Book of the Month: CARRY ME HOME
#bookofthemonth #carrymehome #jessicascott #cominghomeseries
CHAPTER THREE
Evan was moving before the last panicked words left Claire’s mouth. Not once in three years had he ever heard panic from Claire Montoya. He’d been watching with interest from a distance as she tried to maneuver the big platoon sergeant home but when they’d fallen, it was the panic in her voice that had his feet moving before he’d given it conscious thought. He shoved Reza off her, not caring where the big man landed on the frozen earth so long as he no longer held Claire down.
Her eyes were wide, her lips parted just a fraction of an inch. Her throat worked convulsively as she swallowed, staring at memories only she could see. Her breath came in short, quick huffs. His heart ached for her. He knew the reaction to trauma all too well. There was too much adrenaline spiking through her system for her to process it all at once.
A dark and powerful emotion rose from a deeply buried place inside him. She was not his to worry about. Not his to protect. She complicated everything. Evan didn’t like complicated things.
He stood for the longest moment, unable to move. Unable to offer comfort. Unable to break free from the torment of his own demons. Still, his hands hung clenched and useless. Just like always. Just like before, with his sister. Until her panic overwhelmed him and he pushed aside the bleeding memories to kneel by her side. He forced his voice to work. “Claire?”
All at once, she came back to herself with a single, sharp inhaled breath. A pink flush crept up her neck and she sat for a moment, visibly adjusting her clothing and pulling herself back together. She pushed abruptly to her feet, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I’m so done with this. Let’s get him to bed so I can go back to my room.”
Her voice was sharp, but for once, he recognized it for what it was. Defensiveness. And sheer stubbornness. And behind all of that, he saw Claire’s sheer determination to put Reza to bed and nothing Evan was going to do would stop that. He might as well help out.
Shifting, he stepped under Reza’s other side, ignoring Claire’s surprised expression. Hell, she surprised him when she didn’t argue.
Sighing, she started fishing around in Reza’s pockets for his wallet. “A little to the left,“ he mumbled.
She slapped Reza’s back. “Knock it off, pervert. Where’s your room key?”
“Wallet. Front pocket,“ Reza mumbled. He frowned and leaned up, squinting at her. “Aw shit, Claire. You went and cock blocked me, didn’t you?”
After much swearing, banged extremities and dropping Reza at least once, they managed to get him into bed.
Claire stepped back and folded her arms over her chest, looking down at her prone friend. Evan watched her carefully, looking for any trace of the panic he’d seen earlier. Instead, there was fierce determination. Stubborn, he thought and almost smiled. Yes, Claire was certainly stubborn.
She rubbed her hands down her arms as she scanned the room, then pulled the plastic liner from the trash can. “I feel like we’re in some weird alternate reality where we’re a couple of privates instead of a pair of captains.”
“What are you doing?“
“Saving him some money on hotel damage fees. Help me get this under his ass.“
“Maybe he needs to pay for some damages. Does Iaconelli drink like this all the time?”
Claire froze. “So what if he does?”
“Do you do this all the time? Put drunk NCOs to bed?”
Claire visibly flinched at his words. She might have been cracking morbid jokes but it was all an act, a valiant attempt to hide the wounded creature he’d just caught a glimpse of. She shifted then and caught him watching her. The war—specifically the Surge—had etched its way into Evan’s soul. Maybe permanently. What had it done to Claire? Who had she been before she’d gone to war and come home again?
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
She smirked, and he saw a trace of the familiar smart-ass starting to surface. “Did you choke on that apology?” he asked, keeping his voice light.
She breathed deeply, and Evan braced for whatever she was about to say. Instead she turned and left Reza’s room silently, placing his room key on the dresser near the television where he could easily find it in the morning. Evan followed her.
They stood in the hallway outside Reza’s room and Evan finally could take a full, deep breath. In the soft light, Claire looked vulnerable and tired. But not weak. Never weak.
“I’m worried about him.”
“I can see that,” he said quietly, wishing he had more to offer. Wishing he knew how to do this, whatever this was.
At that moment, the vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes overrode any thoughts of self-preservation and he reached for her. A light touch, her shoulder beneath his palm. Evan felt her tension in the space between his gesture and her surprise. Her mouth opened, just a bit, and she didn’t move for a long moment. His blood bolted through his body like a razor, slicing any trace of his composure to shreds. He’d never before had the joint desire to throttle someone and hold that person close. But Claire tended to bring out the strangest reactions in him. He should be used to the dichotomy by now. He’d never been very smart when it came to Claire Montoya.
Touching her after all those years was stupid. Yet there was nothing else he could do, nothing else he desired more than to simply touch her, to find some way to offer comfort.
“What happened back there?” he said. “When you fell.”
They stood in silence for several moments, and Evan was certain that she’d turn away from him—that she wouldn’t answer his question.
Then there was a subtle shift as Claire leaned into him. She didn’t turn. She didn’t look up. She simply leaned against him. And Evan, fool that he was, held her up.
“I don’t like being pinned down,” she finally admitted.
Evan frowned, leaning away from her to peer down at her face. “But you do combatives. Several of those fighting positions involve being laid on. Crushed, even.”
She lifted one shoulder in an absent shrug, an infinitesimal move away from his space. “That’s different. I’m fighting back against a fully conscious opponent.” She sighed quietly.
“That’s not really an answer.” He stepped closer and for once, she didn’t dance away in retreat. She stood her ground, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze.
“When the TOC got blown up at the end of our last deployment, I was pinned down. I don’t know for how long, but I panicked.” Her voice cracked. “While the building burned around me, I did nothing but lie there and scream.“ She swallowed and looked away. “I couldn’t do anything but scream,” she whispered.
* * *
“Combat brings everyone low, Claire,” he murmured.
He was close enough that she could see the shadow of a beard along his jaw. She had the intense urge to see if it was soft or rough. His scent wrapped around her, whispering for her to do something incredibly stupid like stand there and breathe in the spicy heat from his body. His words were a caress, a subtle sweep of emotion over her skin.
They were alone in the late-night hallway. For once they weren’t ripping each other’s heads off. She expected him to chew her out for her hasty decision to rush into the blown-up building. To echo the harsh criticisms she’d levied against herself since the day she’d gotten blown up. Claire waited, searching his eyes for a trace of the stoic arrogance she’d come to expect from him. But she saw nothing she expected.
“I didn’t know you were hurt when the TOC blew up,” he said quietly. And with those simple words, he challenged everything she’d thought she’d known about Evan Loehr.
She frowned at a not-so-distant memory and at the unexpectedness of his words. “I walked away. More or less. You got hurt though, right?”
“Yeah. Just a flesh wound.”
She swallowed and glanced at him then. She opened her mouth to speak but he shocked her when he lifted his hand, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. A violent shiver wracked her body, stunning her with the force of her reaction to this man’s touch.
“I’m sorry you were scared,” he murmured. “But that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Right before he kissed her.
* * *
It was a gentle kiss. Hesitant and soft and unexpected. Her lips were parted the barest of fractions before his mouth even moved against hers. Her breath huffed against his mouth as he tasted her, an easy, light caress of lips. He nudged her top lip with his and she opened for him. His breath caught in his throat as his tongue flicked out, stroking hers, coaxing past the barrier of her teeth. Shields crumbled as he deepened the kiss, overcome by the honeyed taste of this woman. Of Claire.
Her body was soft where she brushed against him. He could have crushed her to him, but he didn’t. Conscious of her earlier panic, he skimmed his hands up her arms to cradle her shoulders gently between his palms. When she shifted and sighed against him, when her fingers curled into his chest, only then did Evan dare slide one hand into the soft mass of her hair and angle her mouth so he could take all of her.
Need, raw and powerful, slammed into him, overpowering the cold control he’d maintained from years of practice. Nothing, not even the first time he’d kissed her, had ever struck him with such naked force. Need made him want to wrap her in his arms and drag her into the crisp, cool darkness.
Her gasp collided with his a moment before he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue. Her skin was slick and hot beneath his touch, her mouth offering a warm, wet feast of texture and taste. He drank from her, taking everything she had to give. It was a gentle, unending battle for supremacy that neither of them could hope to win.
* * *
Claire was not prepared for the strength of her reaction to Evan’s sensual assault. She raised her hands to block him, but instead her palms collided with the soft, warm cotton beneath his steel-grey jacket. She almost smiled, but that would have required that she do something other than hold on for dear life.
She didn’t want this. Not with him. Not with anyone. Sooner or later, everyone let her down. Years at war had only reinforced the lessons she’d learned far too young. But with Evan, every stolen look dragged her closer to the edge of the abyss. And kissing him was a dangerous gamble, threatening far more than casual, mindless sex.
Because what Evan offered was the promise of something so rare, so fleeting, she was certain that the moment she allowed herself to crave it, he would vanish. Or worse, let her down.
Right now, none of those things mattered as she lost herself in Evan’s taste. Her palms ached to touch his bare skin, to feel the raw power of his body beneath her touch.
This was a bad idea. A disaster.
And Claire no longer cared.
* * *
Evan was lost in her. Her tongue danced with his, smooth strokes that mimicked the movement he craved with her body. His hunger built until he was aching and hard, desire lashing inside him like a war drum. Touching her, molding her feminine strength with his palms, was by far the stupidest thing he’d done in a long, long time. The temptation to strip bare her defenses along with her body demanded relief. He had no ability to resist this woman. She was a rare, fierce creature, one that yielded beneath the onslaught of his mouth even as she held her own against his desire.
What had begun as a reaction to something powerful was now sweet torment, a relentless downpour of ragged desire that branded them both. Arousal ripped through him, a pure, unadulterated lust. Where this woman was concerned, there was no restraint. No half measures.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was about this woman that drove him to distraction. But as he pressed against her, he wished with everything he was that they were alone and naked where he could do this right.
He cradled her cheek in his palm as he eased back, nibbling on her bottom lip. He didn’t want to give up the taste of her but he wasn’t an idiot. Even if he managed to get her to bed tonight, they had to work together for the next few weeks. Kissing her might be the sweetest mistake, but taking her to bed would be worse. It would ruin the only chance Evan had ever had at getting to know this fierce, vibrant woman who hid so much vulnerability behind a warrior’s façade.
And he wasn’t willing to give that up.
* * *
Claire stood in the warmth of Evan’s embrace, unwilling and unable to pull away. “Who are you and what have you done with Captain America?” she whispered.
“I’m not Captain America.” An awkward, familiar hush settled over them like a shroud. She smiled.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, holding his gaze. “For helping me look after Reza tonight.”
“Did he really pass out while he was walking?”
Claire swallowed and eased a little more space between them. “He tripped.”
The lingering warmth between them cooled a little bit more.
“Why are you making excuses for him? He’s so drunk he couldn’t even keep himself upright.”
“He had a few too many tonight. So what? It happens.” A harsh memory rose inside her, squeezing her heart and pressing against her lungs. She’d had this argument before, when she was too young to fight her way out of it. “Besides, I’m fine. Nothing wounded but my pride.”
Even pushed out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re really defending him?”
“I’d take a bullet for that man,” she said, pulling clear of his personal space, the silence between them a familiar cold. “Putting him to bed after he had a few too many drinks is nothing.”
“Wow, that’s a hell of a lot of loyalty you’ve got going on there, Claire.”
She bristled at his tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re an officer. You’re not supposed to be that close to an enlisted soldier. Your relationship crosses a lot of barriers.”
“Don’t you dare.” Her voice was hushed. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that to be an officer, I have to turn my back on someone who has been family to me since the day I joined the army. You might be a shiny army brass, but you don’t know jack shit about loyalty.” She never raised her voice. She simply turned and walked away and left him standing in the hallway, refusing to be judged by him for a moment longer.
ONE CLICK CARRY ME HOME TODAY…
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