by Lucy Ryder
In another minute.
Frankie gave a shocked, furious gasp and managed to shove him back a couple of inches, her gaze fiery and defiant. But as their ragged breathing filled the quiet hallway, her warmth seeped into his skin, setting off a chain reaction that could have only one conclusion.
*
Frankie’s entire system jolted as his kiss had her gasping in outrage and a wild excitement that had her pulse trebling and her senses scattering like autumn leaves.
Hot prickles flashed across her skin as Nate captured her hands and pinned them to the wall next to her head, and she had no idea what it said about her that she was a second away from orgasm.
“Get off me…you big…oaf,” she snarled breathlessly, horrified that her limbs had turned to cooked noodles and that her belly was clenching with alarm and anticipation.
Anticipation?
No way. There was no way she was anticipating tangling with Nate, physically or verbally.
But deep down she knew—oh, boy, did she know—that she was lying. Every strand of DNA rejoiced that she was once again up close and personal with all that hard flesh and satin-warm skin.
CHAPTER NINE
WITH NATE PLASTERED to her and her hands trapped, there was only one thing left for Frankie to do.
Turning her head, she sank her teeth into his naked shoulder and bit down. Hard. If she’d expected him to curse and pull back, she was a little surprised when he just laughed, a deep thrilling sound that sent tingles scattering across her skin, liquefying her bones and laying siege to her resistance.
His hard thigh flexed between hers, blasting heat deep in her belly. Muscles clenching against the shockingly intense sensations, Frankie knew she needed to do something before he swept away all her resistance.
Drugged by the taste of him in her mouth, she bit him harder. Nate simply flexed his shoulder and taunted softly, “Like what you taste, Red?” in her ear. And even if his breathing was as ragged as hers, it was Frankie who shuddered because he was right. She did like what she tasted. In fact, she was hungry for more.
“Because, let me tell you,” he breathed and gently closed his teeth on the skin between her neck and shoulder, searing a line of fire across her flesh that landed with a jolt in her liquid center, “I sure like the taste of you.”
A shaft of panic sliced through the ratcheting excitement. If he doesn’t leave soon, she thought, there’s no telling what I’ll do. Not with the equal mix of fury, pleasure and anticipation pouring through her.
“Y-you…y-you…” Really? Now you’re stammering? Sucking in a ragged breath, Frankie steadied herself, determined not to let him know how he affected her. “I know you, Nate,” she rasped defensively. “You’re only doing this to punish me for daring to challenge your fragile male ego.”
He stilled and for an instant she thought her words had done what her struggles could not—send him out the door. But then he lifted those sexy dark-gold eyes, glowing with a wild recklessness that was terrifyingly exhilarating.
Kind of like free-falling out an airplane at fifty thousand feet.
“Is that what you think, babe?” he murmured, dipping his head to swipe his tongue across her bottom lip. “Just goes to show that you don’t know me at all.”
A sob of need caught in her throat but the last thing she wanted or needed was to be vulnerable to him. Frankie didn’t do vulnerable. For any man. Especially a man who’d already crushed her tender heart.
“I don’t want you,” she snarled, twisting her head to evade his tormenting mouth. Why the heck did he have to be so darn…irresistible?
“Little liar,” he breathed on a soft chuckle. “You want me. You want me bad.”
“Why you arrogant, self-important—” she spluttered, only to have her words cut off when he opened his mouth over hers in a kiss that just about knocked her socks right off her feet. It started out as a hard, demanding kiss that quickly escalated into a hot mating of mouths that sucked the breath out of her lungs.
With a low helpless moan, she strained closer.
Nate tightened his grip on her and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, knowing just how to render her a helpless, quivering blob of sensual need.
“Nate,” she gasped, feeling her knees buckle, feeling the hot ache in her core build until it was all she could do to keep from moving against the hard thigh between hers, against the growing evidence of his arousal. “Nate…s-stop.”
No, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop… Because he was big and thick and hard against her. And getting bigger and thicker and harder by the second and…and she hadn’t felt this good in a long time.
“Stop?” he teased softly, clearly preoccupied with tasting her skin, helping himself to her mouth; because instead of stopping he hummed in the back of his throat and moved to another spot. “You sure that’s what you want, babe?”
Of course she wasn’t sure. Only that it would be smart because after Jack’s death Frankie had promised to make smarter choices with her life. Choices that didn’t include being vulnerable. To anyone.
Then Nate’s thigh flexed, dragging a ragged whimper from her throat.
“See,” he murmured softly, his mouth tormenting hers. “It’s too late for that, Red. Way…too…late.”
And then he released her wrists, sliding his big hands down her arms, her sides, to grasp and lift when he reached her bottom, forcing her to wrap her legs around him. Then he settled, big and hot and hard right where she ached, and she was about a second away from orgasm even though they hadn’t even reached the good part yet.
Nate tightened his grip and took the kiss deeper…deeper, hotter and bolder than any she’d ever experienced. And before she knew it, Frankie was moving against him, making embarrassingly hungry sounds that might have mortified her if he hadn’t growled a response that was as hungry as hers.
She’d forgotten what it was like to be kissed with such savage hunger. Okay, so maybe she’d never been kissed with such single-minded intensity—as though he wanted to consume her. Or maybe make her forget every other kiss she’d ever received.
It was working because she couldn’t even recall her own name, let alone anything else. When he finally broke the kiss and pulled back, his breathing was as ragged as hers.
“Francis…” he breathed.
And she thought, Oh, yeah, that’s it. That’s my name. But then she became aware of his heart, pounding against hers with the same jagged rhythm.
“No talking,” she ordered, fisting his hair and pulling his mouth back to hers.
His lips curved. “Francis…”
“I said no talking,” she growled irritably. Because if she let him talk, he might change his mind…and she might remember what a bad idea it was to let Nathan Oliver into her life again.
He chuckled at the same moment he rocked his hips into hers, drawing a low moan from her throat.
Nate gave a laugh and backed away from the wall. He took a few steps toward the stairs then stopped. One hand slid up her back to fist her messy topknot. He pulled her back a couple of inches and growled, “This is what you want?”
She blinked at the question. Was he kidding? Of course this was what she wanted. Couldn’t he feel how much she wanted him? She could certainly feel how much he wanted her.
“Frankie.”
She didn’t know why her nickname on his lips did something to her but she stopped trying to get at his mouth. One look into his searching, solemn gaze had her hands sliding up to cup his strong jaw. “Yes,” she said with a certainty that couldn’t be misunderstood.
His unreadable gaze remained on hers for a long moment before going as hot as the sinfully badass smile curving his mouth. “All right, then,” he murmured, and bounded up the stairs as though he wasn’t carrying a woman taller than most men. It both shocked and excited her, eliciting a gasping laugh as she tightened her thighs, only to instantly loosen them again when she recalled that just a half hour ago she’d treated his bullet wound.
&nb
sp; “Your side,” she managed to croak.
Only to be interrupted by his grunted “Is fine,” as he tightened his arms, pressing a most impressive erection against her. The jolt of electricity had her eyes crossing and her back arching.
She managed a stuttered, “B-but—” before closing her teeth on his shoulder again when she realized to her horror that she sounded all breathless and desperate.
His growled response filled her darkened bedroom as he headed unerringly for her bed—as though he could see in the dark. Probably could, she thought, giving a startled yelp when she flew through the air to land in a graceless tangle of limbs and pillows in the middle of it.
She lay blinking up at him, a large, dangerous presence in the dark room. And although she knew he’d never hurt her, a quiver of unease moved through her. Partly because there was always the fear that he’d leave her in a state of raging hormonal discomfort—as he had the night he’d kissed her senseless on her doorstep then sauntered off to his stupid truck—but mostly because when it came to Nate Oliver, she’d always been vulnerable.
He moved, but instead of leaving he leaned forward. Soft light spilled across the bed and just like that all Frankie’s girlish insecurities returned. She was once again that skinny, freckled girl wishing she was like the beach babes Nate gravitated toward and hating herself for wanting to be one of a crowd.
Maybe she wasn’t that girl, hadn’t been that girl for a good long while, but she still found herself looking down at the less-than-attractive picture she made in her ratty oversize T-shirt and thick socks. How pathetic was that?
She felt the skin across her forehead tighten. She hadn’t meant for this to happen, and she was fairly certain neither had he, but maybe—
“Francis…condom?”
For one panicked moment she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even needed one—even more pathetic—before another thought occurred—this one much more satisfying. “You don’t carry condoms?” His gaze narrowed. “I thought SEALs always came prepared?”
He made a rough sound of impatience and shoved shaking—yeah, they were shaking—fingers through his hair, but even in the low light Frankie could detect the faint redness creep up his neck.
“Top drawer,” she snickered, and watched as he yanked open the drawer with barely leashed violence. He didn’t comment on the fact that the box was unopened and she snatched it from him to tear impatiently at the packaging.
It abruptly gave way, scattering condoms over the bed and across the floor.
Nate gave a low laugh as he snatched up a small foil square. “Impatient much, babe?” he rasped, and tossed it to her.
“Lose the pants, Oliver,” she ordered, and when he didn’t react fast enough, she reached out impatiently. The next few moments were a flurry of hands until Frankie became distracted by his eight pack, by the cut muscles on the sides of his hips and the way his skin felt beneath her fingers—all hot and taut and smooth.
She gently ran a fingernail around the startling white dressing over his wound, her mouth curving with delight as goose bumps broke out across his skin.
Nate cursed, a sound pain-filled and impatient. It had her hands stilling and her hungry gaze rising, past his defined abs and pecs, his shoulders, up his strong tanned throat and hard jaw to his dark, burning gaze.
It promised a universe of sensual punishment.
Frankie gulped. “Does it hurt?”
“Don’t feel a thing.” His mouth curved in a wicked smile. “Well, not there, anyway.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward and swiped her tongue across the taut skin south of his abs, delighting in his sharply indrawn breath and the fine tremor in the fingers that gripped her shoulders.
She gave in to the urge to nip his belly too, laughing at Nate’s ragged curse. The next instant he shoved her back onto the bed and pushed his pants and boxer briefs to his feet. His erection sprang free, big and thick and hard, but Frankie had only a couple of seconds to admire it before he was joining her on the bed.
“You’re overdressed,” he growled, pushing her flat and sliding his big palms up her thighs to the curve of her bottom. She tried to sit up, get her mouth and hands on him, but Nate made a sound of impatience and pressed her flat.
Capturing her wrists, he lifted them over her head, ratcheting her excitement up a couple dozen notches.
“Dammit, Nate,” she grunted breathlessly. “I want to—”
“Shh,” he murmured, pinning her with one heavily muscled leg and silencing her protests with his hot mouth.
The kiss—a lush, deep mating of mouths—made her forget her need to control things and she found herself kissing him back like a starving person.
Gradually the hot demand of his mouth softened until his lips were sliding against hers in soothing, gentle swipes. He finally lifted his head and after a long heated moment breathed hoarsely, “God… Frankie, look at you.” His breath escaped in an explosive rush, as though he was struggling to contain his emotions.
A confused frown drew her brows together when she caught him staring at her with an expression she’d never seen before.
“Wh-what?” There was that stupid adolescent uncertainty again.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, kind of distracted but with more than a hint of annoyed wonder. “So beautiful…you take my breath away.”
“I thought—” She broke off to swallow past the emotion clawing at her throat. “I thought you didn’t like redheads?”
The question momentarily distracted him from examining the shoulder he’d managed to reveal in the wide neckline of her T-shirt. He shook his head.
“I never said that.”
“You did. I was seven and you said red hair was the sign of the devil.”
He had the audacity to laugh at her disgruntled tone. “I was twelve,” he said, as though that explained everything. “Besides, you’d probably done something annoying or reckless.”
Okay, so maybe Frankie had made it her mission in life to annoy Nate, Jack and Ty because it had been the only time they’d paid any attention to her.
“And now?” she said softly.
His mouth curved into a sinful smile that would have melted her bones if she hadn’t already been lying flat on her back in a puddle of lust.
He slid his hand up under her shirt and cupped her breast. “Can’t you feel how annoyed I am?”
The sensation of his warm hand cupping her aching flesh had a moan sliding right up her throat. It also had her nipple tightening into a painful bud and she bit her lip.
Nate hummed with pleasure and shoved up her top to watch his thumb brushing the pebbled peak. Both the look on his face and the feel of rough skin on hers had waves of pleasure and impatience rolling through her. Before she could ask if he intended to take his sweet time, he growled, “Look at you…all grown up and finally mi—” He broke off abruptly and rose to his knees, his rough hungry growl kind of thrilling.
“I wish you could see yourself,” he said hoarsely, making her belly jump because she’d caught sight of something in his eyes, something she didn’t normally see when Nate looked at her—desire…raw and naked and hot.
Her breath whooshed out. If she didn’t have him in the next five minutes she would explode—all by herself.
Planting her socked foot against his chest, she purred, “Need any help, Commander Big Shot?” and gave a not-so-gentle shove. Nate slid off her sock in one impatient move, his smile sending her temperature soaring, then the other. He stilled when he caught sight of her bandages and he kissed her feet with a gentleness that had her throat tightening.
Nate’s eyes glittered as he let his gaze slide up the inside of her leg, pause and then take in her naked breasts and the flush of arousal making her skin glow. She shivered when he dropped a gentle kiss on her hip bone. Then, cupping her bottom, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of one breast as he whipped off her shorts. Finally, he leaned over her, hands planted either side of her head.
Frankie should have felt a little threatened by his size—by the latent power in the big body caging hers. The truth was she wanted him closer. Much…much…closer.
She slid her hands up his arms, ropey and tough with muscle, and curved them over his shoulders, her fingers soothing the teeth marks clearly visible beneath the satin-smooth tanned skin. Then she not-so-gently scored her nails down over his pecs, unable to prevent a tiny smile of triumph at his sharp inhalation.
“I’ve heard that SEALs are all talk and no action,” she taunted softly, but Nate just chuckled as though no one would believe such a claim. A little annoyed by his arrogance—and, she had to admit, more than a little excited—Frankie shoved at his shoulders.
“All right, Commander Big Shot. Why don’t you put your money where your big mouth is?” Her lips curved in a challenging smile. “Words are meaningless if you can’t back them up with action.”
One moment his breath escaped on a laugh, the next he’d made himself at home…right between her thighs.
Bending her knees, Frankie felt her eyes cross as the long, hard length of him slid against the tiny bundle of nerves right at her damp center. She caught her breath and bit down on her lip to prevent a moan from escaping.
“Fine by me, babe.” He grinned, knowing—the jerk—exactly what he was doing to her. She must have been doing something to him too because he drew in air before dropping a quick kiss on her mouth. Then he rolled his hips and through the explosion inside her skull she thought she heard him murmur, “But I warn you… SEALs take no prisoners.”
And then Frankie got lost somewhere between having her mouth possessed and her breasts ravished. She moaned through the torture of his lips sliding slowly down to her belly button, whimpered when he nibbled at the insides of her thighs, and gasped—her fingers clutching the sheets—when he took her in his mouth.
She came embarrassingly fast and then came a second time, almost as quickly and only just a little less violently. Flushed and panting, and eager for the feel of him inside her, she reached out to wrap her hand around him, but he growled. “Keep that up,” he rasped hoarsely. “And it’ll be all over.”