She rocked forward again, moaning, her voice a rough pant. “IED?”

“Car bomb.”

God…a car bomb. Suzanne couldn’t even stand the thought of it as she took him inside her again. “Did it hit anything vital?”

“No.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

He didn’t answer for a beat or two, and they just stared at each other as Suzanne took full advantage of her position to ride him. His hands were firm on her breasts, his arms extended, his elbows locked, which allowed her to lean in hard, to get just the right amount of leverage to slide up and down the length of him.

She pulled off him almost all the way, and he groaned and said, “A few days.”

“A few days?”

Suzanne was so shocked, she rocked back onto him with a quick snap of her hips.

He grunted as she stared down at him. “It’s not much more than a scratch.”

A scratch? Yeah right. But she didn’t stop rocking, greedy for every magnificent inch of him. He was solid and very real between her thighs. He was okay. “You went back after that?”

“Cleared for duty…” He shut his eyes and pulled in a couple of short breaths. “A week later.”

Jesus. That sounded ridiculous. “But you left eventually, right? Why?”

“After three tours, my time was up.” He opened his eyes. “And I was sick of being shot at.”

Suzanne gave a half laugh, circling her hips now, causing her to shiver as Grady’s dick hit a completely different spot. “Was there anybody else injured? With the car bomb?”

His eyes locked on hers, intent. Serious. “Two.”

Suzanne ground down hard against him, her pulse hammering. “Bad?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t have to tell her they hadn’t made it. It was in the finality of his tone. She leaned into him more, easing off him a little but not intentionally, just to get closer. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So am I,” he said, then thrust, hard and high, wrenching a gasp from her throat and a groan from his as he vaulted up, his chest pressing to hers, his arm snaking around her waist, his lips so close to hers, they were almost brushing. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

And then he kissed her—hard—his tongue tangling with hers as he fell backward, bringing her down with him, his hands splayed on her ass, his thrusts deep and sure, fucking her like Armageddon was knocking at their door, fucking her till the pleasure rained down and they were spent.

…

It was light when Suzanne woke hours later. She half expected to find Grady up and about, but he was lying on his back beside her, sleeping peacefully, the discarded foil from the third condom they’d used about two hours ago an inch away from his elbow. She smiled, remembering Grady’s voraciousness. Remembering hers.