Stripping off her spandex sports top, he buried his face between her warm breasts, then worked each quickly stiffening nipple with his mouth. He felt more than heard her soft moan through the vibrations of her skin. Her flesh, slightly salty after her run, still smelled of her special scent. Jasmine.
The exotic aroma delved into his brain, pulled him back to that night, that one, single, exquisite night, when they couldn’t get enough of each other. Roused by the memories, his cock rose, stiff and willing, tried to shove through the zipper of his slacks.
His eyes sought hers again in an attempt to win her over, but she’d closed them, tilted her head back, and exposed her sexy, slender throat.
At first he thought the scattering of oddly shaped marks on her shoulders, her upper arms, and across her collarbone were freckles, but they were pink and shiny rather than ginger-colored. Scars, not freckles; he didn’t remember scars. What the hell? But his mind was busy elsewhere—the time for wondering could wait until later.
Settling back on his heels, he pulled her forward to strip off her socks, then shorts and panties. Finished with her clothing, he laid her backward onto the cushions.
With her eyes still closed, she seemed to react as if on autopilot, rather than responding of her own volition. She slid her butt closer, thrust her pelvis toward him. At least she remembered what he could do for her.
He slipped his arms behind her knees, locked her in place. Her thighs, firm and smooth, lay against his cheeks as he lowered his mouth to her barely furred sex. He bathed her labia with the flat of his tongue, slowly, bottom to top, then repeated the move. She groaned, her fingers tangling in his thick hair as she guided him closer and tighter.
“Do it,” came the whisper. “Just do it.”
Her words weren’t necessary, but the command added to his fervor. He delivered an open-mouthed French kiss to her clitoris, sucked the hot, engorged hood before taking the glans between his lips, then drilled her deeply with his tongue.
She bucked against him. Her whimpers escalated, spurred him on. With her legs wrapped more tightly around him, her heels pressed into his lower back as her movements became increasingly urgent.
Nathan snaked one arm behind Kacey’s hips to prevent any possibility of escape—then thrust stiff fingers into her, smooth and sure. Louder moans, heavy, deep, thick, escaped from low in her throat. His fingers pushed deeper, slick with her honey. He inhaled deeply, pulling in her jasmine-scented essence. She gripped his hair more tightly with tense fingers as her thighs stiffened, then trembled.
He felt the tidal wave of her orgasm wash over her as his fingers bent and locked inside her, coaxing more spasms from her quivering body. Caressing her with his mouth, he laved the tight, salty skin over her damp, straining abs.
Another whisper fought its way clear, this one cracked and harsh. “Nathan, take me.”
Chapter Three
Nathan, take me.
Kacey needed him. She needed him more than words could possibly express. But, she needed him rough and hard and male—needed him to take charge. Needed him as he’d been before, in another land, another world.
With fingers still threaded in his hair, thighs wrapped around his neck, her breath raspy, Kacey didn’t care why he was there, why he’d invaded her haven, destroyed her solitude. Maybe she did care, but she wouldn’t admit it. Her pussy wasn’t confused at all. Her body remembered his, and that’s all that mattered.
He unlocked her legs from around him, grabbed the sofa throw, spread it over the priceless Aubusson carpet. He drew her off the brocaded sofa fabric, then allowed her to slip through his muscular arms and onto the rug. She didn’t know how or when he’d managed to strip, but as he covered her body with his, warm skin contacted warm skin.
She moaned, spread her thighs wider to welcome him, entice him, seduce him, remembering how he’d felt, how he’d smelled, in that isolated baked mud hut. Back then, his aroma had been as woodsy as the trees now surrounding her home, the scent primitive, virile. He’d freed her from the reality of the hot sand, from the sun-scorched, manmade machines crafted of metal, from the ever present dust. From the blood, the death. From the horror of it all.
Even at home, the memories dragged her back to the nightmares. Nathan, take me away from the bad things. Deliver me from the dead. Deliver me from evil, amen.
His mouth covered hers, his hands framed her face. At first, the kisses were soft and warm, then he pressed on with more force. His fingers trailed down their bodies, found her again. The length of his hard, heavy cock lay between them. He worked his hand from her pussy to the base of his shaft as his lips caressed her cheek, the crescent of her ear, the side of her neck. Eyes closed, her hands unfisted, nails raking the firm skin of his knotted shoulders.
He ignored the scratches. “Kace, are we still safe?”
What? Safe? What means safe? Then she got it. Babies. She couldn’t think, didn’t care. For fuck’s sake, just answer the man. “Yes, for chrissakes. Don’t stop!”
With no further foreplay, the thick head of his cock pushed into her, spread her wide as he penetrated, stretched her most intimate flesh as if it were the first time. Once again, he knew what she needed—he was what she needed.
Her everyday world disappeared as he took possession of her body, and she was sure he grabbed the remnants of her soul along the way.
Why did I leave him? What’s wrong with me? I could have waited before I bailed out. Why did I run?
It hadn’t been a tactical departure—in truth, she’d hared away from the cracked Afghani earth, the undulating waves of oppressive heat that rose from the sand, carrying with it the pervasive stench of blood. Of torn bodies. Of loss. She’d been fearless in the sky, Wonder Woman fearless—yet death had even found her in the air.
She could have stayed, should have waited for him, admitted how important he’d become to her.
And if anything happened to him, I would have been finished, destroyed—all done except collecting the ash of my incinerated body and soul.
As Nathan’s mouth crushed hers once again and sealed her groans in her chest, his pistoning cock drove her to a good place, a safe place. She twisted under him, locked her legs around his sculpted ass, then around his hard waist, pulling him in as tightly as she could manage.
He moved his hand down again, flattened his fingers against her belly, which made her want to cry. Then he slid both hands under her bottom, rolled his pelvis, pounded into her without mercy as he pinned her to the floor.
“Nathan, oh dear God, that’s it, just like—”
Her cry echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. She flung her head from side to side as the spasms controlled her body, calling his name, over and over. He slammed into her one last time, stiffened, then she felt him pulsing inside, his cockhead jammed so tightly against the mouth of her womb that it caused her pain.
If she could get pregnant, he definitely would have just done the deed. The notion brought forth another round of throbs as her sex responded to his deep, baby-making penetration. If I could get pregnant—
When the pulsations within both their bodies waned, he moved to pull out, to lift his weight from her.
“No, don’t go. Stay with me.” She’d feel too naked without him.
He returned to her, rounded breast against hard and flat, slick skin against slick skin. He rested on his elbows, mouthed her hair, then her ear. “For as long as you wish, dear girl. For as long as you wish.” Still half hard, he pushed into her with more care, enticed her loins to meet his, as they both throbbed against each other once again.
His hips rolled over her as his softening cock teased her from the inside.
“Mmm.” The sound was more purr than moan, as her body finally began to ease down from the sexual extremes he’d created throughout every cell. She felt a chill settle on her overheated skin when he finally rose, felt more naked than nude when he left her.
When Nathan returned, he’d already pulled on his briefs. He lift
ed her as if she weighed nothing, then steadied her until she could stand without toppling over. The warm washcloth felt soothing as he gently wiped her down, the soft hand towel just as nice as he patted her dry. An antique embroidered throw from a matching Chippendale love seat must have seemed practical; he wrapped it around her, then pulled her into his lap as they settled on the sofa.
She struggled to break loose, but couldn’t budge from his solid embrace. “Nathan, really.”
“Shh. Relax. I’m too comfortable to move, so you may as well keep me company. It would be the neighborly thing to do.”
Her brain told her to move. Her body disagreed, and won. “Oh, is that right? The neighborly thing? And who’s to say I’m a good neighbor?”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “The best sort of neighbor, considering how intimate we’ve been.”
Her rational self knew she should make him leave before the situation became more complicated. But, settled sideways on Nathan’s lap, wrapped in his powerful arms with her head tucked under his strong, square chin, Kacey felt too snug, too secure, to press the point. She was willing to let him guard the gates for a while—then worry about territory later.
…
The smell of bacon cooking invaded her sleep, connecting her olfactory senses directly to her stomach—which growled.
Disoriented, she fought free of the throw, struggled to sit up. How the hell long have I been asleep?
She swung her feet to the floor, checked out the wall clock. Nearly four in the afternoon. Damn.
After she pulled on her clothes, she wandered to the nearest bathroom to use the facilities. She rummaged around for a hair brush. Damp towels and washcloths were neatly folded on the edge of the small vanity.
Okay, so she hadn’t been dreaming. He’d been here. Smelled like he was still here, unless the cook staff arrived earlier than everyone else.
No, there he stood when she arrived in the kitchen. Nathan. Dressed as he’d been that morning at the cop shop, sans jacket. Singing what sounded like Trip the Light to himself, bopping around the giant kitchen as if he’d been doing it all his life.
He pulled out a chair for her, then continued on his mission.
She sat. “Okay, Nathan, why are you still here?”
“I’m cooking, what does it look like? Just about finished. Here we go.” He slid a big omelet from pan to plate, divided it down the middle, slid one half onto another plate already loaded with strips of bacon. He shaved fresh parmesan cheese over both omelets, set one in front of her. Handed over silverware—real silverware—a linen napkin, and a tumbler of orange juice. Glasses of iced tea were already in place.
“This is enough food for six people. Did I look hungry or something?” She tried to remain tough, but the food smelled wonderful. She realized she wasn’t just peckish, she was freakin’ famished.
“Kace, you appear to have bypassed hungry days ago. Starving runway model is not a good look for you. I could have sliced myself open on your hipbones. Sorry, the mushrooms came from a tin, not fresh, but they were the best I could manage. Now, eat. Cheese and mushroom omelet, in case my little carnivore has recently gone to the veggie side. If that’s the case, sweetheart, hand over the stack of bacon and no one needs to get hurt.” His Bogey impression wasn’t bad, and she chuckled.
He grinned back, and that incredible, boyish smile made her realize how much she’d really missed him. So, what was wrong with her? Why avoid him? Why keep telling the man to leave?
He brandished a fork in her direction. “There’s the girl I know and love. Eat while it’s hot.”
Even though her skin tingled, just a little, she placed no hopeful importance on the “love” word. A word people used in social situations. Although Nathan had proven tougher than that, not the sort of man to mouth platitudes for convenience—or to get her into the sack. They’d had a good thing in Delaram because they’d both understood longevity was not a given. Life in the Afghani sands often proved fleeting. They’d both had bounties on their heads.
She pulled out the chair next to her, rested her feet on the seat.
“Kace, I gotta ask. What’s with the oh-so-sexy socks in the height of summer?”
After a long pull of the iced tea, she sighed. “Aha, my fashion statement. I’ve spent too much time in combat boots. I ran around barefoot since I first learned to walk, but my feet are still a bit soft to go around without some sort of covering. I’m trying to acclimate. They’re getting better.”
“Uh huh.”
She felt guilty saying anything because he’d been kind enough to feed her, but, between bites, she still hit him with the question. “Nathan, all bullshit aside, why are you here? In town, I mean.”
Acting like a little kid, the big, tough Navy SEAL folded and stuffed an entire slice of bacon in his mouth, chewed for a bit before he spoke. “Because you always made Winterpine sound like the perfect Norman Rockwell town. A place to settle down, become part of the community. Maybe even have a family, seems like a great place to raise kids. Summer sports, winter sports. Cottage, white picket fence, the whole nine yards.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really. And all that, just on my word. Isn’t it absolutely amazing?”
His expression changed from comfortable to cautious. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Oh, no reason. That is, unless one compares your list to Jonah’s list, which, by the way, matches, nearly word for word.” She forked a section of melty white cheddar cheese and fluffy egg into her mouth, swallowed. “Actually, I believe your list is word for word. I like the Norman Rockwell touch, especially the white picket fence. Did you boys plan a coup d’état to take over our little town?”
“Well, your descriptions were so vivid—”
“Hang it up, SEAL boy. You’ve been busted. ’Fess up.”
Finished except for a lone slice of bacon, Nathan kicked back, balanced the iced tea on his lap. “My contract was terminating, and I could take my twenty years. I didn’t re-up. I needed a civilian job. Jonah happened to mention an opening in the sheriff’s department.”
“I see. He just happened to mention it.” She tapped a fingernail against the table top. “Hold the phone. Wasn’t Tactical And Surveillance Group drooling after you? Actually, most of your squad, if scuttlebutt serves. TASG made me an offer the moment I hit state-side, but I told them I was currently on sabbatical. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover we have GPS locators secretly Krazy-glued to our asses—they always seem to know where we are.”
He shrugged, his expression quirked. “Apparently, we’re a highly marketable commodity. Their proposal seemed generous and tempting, and some of the lads may take them up on the work. Barracuda, Billy Boy, Jeffrey, Aye-Aye, and Jimmy Ray left the sandbox right behind me, so they’re considering. Jonah already settled here, but he’s finished with any military-type gigs. I decided I needed a break, and TASG wasn’t it.
“Seriously, Winterpine sounded ideal, kinda quiet, zero to barely any serious crime, a nice change from the rocket’s red fucking glare. Jonah seemed to have settled nicely when the old family sawbones retired. Of course, amid your glowing descriptions, you neglected the part about living in a house that covered enough ground to need its own zip code, and your family history. It appears that Jonah also neglected to pass on those bits of intel.” The last bacon slice disappeared into his mouth.
“Nathan, don’t make this into something it’s not. I thought Jonah would be discrete, but apparently he shares selectively. I grew up in a house with a mum and a da and grandparents and aunts and uncles, y’know, like other kids. An teaghlach, the family. As families did in the past, all mine happened to live here, and were older than most. I descend from a strain of genetically long-lived Irish. That’s it, in a nutshell.”
A snort escaped his lips. “Yeah, well, my little nut, most other kids don’t live in a mansion complete with household staff, or whose family owns most of the town.”
Her meal finished—without giving up h
er share of the bacon—Kacey mimicked Nathan’s pose and leaned back in her chair, still sipping tea. “See, that’s exactly why I don’t share. All of a sudden I morph from being a normal kid to the object of finger-pointing and salacious gossip. Plus, being targeted by lecherous men with sneaky, devious plans for escalated wealth and position.”
That opened his eyes a bit wider. “And were you the target of lecherous men with sneaky, devious plans?”
“Oh, you bet. Since I was about eleven and my boobs began to sprout.” And any time she stepped away from the safety of Timberwyck. And, once in a while, even within the walls, during parties and gatherings.
“Since your family obviously had the bucks, were you assigned a bodyguard?”
“Nope. Even better. I trained in various disciplines of martial arts, as well as in the finer points of incident avoidance. Never had to worry about someone staying close enough to protect me, especially in school. College would have been even more of a bitch if I had bodyguards tailing me all over the university grounds.”
Nathan cocked his head. “So, your well-known abilities in the ring were not necessarily courtesy of the United States Marines.”
She laughed. “Nope. The Devil Dogs honed my skills, but I arrived at Parris Island fully prepared.”
He sighed, theatrically. “I’m so glad I’d never been on the receiving end. I watched you in the ring and on the mats. You’re wicked fast.”
“That’s because I’m small and light, and learned to use my assets. Never mess with a kid raised by a bare-knuckle fighter.”
As he rose to clear the dishes, he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, yeah. Deadly serious. My Da worked in the lumber mills from the time he was a kid, with his father, older brothers, uncles, the entire clan. The O’Donnells aren’t handed anything, we work for what we have. I heard that so often I could recite it on cue when I was a wee toddler. An ’Donnells aren ‘O t aon rud láimh, táimid ag obair le haghaidh an méid atá againn. The first full sentence in Irish Gaelic I ever learned.
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