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  Stu pushed himself off the wall. “No, sir.”

  With a smug smile Calhoun passed the items in his hands to Hilary, then looked her up and down as she put her glasses back on and visibly pulled herself together. “You okay, Hilary?”

  She nodded rapidly but couldn’t speak.

  “You might want to have that bump on your head looked at,” he added, proving there was little that escaped him. “I’m going to need to keep your phone,” he added, apologetically. “I take it I can reach Hilary via yours, Rudolph?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The suggestion of a smile took years off Calhoun’s craggy face. “Get the hell out of here,” he ordered them mildly. “Just don’t go too far. I’ll need statements from you tomorrow.”

  As Stu drew Hilary toward the exit, Calhoun called out, “Hey, leave that vest in my truck.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Stu cast Calhoun a grateful backward glance. Pushing the door open, he swept Hilary outside into a sweet-smelling twilight and toward a future spent together.

  Chapter Ten

  Standing just inside the door of Stu’s hotel room, Hilary willed herself to shake off the memories of that evening. Even with Stu’s arms firmly around her, the trembling that had taken hold following her rescue had yet to subside.

  It was out of sympathy for her emotional state that Stu had agreed to forego the emergency room to have her head looked at. She hadn’t wanted to be subjected to an MRI. All she needed was to be lulled into knowing she was safe again.

  Stu had been astute enough to bring her to his hotel, in lieu of her apartment, where thoughts of Elias and how he’d duped her would keep her from relaxing.

  “Let’s get cleaned up,” Stu suggested, leading her into the adjoining bathroom.

  White shelves and dove-gray granite filled Hilary’s peripheral vision as her gaze went straight to her reflection. The sight of her mussed hair and streaked makeup brought a whimper of dismay to her lips. Not to mention the bump on her forehead, which was starting to turn an ugly purple.

  “You’re beautiful,” Stu assured her, apparently reading her thoughts. Then he frowned at her reflection. “What’s that?”

  Tipping her chin up, he peered at her neck while she watched him in the mirror, admiring the tilt of his dark head, scarcely able to comprehend that they’d both escaped such peril alive.

  She immediately guessed what he was looking at. “That’s where Elias pricked me with a knife to get me to keep driving.”

  “Bastard!” Stu exclaimed, releasing her with a possessive once-over. He reached decisively for the faucet and turned on the water. Grabbing a fluffy white washcloth from the neatly folded pile, he wet it, then tenderly dabbed at the dried blood, cleaning the wound with soap so it wouldn’t fester.

  A sudden urge to cleanse her entire body made Hilary declare, “I want a shower.” She kicked off her leopard-print heels, which she couldn’t believe had stayed on through her whole ordeal, and started peeling off her dress.

  Stu took the cue to turn on the shower. With it running, he brushed her hands aside and continued to divest her of her outerwear.

  Watching in the mirror, Hilary started to forget the evening’s recent horrors. Stu laid her jade-green dress carefully atop the counter. Considering her practical bra and panties, he looked up at her with a rueful smile. They both knew if she’d known they would end up together that night, she wouldn’t be wearing plain white cotton.

  Brushing her spine with gentle fingers, Stu released the catch on her bra. When he slid the straps from her shoulders, she shivered. The bra fell away, exposing her generous, pink-tipped breasts. Stu drew an audible breath. Standing behind her, she could feel his erection through his slacks as he cupped her fullness then gently thumbed her nipples, causing them to flush and crown.

  As pleasure arced low between her hips, Hilary let her head fall back on Stu’s shoulder. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the solid wall of his body and offered her neck to him. The bristles on his jaw tickled her, raising gooseflesh on her thighs and forearms.

  His large hands skimmed the hourglass curves of her body to divest her of her underwear. Wriggling free of it, she turned to face him, then tackled his own clothing with rising gusto. This was exactly what she needed to forget her brush with death. Under her deft fingers, his shirt came undone, revealing a crisp white T-shirt beneath.

  He helped to discard the outer layers, revealing an expanse of taut muscle and smooth skin, lightly furred between his pecs. The muscles in his abdomen tensed as she stroked a trembling hand up his chest to run her fingers though the soft hair there.

  “God, Stu, you look even better than I imagined,” she murmured, putting her lips on one dusky nipple and tonguing the tiny firm peak.

  Her hands tackled his belt with fervor. When she couldn’t release it fast enough, he assisted her, jerking it open, then shucking his slacks and boxer briefs before she had the chance to remove them herself.

  “In,” he said, opening the shower curtain and indicating with a jerk of his head and a hungry glint in his dark eyes for her to step inside the steaming enclosure.

  She did as he requested, wetting her body and tearing into the wrapped bar of soap in her eagerness to explore him. She managed to soap his broad chest before he wrested it away from her.

  “This is about you,” he said, rubbing the soap into the washcloth sitting in a tidy roll on the narrow shelf beside them.

  He devoted the next five minutes to lathering every tense muscle in her body, from her neck and shoulders to her toes. By the time he straightened and quickly soaped himself, Hilary felt thoroughly cleansed. Her skin tingled and her muscles felt pliant. Through heavy lidded eyes, she drank in the sight of him, splendidly aroused with soap suds sliding down his thighs. In the next moment, she found herself sinking to her knees.

  Stu muttered something in protest.

  “I have to,” she insisted. She needed to put her lips on him, to taste him, to feel him filling her.

  Steadying himself with a hand on the wall, and with a groan of surrender, Stu let her have her way, but not for long. Within a minute, he was pulling her to her feet and claiming her lips under his. She immediately coiled her arms around his water-slick shoulders and held on while he ravaged her mouth.

  Desire stormed Hilary’s arteries. Not a single memory of her recent horror surfaced to ruin the moment. Her eager hands coursed Stu’s body, thrilling in every inch she touched, reveling in the feel of his possessive touch. Her mewls of wantonness blended with the patter of water in a duet of sensuality.

  “I need you,” she muttered against his chest. “I need you now.”

  “We should go to the bedroom,” he offered, but then his fingers slid into the slippery spot between her thighs, and she knew he was as eager as she was.

  Gasping, she lifted one foot to the edge of the tub to give him access. Rocking her hips, Hilary showed him what pleased her. He slid two fingers inside of her, answering her silent plea for more.

  “Stu!” Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she welcomed his fervent stroking.

  But it wasn’t enough. She needed him to claim her for his own. Once she was his, the last vestiges of fear still clinging to her would dissipate like water down the drain.

  “Take me now,” she begged against his lips, her voice a husky whisper. “Take me right here.”

  He didn’t argue. With a determined expression, he backed her against the cool tiles, hooked his arms around her upper thighs, and lifted her. Hilary coiled her legs around his hips, securing her hold on him. The head of his sex teased her opening, making her want to sob with desire.

  “Please, Stu,” she cried, gripping his shoulders with helpless wanting.

  By way of an answer, he filled her with his tumescence, covered her mouth with his, and surged his tongue between her parted lips to mimic the dance of their hips.

  The sensation of him filling her, filling her to completion, of knowing it was Stu—finally, at
long last—was beyond anything Hilary had ever felt before. Her rapture overflowed, first in rivulets and then, as the rhythm of his powerful thrusts increased, in a current that impelled her toward a shattering climax.

  The walls of the steamy chamber echoed with her cry of ecstasy. With a groan of fervent agreement, he buried his face in her hair and shuddered, again and again, nearly losing his grip on her as his climax shook him.

  They both seemed to melt. Hilary’s back slid down the wall until her feet touched the bottom of the tub. Stu sank forward, pinning her between himself and the warmed tiles. They shared the same oxygen. Their lips brushed and lingered as aftershocks of their pleasure sparked over them like fireflies.

  Reaching out with a long arm, Stu twisted the faucet to turn the shower off.

  In the quiet that followed, the only sound was that of their heavy breathing and the tub draining. Gazing deeply into the bottomless depths of Stuart Rudolph’s chocolate-colored eyes, Hilary acknowledged that a new chapter of her life had just begun.

  “I love you,” she murmured, stroking the slick wet hair at the nape of his neck.

  For the longest time, he looked at her, his gaze touching on her lips, her breasts, the bump on her head.

  “Marry me,” he said, unexpectedly.

  Hilary gaped at him. Perhaps, with his special mind, Stu didn’t realize this wasn’t necessarily the best time for a proposal. She had nearly been killed today. They were standing naked in a bathtub, for heaven’s sake!

  “Umm.” She licked a droplet of water off her upper lip.

  He straightened with a look of dawning alarm. “Did I say the wrong thing?” he asked on a note of genuine concern.

  “No.” Her impulse was to reassure him. “It was perfect,” she soothed. True, she had always pictured a typical proposal with the man down on one knee, ring glinting in a velvet-lined box. She doubted Stu had anything like that on hand, but the question had come from his heart, unpracticed and genuine, and that was reward enough.

  “Yes,” she said, and the confidence in her voice reassured her. “I will.”

  A smile of wonder lit his face.

  “I’d be honored,” she added, pressing a kiss to his lips. That answer, she had to admit, was one that she’d rehearsed. But Stu didn’t need to know that.

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this story to readers who have read all of my books. This may be the last Marliss Melton title, at least for a while. Please look for my Inspired Warriors series to be written by my alter ego, Rebecca Hartt. The first book, RETURNING TO EDEN, is a fresh take on my first SEAL Team Twelve book, FORGET ME NOT. If you have loved my stories, you may wish to preorder RETURNING TO EDEN. Bless you for your loyalty!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  What can I say? Penny Doyle, Deborah Whaley, and Jan Albertie—you three ladies are a treasure. I have valued your keen eyes and your dedication like a secret treasure. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for being my beta readers.

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  MARLISS MELTON

  Echo Platoon series

  LOOK AGAIN (Novella #1, permanently free)

  DANGER CLOSE

  HARD LANDING

  FRIENDLY FIRE

  NEVER FORGET (short novel)

  HOT TARGET

  TAKE COVER, a novella

  Taskforce series

  THE PROTECTOR

  THE GUARDIAN

  THE ENFORCER

  Navy SEAL Team 12 series

  FORGET ME NOT

  IN THE DARK

  TIME TO RUN

  NEXT TO DIE

  CODE OF SILENCE, a novella

  TOO FAR GONE

  LONG GONE, a novella

  SHOW NO FEAR