Pepper reached behind her and stroked a caress over that thick bulge. I’m getting impatient. I really, really want you in my mouth.
She made certain her palm was cupping the thick berth of his shaft when she whispered her confession to him into his mind, letting him see her eagerness. The hunger for the taste and feel of him. Her need to give him pleasure in return for all the pleasure he gave her.
I know just the place, honey. There’s a Christmas tree farm adjacent to the river. It isn’t far to walk and we can find a secluded place. He bent his head and licked behind her ear, and then his teeth nipped her earlobe.
We’re definitely visiting the cabin on the way home, she decreed. I’m already getting hot and wet for you. After this and then shopping more and then the car ride, I’m going to need you.
Laughing softly, he locked his arms right under her breasts, dropping his mouth to the side of her neck to kiss her there. I’m plannin’ on ridin’ you long and hard, babe. Let’s get movin’ before I burst.
Pepper moved.
Chapter 12
Trap Dawkins was a billionaire. He hadn’t inherited the money – he’d made it, starting up his own company at the age of thirteen. He was a certified genius as well as a gifted healer. What made him join the GhostWalkers no one knew for certain because he rarely explained himself. Sometimes Wyatt allowed himself to think Trap had followed him there. It wasn’t a good feeling, and Trap always went his own way without explanation, so Wyatt reminded himself of that whenever that niggling guilt showed its ugly face.
Trap had ice water running in his veins, and Wyatt was never quite certain whether he actually had the fear gene either. He doubted if Trap’s heart rate ever rose. The man was cool under fire, and every member of their team knew they could count on him to walk through hell for them.
Wyatt had liked the man from the moment they met that first year of college when they were on the same path. Trap was in his early thirties but seemed much older. He rarely smiled and he had an amazing singing voice. He didn’t use it often, but in their worst moments, with the sky raining bullets and the bloodied bodies of fellow soldiers in their hands, he would suddenly break into a church hymn. Nine times out of ten, no one sang with him because they were too awed at the power and beauty of his voice.
Trap was also a straight-up assassin. No one could get in and out of buildings or encampments undetected like he could. He was a total enigma. Wyatt was eternally grateful that the man was on his side. He’d agreed to come the moment Wyatt called. His agreement had been a short grunt and the conversation was ended because he was already on the way. He’d known Trap would come if he asked for help. Trap considered him a friend – more a brother – even more, he was part of their GhostWalker unit, which sealed them as family.
Trap was a little taller than Wyatt, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Not just any blue, but a cold glacier blue that chilled a man to the bone when Trap stared at him. His nickname had come not only from the ice water running in his veins, but the glaciers he had for eyes.
Draden Freeman, aka the “Sandman,” had been a model. He had the kind of body no one believed could be real. He’d been in demand by the largest high-end companies and made bank, enough to put him through college, grad school and his master’s program. When he had his degrees he joined the GhostWalkers. Like Trap, there didn’t seem to be a reasonable explanation for it. He was a man seemingly with everything and yet, like each of them, he was driven to do something all of them knew was a little insane.
Draden was fast with his hands when working with the injured, able to find collapsing veins and salvage the situation when everyone else might think the patient was lost. Wyatt wanted him in his corner if he was wounded. Draden would never stop fighting for a wounded soldier, breathing for them if he had to.
He seemed easygoing enough, much like Wyatt, but like Wyatt, he wasn’t at all. He was moody and ran long distances. Wyatt suspected he ran to distance himself from his demons – whatever they were – but they always came back to haunt him. Draden was a hard worker and never shirked. He often pulled double shifts because he didn’t sleep much. In fact, Wyatt wasn’t certain he actually slept. Certainly he’d never seen the man do so.
Still, Draden had the same loyalty to his team they all had. They were a tight bunch, protecting one another and watching each other for signs of overload. Draden was one of the rare anchors who could pull psychic energy away from any team member who needed it. Like the rest of Team Four, Draden was a natural healer.