Silent Warrior: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Donna Kauffman Page A

throat that was supposed to sound like a reply, but it was all tangled up in the emotions rising inside her at the sincerity in his quietly spoken words.
    “Thank you, John,” she finally managed.
    She felt his hand on her shoulder like a brand. His fingers tightened for a moment, then the pressure was gone. The warmth from his palm dissipated too quickly. She wanted to grab at his hand, put it back on her body. Better yet, how easy it would be to turn a fraction and press her entire length against his long, hard, warm frame. Security, strength, compassion. She knew he possessed all three. But that wasn’t what was making her skin tingle in anticipation, wasn’t what was making her pulse race or her palms moist.
    Perhaps it was simply the turmoil that caused her to think about him as more than a skilled aide. But she quickly realized her attraction to one John McShane, super-secret spy, went beyond his job description or her need for his services in that capacity.
    “We’d better get back to the bungalow.”
    Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. He was big and close, his body angled to hers in a way that made her feel protected.
    She turned. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
    “Cali—”
    He broke off. She didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead she let it expand, deepen, until it, along with the darkness, enveloped them both like a cocoon.
    He gently cupped her shoulders. She couldn’t repressthe shiver his touch sent racing over her. The coolness was a delicious counterpoint to the sudden coil of heat expanding inside her.
    “John.” Her voice was throaty and rough. She didn’t back away this time. It made her feel as if she was vibrating from the inside out.
    His hand drifted from her shoulder to her neck. She turned her cheek into his palm as his hand slid higher.
    He stepped in closer. She let him.
    Somewhere inside her head a little voice was screaming caution, telling her she didn’t need to get further involved with him.
    But every other cell in her body was screaming that this was exactly what she needed. It was sure as hell what she wanted.
    He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. Her long sigh was low and broken, ending on a soft moan. “John.”
    “Cali.” Her name was a warm, fresh breath across her lips. She parted them.
    She’d expected his lips to be firm, the kiss to be hard and formidable, like the man. So she was completely undone by the soft, wet feel of his lips, the gentle way his mouth cushioned hers, giving more than taking.
    “Oh,” she sighed, easing more fully into his kiss, wanting more of the unexpected, yet sweet succor she’d found there.
    He let her deepen the kiss, his lips parting to take her mouth more fully. He allowed her a slow, thoroughexploration of his mouth, letting the kiss slowly build steam. Then he took the same liberty. She marveled at his almost painstaking patience. He made love to her mouth as if it were her entire body. And, in fact, her entire body was reacting. His control steadily eroded hers, until the pressure of the contained steam between them was of volcanic proportions.
    She pressed her hands to his chest, feeling the evidence of what his control was costing him. His heart was pounding every bit as hard as hers. He lifted his mouth slightly on a long sigh. She felt it all the way to her suddenly wobbly knees. She slid her hands to his shoulders, holding on for support. His grip tightened too.
    “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
    His whispered words filtered slowly into the haze that was her brain. There was something there, she thought almost dazedly, something that sounded almost confessional.
    Further thought was abruptly interrupted by a short rap at the door. John jerked back as if he’d been branded. Cali had no time to think.
    “You almost done in there?” It was Quéval.
    “Yes. Be out in a second.”
    There was no missing the relief in his voice. That stung. Neither reaction made sense at the moment.
    “Cali,