then the next door down. “Boomer and Breakneck.” She didn’t look at him as she said it. She didn’thaveto.It was almost a relief when he and the blue-eyed boy wonder went inside. “Master Chief Snow. You will also be solo as well as Anna.”
Anna smiled and, with a soft sigh, entered her room. Then Taylor moved on to the Brits, assigning them their quarters with brisk neutrality, no room for chatter, same setup, except Captain Lockhart was solo. Just as she was wrapping up, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, relieved for the distraction until she saw the name on the screen.
Her boss, Comandante Raul Esteves, Maritime Operations Coordinator, Portuguese Navy Liaison to MAOC (N).
She stepped back and answered. “Hoffman.”
“I forgot to mention,” he said casually, like he was asking her to pick up coffee. “You’ll be bunking at the base with the teams. It’ll streamline briefings and deployments. You’ll be fully embedded until further notice.”
