She’d been so hot for him, so hungry and eager, that it had been all he could do to keep himself under control. By the time she was coming hard against his mouth, his body had been screaming with the need to take her. As he’d lifted himself over her, more than ready to get down to it, his arms had trembled.
That was when, finally, he’d given up on the whole self-control thing and let his animal instincts rule.
The memory was making him hard all over again.
Right now she was sprawled on top of him, silent and sated and limp as a glove, because after he’d finished rocking her world he’d rolled with her, not wanting to crush her with his weight. The heavy mass of her hair lay across his shoulder like a blanket. He could feel the flutter of her breath just over his heart. He could feel other things, too: the swell of her tits against his chest; the small, hard points of her nipples. The brush of her sweet little bush on top of his abs. The heat between her long, sexy legs, which were open and sprawled on either side of his.
That heat was doing a number on his thought processes, to say nothing of his cock, which was assuming the approximate size and consistency of a log again. That heat was drawing his hand down from where it had been idly resting on the warm, silky skin of her back to stroke over the curve of her gorgeous ass on its way to investigating it. That heat was fogging his brain to the point where, when she stirred and braced a forearm against his chest and lifted her head to unexpectedly pin him with her big blue eyes, all he could think to say was, “Hey.”
She smiled at him. A warm, intimate, you-just-got-me-off smile that did a number on his heart rate. With her honey-colored hair spilling like a waterfall over one of her pale shoulders and her eyes all dreamy-looking from sex and her knockout body all slim naked curves painted gold by the lamplight, she looked hot enough to fuck into next week. Again.
“That was amazing,” she said. Her voice was husky and low.
“Yeah?” So he wasn’t up to making brilliant conversation. His cock was currently doing all his thinking. It was a wonder he was even able to talk.
“Yeah.”
“Glad you think so.” His hand was on her ass, palming the smooth, warm curve, and he tightened his grip and shifted her just a little so that she was lying right on top of his erection. Jesus, that felt good.
Her eyes widened as she felt him stirring under her. Her lips parted to give him a glimpse of her pretty white teeth. Then she gave a little wriggle, pressed her hips deliberately down, and—
Holy Mary Mother of God, if he got any hotter he’d catch fire.
His hand slid on down to check out that enticing heat of hers.
“Oh,” she said as his hand moved between her legs, parting her folds, stroking, exploring. He pushed two fingers inside her and was blown away by how tight she was, how hot and wet. She said “Oh” again, on a squeaky little note of surprised delight that instantly made him so big and hard that the marble monolith of the Washington Monument had nothing on him.
She closed her eyes with one of her sexy little moans that made every muscle in his body tighten, every time she did it. Then, with his fingers moving purposefully in and out, with her body undulating on top of his like she was deliberately trying to drive him out of his mind, with her panting and flushed on top of him and her nipples practically branding his chest and enough heat rising off the pair of them to steam up the air, she opened her eyes, gave him a dead-sexy look, and said in a throaty growl, “I knew there was a reason I pulled you out of the sea.”
That surprised a laugh out of him. First time he could remember laughing while he was in the middle of some serious foreplay, with his cock begging for action and his balls aching like they were getting ready to explode.
“Lucky me,” he said, meaning it, and rolled so that she was beneath him again.
Their gazes met as her arms came around his neck and he bent his head to kiss her. Her eyes were hot for him, just like her body was hot for him, but there was something else in those big baby blues of hers, too, something that he couldn’t quite—
“Lucky me,” she said softly, and lifted her mouth to meet his.
The instant before their lips touched, he had it. He knew what was looking out at him from behind the blaze of torrid passion in her eyes: vulnerability. And trust.
What do you do with a woman who looks at you like that?
He fucked her until she screamed.
Afterward, she passed out, while he managed to stay awake long enough to get up and retrieve the flashlight and his weapon, which he wanted to keep within easy reach.
Ordinarily the phenomenal sex would have been enough to occupy his thoughts, but as he rolled their coats into substitute pillows and then blew out the lantern, Cal found himself once again turning over in his mind the unwelcome scenario that had first occurred to him when Gina had described the Texas accent of the gunman she called Heavy Tread. Cal’s CIA handler, Lon Whitman, who’d hired him for this job, was from San Antonio, and his twang was as Texas as they came.