by Cindy Dees
Was she going to have to change her name again? It had been a royal pain to jump through all the legal hoops to make that happen the first time. If it was a matter of life and death, though, she supposed she had no choice. But the prospect of starting over again, from scratch, of starting a new career in a new place, of living like a mouse, catching no one’s attention, speaking to no one, making friends with no one—
Bass interrupted her grim thoughts. “Have a little faith. We’ll catch this guy and make him talk. We’ll figure out what he wants. Between the SEALs and the NOPD, we’ll solve this puzzle.”
“If you catch this guy, a new one will replace him. They’ll just keep coming,” she mumbled.
Bass went still against her. “What makes you think that?” he asked alertly.
Because Lonnie Grange was rich and powerful and had an endless supply of thugs eager to do his dirty work. Yup, she could really pick bad guys to tangle with.
She blinked, realizing too late what she’d let slip. “Nothing. It’s just that if these guys are after Gary’s treasure, there will always be another treasure-hunter greedy for whatever he thinks Gary can lead him to.”
It was a lame excuse and sounded ridiculous even to her ears. Bastien made no comment, but she could literally feel his brain working overtime.
Crud. Desperation to distract him rushed through her. She did the only thing she could think of. She snaked her arms around his neck and tugged his head down to hers.
“Kiss me, Bass.”
He resisted her for a moment, and she felt his stare upon her in the dark. But then his mouth closed on hers, and she sighed in relief. His lips were warm and restless, gentle and demanding, all the things she remembered from their first kiss and more.
His arms tightened around her and her stomach pressed against the hard ridges of his abdomen, her legs tangling with his. Her toes barely came to the top of his feet, and for once she enjoyed feeling small and fragile in someone’s embrace.
As big and overpowering as he was, though, he handled her with a gentleness that said he knew the extent of his strength.
His mouth slanted across hers, his lips warm and firm. She kissed him back eagerly, inhaling the taste of him, lingering toothpaste and that hint of the outdoors that always clung to him.
Using the tip of her tongue, she tested his lips, and his mouth opened immediately. With a groan in the back of his throat, he deepened the kiss, drawing her even closer to him. His left hand plunged into her hair, cupping the back of her head, angling her to fit him more perfectly, and holding her as if she was made of precious crystal.
But then he tensed and lifted his mouth away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.
“I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You have a lot more experience at this romance stuff than I do. I wouldn’t know if you got it all wrong or not.”
“Still.”
“You won’t mess anything up,” Carrie declared. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”
He kissed his way across her cheekbone to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You’re a SEAL, for crying out loud.”
He kissed his way down her neck and across her collarbone before lifting his head. “That only means I know how to be a warrior. It doesn’t mean I know a damned thing about how to do relationships.”
“You say that like I have some idea what I’m doing,” she replied, raising her chin to give him better access to her throat.
“Then I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.”
Figure out what, exactly? She stared at him as he loomed over her, only able to make out the general lines of his face, the planes of his cheeks, the angles of his nose and brows. She reached up with her fingertips to trace the familiar outlines. “You’re so pretty,” she murmured.
“I thought that was supposed to be my line to describe you.”
“I’m nothing to write home about. But you’re kind of spectacular.”
His lips curved against hers, inviting her to participate in the smile. As if she could refuse that. She smiled and kissed him back until he muttered against her mouth, “I’m glad we’ve established that you’re kind of blind, then.”
“I’m a camerawoman! I’m not blind, and you’re hot!”
He laughed then. “I’m glad you think so. You are rather delectable, yourself, Miss Price.”
“Now who’s blind?”
He kissed his way down her throat to the V-neck of her T-shirt, pulling the soft cotton down out of his way as he explored the gentle valley between her breasts. His breath was warm and his mouth warmer against her skin. “Everything about you is just right.”
“I’m a midget.”
“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
His hands slipped under the hem of her T-shirt and up her ribs, lifting her to his mouth. One hand slipped around her side to cup her breast, and his thumb rubbed lightly across her nipple, making her cry out a little and arch up into the contact.
“So sensitive,” Bass murmured. “So damned soft.”
His big, calloused palms swept up her body, shoving her shirt over her head. Cool air wafted across her skin, making her shiver a little. But then he was there with his mouth and hands and furnace-like heat to chase away the cold, the gentleness of his touch belying the hardness of his hands.
For a moment, she froze up, panic consuming reason. But then she told herself firmly, This is Bass. He would never hurt you. She repeated that to herself over and over until the moment of anxiety subsided, leaving only his heated hands and soft mouth on her skin, and her pulse racing frantically in response.
She plunged her fingers into his silky hair as his lips roamed across her stomach, seeking and finding all her ticklish spots. She cradled his head in her arms as he laid his cheek against her stomach, pausing there as if making a memory of the moment.
It was exactly what she needed—a reminder that Bass was a good man who appreciated her as a person, respected her as a woman, and genuinely found her attractive. Not to mention he was both honorable and honest. He was precisely the kind of man she’d wished for all these years and never expected to find.
“You smell like a woman,” he murmured against her belly button.
“Is that good or bad?”
“All good. You smell sweet. Edible. Like home. Like...fresh-baked cookies.”
“That must be the vanilla shampoo I use.”
“You’re everything I’m not,” he said as he dipped his fingers into the waistband of her flannel pajama bottoms. “You fascinate me.”
His hand cupped her rear end, his fingertips skimming the base of her spine and the incredibly sensitive spot there. Her nether regions melted a little, and suddenly her limbs felt boneless.
Her own hands roamed across his chest, frustrated by his damp T-shirt, and she tugged it up impatiently. Better. Skin.
She kissed his chest, loving how his pectorals jumped under her mouth and how his stomach tightened into a sexy washboard as her hands stroked his waist. She found the deep, muscular indent at his hips and traced it downward to where it disappeared into the top of his jeans. Hungry for more, she reached for his zipper.
One of his big hands closed over hers. “Before we go any further, are you sure about this?”
Everything inside her went deeply still.
Was she sure? She’d had sex now and then in college, and she’d gotten through it okay. Trauma from the past hadn’t intruded too much. But then, she also hadn’t been very emotionally involved during those encounters. Unlike now.
This was Bass. Kind, stern, uncompromisingly decent Bass.
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’m sure about this. About you.�
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He smiled against her mouth, “All right then. Last one naked’s a rotten egg.”
She laughed as he rolled away from her fast. She reached for her pajama bottoms, but he was there before she could hardly touch them.
“Slowpoke,” he declared. “Let me do that for you.”
She squeaked as he disappeared under the covers, grabbed the waistband in his teeth, and dragged them down her body. When he got to her ankles he quickly stripped away the flannel and kissed his way slowly back up her leg. He paused at the back of her knee and licked her until she giggled, then he continued up her thigh until she gasped.
How could the act of kissing her leg make her feel so wanted like this? Or maybe it was that he was willing to take his time with her, make sure she was enjoying herself first. Either way, something warm and fragile unfolded inside her heart.
“Open for me, baby. I want to taste you.”
The intimacy of what he was suggesting staggered her. She might have protested, except he commenced murmuring words of praise about how beautiful she was and how much he wanted to give her pleasure, his mouth all the while teasing the incredibly sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. He nuzzled the juncture of her thighs with such undisguised enjoyment that her reservations melted away. Her leg muscles relaxed, and he kissed his way toward her core, taking his sweet time about it.
She’d never been with a man who savored the experience and felt no rush to get to the finish line. But then, Bass was a lot more confident and sure of his masculinity than the few college boys she’d had sex with.
Gradually, she relaxed as he cupped her hips in his hands and kissed everything but the throbbing center of her nervous desire. The longer he delayed, the more a strange tension built in her lower belly, straining toward...something.
“Bastien,” she finally mumbled in complaint.
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. How does this feel?” He kissed the softness where her thighs ended and then drew his tongue along the sensitive crease.
“Umm, it feels nice. But...” She trailed off, unsure of what was missing.
“But it’s not this?” he murmured.
She lurched as his tongue licked slowly and deeply between her labia, finding the core of her desire and exploding it to life in a single hot, wet stroke. Lights exploded behind her eyes, and her entire being jolted at the crazy pleasure ripping through her. Oh. So that was what all the fuss was about. Well, then. No wonder people liked sex.
“Again?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she panted.
He obliged, sucking and licking and tugging at her throbbing flesh until she cried out, fisting her hands in the sheets and writhing beneath his mouth. She vaguely realized that her legs were thrown wide, granting him full access to her most private places, that her nipples were hard and hungry for attention, and that her entire consciousness had narrowed down to where his mouth was slowly but surely driving her out of her mind.
A wild buzzing sensation started to build in her extremities, racing inward toward her core, growing stronger and stronger until it crested all at once, crashing through her in a rush of pleasure that made her cry out as her entire body spasmed, arching off the mattress and into his mouth. Shock tore through her. She’d never expected to enjoy sex at all, let alone thought it could feel like this!
“That’s it. Sing for me, Carrie.” Barely giving her a moment to draw breath, his mouth closed on her again, and her hypersensitized flesh throbbed again. His lips closed around the bud at her core. One graze of his teeth as he sucked on the swollen nub, and she came again, even more sharply and powerfully than the first time. Tears of gratitude leaked out of the corners of her eyes, so overcome was she at realizing a normal, healthy sex life was possible for her.
Bass surged up over her, covering her body with his. He started to kiss her, then stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s unbelievably right.”
“So those are happy tears, not sad tears?” he asked cautiously.
“Those are ecstatic tears.”
“Ahh. I can live with those.” He confessed, “I’m a bit terrified when it comes to dealing with tears. They kind of freak me out.”
“You?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t think anything rattled you!”
“Honey, you rattle me so hard I don’t know which end is up, sometimes.”
“Me?” she asked in a small voice. That warm, fragile feeling in her chest expanded a little bit more, taking root a little more deeply in her soul.
“Yes. You.” He kissed her deeply then, the taste of her still on his lips. It was foreign and erotic, and she surrendered to it—to him—too overcome with pleasure to do anything but ride the wave he’d created in her.
She vaguely heard a plastic tearing noise, and then something hot and smooth, hard as steel touched the core of her pleasure. Impatient for more of this brand new world he’d opened up to her, she wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him to hurry.
“Easy, darlin’. I’m trying not to hurt you, here.”
“You won’t,” she panted. “I want you. Now.”
Bass groaned in the back of his throat. “You’re killing me, woman. Let me be a gentleman, here.”
The burning heat of him slowly pressed a tiny ways into her.
“Bass! Stop teasing me!”
“As the lady commands,” he muttered. And then he kissed her and stroked all the way home, filling her to bursting and absorbing her cry of pleasure into him at the same time.
Her internal muscles contracted and released spasmodically, and her hips rocked forward hungrily. “More,” she gasped.
Bass withdrew a little ways, and she tightened her legs around him in alarm.
“Never fear,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m not going anywhere. Not after I waited so long to get here.”
He plunged into her then, filling her once more. Drugging pleasure speared through her and she groaned her approval. “Again.”
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he teased. But he didn’t keep her waiting and plunged into her again, wringing a keening cry of joy from her this time.
She hung on for dear life as he established an unhurried rhythm that her body picked up on and mimicked immediately. But he was definitely in the driver’s seat as she clung to him and he cradled her, carrying her higher and higher toward she didn’t know what. This was all uncharted territory for her, and she was happy to let him steer this ship wherever he wanted to take it.
A deeper pleasure built inside her this time, rising steadily to fill not only her body but also her mind, an emotional connection to Bastien that was a hundred times more seductive than the explosive pleasure of before. She looked up at him, losing herself in his shadowed gaze, amazed and overwhelmed to share herself with him like this and to have him share himself with her.
And a sharing it surely was. This was not a collision of self-absorbed bodies seeking momentary gratification that sex had been for her in the past. This was something entirely different. For the first time, she truly understood why people called it making love. She used her body to express everything she couldn’t say in words, opening herself to him, using her legs and arms to draw him closer, kissing him with unbridled hunger, touching his face with her fingers in the same wonder she felt throughout her body.
Bastien never took his gaze off her, watching her with hawklike intensity. God only knew what he was reading in her face. But it was okay. She was willing to share everything she was with him in this magical space they’d created, separate from the real world.
Emotions built up inside her until they refused to be contained any more, and as Bass increased the speed and intensity of his movements, her own body matched him. She strained with him toward wherever the
ir final destination might be, eager to get there. With him.
An urge to laugh and cry and shout out her pleasure came over her and she stared up at Bass, her only lifeline to anything at the moment. Bass’s jaw tightened and his eyes glazed over as she looked on. She’d done that to him. She’d sent him to a place of pleasure so intense he was totally lost in it.
As her own orgasm clawed its way toward release, she, too, gave in to the primal demands of her body, losing herself in the slide of sweaty flesh, the piston strokes of Bass’s body against her swollen, pulsing flesh, the flex of his back muscles beneath her hands, the woodsy smell of him, the salty taste of his neck as she kissed him.
Bass surged into her one last time, his entire body arching against hers, and she met him halfway, crying out her own magnificent release. They shuddered violently against each other, clinging convulsively as their bodies and souls emptied into each other.
Everything she’d ever dammed up inside her heart broke loose, and she cried out as too many emotions to name—both good and bad—tore through her, laying her utterly bare to Bastien.
He stared down at her, and she stared up at him, too stunned to hide everything she was feeling from him. She regained feeling slowly in her fingers and toes. Gradually, awareness of his weight registered, but it was a delicious sensation she relished. He was breathing hard. Hah! She’d winded a SEAL! Of course, she was panting just as hard.
They lay like that for a long time, recovering from the intensity of their lovemaking. Her thoughts were disjointed, jumping from one observation to the next in random fashion. That was amazing. Shockingly, she felt safe. Sex done right really wasn’t related to violence. She trusted Bass.
Eventually, Bastien murmured, “You okay?”
Always the perceptive one, wasn’t he? “Okay wouldn’t be the word I’d choose to describe myself.”
Quick alarm flashed in his eyes. “What word would you choose?”