The laughter he unleashed was the sweetest thing.
Grinning to herself, she settled against the pillows, still warm from his body. He reappeared from the hallway a few moments later, hint of a grin on his lips. Back in bed, he crawled in over her and came to rest with his head on her stomach, his arms wrapping underneath her back.
She ran her fingers through his hair, and his expression was pure contentment.
“What’s the tattoo on your left leg? I could make out the stars, but not the words.”
“It’s says, ‘All Gave Some, Some Gave All.’ ”
Her fingers kept moving, as if his words and the sentiment behind them didn’t lodge a knot in her throat.
A few moments later, he shifted his hips like he was trying to get comfortable. Then again, he was lying on his stomach, which he’d told her bothered his back. “Hey, Nick?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
His eyes flew open, the lashes tickling her stomach. “Always.”
“How much did your back hurt?”
He released a long breath, his eyebrows making his displeasure at the topic clear. “You could tell?”
She gave him a little smile. “Only because you made a face. Not because of anything you did, which was all amazing, by the way.”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “I didn’t even think . . .” He shrugged his big shoulder. “Being with you today was the first time since . . .” He pressed his face into her stomach with a groan. “It was probably just because of the fight with Beckett.”
Wait. Was he really saying she was the first person he’d had sex with in over a year? “The first time you had sex since you were shot,” she finished for him.
He rested his chin on her stomach, and his eyes were a shade less confident than usual. “Yeah.”
Inside, she was jumping up and down at the news, but she didn’t want him to feel any more awkward about it. “Could be the fight. The counter dug into you pretty hard. But, if it’s not, next time we’ll just find the position that feels the best. Kama Sutra says there’s over sixty of them, so I bet we can find a few.”
“Next time, huh?” he said, his expression filling with humor and promise.
She smiled. “Mmhmm.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.” She dragged her fingers over his shoulder for a moment, then she met his gaze. “But you gotta tell me if something hurts. Okay? The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
He nodded his head, digging his chin into her belly and tickling her. She flinched and laughed, but then his expression went serious. “I want to apologize for this morning,” he said.
Becca traced a design against his skin. “What happened this morning? Did I do some—”
“No. It wasn’t you at all. There’s shit that happened in Afghanistan that I can’t tell you about, and I haven’t made peace with it. It blindsided me this morning and sent me to a dark place.”
Her heart squeezed. “I can’t imagine everything you dealt with over there. Just know you can talk to me. Okay? Even if it’s to tell me you need some space.”
He kissed her stomach and nodded, his eyes ablaze with emotion.
“Can I tell you something else?” Nerves had her stomach doing a loop-the-loop, but she couldn’t let this go unsaid.
Nick arched an eyebrow. “Okay.”
“What you said to Jeremy earlier . . . I just wanted to tell you it would matter to me, too. If something happened to you. It would matter to me a lot.” A sting pricked at the back of her eyes, and she blinked it away.
He rolled onto his side and stroked his fingers over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs. Light, teasing touches meant to explore and comfort rather than to arouse, although just being in his presence accomplished that. He kissed the valley between her breasts and whispered, “So beautiful.” And then he was quiet, seemingly preoccupied with her skin.
Had she said too much? It didn’t seem like she’d made him uncomfortable. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say? Becca sank back into the pillows and watched him look at her. Such a gorgeous man.
“Would you let me do something?” he finally asked, voice low and suddenly serious.
She smiled. “Probably.”
“Be right back.” He pushed off the bed and disappeared into the hallway again. What was he up to? When he returned, he had a fistful of pens.
“What are they for?”
He crawled in bed next to her, then met her gaze.
“I want to draw on you. Bad.” Even in the dim light, his eyes blazed, his expression intense and so damn hungry.
Heat shot through her body, sending a tingle of thrill through her core. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Skin markers.” He held up five pens. “Nontoxic. They’ll wash off. Eventually.” He winked and laid the pens in the crook of skin where her thighs met. “Don’t drop them.”
They were cool against her still-heated flesh. She chuckled, but his enthusiasm was sexy as all hell. “What happens if I do?”