Читать книгу Military Heroes Bundle: A Soldier's Homecoming / A Soldier's Redemption / Danger in the Desert / Strangers When We Meet / Grayson's Surrender / Taking Cover - Catherine Mann, Merline Lovelace - Страница 40

Chapter 7

He wiped her tears gently away when she finally quieted. For a long time he just held her, but finally he spoke. “We have to talk about how to deal with this.”

“What can we possibly do?

“Well, I’ll have to think about that some, but we’ve still got to talk. We have to sort through your options and my options, and see what we can come up with. There’s a lot I can do, but I don’t usually plan entire operations by myself.”

“Teamwork?”

“Yes. And you’re my team. And the sheriff, too. We’ve got to talk this all over with him.”

“I don’t want to! What if he calls the Marshals? I don’t want to do that again.”

“Easy now. I’m sure we can convince Gage not to do that. But as good as I may be, I’m still just one man, Cory. We’re going to need some help.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder, hating all of this, from the fear that tingled along her spine to the sense of being trapped in a nightmare. Why couldn’t she have even an hour of forgetfulness? Was that so much to ask?

Then he shifted her, so that she lay even closer to him. His hand began to run over her back, in steady, soothing circles. At least she thought he meant them to be soothing, but after a few minutes they had a totally different effect. Their passionate kiss yesterday had made her aware of her own needs again, and it didn’t take long for her body to remind her that there was still something good in life, something that could be hers for the asking. Something that would make her forget.

But forgetfulness quickly took a backseat to a slowly building heat. Even if her mind and heart quailed, her body wanted to spring back to life, to grasp it with both hands and revel in it.

The softest of sighs escaped her, and she tried to wiggle closer, to say with her body what she could not with words.

His hand paused. As soon as she realized he must have received her silent message, she caught and held her breath, torn between an impulse to pull away and hide, and an almost excruciating hope that he wouldn’t turn her away.

She should run. Now. Because she couldn’t handle the rejection. Not now. Not after all she had exposed about herself.

Turn away now, don’t give him the chance to say no.

But her body refused to obey her brain. It wanted something primal, something more elemental, an affirmation of life that bypassed all those messed-up circuits in her brain.

His hand left her back. She tensed in expectation of the rejection. But instead he caught her chin and turned her face up so they were looking at one another, only inches apart. His dark eyes searched hers, then moved over her face, as if seeking an answer to some question.

Then he swooped in like a bird of prey and took her mouth in a kiss that stunned her with its intensity, as if he wanted to draw her very soul out of her.

Oh, he knew how to kiss. His tongue mated with hers in a rhythm that exactly matched the pulsing it set off in her body. Fireworks sparkled along her nerve endings, making every inch of her so sensitive that the merest brush of clothing against her skin seemed overwhelmingly sensual and sexual.

He shifted, tugging both her legs between his, so they were locked together and her throbbing center was out of reach even as it grew heavy and aching with need.

All from a kiss.

Her body wanted to fight the imprisonment until she felt his hardness against her belly. She understood then. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him, but he would make her wait, slow her down, force patience where she felt none.

And that understanding made her relax into his arms, and let him have his way. No need to rush. No need at all. Somehow that freed her in a way desire alone couldn’t have.

He continued to hold her close with one arm as he kissed her, but his other hand began to wander. He slipped it under her robe, leaving only her pajamas in the way, and stroked her side from breast to thigh, to the point where his leg trapped hers, then swept it up again, slowly...oh, so slowly.

And as it returned upward, it slid beneath her pajama top, and she gasped. She arched a little, breaking the kiss as she felt his callused palm touch her bare skin. He stayed there for a while, drawing slow, lazy circles on her middle while his mouth claimed hers again, this time more gently, echoing the touch of his fingers.

Impatience started to build in her again, causing her to squirm a bit against his bondage, but he didn’t release her. Her breasts ached for a touch, a kiss, until she thought she would go out of her mind from the longing.

Yet still he withheld it.

Tearing her mouth from his, she gasped for air, then reached with one hand to undo the buttons of his shirt. If he wasn’t going to give her more, she would take more.

He didn’t stop her when she pulled open his shirt and pressed her palm at last to his chest. She thought she even heard a deep sound of pleasure escape him as she began to trace the contours of those hard muscles, glorying in the smoothness of his skin, in the ripples across his belly, in the small points of his nipples. Exquisite. Perfect. As much a feast for her hands as he had been for her eyes.

Then without warning, his hands gripped her around her waist, he freed her from the prison of his legs and, leaving her almost dizzy, he lifted her over him, so that she straddled his hips.

A groan escaped her as he tugged her down until her moist yearning depths met his hardness through layers of denim and cotton. What was he doing? She needed to get rid of the clothing that interfered.

But when she reached for the snap of his jeans, he stopped her and murmured roughly, “Just ride me, Cory.”

She didn’t know what he meant until his hands gripped her hips again and he moved her against him. All of a sudden those layers of fabric didn’t seem to matter. Her hips helplessly rocked against him, demanding a solution to the problem of need.

And as she rocked, he slipped his hands up under her nightshirt and cupped her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.

He might as well have plugged her into an electric socket. Shocks zinged through her, setting her alight, then zipped to her center, creating an ache that made her forget everything, everything except her need.

“That’s the way...” He groaned the words, urging her on, tormenting her even as he encouraged her to ride the cresting wave. And somehow, by keeping them both clothed, he had set her free in an unexpected way.

Set her free to take what she wanted as she rubbed herself against him over and over. Set her free to give in to her need without thought of anything or anyone other than herself.

Free to be.

Free to ride the crest of the wave all the way until she tumbled wildly into the warm waters below.

And knew peace.

* * *

She lay on Wade’s chest, his arms around her as aftershocks made her tremble. Her legs sprawled on either side of him, leaving her open, and each aftershock caused her to tighten them just a bit against his hips.

She felt more safe, more secure and more relaxed than she had since...the shooting. And she couldn’t even rustle up a smidgen of guilt about it.

Well, except that she didn’t know if Wade had enjoyed it quite as much as she had, didn’t know if he’d found completion himself. And had no way to ask.

Silly, after what they had just shared, an experience all the more exhilarating because of the way he had brought it about, that she should feel a bit shy. But there it was.

But oh, she never would have believed that having sex while fully clothed could actually enhance the experience, could arouse her so much, could give her such a sense of primitive freedom. In a way, she supposed, it had been an updated version of dragging her away to a cave by her hair. Little finesse, a lot of hunger, and bam!

He’d lingered just long enough for her inhibitions to weaken, and then he’d forced her to shed them all. Quick, hot and ready.

And damn, it felt good.

He moved at last, just a bit, lifting a hand to stroke the back of her head, then wind a strand of her hair around his finger.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “You?”

“Pretty amazed, actually.”

At that she lifted her head and looked at him. His hard face looked softer now, and even his obsidian eyes seemed less like rock and more like deep waters. “How so?”

“I couldn’t begin to explain.”

She laid her cheek on his chest again. “Some things beggar words, I guess.”

“Maybe so.” He released the strand of her hair, and ran a fingertip along the curve of her jaw. “Were you a teacher, before?”

This man had a gift for putting a few pieces together into complete a puzzle, so she guessed it shouldn’t have surprised her that he had figured that out. “Why do you ask?”

“Something you said. Well, actually, something you started to say and never finished. You caught yourself just as you started to say the word.”

“And you finished it.”

“I do that sometimes.”

“God, you’re incredible. It’s like you read minds.”

“I’m just observant. You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, it’s okay. I was a teacher. Maybe I’ll teach again someday.”

“Was there a reason they didn’t just get you a certificate here?”

“They felt it would leave too much of a trail.” And here was reality, intruding again. She almost wanted to beat her fist on something.

“Sorry, guess I’m ruining the moment.”

She must have grown tenser, she thought. In some way he’d picked up on her reaction. He was amazing. In so many ways. Jim had been a sensitive guy, but not this sensitive. “No, I can’t hide for long from reality. Not now,” she admitted finally. “Not when there may be a threat.”

“No.” A word of agreement.

Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. No more breaks for her today, she thought almost ruefully.

“I think,” Wade said after a moment, “that you ought to take a shower while I go make us some breakfast.”

“You’re going to do the cooking?”

“I told you I know some basics. I may not be able to turn out that pasta thing you managed last night, but I can make a mean scrambled egg, and I can cook it with anything from sunlight, to a flameless ration heater, to a candle to a stove.”

“I recommend the stove.”

“Since it’s available.”

She lifted her head and looked at him again. “How do you cook with sunlight?”

“We carry mirrors for signaling. All you have to do is set it up right.”

She nodded. “Someday you’ll have to show me.”

He rolled then, dumping her off him onto the bed. He smiled, actually smiled down at her as he raised himself on one elbow. “Shower,” he repeated. “I’ll go make some edible scrambled eggs.”

Then he gave her a quick hard kiss and was gone.

* * *

For the first time in forever, Cory thought about what she was putting on. Ordinarily she grabbed a uniform from her closet, or just a shirt and jeans, not caring which. But this morning she dithered over whether she should wear a denim skirt, the brown plaid shirt with the piped yoke or a plainer polo shirt.

Finally she told herself to stop being ridiculous, pulled on fresh jeans—in Florida jeans were rarely worn except when it was cool, but here everyone wore them even if it was hot—and the gold polo shirt. She even added a bit of lipstick and mascara, from among the few personal possessions she’d been able to bring with her: nothing that wouldn’t fit into a suitcase.

Good smells reached her as soon as she opened her bedroom door. Apparently Wade had added some bacon to the menu from the groceries he had bought yesterday, and from the aroma she could tell he’d brewed fresh coffee. Not only a second cup today, but a second pot. Now that was an extravagance she hadn’t enjoyed in far too long.

When she entered the kitchen, she found the table already set. The bacon was draining on a paper towel over a plate on the table, and a stack of toast stood on the counter beside the toaster, already buttered.

“You can cook,” she said with surprise.

“Told you. What do you think happens when we’re at some small firebase on our own? We take turns, and God help the guy who can’t even make a decent breakfast.”

A little laugh escaped her.

“And here it’s easy. You even have a toaster. Take a seat. I’ll bring you coffee.”

She sat, saying, “I thought you guys had prepackaged meals. What are they called?”

“MREs. Meals, Ready-to-Eat. Three lies in three letters. I won’t give you any of the slang names for them.”

“But you cooked anyway?”

“When we move, we move fast and travel light. Try to live off the land. Besides, what you eat affects how you smell, so it’s best to eat local diet as much as possible.”

She noticed his consistent use of the present tense, and wondered if he really found it that hard to put his years as a SEAL in the past, or if the present situation had just put him back in the mental mode as if he’d never left.