Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)

Good lord, that felt so . . . good.

And then he turned the tables on her and caught her bottom lip in his teeth. Only he sucked on it, hard. With each pull of his mouth, she felt a corresponding tug deep in her belly and a flood of moisture between her legs.

In an effort to alleviate the sudden violent ache throbbing between her legs, she rubbed herself against the bulge pressing into her belly. He groaned, and the bulge gained length and width.

Breathing hard, he dragged his mouth away and pressed it against the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Baby,” he said in a breathless voice before pausing to suckle at the base of her neck until she squirmed against him. “We need to either stop this, like right now—or get naked and in your bed.”

She voted for the naked and in bed.

Eager to show her enthusiasm for his suggestion, she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and fought to shove it over his head. But the feel of his warm, smooth skin stretched so tight over hard muscles distracted her. Her hands slowed to a long, gliding caress.

He groaned again, arching into her touch, his skin rippling beneath her fingers. And then he grabbed his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. She stared in fascination at his muscled chest, with its thin arrow of golden hair trailing down the tight muscles of his abdomen, only to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans. Without thinking, she leaned in to press her mouth against his heart. His skin tasted slightly salty, with the oddest tinge of smoke, and so damn good she was quickly becoming addicted to it.

He’d twitched with each stroke of her hands, but the brush of her lips earned a jolt. She smiled at that delightful discovery and slowly slid down his body, teasing the length of his abdomen with her lips, teeth, and tongue.

When she knelt before him, her arms wrapped around his thick thighs, with only the buttoned and zippered waistband of his jeans preventing further exploration—he suddenly came alive.

As she unlocked her arms from around his legs and her hands went to work on the button securing his jeans, a curse exploded from him. Urgent hands slid under her arms, lifting her.

His face was hard as he stared down at her, his eyes dilated, his bottom lip swollen, a flush riding his cheekbones.

“Last chance to call it quits, sweetheart,” he said between hard and fast breaths.

Call it quits? Why in the world would she want to do that? She wanted him, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man before. Wanted him to be the man she spent her last night on earth with, if tomorrow meant the death of her.

“I say we reconvene in the bed.” Her voice was so thick and sultry, she barely recognized it.

He didn’t wait for a second invitation. Bending, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the queen-size bed taking up most of the room. He set her down on the foot of the mattress and slowly loosened the tie to her robe.

Deliberately, almost reverently, he spread the garment wide and pushed it off her shoulders, leaving her completely bare. She sat there beneath his glittering blue gaze, her nipples puckering, her breasts tightening, her skin aching for his touch.

Instead of joining her on the bed, he dropped to his knees and smoothed his palms up her legs, from ankle to calf to thigh. His hands were rough, slightly scratchy, leaving the oddest mixture of fire and chills in their wake. He pressed her thighs apart far enough to accommodate his body and leaned in, continuing his gentle assault at her belly, only this time with his mouth.

Boneless, splayed before him, she lost herself in the heated sensation of his mouth and the light scrape of his teeth as he explored her body. He feathered kisses up the old silvered scars on her chest, his mouth so gentle she could barely feel the feathery caress, and then slid over to take a tight nipple in his mouth. As his warm, wet mouth closed over her breast and suckled, she arched into him, her arms stealing around his ribs and up his bare back—savoring the hard, smooth flow of muscles beneath her palms. He felt so good pressed against her, strong and firm, completely male.

But she needed to know how he’d feel inside her.

She skimmed her hands back down his back and slid them beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear to cup the firm muscles of his ass. The fact that he arched into her touch brought her a smile and the confidence to move her hands around to the front of his jeans for some deeper exploration.

Trish McCallan's books