Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,49

He nibbled on her upper lip before the tip of his tongue danced along the seam of her lips. Opening her mouth in a silent but hopeful invitation, her belly swooshed as his tongue slid inside, tangling with hers as it explored.

Her fingers clenched his shoulders, bunching the material of his shirt in her grip, and his arm banded tightly around her middle, pressing her front to his. The kiss never flamed wild and hot, not like she knew it could, but instead filled her senses, letting her know the attraction and longing weren’t one-sided. She angled her head, wanting more, deeper, everything, but he pulled back slightly.

Opening her eyes, she wanted to howl in protest at the loss of his mouth on hers, but his lips curved and the sight captured and held her attention. Everything she had seen in his photograph… the calm, quiet, reserved, loyal, duty-bound, dedicated friend and soldier was still there, just now in the flesh and pressed against her.

“Stay,” she whispered, the word pulled from the depths of her soul.

He said nothing. Embarrassed, her fingers started to unclench their grip on his shoulders.

“You need to sleep.” His words were guttural, almost tortured.

Licking her kiss-swollen lips, she pressed onward. “So, stay. Stay and sleep.” She watched as his gaze shot toward her living room, and without turning her head to see that he’d focused on her small sofa, she continued. “Sleep with me. Just sleep. My house may be a wreck, but my bed is comfortable. We can sleep for a couple of hours, and I’ll fix you a real breakfast when we wake.”

Again, he remained quiet, and she could tell nothing of his thoughts. Relaxing her stance, she started to step back only to find his grip tightening. Her breath halted, her fingers flexing at the feel of his hands on her.

“Yeah.”

A slow smile curved her lips. “Yeah?”

His face was transformed as his slight smile met hers. “Yeah.” His hand slid from her back to her arm, trailing a path as he reached her hand and linked fingers. Turning, he led her down the short hall, allowing her to move into her bedroom first.

She stepped inside, nerves making her stomach flutter. Looking around, she had no idea what to do. Change into PJs. Pull the covers down. Ask if he wanted a spare toothbrush.

“Stop worrying,” he ordered, his voice gentle, giving her hand a little tug to draw her attention back to his face. “You’ve had enough worry to deal with.” He inclined his head toward the bathroom. “Take care of what you need. Get comfortable. I’ll send a couple of texts, and then when you're finished, I’ll do the same. Then we’ll grab a couple of hours of sleep. Yeah?”

Nodding, she was glad he was able to so succinctly voice what she needed to focus on. “Yeah.” Turning, she hustled into the bathroom and took the fastest shower she’d ever had, all the time trying—and failing—to not think of John Roster in her bedroom while she was naked. Braiding her long, wet hair, she moisturized and brushed her teeth. Unearthing an extra toothbrush from the ones given to her by the dentist, she laid it next to the sink, then stepped out wearing pajama bottoms and a sleep T-shirt.

Her feet stumbled at the sight of John, his hip leaning casually against her dresser, the man she’d daydreamed about for months.

He looked up from his phone and sent his gaze moving from her wet hair down to her bare toes and back again. Grinning, he kissed the top of her head as he passed her and headed into the bathroom. Blowing out a breath, she walked to her bed, hesitated for just a few seconds, and then jerked the covers back and climbed into bed. The shower started again, and now she tried—and failed—to think of anything but a naked John Roster.

Yawning, she glanced at the clock, knowing she had been awake for twenty-four hours, and wondered if she could sleep. She yawned again, her eyes growing heavy, the worry and fatigue of her misadventures having sapped her energy. Blinking scratchy eyes, she decided to make sure she was on her half of the bed before he came out and curled up on her side, fluffed the pillow, and closed her eyes as she waited for him.

Then she fell asleep.

John stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel about his waist, unable to believe that he was still in her house. I should