Breaking Protocol

by Michelle Witvliet

  “Of course I remember,” she said with a husky laugh as her posture visibly relaxed. “The ceiling was so low neither of us could stand up straight.”

  “Precisely,” he said. “You couldn’t leave there, either.”

  “There’s more to it than that. I could still see the sky by day and the stars at night. I like my rooms with a view.”

  He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bunk and pushed off, landing silently on the balls of his bare feet. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her quite like this. Strung tighter than a trip wire, her pacing seemed to be all that kept her from flying apart.

  He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to alleviate her distress. His action elicited a response he was afraid to interpret. Her spine stiffened, and she tensed in a way that suggested she was holding her breath. He refused to consider she was reacting to anything more than their unusual circumstances.

  The breath burst from her lips, dragging her words with it. “Please don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  She hung her head. “I can’t bear it when you touch me,” she said in a brittle whisper.

  Sucker punched, he jerked his hands away. So she had been responding to his touch after all, only not in the way he had hoped. It took him a moment to regain his composure and take a deep enough breath to speak.

  “I...I’m sorry,” he said, and placing some distance between them by taking a few careful steps back. Then he took a couple more just because he thought it best for his own peace of mind. “I never realized you felt that way.”

  She whirled around, her dark eyes flashing, boring into him, pinning him to the spot where he stood. He couldn’t move from under her scrutiny, nor did he care to try. He was curious as to what she had to say.

  “You don’t have the first clue as to how I feel,” she said. “You never have.”

  Caught by another unexpected punch, he said, “Then by all means, please enlighten me.” A massive dose of reality followed by a bitter truth chaser might be just what he needed to knock this woman out of his system once and for all.

  “I’d be happy to,” she said, holding him steadfast in her sights as she closed the gap between them with short, determined, one-bare-foot-in-front-of-the-other strides. “But first you have to promise you won’t bolt when I do.” Spreading her hands across his chest she pressed a light, undemanding kiss on the corner of his mouth, which at the moment was slightly agape.

  “Promise?” she probed.

  Carter nodded his response and eyed her warily.

  “The way I see it,” she said, fingering the Henley placket of his shirt. “You’ve got two choices—me or the storm.” She popped the top button, and then the next. “What’s it going to be?”

  Chapter Six

  Carter grappled for and finally found his last remaining shred of restraint. Finding his voice to go with it, he said, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “A wise man once told me, don’t think, don’t argue, don’t analyze...” She paused for effect, then added, “...just do it.”

  “That’s not fair, turning a man’s words against him,” he protested.

  “I can think of far better words than fair to describe how I want to be right now.” She popped another button. “Like wild, and impetuous, and out-of-control for starters. C’mon, Riggs, haven’t you ever wanted something so badly you’re willing to do almost anything to get it?”

  “You have no idea.” He ached from wanting this woman. He wanted to throw her down on the floor and take her without a moment’s thought to comfort or gentleness in a heated rush of desperate, reckless passion so primal that he felt himself shaking from the intensity of his desire. He gripped her shoulders and held her at a loose arm’s length, more in an effort to keep his urges in check than stopping her advances.

  “Lose control, Riggs. Let’s use this place for more than shelter from the storm.”

  A much bigger storm was raging inside him. “We shouldn’t do this. It’s not right.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s more than right, Riggs. It’s about damn time.” She splayed her hands across his chest and leaned into him. Nothing but the thin fabric of their shirts separated their bodies. He felt the beat of her heart just as he was certain she could feel the pounding of his.

  Her lips closed ever so gently around his Adam’s apple. The scent of her washed over him and caused him to close his eyes in an effort to control the impulses rising like the tide and flooding his already overloaded system. He was ready to self-combust, but still he remained motionless and resistant to her advances.

  “Am I the only one feeling like this?” Her low, husky tone was a tad too audible to be considered shy or nervous, but not quite loud enough to be construed as overtly confident, either.

  “No,” he answered. “You’re not.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  The problem was he’d never found a woman he’d wanted for very long—until now—and that, he realized, was his biggest problem of all because he wanted this one forever.

  There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but all he managed to say was, “I’ve never been interested in casual sex or one night stands.” He sure as hell wasn’t about to start with her.

  “There’s nothing casual about what I’m suggesting, Riggs.”

  When she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck, he noted a tentative hitch in her injured arm. He cupped her elbow to lend support. “Sure you’re up to this?”

  “It’s a little tender, but it’s not a deal breaker.” She made a muscle and pumped her arm. “See...works just fine.”

  He still wasn’t convinced, and apparently his expression showed his doubt, because she didn’t waste any time in giving him one of her famous “trust me” looks. “Honest, Riggs. You know I’ve always been a fast healer—it’s my mother’s Mayan ancestors and their mystical blood I have to thank for it.”

  Riggs grinned at her sincerity. Here was a woman who grasped technology faster than anyone he knew, yet she still believed in ancestral mysticism. The contrast intrigued him.

  “Mystical blood, huh? You don’t think those antibiotics the doctors pumped into you might have contributed to your speedy recovery just a little bit?”

  “Well, maybe a little,” she conceded. “But regardless of the reasons, I’m just glad there’s nothing to hinder our forthcoming activity.”

  That said, she pulled his head down, her fingers gingerly playing with the short bristly hairs at his nape where the hairline stopped and the thick cording of his neck began. Her other arm reached around and gripped his hip, lingering on the muscular swell of his ass before she pulled him closer. She moved against him with a kittenish purr when she felt the hard ridge of his erection against her hip.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  His lips hesitated, hovering in the gentle feminine slope where her neck and shoulder joined, so near she could feel his breath wash across her flesh before he finally closed the gap and made contact. Her head rolled back, giving him easier access to all the places his mouth chose to wander. She thrilled at the little smacking noises he made with kisses placed against her skin in rapid succession. Holding her within the firm cradle of one arm, his fingers hooked into the shirt collar and drew it aside, exposing her bare shoulder to his wandering mouth.

  Because of her height in proportion to his, their bodies fit together with such amazing perfection; the physical anomaly caused her to smile, as if she knew it would be like this all along, and her eyes fluttered shut with a satisfied sigh. Warring sensations rippled through her, all battling for supremacy as he worked his way upward with a hot trail of those slow, maddening kisses. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to have them go on forever.

  He rai
sed his head, his lips moving nearer to her ear, and he whispered, “I need you to look at me.”

  She stiffened and braced herself. “Don’t say it, Riggs. Don’t say anything,” she mournfully implored. “Two rejections from you in the same lifetime are more than I can bear.”

  “That wasn’t my intention, but if you’re having second thoughts, you need to tell me now before this goes any further.” Cupping her face between his hands, he urged her to look at him. Looking down, his gaze deep and searching, he added, “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? I mean, this isn’t just a convenient distraction, is it?”

  “Distraction?” she reiterated. “Most definitely. Convenient? Hardly. Maybe a better question is, are you certain, because I know I am.”

  “I’m very certain,” he answered, lowering his head to kiss her with lips that that affirmed his declaration. It was the kind of kiss filled with passion and promise—one that teased and thrilled with internal spins and spirals, leaving her body weak and bones liquefied.

  Now that she had him, she wanted all of him. Piper clasped handfuls of his hunter green polo. She tugged it out of the belted waistband of his cargo shorts, the next barrier she planned on removing. Slipping her hands beneath the shirt’s soft folds still warm from his body, she began a hasty journey upward. Playfully wandering over the peaks and valleys of his muscled chest, her fingers lingered long enough to tweak each male nipple before continuing their unveiling. The higher her hands traveled, the more shirt she took with her until it bunched at her bent elbows and she couldn’t reach any further.

  “I could use a little help here,” she said, pushing the shirt as far as her range of motion would allow. As he lifted his arms to finish stripping away the polo, she concentrated her effort on his belt buckle. He tossed the shirt aside with one hand and gripped her busy fingers with the other.

  “Nuh-uh,” he said.

  “What do you mean, nuh-uh?” she questioned, swatting his hand out of the way. “You’ve got to trust me on this, Riggs. It’s more fun when you’re naked.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he replied with the most infuriatingly slow, easy drawl.

  A worried frown pinched her brows. “You do want to get naked, don’t you?”

  “E-ven-tu-al-ly.” Again, he spoke with maddening slowness, emphasizing every syllable with lingering precision. An even slower smile followed.

  “So why the holdup?” She felt his little soldier straining to get out every time she rubbed herself against him. If that wasn’t the problem, what else could possibly be making him act so hesitant? Although, drawing from personal experience going all the way back to a wretchedly painful moment in high school, an erection didn’t necessarily mean what a woman thought it meant. As she’d discovered, a hard-on was nothing more than a physical response to the right stimulation. There was still that pesky little thing called chemistry.

  Riggs wouldn’t be the first man to be turned off by certain physical inadequacies—her boobs, or lack of them, being the most obvious example. She should have realized he didn’t find them appealing, since all he’d done since they got there was try to cover them up.

  “You don’t really want to do this, do you?”

  “Are you kidding me?” These words tumbled from his lips in their haste to be heard. “Honey, you’ve got me standing here with an erection so painful that I’m at serious risk of coming in my pants, and furthermore, you’ve had me this way for days. In plain and simple language, my balls aren’t blue ’cause I’m homesick.”

  His admission was like a cold splash of water on a hot summer day, quite startling at first, but a welcome relief once the initial shock had passed. Her reaction wasn’t any different. She first gasped out loud then burst out laughing. “I haven’t heard that since Jimmy Lawrence pulled it on me in the tenth grade,” she chortled.

  “Did it work?” Carter asked with a smirk as he ran a finger across her prominent collarbone, then followed his touch with a lingering kiss.

  “For Jimmy? No. He never made it past first base.”

  “How about me?”

  “You’ve got a pretty good chance of making it around the bases, but you don’t expect me to put you in the game before I see your equipment.”

  “Then put me in, coach,” he said, pulling her into his arms and against his Louisville Slugger. “I’m ready to play.”

  She worked her fingers down the line of small pearly buttons, one by one until the shirt fell open. Shrugging it off her shoulders, she dropped her arms to her sides and it shimmied to the floor where she kicked it aside with a quick flip of her foot. That done, she snagged her thumbs into the tight waistband of her shorts, more than ready to be rid of the blasted things once and for all. He stopped her before she could pull the taut elastic away from where it cut wrinkly grooves around her middle.

  “Let me,” he said, hooking his thumbs between the lean flesh at her waist and the snug waistband. He dropped to one knee and inched them down, kissing each place he exposed. Another inch, another couple of maddeningly slow kisses. Lower and lower, kiss by kiss, he slid the shorts down until they were nothing more than a memory.

  Piper braced one hand on his shoulder and ran the other through his hair. “You’re definitely all-star material. Let me see what else you got.”

  Standing, he took her hands and held her arms out, his gaze traveling like thick molasses down her body.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

  Riggs tossed back his head and laughed. “Give me a chance to enjoy the view, huh?”

  “Then I demand that you level the playing field,” she told him as she tugged on his shorts.

  Anxious for him to join her, she sat on the bunk and scooted back as far as she could, dreamily watching him unfasten the waistband and push the shorts down his hard muscled thighs. Her dark, glistening gaze, alive with unabashed appreciation, caressed each and every inch of tanned and not-so-tanned, toned flesh. Her gaze lingered on his impressive equipment, and she licked her lips appreciatively. He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the view.

  “Come here, you,” she said.

  Naked and erect, he kneeled at the edge of the bed and ducked his head, which he promptly banged on the upper bunk bed frame. He breathed an appropriate curse and winced as he rubbed the place where a welt formed on the right side of his forehead near his hairline. He glanced upward, his face only centimeters away from the underside of the upper mattress springs.

  “I have a better idea,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other supporting her back and neck. He pulled her against his body, taking her with him as he backed out from under the bed frame. Her feet barely touched the floor before his hands spanned her waist and hoisted her up to place her butt on the edge of the upper bunk.

  Her legs dangled down, feet swinging, her thighs spread wide with his elbows bracing her knees apart. His big warm hands spanned the soft flesh of her inner thighs, holding her open, giving him a totally unobstructed frontal view of her most private parts. She squirmed uncomfortably, having never felt so dreadfully exposed, so vulnerable, and tried to scoot back, wanting to distance herself from his silent scrutiny. Getting naked had never been a problem. What she’d always had difficulty dealing with was the intimacy factor. She remained perfectly still and forced herself to keep that from happening now.

  Never taking his eyes off her, he trapped her hips in his hands and held her steadfast. Every move he made was with such slow deliberateness, it gave her too much time to think, to imagine what his next move might be. The mere thought of what he might do next caused her to gasp with short, panting breaths as she waited expectantly.

  His hands caressed and stroked, creeping higher and higher, until finally settling into the junction where her legs joined her torso. Amazingly gentle hands fondled and teased, thick fingers sweetly tormenting, prolonging
the anticipation, as she rocked her pelvis into his palm. His thumb slipped between her feminine folds and found her swollen and glistening. He stroked her with a gentle touch that shot flames of desire through her groin.

  He stopped his exquisite torture, gripped her behind the knees and lifted her legs to hang over his shoulders. The action moved her hips off the edge of the bed, leaving her lower body suspended, supported only by his shoulders and the bed beneath her upper back. The combination of sexual anticipation and the fear of falling made for a dangerously dizzying experience. She held her breath as he lowered his head and took his first taste.

  His tongue swirled around her aching nub and delved into her opening with single-minded concentration. A jolt of pure pleasure jumped through her body, causing her to arch her back against the invading torment as a shrill little cry exploded from her lips.

  Piper felt herself slipping, losing her balance. She reached out, spreading her arms wide, to catch herself on the edge of the bed frame. The muscles in her arms trembled from the strain of holding on as her legs swung loose and wild from his broad shoulders.

  “This isn’t fun anymore, Riggs!” she cried out, desperately searching for a way to stop from taking what would be a decidedly undignified free fall.

  “Don’t panic,” he drawled, gripping around her waist. “I’ve got you,” he said with such absolute certainty she couldn’t help but trust him and relax. He lowered her gradually, allowing her body to slowly shimmy down his until the juncture of her thighs nestled around his erection. She clamped her legs around his waist and he lowered them together onto the bottom bunk without any further mishap.

  Craving a tighter connection, Piper pulled him nearer. The coarseness of his chest hairs scraped across the sensitive flesh of her nipples until they blossomed into tight, rosy buds, sending delicious shivers down her spine. Her fingers pleasured themselves by learning the feel of him, touching the supple firmness of his shoulders, his straight back, feeling the shifting muscles as he moved over her, the placement of each evenly spaced vertebra. Curious fingertips lingered on each ridge of scar tissue she came upon, each broken interruption of otherwise smooth, perfect skin, and it tore at her heart to think of the pain and suffering that had accompanied each one.