“Russian connections?” Clint asked Drake.
“That’s my take. They must have reached out to their friends and realized that nobody was in league with Devon or the senator, so our entire story broke down.”
“That’s the reason they tried to kill us.”
“It’s either that, or Lydia’s background fell apart when they dug deeper,” Drake said.
Clint glared at Drake.
Drake held up his hands. “Just exploring all the options. It had to be the Russian angle. That means they’re going to be back to twisting weasel-dick and the senator.”
Clint nodded and sighed.
They went to the baggage claim to pick up their empty suitcases. They’d known that traveling without one would be a red flag, but they hadn’t had time to pack. Clint spotted his first. The silver tape on the handle made it easy to recognize. Since they hadn’t packed their normal duffel bags, Drake’s bag was easy to recognize by the ZZ Top, Allman Brothers, and Toby Keith stickers.
“You know, that suitcase could have blown our cover, now that I think about it,” Clint complained.
“Hell no. It added realism.”
Maybe he was right. When he picked his suitcase off the conveyer belt, it was so light that he damn near swung it around and hit the lady next to him. Drake smirked.
Clint looked at his phone. He was checking his texts to find out which rental car company Lydia had arranged for their car, when Drake let out a hum of appreciation. Clint did a side glance up from his phone so he wouldn’t be obvious, and saw a pair of familiar legs balanced on red stilettos. His gaze meandered upwards and he took in the black pencil-skirt paired with the red silk tank top and damn near swallowed his tongue. By the time he got to the scarlet lipstick and deep brown eyes, his temperature had gone through the roof.
He stood still, praying he would get to see her walk toward him. And she did. God, did she. One slow, sexy step at a time, she sauntered his way, never losing eye contact, her sexy lips tilting up into a wanton smile that had him hard as a rock. God, how could he ever think of her as a Dork Queen, when she was the sexiest goddess known to mankind?
Every other person in the terminal had disappeared, she eclipsed them with her presence. Mere inches from his body, she tilted her chin upwards. “Nothing to say?”
“I’m tongue-tied.”
She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It was beyond hot. It was scorching. His hand wound in her hair, luxuriating in the silken strands as he caressed her cheek, her jaw, her neck.
She pulled back then hid her face in his neck. “I needed this.”
His touch changed, and he began to stroke her hair.
“I was scared. So scared.”
She snuggled closer, her arms encompassing his waist.
“I’m here, Baby.” His arms instinctively clutched her closer. This was Lydia—all he ever wanted to do was comfort her, soothe her. She was the sun in his sky.
After long moments ensconced in the warmth of Lydia’s body, Drake’s voice penetrated the bubble.
“You’re impeding traffic, son.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he tilted his head back so he could see the love in Lydia’s eyes. Never, ever had anything been more beautiful.
“Honey, we’ve got to go,” he whispered.
She nodded.
He lifted the non-existent weight of his suitcase and tangled his fingers with Lydia’s, pressing his palm against hers. She dropped her head against his shoulder and they headed toward the parking lot.
“So, Finn bailed on us?” Drake asked casually as they crossed the street to the parking lot.
“You could say that.” Lydia peeked around Clint to answer.
“You told him how it was going to be, didn’t you?” Clint chuckled.
“Maybe.” She smiled up at him. Ooops, now here comes the woman who is the ballbuster. He exchanged a glance with Drake, who had heard the same thing he had.
“What car are we looking for?” Drake asked.
Lydia pointed and Clint saw his blue truck standing out amongst a sea of sedans. “Give me the keys, Lydia, I’m driving.”
“Are you cleared to drive?” she asked as she fished in her purse.
“Lydia,” was all he said as he held out his hand.
“Fine.” She handed him the keys. She looked at Drake. “Are you okay with this?”
“Sure am. He’s spent damn near a month at rehab. He’s doing good Lydia, real good.”
Clint hit the key fob and Drake beat them to the truck. Before Lydia could protest he tucked his big body into the back behind the passenger seat.
“I would have sat back there,” she protested.
“Just pull up the seat. I don’t want to do anything to get in the way of you and Clint. He’d do the same thing if it were Karen picking me up from the airport.”
Clint saw Lydia about to protest. He claimed her lips for a short, sweet kiss. “It’s true, Baby, I would.”
He opened her door for her and couldn’t help but stroke his hands down her smooth thigh and leg as she settled in. When she shivered, he prayed he could make it back to the resort.
“Lydia, did you get us a separate room at the resort?”
“Nope.”
Damn.
Lydia grinned. “As soon as Finn saw what I was wearing to pick you up, he arranged it. He apologized that he couldn’t arrange a suite.”
Drake chuckled from the backseat. “As long as it has a bed, I think you’ll be fine.”
Clint put on his sunglasses and got into the driver’s seat for the twenty-minute drive. Lydia played with her skirt for the entire drive, inching it slowly upwards. He was so damned aroused by the time he pulled up to the resort it was a wonder he could manage to move his foot from the gas to the brake.
“I’m going to go say hello to Finn,” Drake said as he opened the back door before the truck had even stopped. Lydia’s laugh was hell on Clint’s libido.
She undid her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.
“Hold up, you know the rules.”
She slanted a grin his way. “I wear a dress, you get the door.”
“Uh, uh, uh,” he disagreed. “Our rule is everything but jeans. That’s the deal. Even then I’m not happy with the deal, but you browbeat me into it.”
Lydia let out a throaty laugh. He couldn’t get to their room fast enough, but then again, he liked walking slowly with her when she was in heels. It was a form of foreplay all on its own. By the time they got through the lobby and up the elevator to the room Finn had reserved, Clint was beyond aroused—he was on fire.
He closed the door behind them.
“No recriminations we need to work through?” he asked before he touched her.
She shook her head, her luxurious black hair flowing like silk around her shoulders. Part of him wanted to ask why, but he wasn’t a stupid man. He took her hand and led her to the bed. The bright sunlight was softened by the sheers. Perfect.
“I need to see you. I need to know that you’re all right.”
He frowned. “I’m fine, Honey.” What was she talking about?
As if reading his mind, she said, “The fire.”
He shook his head and smiled tenderly. “I’m good,” he attempted to reassure her. It didn’t work because she was pulling his t-shirt upwards so that it skimmed his abdomen, his chest.
“Raise your arms,” she pleaded.
He yanked the shirt over his head with one hand.
Her fingers traced every bit of his front, starting at his sternum, then trailing to his nipples which she scraped with her fingernails, and continued down to his stomach. She kissed his chest, then pushed him to turn around, which he gladly did. Anything to keep her kissing and caressing him.
Her nails softly scored his back as she took inventory.
“Enough,” he growled softly. “I’m good, now I think it’s my turn to make sure you don’t have any ‘owies.’”
Lydia
giggled. “Did you just say ‘owie?’”
“Yep, because if you do, I get to kiss it better. It’s a rule.”
He turned around and picked her up, gently depositing her onto the bed. “Did I tell you I liked the outfit?”
“Maybe not with words, but yeah, I got the message.”
His hands skimmed over the silk of her top, toying with the buttons.
“Don’t tease.”
She was right, who wanted to tease when there was so much more he could be doing? After the buttons were undone, he parted the silk to see a red lace bra covering her breasts. He traced over the lace while watching her eyelids shutter close. He moved and then suckled one nipple deep into his mouth, laving the tender flesh hidden behind the frothy material. Lydia squirmed and arched, not making a sound. Before switching to her other breast, he looked up in her face and saw her arms spread wide above her head, her face suffused with passion. He licked and blew on her tender nub until her hands slammed against his head and she spoke.
“Harder.”
He laughed and pulled out of her grip. He quickly got her out of her blouse and bra, sucking in a deep breath as he did so. It was as if someone had reached into his mind and created the perfect woman for him. Not just her body, but her mind and soul. He rested his big hand against her stomach for a long moment and stared into the liquid depths of her eyes.
“Clint? Are you okay?”
“Knowing you’re mine makes my life worth living. Did you know that?”
She struggled to sit up.
“Don’t, I’ve got you,” Clint whispered as he lowered himself. Their bodies met and he took her mouth for a breathtaking kiss. It was a meeting of mouths, hearts, and souls. Her lips were soft under his, and Clint enjoyed the warm glide of his mouth sliding against the plump feel of her lips, savoring the innocent play. Then he felt her nipples pebbling against his chest, and Lydia moving ever so slightly against his chest hair to get the sensation her body craved. It was time to take her further.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and rubbed himself against her plush breasts the same time as he plunged his tongue into her mouth for a deeper kiss. The carnality was exhilarating, and she was with him every step of the way. She was fierce in her passion. She tugged at his short hair while her nails scored his back.
He broke the kiss and slid downwards. She moaned at the feel of her nipples being abraded by the hair on his chest.
“So good.”
He grinned; she’d like this better.
He grazed her areola with his teeth and she bucked beneath him. He continued his play until her head was rolling back and forth on the duvet, her brown eyes glittering with need. Her need was a thing of beauty.
He sucked the pebbled nub into his mouth and twirled his tongue around and around until she let out a breathy sigh that was his name. When he kissed his way to her other breast, he continued to touch and tease with the nipple that he had abandoned. Plucking and tweaking with his fingers, in a rhythm that he knew his lover liked. He could do this for hours, keeping her on a knife’s edge of release, pleasuring her until she didn’t know her name. His fingers roamed over the silky, plump flesh and he knew that he was torturing them both.
“Clint, you’ve got to give me more,” she sobbed.
When he looked up, he saw that her overbright eyes were glistening with tears. He glided upwards and cupped her cheeks. “I’m here, are you okay?”
She pushed up and bit at his lower lip, then sucked it into her mouth, laving it with her tongue. He didn’t feel her hands on his body and realized they were above her head in supplication.
“You’re right, I need more too, Baby.”
He slid off the bed and shucked off his shoes, socks, and jeans.
Her eyes crinkled. “Commando? What if they searched you at the airport?”
“It’d be their problem, not mine,” was his lazy response as he concentrated on sliding down the side zipper on her skirt.
“Shoes,” she reminded him.
“Oh no, those stay on,” he grinned.
He pulled off her skirt and the red thong in one sweep. He would have taken a moment to admire the tiny piece of lace, except there was something far more beautiful to admire underneath it.
Clint guided her thighs to open wide, not that it took much effort. Lydia shoved herself up onto her elbows, and her eyes were greedy as they feasted on his erection. His damn cock bobbed up and down, preening under her gaze. When she went to reach for him, he took her hand and kissed her palm, then placed it against the wet flesh between her legs.
“Touch yourself, not me.”
He was greeted with a husky laugh as she opened herself to him. His legs turned to water at the glorious sight. She swirled her finger, then reached out to him. He gripped her wrist and brought her hand to his lips. He sucked the sweet taste that was all Lydia from her dainty fingers. He wasn’t going to last. Then his sexy siren lifted one foot and took the heel of her shoe and drew a line from the top of his hip down to his knee. His entire body shuddered.
Game over.
He grabbed her ankle and yanked off her shoe. He kissed the arch of her foot, then pulled it around his waist. He did the same thing to her other foot before she could do something even more evil with that shoe and he lost control and wasn’t able to bring her the pleasure she deserved.
Carefully, tenderly, he pressed the tip of his cock to the well of her vagina and she flowered open. He was lost in the beauty of their joining, but when she sighed, he looked at her face and saw an expression that could only be labelled love. He was enthralled.
He continued to push forward, until her body enveloped him in her silky, tight warmth, all the while staring at her face as her eyes welcomed him home. He was lost physically and emotionally in the woman who owned his heart and soul.
Every move forward he made, she countered with a push upwards, until they were caught up in a dance as old as time, but one that only they had ever perfected. Clint tried to make it last, but when Lydia’s velvet sheath shuddered around him for the second time, and he watched her eyes close in ecstasy as she cried out his name, he had no hope but to follow her into a place that existed just for them. A place that would always contain love and hope, no matter how pain-filled or ugly the world that spun around them got, they would always be safe together.
25
Lydia woke up happier than she had been in months. She didn’t open her eyes, instead, she let herself bask in the feel of Clint’s arm around her waist and the tantalizing smell of his soap and that other aroma that was all him. Finally, she allowed herself to take a peek and found him staring at her.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Awhile,” he whispered back.
She pushed up on her elbow. “Why didn’t you wake me? Shouldn’t we check in with Drake and Finn?”
“Honey, it’s three o’clock in the morning. Finn’s probably asleep. Drake might be up because of the few days we were in Kazakhstan, but you and I need to talk.”
She shut her eyes. He was right. She tried to work up a head of steam, but she couldn’t. Clint was her hero. He would always be her hero. It didn’t matter if he went traipsing off to a foreign country when he should be in therapy, not when he was helping a friend. That was who he was.
But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give him ever-living hell for it…eventually. Somebody needed to keep him in line. Somebody needed to take care of him, and that was her job. A job she took seriously. Because that went right back to him scaring the hell out of her because no matter how much of a hero he was, he still was just a man—a man who almost died, a man who was still recovering.
“Uh-oh,” his lips twitched.
“Damn right we need to talk,” she said as she scrambled out of bed. She’d checked into the room late last night, so she had jeans thrown over a chair somewhere, she just needed to remember where. She looked over her shoulder at Clint who was watching her with his
hands behind his head.
“Get dressed,” she ordered.
“Can’t.”
“Why not?” she asked as she put one leg into her jeans.
“Too busy enjoying the show.”
“You are such a man.”
He chuckled. She sighed. It wasn’t much of an insult, considering how much she enjoyed all that hot manliness a few hours ago.
“Seriously, Clint, get dressed. We have a lot to talk about.”
“And this requires clothes, why? Do you have to put on a t-shirt? Can’t you stay topless?”
Lydia yanked the t-shirt over her head and glared at him. At least when she was dressed it propelled him out of bed. She stalked over to the desk and grabbed her backpack. She undid the locks and pulled out her laptop.
“You left that here in the room?” Clint asked.
“Finn had it. I texted him to bring it back when we were on our way back to the resort,” she explained. She booted it up.
“Where’s yours?”
He picked up his light carryall that he’d had with him. “In here.”
“Put. On. Some. Clothes.”
Clint really chuckled. “Gotcha hot and bothered, don’t I?”
“Clint, be reasonable, we have to get to work. For all I know your manly bits,” she waved her hand at his semi-erect penis, “will get in the way of the computer monitor.”
Clint threw his head back and laughed. It did her heart good to hear it. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and tugged them on.
“So, when are you going to go for the jugular about me leaving for Kazakhstan with Drake?”
“Never,” Lydia said. “It’s water under the bridge. You did it. You came out none the worse for wear. I still think it was foolish, and I don’t want you to do it again, but it’s done. But can you tell me what you think of your therapy at the clinic? Do you still think you need it?”
“Hell yes,” he said immediately. “I lost it when the explosion happened. I spaced out and didn’t know where I was, or what to do. We’d said two months; that’s only five more weeks. I don’t know if that’s going to be enough. My hope was to be team-ready, but after the fiasco with the bomb in Kazakhstan, I’m not sure that will ever happen.”
Her Unbroken Seal: A Navy Seal Romance Page 19