The short ride to the barracks was a quiet one, other than Danny giving directions to his living quarters. They seemed to be stuck in their own thoughts. With each passing minute, Julie wondered if the heavy flirting and promised kiss had more to do with the alcohol Sergeant Marcus had drunk than mutual desire. And by the time she’d pulled up in front of his place, she’d accepted, even found some sort of comfort in the fact that nothing further would happen between them. What the hell had she been thinking going home with him?

“Take a few aspirin and a glass of water before you go to sleep, Sergeant Marcus, and you shouldn’t feel too horrible in the morning,” Julie advised as she put her 1983 Datsun in park but left the engine idling.

Narrowed eyes met hers. “That wasn’t the deal, Ms. Bell.” Danny shifted in his seat, bringing his hand to the side of her face. The pad of his thumb gently brushed her jaw. “You lived up to your end; I’d like to live up to mine.”

Giving her no time to reply, no time to refuse, Danny’s lips were on hers. The air caught in her lungs and quickly released as he led the kiss like a dance. Soft and slow at first, he nibbled her lips as his other hand weaved through her hair, pulling her closer to him. His scent was whisky and mint and something uniquely him—primitive and masculine—and she couldn’t help but sigh in appreciation. In that moment, he slipped his tongue between her parted lips while pulling her tighter, and their kiss deeper. The fine hairs on her arms stood at attention as their tongues glided together and their breaths tangled. She felt bereft when he pulled away. Need pulsed through her veins, and desire burned at her core.

“Come inside with me, Julie.” His tone was a gentle command, but his eyes begged.

She didn’t want to over think the situation; she only wanted to feel. “Okay, Danny.” She turned off the ignition, dropped the keys in her purse, and followed him into his living quarters.

The sparse open space held a worn couch, a small dinette set, and multiple boxes in various sizes—clearly an indicator of a move, but in or out, she had no idea.

“Are you coming or going?” she asked, gesturing to the open creates.

“Just moved in. I’ve only managed to unpack the kitchen and the bathroom,” he slurred. “The necessities. Been like a goddamn scavenger hunt for the past three days.” He looked at the chaos and sighed, saying more to himself than to her, “I’ll finish unpacking this weekend. “He ambled into the small kitchen and opened the cupboard to the left of the sink. “Want something to drink?”

She wasn’t sure if she spoke her decline or just shook her head, but Danny left the glass in the cupboard, closed the door, and stalked over to her. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Not at all smooth or poetic, but sexy as sin, and Julie swooned before his hands made purchase on her skin. Their lips crashed as his tongue surged into her mouth in a hungry kiss. A ripple of excitement shimmied down her torso when she was pulled tight against his body. His large hand cupped the base of her skull, twirling her long silken ponytail around his knuckles, and to her surprise, he yanked on the tresses just hard enough to cause a bite of pain. That bite bloomed into pleasure that she’d never before experienced.

“Ahh, Danny—”

“Shh,” he whispered into her neck. “Let me make you feel good. Watching you move behind that bar all night… got me so hard but wondering what you look like when you come, what you’d taste like,” He grinded his hard length into her, “That’s the shit that keeps us going when we’re fighting for our fucking lives.”

Every dirty word that left his mouth stoked the small flame his kiss had ignited within her, spreading warmth through her veins. She’d never had a guy, no matter how intimately she’d known him, speak so frankly about sex, and in one short evening, this man had managed to unwrap desires she hadn’t been aware of.

Breathless, she stared as Danny’s deft fingers slowly unfastened the buttons on his dress uniform. His white tank top barely registered before it was swiped over his head and tossed to the floor. Julie swallowed. Twice. Even the cocky grin that stared back at her couldn’t detract from the ridiculously sexy man before her. Tanned skin covered rippled muscles on a frame that seemed even more devastating with his shirt off. She smoothed her tongue over suddenly dry lips as she consumed him with her eyes. Hell, just seeing the man was like getting a glimpse of the ice cream truck in the dog days of summer—she’d do just about anything to get a lick of the sweet confections being offered.

Stone still, he watched, as if getting pleasure from her appraisal. She stepped toward him and her hand lifted of its own accord, aching to touch the warm flesh of his right bicep, where the American flag was boldly inked.

“My first tattoo,” he grunted as she lightly traced the red, white, and blue art.

She nodded, although his gaze stared straight ahead and his body tense, a perfect position of attention. Without breaking contact, she slowly walked around his frame, stopping behind his broad back. A massive pair of wings stretched from shoulder to shoulder over his beautiful smooth skin. There looked to be some sort of parachute in the middle of the wings, the number eighty-two etched boldly through the strings.

He answered her unasked question. “My jump wings. I’m in the 82ndAirborne Division.”

Reverently, she ran her palm over the entire tattoo and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to him and all of the men and women who so boldly served their country every day. Then she continued her perusal to the front of his body.

At first glance, her eyes landed on the dog tags that rested in the valley of his thick, defined chest. But as she reached for them, she noticed the tattoo neatly printed on his left pec, directly over his heart. Her stomach dropped as panic sliced through her gut. July sixteenth. Today was July sixteenth. What the hell? With trembling fingers, she caressed the ink, then lifted her gaze to his. She saw his pain.

“My brother.”

Julie swallowed back her gasp and lowered her head so he wouldn’t see the tears that threatened to fall. No matter the meaning behind the date, Danny’s expression made it obvious that July sixteenth was a permanent heartbreak. “She understood that all too well. Without thinking of the consequences, Julie leaned forward and pressed her lips to him, to his brother, giving all she had to the beautiful broken man before her.

As if her gentle kiss shattered the façade holding him together, his vulnerability showed, leaving raw desire in his gaze. He pulled her roughly, almost violently, to him, and his lips crushed hers. Hunger the likes she’d never felt before burned in her belly, demanding satisfaction, begging for more. Spirals of ecstasy shot straight to her core when Danny’s tongue went from tracing her lips to plunging between them. Julie mewed as she pressed her body against his, needing more contact, more skin, more…more.

“Lift your arms, honey,” he insisted, hands already at her waist. The thought of not taking things further barely crossed her mind as she followed his command and watched her tank top hit the floor. “So goddamn sexy.” Glassy, red-rimmed, hazel eyes stared at her pink-cotton-clad breasts as if he’d won the lottery. He licked his lips before shifting his eyes to hers. “I wanna see what’s under that bra, but the deal was a kiss. Know we’ve already crossed that line, but I won’t move further unless you’re onboard.”

Oh my God. Was she on board? Should it matter that the man was drunk and may not remember her name in the morning? Maybe, but she didn’t just want to take her clothes off for the man—she wanted to burn them. Instead of giving that answer, she reached behind her back and unhooked the pink cotton. The way his eyes widened as the straps slid down her shoulders would be permanently burned into her brain. Yes, being taken home by Sergeant Marcus had been a great decision after all.