CLARA'S POV
He was had only gone for few seconds when he returned dressed in black cargo pants, shirt, vest, and flack boots. All soldier, all purpose. All pure, hot male. My body responded instantly, my nipples pebbling and a slow skittering sliding through my belly.
He sniffed the air and gave me a grin. "I won't be gone long, mate."
Ass. I threw the dish towel into the sink. "Be careful." The words rose unbidden from somewhere I refused to acknowledge.
In response, he grasped my arm and tugged my closer, lowering his mouth. He took his time, tasting me, tempting me with raw heat and dangerous promise. I moaned and pressed into him, my hands splaying out against the rough material of the vest covering his broad chest.
The marking on my hip began to burn.
Jordan cleared his throat from the doorway, and I jumped back. What the heck was I thinking?
