Thrust and retreat. Thrust and retreat. Each smooth glide ratcheted her pleasure up another notch. She wanted to draw it out. She wanted to make it last. And she could tell by the way he held his breath that he was fighting for the same. Fighting against the pleasure. Against release.
But the pleasure wouldn’t be denied. And despite her best efforts, she climbed higher and higher. Up and up and up until…boooom! Her orgasm exploded through her as surely and as forcefully as any of today’s detonations.
“Jesus! Harper!” he bellowed, slamming home and following her into the abyss. And then together they throbbed, her flesh clinging and grasping, contracting around him in hungry pulls. His flesh filling her to the brim and caressing her walls with each forceful pulse.
After a couple of minutes, he bent and pressed a dozen soft kisses to her shoulder. “My sweet, delightful Harper,” he whispered between caresses.
And right then and there, with his strong arms around her, she could almost make herself believe that she was his, that everything she knew to be true was all a big lie, and that maybe, just maybe, she should give him, give them, a chance.
But then reality—and the memory of her mother crying herself to sleep night after night—intruded…
? ? ?
“You’re lookin’ pretty proud of yourself, sailor.”
Michael realized then, braced as he was on his forearms and hanging above Harper, that his face was split into a huge grin. “Well, I’ve never been one not to congratulate myself on a hand well played,” he told her, chuckling and dropping a kiss on her passion-swollen lips.
And even though she returned the gesture, even though their bodies were still joined, there was something about her response—a subtle withdrawal, a minor retreat—that had all his mental bells and whistles blaring. Goddamnit! Harper was pulling an emotional escape-and-evade maneuver. Again!
He caught her face between his hands, forcing her to hold his gaze and, never being one to pull-his-punches or prevaricate, got straight to the fucking point. “Now, you want to tell me the real reason why you’ve been avoiding me since the embassy party?”
“I told you I thought—”
“Cut the crap, Harper,” he interrupted before she could break into that whole I thought you Navy boys practiced the art of one-and-done song and dance. “I never took you for a woman who’s afraid to speak her mind. Don’t you go and prove me wrong.”
Her jaw hardened against his palms. And when she placed a hand on the center of his chest, he was left with no recourse but to pull away from her, pull out of her. The desertion of her warm body was so unexpectedly devastating, his knees loosened and he was forced to brace a hand against the edge of the table. Sullenly, he watched her hop to her feet, her skirt falling to cover her sweet ass as she bent to retrieve her shirt and bra.
And once it became obvious she had no intention of answering him until she’d clothed herself, until she’d placed a barrier between them, he figured he might as well follow suit. After all, if they were about to have a heart-to-heart, it probably behooved him not to do it with his dick swinging in the breeze.
Pulling the used condom off, he hissed when the ring of latex rasped over his hyper-sensitive skin. Tugging his fatigues up his hips one-handed, he left them undone as he went in search of a trash can.
Bingo. Over by the shelves.
Tossing the prophylactic away, he was in the process of re-buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants when she asked, “Where are my panties?”
A smile tugged at his mouth as he dug in his pocket. He plucked out the bit of black satin, causing the two spent shells to also emerge. They fell, pinging against the concrete floor. And the juxtaposition between the softness of her underwear and the hardness of the casings, between the sweetness of making love to her and the horror of the battle beforehand struck him as totally bizarre.
But he didn’t have long to dwell on it. She took two steps in his direction and made a swipe for her panties. As lady luck would have it, his six-foot-three stature meant it was easy for him to hold them out of her reach. “Uh-uh. Not until you answer my question.”
Her lips flattened. “You’re not seriously holding my underwear hostage, are you?”
“A man has to take any advantage he can.”
And there they went—her hands found their way to her hips until she stood in front of him like a flame-haired comic book heroine. But when she ran a shaky hand through her curls, God help him, he relented, handing over her panties.
After she stepped into them, wiggling them up her thighs—and that one small sight was enough to have his blood running hot once again—she stood and blew out a breath. “I like you.”
The way his chin jerked back, you’d think she’d popped him one on the jaw. Uh… “Well, that’s good,” he managed, hooking a thumb toward the table. “You know, considering what we were just doing.”