Strictly Confidential

by Lynda Aicher

  “Oh, God.” She couldn’t keep silent, not when her body was on fire. Endorphins floated through her on a mellow note, yet another release was already building.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled them over her head. She whimpered in protest, but only because she wanted to touch him. His legs brushed hers, the hair on them adding another sensation.

  He swallowed deep, his throat bobbing in a telling display. His breaths grew short as he lowered his hips to hers. His dick threaded a searing path through her pussy before he eased it back up.

  Her walls clenched yet again, that empty ache growing more intense. “Matt.” She strained against his hold before going lax. She panted her frustration, but he didn’t relent. Not even a little.

  Something darkened in his expression before he made another slow pass through her pussy with his dick. The taunt was maddening and wonderful at once. She had no control. There was no need for her worry. He’d take care of her.

  Like he always had.

  Her heart pounded in time with the blood roaring in her ears. He swallowed again, turning his head as he closed his eyes. Awe etched across his face in a reflection of what was spreading through her.

  He shifted, opened his eyes to stare down at her. The head of his dick was tucked into her entrance, right where he’d lodged it.

  The emptiness echoed through every part of her. It taunted her with what she could have, with what could be if she only…what? Asked? Dared?

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “Fuck.” His curse rang in her ears as he drove into her.

  Her cry chased his, that hungry, demanding ache temporarily satisfied. She caught her breath, only to lose it when she refocused on him.

  Tendons strained on his neck. His arm trembled, his restraint so clearly displayed. But she was lost on why he was holding back.

  “You are so damn…” He dropped down, releasing his hold on her hands to brace himself on his elbows. His lips were a breath away when he said, “Mine.”

  He waited a beat, one that thundered through her thoughts and resonated in her chest before he powered into her again.

  Oh. My. God. Pleasure engulfed her from head to toe. She wrapped her limbs around him and gave him more than she’d thought possible. This connection, the complete contact sunk deeper than her skin.

  “Yes,” she mumbled. She was his in more ways than she wanted to admit. He understood parts of her no one else did, and yet he knew so little about her.

  His kiss drove everything from her mind. There was only him, his touch, his control, his understanding. Desire built in an unrelenting beat on each plunge. Hard and fast broken by slow and agonizing until her expectations fled.

  He claimed every part of her while never consuming, because somewhere in the tumble of lust and want, she understood that it was still about her. That she could pull away right now, and he’d let her.

  Her stomach clenched, her walls tightening around the wonderful glide of his dick. He filled her so completely she doubted she’d ever get enough of him.

  He grabbed her leg, hitching it higher on his hip as he pulled his legs beneath him. The position gave him leverage to drive harder. His pelvis hit her clit on each descent, adding another blast to the orgasm condensing in her core.

  She gasped, arching to meet each thrust. To find that end hovering so close.

  “Kennedy,” he groaned by her ear. He nipped her shoulder, added another bite to the side of her neck. The hit of pain migrated to wonder when she craved more.

  “That,” she encouraged, stretching her neck in silent indication. “Please.”

  A harsh growl proceeded the defined bite on the juncture of her neck. “Oh, my God.” Ecstasy exploded behind her eyes as she absorbed the contradictory signals. Pain and pleasure became one huge tumble of sensation that shoved her to a level she’d never imagined.

  She shook, every muscle tensing until she couldn’t breathe, and still it came, rolling through her on a never-ending rush. Agony pierced her chest. It cut through the rise and allowed her to tumble into the next wave on a gasped breath. Her eyes fluttered open. She registered the hard clamp of his teeth on her nipple, but it didn’t process into an objection. Not when the burn was so damn good.

  “Matt,” she moaned through the last of her orgasm, lost to understanding. Lost to caring. Lost to him.

  He buried his face in her neck, driving deep one more time before he let go. He tensed above her, holding, grinding until he exploded in a harsh cry and a series of rapid thrusts. He sagged against her, his weight a comfortable cloak she welcomed.

  This right here, this moment of floating freedom was the one thing she chased, only she’d never found it with another. She’d tried at one point, searched and came up empty.

  But with him, she could still breathe.

  He laid a kiss on her neck. It highlighted the stinging throb that broke through her reverie while soothing it too. She’d have a mark, which meant a week of scarves and collared shirts. Yet the thought of wearing his mark soothed instead of irritated.

  “Kennedy.”

  Her name trembled over her chest with the same wonder she floated in. She didn’t want to question it even though she should. She dragged her fingers through his hair, drawing him in for a slow kiss. She didn’t need words for this. Every soft brush of his lips and graze of his tongue spoke to what they both withheld. It transferred between them on the light nips and hushed brushes until he swooped back in to steal her breath yet again.

  Her throat stung and her eyes burned when he finally pulled away. She let him go, regretting the loss when he slid out of her.

  He glanced around, and she pointed to the short hall that led to the master bathroom. Sweat glistened on his back when he walked away, the tight globes of his ass flexing with each step. Yeah, she stared and admired every inch of him.

  A scar traced a jagged line below his shoulder blade that disappeared around his side. The thin bump had registered beneath her fingers, but now she understood it. Did he have more wounds? Where? From what?

  She sat up when the bathroom light flicked on. Uncertainty wedged in for the first time since he’d declared he was driving her home. What came next?

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her thong on the floor when he returned. His expression gave away nothing when he approached. His steps were absorbed by the plush carpet, the silence ringing with questions. They should part now. The scene was done.

  But it hadn’t been a scene.

  He slid his hand up to cup her cheek when he stood in front of her. That one touch, the simple confirmation melted the fears she hadn’t acknowledged. Comfort eased in on the soft acceptance of what she no longer wanted to fight.

  She wanted more of this, of him and the possibilities he presented.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kennedy was everything Matt should avoid, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

  Was it possible that he didn’t have to? Could they navigate this thing that continued to grow between them? He had to try. There was no other choice.

  Walking away would be impossible.

  “Turn around,” he urged.

  Confusion flickered before she heeded his request. Her face was still flushed, her lips full and lush, tempting him to taste them again.

  She slid around on the bed, hitching one leg up so her back was mostly to him. The low glow of the lamps lent an air of softness to the room that transferred to her, yet it hid none of her beauty or her pride. With or without clothes, she was comfortable in her own skin. He admired that and the strength it took to achieve it.

  He ran a finger over the bite mark he’d left on the tender juncture of her neck. The little dents left by his teeth had turned a dark red that foreshadowed the bruise to come. He didn’t try to hold back the possessive surge when it blazed in his chest. She’d let him do it. Begged him to do it.

  And had come when he had.

  A shiver tracked down her spine on a telling tremble, but she t
ilted her head to give him better access. Intentional or not?

  “I’ll want a picture of this,” he told her. The demand skimmed past his reservations before he’d thought to hold it back. He was treading down a scary path, but he knew what was ahead this time. He could manage it.

  She gave him a quick scan over her shoulder, that hesitation still in place. She flicked her brows up before a sultry smile hit her lips. She turned back around without responding, and he let his grin free. She would, he didn’t doubt it. But even better would be to see it in person.

  He found a pin in her hair and withdrew it before finding the next. She tensed before a soft laugh flowed out. “Seriously?”

  He ignored her, studiously hunting down the seemingly magic clips holding her hair up. He’d collected a small pile of bobby pins in his palm before strands started to tumble down in segments. The softness caressed his skin when he drew his fingers through it.

  She rolled her head back when he massaged her scalp, a throaty moan stating her appreciation. “You’re spoiling me.”

  Again, he didn’t respond, but he agreed with her. He couldn’t stop even if he tried. She was firmly wedged into his sphere of responsibility, and this act here was simple. Peace found a soft spot inside him and settled in beside his slowly growing hope.

  He set the pins on the nightstand, hesitating for a moment, responsibilities torn.

  “Are you leaving?” she asked. Nothing in her voice gave away how she felt about whether he was or wasn’t. That in itself had him moving to the doorway.

  He caught her gaze, letting his intention show. She swallowed, that tiny smile that spelled relief and hesitation showing before he hit the light switch.

  Darkness plunged in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but she had moved over when he reached the bed. His pulse did a little jump at her acceptance even as he questioned himself.

  That sense of peace returned on a long inhale and equally slow release when she curled into his side. He drew her closer until her head rested on his shoulder, and her leg was entwined with his. Her low hum rumbled into his ribs and calmed him further. This was right.

  He kissed the top of her head, skimming lazy strokes over the soft skin on her arm. She traced an indistinct path over his chest with a touch that soothed.

  “You continue to surprise me,” she told him softly.

  Time wove out on the lethargy that’d crept in. “As do you.”

  “When do you think that’ll stop?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe never.”

  She huffed a short laugh. “I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  Her shoulder hitched beneath his hand. “Because most people are predictable.”

  “True,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you.”

  This time, her hum was an undefined purr between agreement and not. He tried to track her thought process but couldn’t find a clear path. He drew her hair between his fingers, finding comfort in the silky softness.

  “So you know,” he started. “This isn’t common for me.”

  Her laugh was rich as she turned to face him. The darkness hid the details of her features, but he didn’t need to see them, not when he knew them all by heart. Her breast pressed against his chest, her leg grazing his dick and nuzzling his balls in a statement of comfortable intimacy he’d missed more than he’d realized.

  “I believe you’ve told me that before.”

  He smiled at her teasing tone. “True.” But this was different than their hotel encounter. Very different. “It applies now too.” He ran his fingers along her hairline, brushing strands over her shoulder as he sorted through his words. “I don’t go home with a lot of women.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head, wishing he could read her expression, yet also relieved his was hidden.

  The silence drew out before she said, “What if I told you I don’t bring a lot of men home?”

  Happiness broke free at her soft admission. God, if only… Yeah, if only. “No?” he said, ensuring his tone was light.

  She swiveled her head, her smile clear even in the dark. “Should we call this another anomaly?”

  “No.” His firm response was out before he’d thought about it. She stiffened. “I hope it’s more than an anomaly.” He was pushing, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted more from her. He’d been clear on that after the Boardroom scene and nothing had changed.

  She dropped down to rest her head on his shoulder. He breathed a small sigh of relief when she didn’t pull away. This was progress. He didn’t know what it meant or where it would take them, but it was a step forward.

  And she was still with him.

  *

  Questions chased each other in an endless loop that left Kennedy with no answers. I hope it’s more than an anomaly. What did she do with that?

  Nothing in her background had prepared her for Matt. Not the years of casual sex or the relationships she’d observed. Her parents might still be married, but intimacy had never ventured into their relationship. They lived mostly separate lives that intersected when it was mutually beneficial.

  This right here—no, everything with Matt already exceeded what she knew.

  She bit her lip to hold back the tremble. She’d dove into this with the same determination that she’d tackled everything, and now her foundation was crumbling. Part of her understanding was falling apart, while a new option was forming. One she wasn’t certain of.

  Her stomach rolled. Fear chased a path from her head to her heart. Listening to her heart was dangerous. Rejection was easily deflected if she placed no emotional value in it to begin with. And expectations couldn’t be shattered if they never existed.

  “I can’t promise much,” she said into the darkness. The steady beat of his heart thumped beneath her ear to remind her he hadn’t rejected or disappointed her. Not yet.

  “Okay.”

  His simple response had her smiling. That was so him. Her sudden rush of nerves skittered to the background, her doubts dwindling. “What am I going to do with you?” she mused, flicking his nipple. His little flinch fed the mischief that’d helped her brazen her way through life.

  He ran his hand over her nape with just enough pressure to kick off an internal shudder. It soaked into her bones and calmed her in a way she failed to understand. Her muscles seemed to melt until there was only him holding her up. Logically, she knew it didn’t make sense, yet the physical proof existed in the quieting of her mind and the peace that floated over her.

  “Just be,” he said. “That’s it. Just be with me.”

  He made it sound so simple when she knew it wasn’t. “What about your kids?” She lobbed the dirty bomb with only a flicker of guilt. They were a very real, very solid entanglement he couldn’t ignore and she didn’t know if she wanted.

  He inched his palm around until his fingers hit the tender spot on her neck. She bit her lip to hold in her whimper. Pain hovered in a reminder of the mark he’d left, that she’d encouraged him to give her.

  “They’re a very important part of my life.” He skimmed his fingers over the spot in a gentle caress. “They’ve been the most important part since—” His breath hitched as he stilled. “Since my CO informed me that my kids had been voluntarily placed in state custody by my wife. I was in Afghanistan at the time.”

  Questions raced in and out of her head, but she asked none of them. Her parents would never win the most attentive award, and she may have spent a large majority of her childhood in boarding schools, but they’d never dumped her and walked away.

  His chest lifted beneath her with his long inhalation. “My kids were six and four.” She swallowed back the shot of anger that rose for him. She couldn’t imagine what he must’ve felt. Not a man as honorable as him. “I promised them they’d always come first after that, and I’ve spent every day showing them I meant it.”

  “They’re very lucky.” Did they appreciate what they had? Did they know how fortunate
they were?

  His sarcastic laugh said he disagreed. “I’m the lucky one. They’re good kids. They’d done nothing to deserve what she’d done.”

  A sliver of jealousy bloomed at the pride and love in his voice. She’d never heard something even slightly close to it from her own father. He wasn’t bad or mean. Just…hard. And she thanked him for it most of the time. She wouldn’t be where she was now if she hadn’t learned how to hold strong against the comments of others.

  There was a story behind Matt’s revelation, something that’d left a deep mark on him. How could there not be? But as much as she wanted to know, she also didn’t. Not…yet. Not when he was already closer than she trusted.

  “Sex is good,” she told him, rubbing her hand over his chest. Sex was easy. And the thought of having only that with him sucked away a bit of the quiet that’d settled inside her.

  “But,” he said when she thought the conversation was over. “This is already more than just sex.” He rubbed his fingers over the bite mark on her neck, his implication both clear and elusive.

  That knot of uncertainty returned with the added kick of desire. How could she want something that she wasn’t?

  “I’m not a sub.” She wasn’t naïve, especially regarding sex. She fully understood what he was playing at, and she was not on board with becoming anyone’s submissive. Yielding her power during sex was completely different than dropping to her knees on a command.

  She pushed away from him, fully expecting him to stop her, but he didn’t. She sat up, staring down at him as disappointment took hold. That was the more he wanted. It explained so much. She kicked herself for seeing only what she’d wanted to see.

  Or hoping for something she knew couldn’t be true.

  “Kennedy,” he said when she started to scoot from the bed. His firm tone caught her attention, but it was the softness in it that stopped her. She waited, her back to him, the darkness closing in. “I don’t want a sub.”

  Her derisive snort was her response. She’d given him sexual control—multiple times. It was only a matter of time before he’d expect that to carry over into more.