Crossing the Line by Elise Faber

Author:Elise Faber [Faber, Elise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946140999
Publisher: Elise Faber

Chapter Twelve

KTS Satellite Base

Western Georgia

7:22hrs

Linc

I really was not happy to be crawling out of bed, leaving a softly snoring Olive behind, her hands pillowed beneath her, her expression placid, her body clad in the cutest fucking pajamas I had ever seen.

Tiny sheep playing guitars. A matching bright blue tank top with—kill me now—no bra.

I wanted to go back to bed, to curl up next to her.

It had been ten days since the accident, and that meant my mental timer of how long I’d promised myself I wouldn’t touch her had run out. Yes, I’d failed on the touching part, but also, since I’d really meant touching her with my penis—that throbbing fucker had been angrily cooped up for the entire time in her presence over said ten days—I’d consider it a partial success.

I hadn’t fucked her.

She was on light duty, ten days recovered, so could we . . . lightly fuck?

Stifling a groan, I softly tiptoed out of my room and headed into the hall. I would be off base all day on a reconnaissance mission with my team. Hannah had issued a call time of 7:30. Which meant she’d really issued a time of 7:15.

So, technically, I was already late.

Not that I begrudged myself the extra few minutes with Olive. It was almost frightening how fucking perfect it felt to hold her in my arms, to be able to talk and lie with her, and now that her team was based out of the Georgia compound during her, Ava’s, and Dan’s recoveries, I would have that opportunity for a while.

The next step—planning for what would come when she returned to England, since my team’s current mission was based in the States—was a concern in the back of my mind for a bit, rather than something I worried about every second of every day.

Plot and plan.

Figure out all possibilities.

Then worry.

Or hopefully, not worry because everything between us would sort itself out.

“You going to stand there all day staring dopily at the wall?” Hannah asked, pushing open the door next to the expanse of said wall outside the staging room that I had been staring at quite dopily. “Or are you going to come through, so we can get our asses in gear?”

I scowled. “The second one.”

“Does this dopey state have anything to do with one sexy doctor?” Lily asked.

I rolled my eyes.

“It does. Ha!” She put her hand out to Jesse, the final member of our team. A broad-shouldered redhead with a killer hand at explosives, she was the absolute shit, and we were lucky to have her. “Pay up,” Lily said. “You owe me twenty.”

“Lily,” I warned.

“Hey, don’t look at me. Jesse here”—a twenty was smacked into her palm by an irritated-looking Jesse—“she’s the one who bet against you. I, for one, would never bet against the good doctor with the dreamy eyes and the body like”—a chef’s kiss—“a fine wine with a plate of steaming rigatoni Bolognese.”

Lily, outside of the operating room and in the field (where she was kickass at both), was best taken in small doses.

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