Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  Chapter 16

  Honey’s danger vibes woke her. She carefully moved the blanket from her face and gripped the H&K, listening to sounds outside. She levered up enough to see into the loft. A lump under the covers and loud regular breathing said it wasn’t O’Brien out there. She sat slowly, doing her best to keep the leather from protesting, moving her head side to side like radar antenna honing in on the direction of the sound. She had it. Flaming fish balls, there was more than one. They were crashing through the dense woods surrounding the cabin unconcerned about noise. Not good.

  “O’Brien,” she hissed and grabbed a clip from her duffel and stuck the cold metal in the waistband of her panties. Nothing from him. Fuck. Earbuds. She pitched a boot on his bed. “O’Brien.” Her voice was louder and urgent.

  “Huh?” the bed creaked.

  “We got company.” She made for the door.

  “No.” His feet thudded on the floor as she eased open the door and slipped to the porch. To the left she heard at least four Tangos moving parallel to the cabin. Honey scoped out the darkness, wishing she had night-vision goggles. Clouds and a low fog spread through the trees, allowing her to see the moving shadows in degrees of darkness. She raised the gun, head and weapon tracking the sounds until O’Brien’s solid body was against her back, his arms extended beside hers. His hands covered hers.

  “Four out there,” she whispered. “Ten meters.” Heat from his body flooded hers. The fur on his face tickled her cheek. “Where’s your weapon?” she whispered.

  His lips brushed her ear. “Don’t have one.” He pressed down on her arms.

  She resisted the pressure. “Why the fuck not?” Was he crazy?

  Two shadows moved through the trees. Synapses sparked warnings in her brain, tensing every muscle. Despite the chill, a film of sweat coated her skin. She set her feet. O’Brien circled an arm around her waist, eliminating any space between their bodies. His familiar musky scent filled her nostrils.

  “Lower the gun.” The deep whisper rumbled in her ear, sending a shiver dancing over her damp skin. She moved her head side to side.

  “It’s deer. Does and fawns. They come through here a few times a week to a salt lick. Look five meters to the left of your aiming.” Honey adjusted the five meters and squinted at the dark outlines moving through the trees.

  “See them?”

  She nodded. A doe materialized from the fog five feet from the porch and snorted. She stood looking at them for a long moment until a fawn trotted to her side and together they bolted off to join the others.

  She caved against O’Brien with relief and dropped her arm. Jack nuzzled the side of her head and tightened his grip on her waist. His lips rested against her ear. Not a kiss. Just as sensual, tantalizing. His thumb whisked her ribs and sent a spark through her like flint striking steel, igniting a fire in her belly. His breathing mirrored hers, his hard body rising and falling in unison with hers. The muscles in the arms enveloping her went taut. He sucked in a breath, breaking the tempo.

  “I’m going to let go of you,” his lips vibrated against her ear, and then he was gone as silently as he’d come.

  She trembled as a cold damp blanket of night air replaced his warmth and from the overwhelming want of him. The moment her body recognized his scent, his touch, it blossomed into full lust. “Uhhh.” She shook to redirect her brain away from sex, and when that didn’t work she issued a verbal order. “Get control of yourself.” The words drifted on the fog. She jerked around to see if Jack heard. No. He was at the fireplace feeding logs on the embers. The cabin took on a fairy-tale glow as flames erupted. Not tonight. No fairy tales coming true for this Marine. She stopped at the door, watching him hold the quilt she’d been using outstretched in front of the fire. Shadows flickered on the other side of the cloth, backlighting the impossibly broad shoulders where she’d rested her head. The narrow hips that fit perfectly between her legs. The memory of the passion they’d shared racked her body with new tremors.

  “Come in and close the door. Or stay out if you want, but close the door. You’re letting in the dampness.”

  Honey moved inside and closed the door.

  “Come here,” he said without looking at her.

  After a moment of hesitation, she went to his side and he wrapped her in the quilt. The heat collected from the fire vanquished the night’s damp chill. His arms lingering around her longer than necessary did nothing to vanquish her lust attack. The fire in her belly erupted higher and hotter than the flames in front of her.

  “Lie down.” His voice was husky, crackling with male power.

  As she lowered herself to the sofa, the fire spread lower, between her legs. O’Brien leaned over her and she inhaled deeply, taking in his familiar scent. A wild, dangerous scent she could never quite identify that compelled her to lick and taste him. The flesh between her legs was wet and pulsed with anticipation.

  “Jack,” she whispered and expected to feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. He pulled the crocheted coverlet from the back of the sofa, tucking it close, then . . . he was gone.

  The stairs to the loft creaked. He’d left her. Her stomach jittered like she’d swallowed a sack of cats. She yanked the covers over her head and thought about Bristol and Global to throw cold water on her desire. It wasn’t doing much good.

  “Honey.”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was there speaking or her desire was conjuring up his voice. She said nothing.

  “Major, I know you’re awake.”

  He peeled the cover away from her head and her hair crackled with electricity. Seeing him crouched beside her threw gas on the fire.

  He moved hair, bristling with static, off her face. “All that shit I said earlier. I didn’t mean it.” His low voice goose-fleshed her. He drew the cover farther down. “It isn’t true. I’m sorry.” His hand drifted to her mouth. “I’m sorry I said it.”

  “Okay.” The reasonable part of her brain screamed, Warning. Agent. Spy. Con man doing exactly what he accused you of. Using you as an asset. That smart, well-trained brain demanded she cross her legs and forget their past time together. The evolutionary lizard brain she had no control over screamed at her to strip those baggy sweats off his hips. Touch and suck his hard, salty body. Grasp him, take him into her mouth and give him pleasure, take her pleasure as he entered her slowly. Delight as his weight settled on her after his release. Enjoy the warm blanketing pleasure of the afterglow.

  He traced a finger over her lips. “I apologize.” He gently moved the back of his finger over her cheek and stopped.

  “Got it. Now go . . . away.” She brushed his hand from her face and grabbed the covers, growing angry at the inability to control her feelings.

  “I will, after you tell me how you got these?”

  “These what?” She knew dammed well that he meant the bruises but she hesitated, not sure how much to tell.

  “Bristol?”

  She made a tsking sound of disgust. “No. Bar fight.” She attempted to roll and give him her back but he held her in place. “I’m tired, O’Brien. Go away and let me sleep.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Oh, for crap’s sake.” She levered herself up to a sitting position and told him.

  “Fucking hell.” He went to his knees, pulling the blanket completely away. “What else?”

  “Jack . . .”

  “Honey. Let. Me. See.”

  She couldn’t fight him, run from him, or avoid him. She gave in and scooted around, “It looks worse than it is,” she said, lifting the hem of her shirt to reveal the kaleidoscope of purples and greens on her ribs. Jack hissed in a breath. “You know I bruise easily.” The first time they were together, he’d flipped out over marks he’d unintentionally given her. “They’ll be gone soon.”

  His warm hand rested over the bruises on her side. “Ahhh.”

  His hand jerked back. “Hurt?” He’d misinterpreted her pleasure gasp for pain.

  She shook her head. “No hurt
,” she said then gave him a tiny smile. “Better living through modern chemistry.”

  Still on his knees, he maneuvered himself between her legs and gently tugged her to the edge of the cushions to press her core against his erection. The hand traveling up her thigh came to a halt. He moved back enough to break contact between their bodies. “Things will change,” he said in a hoarse whisper against her ear.

  Yes, they would. More than sex would be involved.

  “You don’t want this . . . tell me now.” Burning wood hissed and popped. A log fell, creating a spark shower.

  She didn’t reply. Under his hands her skin heated and flushed, her pulse jittered wildly.

  “You know what I’m saying?”

  They did this and tomorrow the easy, fun, hookup sex would be gone. Tomorrow they’d share professional info and personal secrets. A working relationship could develop and what they had would end. Either way, their hookup arrangement was bound to end sometime.

  Despite what happened earlier. Despite what could happen tomorrow. Despite what the reasonable side of her brain said she gave in to the wild swirl of want and need storming through her. She reached inside his sweats and gripped him. “You don’t want this, tell me and . . .”

  His mouth came to hers, tugging greedily at her lips. She separated her lips and his tongue explored her mouth while his hands explored her body. Feeling him pulse in her grip, tasting him, and the anticipation of more to come, being together like before, was thrilling. But . . .

  He broke the kiss and put his mouth to her ear. “No yesterday,” he whispered as if he’d read her thoughts, “no tomorrow.” He stroked the inside of her thigh.

  “Only us tonight,” she finished and tipped back her head, offering her neck to be kissed. He accepted the invitation and his mouth went to work, kissing and sucking. She guided his warm hand on the inside of her thigh higher, until his fingers worked past the cloth of her panties to the heat and wet between her legs.

  “Ummm,” she sighed as he slipped one, then two fingers inside. She worked her hands over his belly, inside his sweats, pushing them away to release his erection, and pumped him to the same beat his fingers worked in and out.

  She released him and moved back. “Clothes off.” She disappeared her shirt. Jack did the same with her panties then spread her legs and lowered his head. His tongue made a long lap up her slit, stopping at her clit to flick and tease. She put her legs over his shoulders to give him easier access to repeat the process. Under his oral attention, she squirmed and moaned. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him away.

  “I won’t be able to take much more of that. I want you in me.”

  Jack rose and she pulled his sweats past narrow hips and muscular thighs, then lay back as he finished removing them. For a moment he stood towering over her, his powerful body backlit by the flickering fire. She reached out and ran a finger down that muscle definition going from his hip to crotch she found so damn sexy.

  He took her hand. “I’d be too heavy on you. The bruises.” He pulled her to a sitting position. “Don’t want to hurt you.” He sat beside her. “Sit on me.”

  She straddled him and he lightly ran his rough fingers up her spine. A new spike of desire caused her to shudder in his arms. She felt his smile on her neck as his hot mouth kissed, licked and sucked her. His hands slid around to cup her breasts and she made a low moan as he massaged her nipples with his thumb and finger. “I like you on top,” he whispered, “I can see you better and I can do this.” He leaned and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and deftly circling his tongue over the already sensitive tip.

  With her encouraging words of “Yesss” and “Like that,” his head moved side to side, giving her nipples equal time. His soft beard swept erotically over her skin until she couldn’t take any more. She grasped his shoulders and gently pushed him away. His mouth made a popping sound as he reluctantly released a nipple. She reached between them and coiled her fingers around him, pumping and turning the way she knew he liked.

  “Thought you wanted me in you.” He rested back, giving her better access.

  “Want to do this more.” She worked him faster. His low groan and rapid breathing ramped her passion. His hand glided down her side and between her legs, long warm fingers teasing at her wet opening. She scooted back on his thighs, careful not to move out of his reach, and cupped his balls, rhythmically applying the slightest pressure and releasing. His talented fingers worked inside her and she shivered. Jack lifted his head.

  “Cold?”

  “Pleasure.” The word came out on a long sigh.

  His fingers plunged deep inside and she moaned, released him, and twisted her arms around his neck. She studied the emotion in his eyes, enjoyed each of his rapid warm breaths on her face. She nipped at his lower lip and he thrust his tongue inside, kissing deep and urgent. The tension in her body reached an unbearable level. Without taking her lips from his she gasped, “Now. I can’t wait any longer. I want you now.”

  She levered up on her knees and he held himself steady. The tip penetrated and she forgot about slow and savoring each inch. She took him in completely, flexing her hips back and forth. Jack forcefully raised his hips, moving faster and faster. She rocked, matching his pace, pushing against him harder and harder until their bodies were slick with sweat and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Jack, I’m . . .”

  “I . . .” He gasped. “Know . . . Don’t . . . stop.” He cupped her ass, helping to keep the rhythm. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her head fell back and she plunged over the edge of frenzied pleasure into the rapture of her release.

  Jack’s body shook. His hips surged up powerfully, and with a low moan he shuttered with his own release. They clung to each other until the last vestige of their climax faded.

  Totally done in, she collapsed on his chest. “You want . . . me to move?”

  His arms went around her tightly. “No,” he said in a sleepy voice.

  Grateful he wanted to stay this way, she nestled her head on his shoulder and knew she was falling faster than a meteor for Jack O’Brien.

  Chapter 17

  Honey slept wedged between his body and the back of the sofa but mostly draped over him. Her head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder, a leg thrown over his. The first time they’d had sex it had been fast and furious. The second time slow and long, her warmth and softness connecting him to life again. Since Lee died, he’d been alone. Removed from the world, feeling nothing but guilt and grief. She’d chased that away. He’d been a fucking ass to think he couldn’t trust her. Think he had to separate his need to find Lee and Becca’s killers and his need for her. Today he’d make amends for his shitty behavior. Admit he needed her help and show her Becca’s notes. He lifted the blanket off her face. She made a sleepy sound and snuggled in, rubbing her knee over his morning erection. He used a finger to sweep strands of her pale hair off her face.

  “I need to get up,” he whispered, not wanting to wake her completely. She opened one eye, squinting, and moved her leg so he could edge off the sofa. As he pulled on his sweats, she scooted into the warm spot he’d left and covered her face again. He’d teased her about the odd habit. She said she was afraid of the bogeyman and it was the only way she could sleep. He’d laughed and told her it was probably the other way around.

  Dampness from a heavy fog seeped through every crack in the old place and he stirred the embers and dropped on more logs. He took the Desert Eagle on his latrine trip. The fog had visibility down to twenty feet and provided perfect cover for uninvited visitors. Although with his security setups, it was unlikely there would be any surprises. Better to be prepared. None appeared. He returned to find the fire doing a job. He fed wood to the cookstove and put water on for coffee. Honey liked her coffee.

  One then both of her arms stretched from under the covers. She threw the blankets aside, sat and yawned languidly.

  “Fire feels good.” She stood close to the hearth, turning and rubbing her
naked body.

  “Honey.”

  She stopped. “Hmm?”

  “Get dressed.”

  Her eyes locked on him, a questioning look on her face.

  “If you’re walking around here nekked I can’t concentrate on anything but you.”

  She tilted her head. “You’re right.” She gave him a smile that made him want to close the distance between them and do what they did last night over and over again until he couldn’t. She dug in one of her bags and came up with a shirt and a white pair of sexy Cheeky panties that only covered half her ass. She shimmied them on. “Going to the head.”

  She went for the door, pulling on the shirt and taking the .357 he left on the table. He watched her bounce down the stairs and disappear into the fog. The raw guilt and sadness of the last weeks slipped away, replaced with a sliver of expectation, of hope.

  She came up the steps rising out of the thinning fog like a goddess. Hair loose. Long bare legs and shoeless. She came in, halted, and sniffed. “You have coffee.” She came to him, hair and skin glistening with moisture, nipples hard from the cool morning air, poking the cloth of her shirt.

  He puffed out a breath. “I have coffee.” To keep his hands busy and off those peaks he opened a cupboard and brought out mugs while she examined the ancient coffee grinder on the counter.

  “Haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid.” She toyed with the handle. The kettle screeched and they jumped. Jack poured the boiling water in the top of the drip pot.