When she arched up into him and dug her nails into his back, crying out his name, she finally unleashed the beast. He set a pace that had her writhing beneath him, desperate as he moved over her, holding her head between his hands, kissing her with the same intensity that their bodies moved together.
When she burst again, crying out as the pleasure took her, he came with her, mouth to mouth, his eyes holding hers through the shocking pleasure. He stayed with her, over her, buried deep, leaving no part of her untouched, and when she finally caught her breath, she realized she was clinging to him like he was her security blanket. She quickly let go and gave a tentative wiggle, thinking he’d roll off of her and then the awkward aftermath could be had and gotten over with.
But he didn’t move except to nuzzle at her jaw.
She wriggled again and this time added a little shove.
He let out a low, rough laugh, giving her one of those little post-sex body shudders that was practically another orgasm. “You make a man forget he’s got obligations,” he murmured, and rubbed against her like a big ol’ cat.
Oh God. He was getting hard again. And even more shockingly, her body had twined itself around him like she was the salt to his pretzel. “Oh no,” she said, slapping her hands to his chest. “Nope.”
Lifting his head, eyes heavy-lidded, hair tousled, a bite mark on his neck—holy cow, a bite mark on his neck? She’d bitten him? When had she bitten him?—he gave her the full view of his post-coital expression, and damn. Damn, he was so effing hot. “I mean it,” she said weakly as he brushed a kiss over her temple and then her cheek.
He gave one last lazy thrust, and though she would deny this until the end of time, she nearly came from that alone. “What are you,” she asked, “one-hundred-proof testosterone and pheromones? You’ve had your fun, now move.”
So he moved.
Inside her.
“Like that?” the bastard asked sinfully.
She gasped and clutched at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Giving another soft laugh, he kissed her, soft and sweet, and finally, thank God, he moved off her.
She felt the loss like she would a missing limb…Not that she would admit that. Ever.
But he took one look at her face and flashed a knowing grin.
Chapter 10
Sophie opened her eyes and realized she was wrapped up in a pair of strong, warm arms, which were curled possessively around her. Pulling back an inch, she found Jacob watching her from those fathomless dark eyes.
“Welcome back,” he said.
Oh God, she’d dozed off in his big, deliciously comfy bed. She would blame the damn boat, the stupid lake, too many sleepless nights in a row, but she could tell her denials would fall on deaf ears because, given the smug look on his face, he knew the truth. It was the orgasms.
“Tell me I wasn’t snoring,” she said.
“Nope.” He paused. “Drooling, yes. Snoring, no.”
“I did not drool!”
He just smiled.
“You should know,” she said, “I’m only here for your shower.”
His lips twitched. “Sure.”
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I mean it. I slept with you because you have hot water. Sure, the sexy times were okay, but don’t mistake this for something…mushy, because I won’t put up with that.”
He tipped his head back and laughed.
She stared at him. “You’re supposed to be insulted.”
“And you’re supposed to be honest. Stop trying to scare me off.”
She huffed out a sigh. “It’s my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“Yes, and I’m good at it.” She frowned. “Why didn’t you believe me?”
“The sexy times were just okay…?” he repeated, heavy on the disbelief.
She blushed. “That could’ve been true.”
He laughed again. “Babe, you came, like, twenty-five times.”
“Fine.” She struggled with something to insult him with, but the guy even woke up looking hot. “You farted in your sleep,” she said.
“Try again.”
“Fine, you did something else. You…talked,” she said, rather brilliantly, she thought. “You totally talked in your sleep.”
It was subtle, his reaction, especially since not an inch of him moved, but he definitely…retreated?
“Hey, I’m kidding,” she said. “You didn’t talk.” She paused. “But if you had, what is it you think you’d have said?”
He closed his eyes.
“Okay. So I’m assuming it wouldn’t have been ‘I know where the bodies are buried,’” she tried to joke.
His eyes opened, and she realized her mistake instantly. This was a soldier, a Wounded Warrior even if his wounds were on the inside. He probably knew where lots of bodies were buried and her joke had been in poor taste. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was thoughtless.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, just let out a slow, deep breath like he was gathering his thoughts. “I think I probably do sometimes talk in my sleep,” he said. “Or dream badly. It’s like that for a while after a rough tour.”
“I can imagine.” Unable to help herself, she sifted her fingers through his short hair and shook her head. “Actually, I can’t imagine what it must be like to come home after all you’ve been through and try to fit into regular civilian life.”
“I didn’t expect to come home.”
He met her gaze when hers flew to his face.