Wingman Warriors - Grayson's Surrender Part 15

She stared back for at least ten racing heartbeats, joined, connected, throbbing, neither of them moving.

Deep within her, she felt him, wanted more of him. Her hands trembled on his back. Had he meant to be here, inside her? "Gray?"

He tore himself from her, growling as he flung himself onto his back. Air washed over her body, nearly freezing her, disappointment finishing the job. Just when she thought she would die from the loss, the hurt, he reached for her. Gray gathered her to his side with hands far from steady, rea.s.suring her that all was not lost.

Her fingers skipped a determined path down his chest. "Come on, flyboy. Don't crash and burn on me now."

His chest pumping, he turned to her. A pained smile stretched his face. One of his shaking hands swept back Lori's hair from her face. "Hold on while I regain control of the jet. She's quite a handful today."

Her fingers walked lower. "I'll say."

Gray's eyes slid closed as he groaned, his fist knotting in her hair. "Lori, slow down, hon. You're killing me here. I need to think."

Forget slowing and thinking. Reason could well land their feet back on the floor. "Wanna play wounded Allied pilot and saucy French nurse?"

"Only if I get to be the pilot this time."

Laughing, Lori rolled on top of him, enjoying the lazy trek of his fingers down her spine. "I'm willing to negotiate."

s.e.x with Gray had always been fun, and she'd missed it. More than she could have imagined. "Please don't say you like me too much to finish this time. I might well have to hurt you."

"No intentions of stopping, hon. I believe we're both way past that right now." He cupped her hips in his hands, keeping her a safe distance above him. "Just taking care of details first."

"Details?"

"Birth control."

"Birth control?" Old arguments stampeded over her. His refusal to consider marriage. Her need for children to love. Her decision to go on the pill to buy them both time to think and explore their feelings.

"Are you still on the pill?" he asked, a desperate edge darkening his words as his grip tightened on her hips.

She'd begun taking them just before their breakup, and had promptly thrown them in the trash after. Eating an entire bowl of raw cookie dough hadn't come close to making her feel better as she'd stared across the room at the wastebasket where she'd pitched her pills and dreams.

Lori flipped onto her back. "I'm not on the pill."

"O-kay." He slung an arm over his forehead as he rushed on, "Condoms, then. Or a diaphragm's fine. No diseases here."

Of course she didn't have any, either. Abstinence had ensured that. It also fostered a lack of readily available birth control. "There's nothing here, Gray. No birth control."

His cheeks puffed on a heavy exhale as he straightened his clothes. "I'll just run to the store-"

"No."

He sagged back. "Okay."

What? She could barely breathe, think, talk, and he gave up with a simple "okay."

"Okay? That's it?" She slugged his arm, hard. "You could at least argue with me! Pretend to be disappointed, you d.a.m.n jerk!"

The seasoned warrior rubbed his arm with an exaggerated grimace. "Why should I be disappointed? It doesn't have to be over."

Were all men jacka.s.ses? Or just this one man she had the unfortunate luck to want more than air? Lori turned away.

His arm snaked around her waist, and he flipped her to her back, looming over her. "We'll do without birth control this time."

Shock twisted her stomach. He couldn't mean what she thought. He couldn't be willing to risk pregnancy. He never had before. Never.

Heaven knew she wasn't ready to risk it. Not now.

A year ago she might have caved to the moment, to the beautiful image of Gray's laughing green eyes peering from the face of their little boy, but now... Things were more confusing than ever.

"It wouldn't be fair, Gray."

"Shhh." His lips nipped along her collarbone, over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

She tried to shove his hands away, weak halfhearted pushes. "We can't take that risk."

"No risk." He kissed her stomach, rasped his beard-stubbled face over her skin before toying along the edge of her boxers with his teeth. "I'll take care of you, honey."

Realization seeped into her, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. Of course he didn't mean to risk a pregnancy with her.

How many times would she make a fool over herself with Gray? Lori grabbed his shoulder to stop him, promising herself she meant it this time.

"We can't. For more reasons than pregnancy." Anger, frustration and old-fashioned heartache made her words harsher than she'd intended.

Wincing inside as well as out, Gray rested his forehead against Lori's smooth stomach. Of course she was right. He'd just lost it. Waking up with her in his arms had wrecked his remaining defenses. Thank G.o.d Lori had come to her senses.

Not that it made him feel any better. He hurt. Bad. He needed to touch her, taste her, more than he'd ever needed anything.

And that scared the h.e.l.l out of him. Their need for each other a year ago had been so strong it nearly destroyed them both. He hadn't thought he could ever want anyone as much as he'd wanted her then.

One night back in her bed proved him wrong.

Lori slid out from under him. Braced on his elbow, Gray watched her charge toward the bathroom as if racing for a fallout shelter with incoming imminent. Those blasted boxers hooked low on her hips. Still, he could feel the moist heat of her clamping around him as it had for that brief moment when he'd lost his mind and slipped inside her.

Stupid. Wrong. Incredible anyway.

His arm gave way, and he slumped back onto his pillow. Her heat and peach fragrance still clung to the tangled sheets.

A shuffling, then coughing noise broke into his concentration. Gray frowned, looked around, his gaze landing on the red light glowing from the nursery monitor. Thunking his forehead, he mentally kicked himself. How could he have forgotten about Magda a few feet down the hall?

Never had he let his personal life interfere with his professional responsibilities. If he were totally honest with himself, he considered Magda more than just a professional obligation. Each hospital checkup with his pint-size patient had only edged her further into his heart. Now she was Lori's child. That alone made her special, no matter how many mind games he played with himself about keeping his distance.

Gray heard the shower swish on just as Magda coughed again. Raking his fingers through his hair, Gray reined in his thoughts and libido. No easy task, but necessary if he hoped to make it through the morning.

He shoved to his feet and lumbered down the hall. Opening Magda's door, he found her sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with early-morning groggy confusion. Her hair spiked in at least three different directions. Bed head, his mother called it.

Magda eyed Gray and clutched a Barbie in her fist. Tenacity and wariness mingled in her little eyes. She had spirit no language barriers could disguise.

Yeah, she was a special kid.

"Hi, Magda." He entered slowly so she wouldn't bolt. She needed peace while she recuperated. After the life she'd likely had, the kid needed peace-period.

"Magda?" He extended his hands. "Let's go see Lori."

"Yori?" Huskiness from coughing distorted more normal childish tones.

"Yeah." He nodded. "Lori."

He held his hand out and waited while she scrambled from under the covers. Her legs dangled over the edge of the bed, her bare feet not quite touching the floor. Gray reached to take her hand. With rabbit speed, she jumped down and scampered past him.

Apparently, her trust wasn't easily won.

Kids didn't forget and forgive as easily as some thought He knew that well enough from his own childhood. He hadn't understood the change in his father until he was an adult, and then it had been too late. They'd grown too far apart.

Gray shrugged off depressing thoughts. Too much soul picking wouldn't accomplish a thing. He needed to remember that, before Lori had him spilling his guts all over her priceless Oriental rugs again.

He followed Magda to Lori's room, silence echoing from the bathroom. He rapped two knuckles on the bathroom door. "Lori?"

Magda skirted past him to press her ear to the door.

"Lori?" he called again, then decided he'd better warn her about Magda. Lori had been spitting nails when she'd charged to the bathroom. Magda didn't need to overhear the tones from angry fallout that belonged squarely on his ears. "Magda wants to talk to you. She's right here."

"Gray." Lori's voice wobbled.

Was she crying? Guilt clubbed him. His brow fell to rest on the frame. He should have checked his libido at the door before he'd crawled into bed with her. "Lori, are you okay?"

"No. Go away. Please."

Like h.e.l.l he would leave her crying over him. "Not a chance. Cover yourself, or whatever you need to do, because I'm coming in." He gave her a five count and hoped the door wasn't locked so he wouldn't have to pull some lame John Wayne stunt. "Now."

He pushed the door open and found Lori sitting on the bathroom floor swaddled in a bulky white bathrobe. Her green pallor answered his question before he could even ask.

Lori blanched. "Stomach flu."

*** Gray stretched out on Lori's sofa and channel surfed. She had been too incapacitated to turn down his offer to watch Magda for the afternoon. Lori had started to protest. Then her face had turned seaweed green and all arguments died as she'd shoved him out of the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

For the best, since he still wasn't all that steady after their near miss earlier, and he needed time away from her to regain his footing. Taking care of Magda offered a perfect distraction until he could leave. After an hour he and Magda had arrived at an armed truce. As long as he didn't pick her up, she was fine.

They'd had breakfast, Magda's a bland diet of dry toast in accordance with her own stomach flu recovery. She'd eyed the cow cookie jar with longing as if to say "Yori" would have given her one. He'd held strong. Not too difficult since he didn't relish the idea of mopping up that cookie later.

Now Magda played quietly on the rug while Lori slept the day away. He'd hauled the Barbie house into the living room so he could catch the ball games.

Not a bad gig.

Magda seemed to be a low-maintenance kid, and she didn't want his attention anyway. Which stung a little more than it should have. Kids always liked him. He was the favorite uncle. The Disney dude. King of Barbies and Tonkas.

Gray thumbed the b.u.t.ton until he found the cartoon channel and pitched aside the remote. Good thing Lori was totally out of it. Memories of her pa.s.sion-dazed eyes, her playful touch swirled through his mind. He didn't have much left in the way of reserve ammunition around her.

So much for his clean break.

When he'd checked on her earlier, her weak smile of appreciation had slathered on the guilt. Who'd have thought she would turn weepy over a pack of crackers and a cup of tea? Weren't women supposed to want roses and G.o.diva chocolates?

Of course he'd given her those a year ago, for all the good it had done them.

Lori was grateful for such d.a.m.ned unpredictable little things. That stabbed at him. She deserved more. She deserved everything. The house, the kids and a husband who could commit to something more than the next piece of rank on his shoulder.

He thought of the next a.s.signment and its a.s.surance of his promotion to lieutenant colonel within a year. Tomorrow would start his last week of work at Charleston Air Force Base, his final flight scheduled for Friday, his party at his folks' condo on Sat.u.r.day.

His parents. d.a.m.n. Gray sat up. He'd promised his mother he would stop in over the weekend.

Gray snagged the phone from the end table and punched in the number. Listening to the call go through, he watched Magda march her Barbies in front of the dollhouse.

The ringing stopped.

"Sergeant Clark's quarters," his father's clipped voice answered. Even retired and living off base, the old Chief Master Sergeant never shed his military routines.

"Hey, ol' man, it's me. Could you put Mom on?"

"Sure, son." The phone clattered to rest. "Angela..."

And that was it. The standard conversation he could expect with his dad. He wasn't sure anymore if it was his fault or his father's but didn't much care, other than it seemed to bother his mother.

The phone crackled with m.u.f.fled sounds of his parents talking while he waited, watching Magda. She mumbled in her own language, and he resolved to find a translation dictionary. Some familiar words flowed through the gibberish, like "Mama" and "Papa."

Could she still have memories of her real parents? Her file hadn't held much information, except that her mother and father, both local schoolteachers, had died about eighteen months ago in a village raid. With no other living relatives, Magda had been placed in the orphanage.

She slid a smaller doll into the swing, the "Papa" doll behind pushing. A fist tightened around Gray's heart.

Of course she would have memories, spotty but real. His nephew remembered the color of a car they'd sold when he was two. Gray remembered his father- "Grayson?" His mother's voice jolted him back to the present. "Where are you, sweetie?"

"Hi, Mom, still in Charleston. Sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it out there this weekend. I'm, uh, with a patient today." Not a lie, but good thing his mom couldn't pin him with those laser, lie-detector eyes or he'd be busted for sure. If he didn't keep her diverted, she'd be talking about his s.e.x life again. "And I'm on call tomorrow."

"Oh, well, work has to come first," she chirped, ever the good soldier.

Gray grimaced. "I'll still be over next Sat.u.r.day for the party."

"And we'll be at your little ceremony on base Friday."

Magda folded the "Mama's" legs and sat her on the tiny porch steps. Lori would have a field day a.n.a.lyzing the doll play unrolling before him.

Gray yanked his attention back to the phone conversation. "You don't have to come to that, you know."

"We wouldn't miss it. Your father's looking forward to it."

Yeah, right. "Okay, then."

The little girl doll swung higher. Magda giggled and squealed, sounds Gray had never heard from her before. Perhaps if he looked into an interpreter, Lori could collect those memories for Magda and record them for when she was older. Magda squealed again.