Free Rogue Soldier by Dana Marton

passion.
    There had never been another man like him for her, and damn his hide, she was pretty sure there never would be again.
    She drank in his familiar taste, his familiar scent coming home to her nostrils, invading her body as his presence was invading her thoughts and his tongue was doing its best to invade her own. She was sure that’s what it was to him, too. No more—an invasion. Mike McNair liked to conquer. He’d had quite a reputation when she’d met him. And, like a fool, she’d believed that all had changed when they’d fallen in love. If he’d ever loved her at all.
    The pain of it, the shame of her humiliation burned her eyes as she pushed him away. “No.” She passed the single word through her sensitized lips.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said again.
    It irritated her to see that he truly was, and that he was as shaken by the kiss as she. She reached to gather the old anger, but it slipped from her fingers. “How long are we going to torture each other like this?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He shook his head as if to shake off some spell. “I don’t think I can let you go.”
    Irritation filled her again. She liked the feeling; it helped her resistance. “You had no trouble letting me go for the past three years.”
    Silence stretched between them.
    â€œAt the beginning, I was sure you would come back. I was mad at you for jumping to conclusions, hurt that you didn’t trust me. I was too damn proud to go begging after someone when I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
    She could see the truth of it in his eyes. Damn. Had she been so stupid?
    â€œAll the stories about you, I’d heard dozens like that.” She offered her feeble excuse.
    â€œNot after we met.” He shook his head. “If you’d listened…”
    No, she hadn’t been in a receptive state. She’d gone to him to chew him out in the first place, to yell and rage at him for carrying her out of the swamp and ending her SF career before it started. The tramps at the hotel had pushed her over the edge. There was no coming back after that, no seeing reason.
    She’d been one of five women, provisional trainees, allowed in the Special Forces training because of their outstanding record in the army. The gender-requirement policy set by Congress and the secretary of defense in 1994 excluded women from combat billets in the military. There were no women in SF nor were there any female SEALs.
    After 9/11, however, it became clear that the country needed these special military groups more than ever. There had been some support for inclusion of women as a way to increase numbers, and a provisional program was started by Special Forces and kept quiet. It was little more than a test. There had been no promises for inclusion even if the five women allowed into training passed the rigorous requirements. The powers that be just wanted to know if it could be done.
    It couldn’t. One of the female recruits had gotten injured two months into training and had to drop out. Another left soon after, unable to stand up to the psychological strain. One got kicked out for fraternizing with a superior officer. One failed the explosives exam. Tessa had lasted the longest.
    She hated to fail, and in this case it felt like she’d failed not only herself but her gender.
    She’d been so stupid. She should never have trusted Mike. To carry on a clandestine relationship with him had been insane enough, considering that kind of thing was strictly forbidden. And with reason. When he’d seen her in the swamp he’d been too attached, too emotional. Two other trainees had gone by her by then. Both had understood that she did not want their help. Neither had forced it on her. Mike, however, had not taken no for an answer.
    Failing the training half broke her. Walking in onMike’s betrayal in that hotel room, after she’d gotten out of the hospital,