She tightened her grip on her keys, splaying them wide on the ring as she crammed them into her attacker's waist. She dug them in deeper, remembering to twist them sharply for added effect. And it did have an effect.
A hoarse grunt filled the dark cabin, followed by a hiss as she ripped the keys down his abdomen. But she wasn't finished yet. She was going for the groin. His hand left her mouth, turning to iron as he realized her intent, clamping down on her wrist a split second before she gelded him. But before she could let out a scream that would alert the ship from bow to stem, a harsh whisper tore into her.
"Good God, woman, it's me."
Jade froze—her hand still millimeters from the source of his future children. "Reese?"
"In the flesh. Now, would you please move those keys?"
She jerked her hand open and they clattered to the deck.
A soft whoosh filled the air as his pent-up breath blew out over her cheeks. "Thank you." His grip loosened.
Her night vision finally adjusted, sharpening enough for her to make out the shadowy outline of a face and body.
Reese.
Maybe that's what did it. Or maybe it was the overwhelming wave of relief crashing into her as she realized he was safe and not trussed up somewhere in the bowels of the ship—or worse, gutted and tossed overboard. But even if it wasn't, she didn't care.
All she cared about was him.
She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing herself into his solid chest as she rained kiss after thankful kiss along his whiskered jaw.
He was safe.
But she was not.
She realized that as he growled and lashed his arms around her as well. But she didn't care. All she cared about was that finally she was in the one place she'd wanted to be—fantasized about being—each and every day of the past two weeks.
In Reese's arms.
And for once, she wasn't going to think about the consequences. She wasn't going to think about who she was and how she was supposed to act. She wasn't going to think about where she wanted to go.
No, for once, she was just going to feel.
And she wanted to make him feel.
Reese groaned as Jade blistered a wet, needy path up his jaw. His gut smelted to a pool of hunger by the time she reached his earlobe. He shuddered as she tugged it into her mouth, nipping and sucking at it frantically, mimicking a baser act with such searing precision he was afraid he'd lose it right then and there.
Enough!
He could take no more.
He grabbed her jaw and dragged her mouth beneath his—knowing full well the stubble on his face was tearing at her lips. But he didn't stop. He couldn't.
Hell, he couldn't stop touching her any more than he could slow his pummeling heart. He battered past her lips, razing them in his greed. He drove his tongue inside—spurred on as she tightened her arms around his neck, nearly strangling him as she welcomed him home.
And oh, God, how she felt like home.
That alone should scare the hell out of him. And tomorrow it probably would. But tonight, he wasn't going to think about it. No, the only thing he was going to think about now was right here and right now.
Tomorrow would take care of itself.
He scraped his hands down her back, cupping her rear and sealing her close—so close even her uniform couldn't disguise the goddess beneath. And then he devoured her.
Jade shuddered as Reese swept his way deep into her mouth. She needed no words to know how he'd spent his night.
She knew.
It was all there.
Right there, as she tasted bitter agonizing fear, the sweet rush of adrenaline, and finally, the spice of undiluted victory. And then she was filled with the savage taste of hunger.
For her.
The answering ache searing through her should have had her running for cover. But it didn't. Instead, she was straining up into him, clutching him, feeding on him—losing herself in his white-hot heat as she pleaded for more.
But even as he gave it, it wasn't enough. She wanted even more. She shoved her hands beneath his sweatshirt and kneaded a path up his back—now damp with sweat—digging her fingers into the slabs of sinew stretched across his shoulders.
It still wasn't enough.
She shoved the sweatshirt higher, and before she realized it, it was gone, hurled across the space to God-knew-where. And then all that existed were the naked, slick ridges, the hard nipples, his corded, straining arms. She touched them all—almost all at once. Her hands and fingers were everywhere—smoothing, scraping, kneading.
But it still wasn't enough.
So she followed with her mouth. Tasting the places her fingers had been, and a host of new ones as well. She followed the salty crater down the center of his chest, licking and consuming a torturous path to his stomach—stopping to swirl her tongue deep into his navel. She was determined to taste every inch of him along the way down—but it was taking too long.
And not long enough.
She was nearly overcome with the sheer want.
Of Reese.
And then, finally, she was there. Even in the pitch-black of the room, she knew exactly where she was. She didn't need to see the shadowy sweats hanging low on his hips. Didn't need to see the solid evidence of his need pulsing mere inches from her lips. She could hear it, smell it.
But she couldn't taste it.
Yet.
She reached out and hooked her finger into the drawstring loop. But before she could yank them down, steel slapped around her wrist for the second time that night. This time it tugged her up, trapping both her hands behind her with just one hand of his.
Firmly.
And then he leaned down, inches from her face as his breath battered into hers.
"Not just yet."
She shuddered as the ragged words grated against her nerves, scouring them into a bundle of raw need. No matter what he wanted, she would not deny him.
She could not.
Reese clenched his teeth and slugged back his surging hunger with an iron fist. God, how he wanted to strip that uniform from Jade. Wanted to strip the lieutenant right off her. Until all that was left was the woman beneath.
And he would.
Because Dillon was wrong—Jade was a woman.
All woman.
Yeah, he was going to strip her, all right. But not yet. Not until he completed the one task that had carved itself into his gut with such brutal finesse that it sliced at him daily, nightly, hourly. And every second in between.
Her hair.
He dug his fingers into her braid, finding the pins and ripping them out, searching for the rubber band as he followed the rope down her back. He found it. And then her hair—that thick, glorious silk—was unraveling.
He shoved his fingers into it, not stopping until every last strand was separate and flowing. Only then did he pause—for a moment—sucking in his breath as he savored the searing relief. Her hair was free.
And it was his.
He yanked the mass over her shoulder and buried his face into it—inhaling the sweetest fragrance he'd ever known. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but he knew without a doubt he'd be smelling it until the day he died.
And beyond.
Suddenly his hunger ripped free, slamming back into him with such force he shuddered from the blow. He was mindless with want, desperate with need, and still the craving tore at him, possessing him until he knew he'd never find relief until he possessed her.
He jerked his hand from her wrists and grabbed the upper edges of her uniform, ripping them down and apart in one clean rent. Buttons flew off, hurling across the darkness, plinking into the metal wall unit and bulkheads surrounding them. He shoved the shirt halfway down her arms and then stopped, not even taking the time to complete the job.
Instead, he swept his gaze back to the snowy T-shirt he couldn't really see. The one that taunted him daily from the vee formed by her uniform. The one that was now
in the way.
And then it wasn't.
How in the hell he'd thought that puny mantra would be enough to keep him from Jade, he'd never know. All he knew was he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to feel this good. He didn't deserve her. He also knew there was no use in torturing himself with forever.
Forever was impossible.
Especially with Jade.
But as long as she was offering him tonight—he was taking it. For as long as it lasted. He just wished to God the lights were on as he found the front clasp to her bra and wrenched it open. The sight before him had to be magnificent. But it would have to wait for another moment, another time. For now all he could do was touch, smell and taste.
And then he did.
Jade moaned as Reese covered her with his hands, kneading her breasts with such force she thought she'd die. He scraped the tips with his palms, rolled them beneath his greedy fingers, pinching and pulling and tugging at them until they were nothing but hard, aching nubs. And then—when his hands abandoned her—she did die.
Until he knelt and returned with his mouth.
She shuddered as he crushed his face to her breasts, groaning as he began to lick and suck. He explored every inch of flesh he could find. Seeking, demanding, taking. And then he finally settled on her nipples, flicking his tongue at them relentlessly, stabbing them over and over until they were standing at perfect, painful attention.
Perspiration slicked her skin and passion drenched her core as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him up.
It was time.
This time, she didn't even bother with the drawstring loop. She just hooked her fingers into the sweats and yanked them down in one smooth sweep. She gasped as he sprang out rigid and hot against her belly, and then he gasped as she wrapped her fingers around him.
Good Lord, he was huge.
His hoarse grunt filled the dark as she squeezed him firmly, savoring the hard, stiff satin. And then his voice broke. "Honey, I—"
Three loud whacks on her stateroom next door cut him off. "Hey, DCA, open up!"
It was Dillon.
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Damn!
Somehow, Reese managed not to roar and bash his head into the wall unit as Jade ripped herself from his arms. She was across the stateroom in two seconds flat. He knew, because he could hear her ragged breath through the dark.
It matched his own.
From the fumbling sounds that followed, she was jerking at her uniform, trying to get it back together. But it was no use. Without buttons on that top, she wasn't going anywhere.
Which meant he had to. And that was going to be a difficult task given his state of distended arousal. Perhaps insurmountable. Then again, maybe he wouldn't have to leave. Maybe Dillon would go away.
He slid his sweats over his throbbing erection, praying the guy would do just that as he started in on his multiplication.
Three more thumps followed. "Come on, Jade, I know you're in there. I talked to Central."
Think, buddy, think.
Think? Hell, he was lucky he could still breathe.
He felt more than heard Jade slip past him and reach for the knob.
He had to do something—now. Before she sacrificed her reputation on the slim chance that whatever Dillon wanted was actually important. He closed a hand over hers and pressed his lips to her ear, whispering, "Trust me."
She nodded shakily and moved back to the corner.
Good. That's where he wanted her, out of view and safe from Dillon's nasty mind.
He slipped across the stateroom and flipped down the shelf. Once the temporary desk was formed, he reached inside and snapped on the tiny reading light before turning to Jade.
Big mistake.
She stood next to his rack, holding the edges of her shirt together, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her inky hair so disheveled, he was nearly overcome. He wanted to dig his hands back into it, wrap it around himself—wrap her around himself—and finish what they'd started. But she trusted him enough to get her out of this.
And he would.
He spun around and headed for the tiny sink at the foot of his rack. He went straight for the cold, shoving his face under and welcoming the freezing flood as it gushed over his face and hair. He ran through another line of division, praying it would be enough. He turned off the water and glanced down.
It wasn't.
He cursed inwardly as he dried his hair, hooking the towel around his neck as Dillon thumped her door again. With the nearby staterooms vacant, the guy could keep it up all night if he wanted to.
He glanced down at the front of his sweats again. Damn. He needed to go down. Right now.
"DCA, I don't care if you're dressed or not, get your butt out here."
That did the trick. He smiled grimly as he headed for the door, closing it firmly as he entered the dim passageway. "Hey, Mike, you got a reason for waking the ship at this hour?"
Dillon spun around. "Where is she?"
He cocked his head toward her door. "Obviously not in there. She's probably still in Central—she had a drill to run tonight."
"That, I know. The Flying Squad left their squalor all over my spaces. Bunch of pigs if you ask me. Anyway, she's not there, I just checked."
Reese smiled openly. Pigs his ass, the mess was his. And right now, he was damn proud of it. His smile faded. But was the heroin Dillon's? Now, there was a question worth asking. Unfortunately, short of smashing the bastard up against the side of the bulkhead, he wasn't likely to get the answer he was looking for.
At least not tonight.
He shrugged. "So find her in the morning. Surely you can wait until then." After all, one interrupted, painful wait deserved another.
"Why should I care if she gets her beauty rest? She didn't care if I got mine."
That's it. He'd heard enough. Reese advanced on him with deadly calm. "How about the fact that the woman is still sporting a brand new gash and a head full of stitches?"
Dillon sneered up at him. "So what? What's it to you, anyway? Unless…" His words trailed as his black gaze settled on the scratches Jade's keys had left in his abdomen.
Damn! Reese kicked himself for forgetting to don his sweatshirt. He paid for the oversight a hundred times over as the lecherous twist to the guy's mind became apparent.
The bastard grinned slyly as he jerked his head from Jade's door back to his. "Unless the real reason she's not in there is because she's in with you giving a little one-on-one first aid."
Reese grabbed the ends of the towel, pulverizing them. "If you've got a point to make, make it."
Dillon's laugh was as short and ugly as he was. "My point is, someone seems to have forgotten to tell Little Miss Perfect that sex on a naval vessel is against the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Why, she could even be court-martialed."
Pure, cold fury stabbed into Reese. He whittled the distance between them down to a hair's width—and then leaned closer. "If you so much as think that thought in the company of anyone on or connected to this ship again, I'll crush it right out of your brain. And I won't care if I have to go through your skull to get it. You got that?"
Dillon's humor backfired, the knob in his neck revving as he swallowed and screeched, "Got it."
Reese touched his ear. "I don't think I caught that."
He swallowed again, managing more volume. "Got it."
"Good." Reese smiled as he straightened. "Now, when I see the DCA at quarters in the morning, I'll be sure to let her know you're looking for her, okay?"
Another quick nod.
"Say good-night, Gracie."
"'Night."
Reese stared down the dimly lit corridor, waiting until Dillon slunk out of sight. And then he waited some more. Only when the boot steps rounded the corner and he heard the watertight door open and close, did he turn back to his room.
He wasn't fooled by Dillon's easy capitulation for a second. Not only had he
burned a major bridge tonight, he'd also left one hell of an enemy seething on the other side.
Way to go, buddy.
* * *
Jade jerked away from the door as she heard Dillon's steps trail off, moving as far away as she could get. She retreated all the way onto Reese's rack, tugging the firefighter's ensemble into her lap as she tried to disguise her gaping shirt. Short of clutching the bulky coveralls beneath her chin, it didn't do much good.
She still couldn't believe what they'd nearly done. Hell, who was she kidding, what she had done. Humiliation seared her from her head to her toes. Twice he'd kissed her, both times igniting a raging, rutting inferno inside her. Even now, it could reflash in a second. She closed her eyes and wilted against the bulkhead. Lifelong goals be damned, she wanted him.
And that terrified her.
"Got any sage advice now, Dad?"
A deep chuckle resonated through her brain. Oh, no, I don't think you want my advice on this one, Missy. But I will tell you this—try and keep it on the beach. It took a bit for his chuckle to die out.
Yeah, Dad was a sailor, all right. She jolted upright, digging her fingers into the firefighter's suit as the doorknob clicked and turned.
Reese reentered the room. The lights were still dim, but she could make out his face clearly enough as he leaned back against the wall unit. He nodded to the coveralls in her lap. "Didn't know what to do with them after the plan fell through, so I changed in here."
She nodded, wishing the towel looped at the base of his neck covered more of his chest. His torso glistened in the low light, reminding her again all too vividly of what they'd done.
"Jade?"
She evaded the concern in his gaze and voice, tugging the coveralls closer as she stared down at his feet. They were naked as well, long and lean, with a sharp, masculine slant to his toes. Oh, God, even his feet were sexy.
She yanked her gaze back to her lap, focusing on the yellow reflective tape stitched onto the coveralls as he walked over and hunkered down in front of her.
"Honey?" He tipped her chin up and forced her to stare into his liquid blue gaze. "Talk to me."
She closed her eyes and sighed, opening them when she found her nerve. "I should be brought up on charges."
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