And he loved how she did that, too. How she seemed to go from zero to sixty in five seconds flat. Just…bam! Hungry and horny and trying to gobble him up. It made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof…or maybe that was just his dick.
“Harper.” He pulled his mouth from hers. This was on the edge of getting out of control. And considering how flighty she’d been after their last encounter, he didn’t want to give her any reason not to come back to him for a third time. And a fourth time. And a fifth time, and a sixth… You get the point. “Slow, angel. We have… Oh, hell yeah. That feels good.”
She’d used the desertion of his mouth as an opportunity to kiss the side of his neck, running her tongue along the super-sensitive raised ridge of flesh that was an old scar. His testicles pulled up so high and tight against his body, she might as well have been sucking on the head of him.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered, her breath hot and wet against his skin, reminding him of another part of her that he knew from experience was even hotter, even wetter.
“In an altercation with a hunting knife in a cave near the Khyber Pass,” he told her. “The hunting knife nearly won.”
She pulled back, searching his eyes, her brow puckered. “How can you joke about something like that?”
Sweet woman. Sweet, clueless woman. “Because in this business, it’s either laugh or cry. And I’ve always preferred the former.”
“But—”
He sealed their lips to shut her up. Now she was the one threatening to ruin the mood. Some guys liked to work out their demons in the bedroom, use sex as a weapon to fight the terrible memories that plagued them. But not him. He preferred to keep those two things separate.
War was war, terrible and soul-sucking and brutal. And sex was sex, delicious and mind-blowing and wonderful.
“And never the twain shall meet.” At least as far as he was concerned.
And then she did it. She sighed into his mouth like it’d been years since he last kissed her instead of mere seconds, and he was totally done. Wrecked. Lost in all things Harper Searcy…
? ? ?
The low growl at the back of Michael’s throat seemed to reverberate in the achy spot between Harper’s legs, making her keenly aware of its hollow emptiness. And when his beard rasped her cheeks, she was reminded of how deliciously scratchy his face had been against the inside of her thighs…when he’d licked and sucked her to completion.
Had she really thought once would be enough with this man? Had she seriously contemplated letting her head rule her hormones and saying no to another go-around? What was she? Crazy?
Yup. She was crazy. Crazy horny. Crazy w—
“Jesus, woman,” he whispered into her mouth when she pulled his shirttail from the waistband of his cargo pants. “I love the way you taste.”
“Mmm,” she hummed between kisses. “You taste pretty good yourself, sailor.” And he did. The inside of his mouth was a combination of Kill Cliff—the sweet energy drink the SEALs swigged by the gallon—hot desert air, and heroism.
In case you were wondering, heroism had a flavor. And it went by the name of Michael “Mad Dog” Wainwright.
Warrior…
Once again the word whispered through her overheated brain. And she realized that for right now, for this one small moment, he wasn’t just any warrior, he was her warrior.
Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, she continued to devour his mouth, sucking, licking, laving, moaning when he met her caress for caress. She pulled back when she could spread the two halves wide. And there it was…
The miles upon miles of his hot, hard, tanned flesh.
Her hands smoothed over the crinkly hair that grew in the space between his bulging pectoral muscles and flat brown nipples, following it as it narrowed into a thin line down his flat belly before disappearing inside his pants. His corrugated stomach muscles flexed and quivered under her fingertips, and she delighted at the sight, could have gone on rubbing her palms over him forever. But there was something else she needed to get her hands on. Right now…
Reaching down, she palmed him through his fatigues. And though she was expecting it, she was still surprised by what a delicious, ridiculous handful he was. It was a good thing she already knew they would fit, or else she might have hesitated.
“Uh-uh. No dice.” He manacled her wrist, forcing her to look up at him in question. A muscle ticked in his jaw, making his beard twitch.
“Why?” she whispered, leaning forward to drag her tongue over one delicious nipple. She grinned when it instantly beaded against her lips.
“Because I’m too amped up. I could go off before I’m inside you. And that would be a crying shame. Not to mention the fact that since I pride myself on being a gentleman”—he gently pulled her hand away from the hard throb of his manhood—“it’s ladies first.”