Searing Need

by Tracey Devlyn

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Coen. What happened in Maggie’s office—”

  “Don’t.” He pressed his thumb against her mouth. “I’m still not happy about being shut out, but I understand honor and wanting to protect those you love.” He held her face between his hands. “Let me help you.”

  “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

  “I don’t hurt when I’m with you. I feel when I’m with you.”

  Her tears spilled over. With impatient fingers she flipped her glasses on top of her head and swiped at her cheeks. “Can we try again?”

  “Us? Or—?” He let his smile and slow inspection of her eyes down to her mouth finish his sentence.

  A breath shuddered between her sweet, wobbling lips. “Both?” she asked hopefully. “I figured out what I did wrong the other night. Or I should say Maggie worked it out. Because of my inexperience, I thought I’d hurt you, but she said I gave you pleasu—”

  Coen captured the last of her analysis in his mouth. She sank into him on a deep sigh that filled his chest with male satisfaction.

  He splayed his hands over her ass and brought their hips together. Need spiraled through his gut, and he couldn’t stop the explosive groan that ripped from his throat into her mouth.

  His reaction triggered something in her brilliant mind, something powerful. Her response turned faster, hotter, more devouring. He rode the wave of her frenzy for several heart-pounding minutes. Then he moved his exploration to her neck, dipping his tongue into the soft well at the base of her throat.

  Tilting her face up to the stars, she allowed him free rein, trusting him with her most vulnerable possession. He nipped and laved his way up to her ear, drawing the soft lobe into mouth, allowing his heat to sink into her very core.

  “Do you want me to tell you exactly what I’m going to do with you, my little scientist?” He flicked the shell of her ear with his tongue. “Would that help silence the questions?”

  She reared back, eyes wide, breaths harsh. “How did you—?”

  He removed her glasses from the top of her head and tucked them into a side pocket of her pack. “My job requires observation skills too.”

  Nodding, her gaze shot from his eyes to his mouth and back up again, waiting, anticipating.

  “Would you like the clean version? Or the dirty?”

  A familiar vacancy clouded her eyes as she began to analyze her two options.

  “Don’t think. Answer.”

  “Surprise me,” she said in a rush.

  A sexy, toe-curling smile appeared, and he eased her backpack off her shoulder. “First let me establish the mission goal.” He leaned close, making sure his warm breath caressed her ear. “I’m going to fuck you, Riley Kingston, until you scream.”

  Riley’s insides melted at his erotic promise. Her mind lifted its foot off the gas pedal, allowing her thoughts to slow and her body to absorb the impact of his words.

  She angled her head around until his mouth covered hers. He kept the kiss gentle and measured before slipping his tongue inside to tangle with hers. Within seconds, the kiss’s tenor changed, becoming hot and consuming.

  Her arms snaked around his waist, and her palms slid up the planes of his tortured back. Unlike last time, he didn’t stiffen or retreat from her touch. The heat of her hands inflamed his desire, and his mouth became more demanding, yet intentional.

  Every contact with her skin seemed designed to push her into mindless new heights. She soared with him—until he slowed everything down.

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he whispered, “I’m going to remove your clothing now so that I can see the firelight lick every beautiful inch of you.”

  His fingers moved to the top button of her blouse, and her rapid breaths halted in the back of her throat. She froze until the bare torso before her became too much of a distraction.

  While he worked the buttons, she raised her hand to his hard stomach. She traced the smooth ridges, enjoying the contraction of muscle beneath her caress.

  Her exploration continued upward to his broad chest, his dark nipple. The tip of her finger circled the outer rim, making the center harden into a mouthwatering enticement.

  Coen’s sharp intake of breath encouraged her to greater boldness. She leaned forward, setting her tongue on the same path as her finger.

  A large hand gripped the back of her head, silently encouraging her on, while his other hand slipped beneath her waistband to palm her ass. His fingers flexed, and Riley groaned. Who knew a butt massage could be so erotic?

  When her teeth scraped gently across his nipple, his body jerked and he groaned out a command. “My turn.”

  He took his time undressing her, admiring every bare inch he revealed. With anyone else, she would have been overcome by a mixture of self-consciousness and impatience. But standing nude before Coen brought forth every feminine instinct she possessed—from the curve of her smile to the angle of her foot.

  She wanted to be alluring and beautiful and the right amount of confident. Given the throbbing action going on beneath his jersey shorts, she’d hit the mark on all three.

  “I can’t take my eyes off you,” he said.

  She closed the short distance separating them. “And you’re”—she brushed a finger along the line of dark hair running from his navel down to his shorts—“hiding something from me.”

  A roguish grin softened the lines around his mouth. “Maybe you should help me remedy the situation.” He hooked his thumbs around the elastic at his waist and lifted an eyebrow in her direction. His maneuver gave her an unimpeded bird’s-eye view of his straining member.

  Riley’s mouth went dry. Would she be able to please him? She didn’t kid herself into believing that he’d come to her with little experience. How could she make this encounter interesting for him?

  “Get out of your head.” He dropped his shorts to the ground and placed her hand over his smooth, hard length. “Feel. Don’t think.”

  She curled her fingers around him. “I want it to be good for you too.”

  A breath shuddered between his lips. “Everything about you is good for me.” He rolled his hips back, then pushed forward. “Even this.”

  Riley marveled at the play of flesh beneath her palm. He thrust into her hand a few more times, giving her a sense of what was to come. When she tightened her hold and began learning the rhythm, he gripped her hips and threw back his head.

  The intensity of his reaction set off a pulsing between her legs. She wanted, needed— “Coen?”

  Something in the tone of her voice, some ancient call to action from woman to man, had his head snapping back up.

  “Hold on.” Lifting her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist. The position brought her aching center into intimate contact with his member. It bucked against her heat as Coen carried her to his tent.

  At the entrance, he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with a thoroughness that brought tears to her eyes. Then he eased her to the ground and led her inside.

  Rather than stand bent over, they settled on their knees. He held her gaze in the deepening gloom as he secured the tent’s flaps. The sound of the zipper sliding down was as exciting as the slow snick of a door locking.

  Riley pressed a hand against her lower stomach where a colony of butterflies began to stir.

  Coen snuggled up behind her and burrowed his hand beneath hers, his palm instantly heating her inner core.

  “Nervous?” he asked, kissing her neck.

  “A little.”

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “And you won’t hurt me.”

  Her smile wobbled. “I don’t want to muck this up again.”

  “You couldn’t,” he whispered. “I’m going to explore you as you explored me.” His hand moved lower. “Then I intend to keep my promise.”

  “What promise?”

  “Did you forget already? Let me refresh your memor
y.”

  Coen slipped his finger between Riley’s wet folds, releasing a scent that was uniquely her own. Her back arched, the movement thrusting her breasts in the air. His free hand covered one perfect mound while he slid a second finger into her.

  Ignoring his bucking, demanding cock, he kept his focus on Riley. It ’bout near killed him. He wanted her with a ferocity that he’d never experience before.

  She turned her head, seeking his mouth. He gave her his mouth, his tongue, his everything. God, she tasted so good, felt so right.

  How would he ever get through another night without her in his arms?

  She broke free. “Coen, I can’t—I need—please.”

  The plea in her voice echoed the same one in his head. He eased out of her, then led her to his pathetic excuse for a bed. But it was spacious and soft.

  Like a goddess, she reclined on his pallet and stretched her slender arms above her head before beckoning him to join her.

  Unable to deny them both any longer, he grabbed a condom from a box near his toiletry items. Ripping the package open, he rolled it on and prowled toward her until he reached the tips of her generous breasts.

  He closed his mouth around the peak, curling his tongue around the ruched bud.

  “Coen, pleeease.” Squirming beneath him, she lifted her knees and pressed her palms into his lower back, enticing, coaxing, demanding.

  Smiling, he teased, “Impatient, Miss Indy.”

  “Impatient?” She lifted her hips and ground into him. “I’ve been waiting twenty-five years for this moment.”

  Positioning himself at her entrance, he hesitated. “This… might be uncomfortable. I’ll take it slow.”

  In response, she thrust her hips upward, taking in his entire length.

  “Dammit, Riley,” he said through clenched teeth. The feel of her heat wrapped around him nearly made him lose control. “Why did you do that?”

  Her nails bit into his ass, and several seconds passed before she breathed again.

  “Now the awkward part is over,” she said, caressing his back. “It’s time to make me scream.”

  After stretching his neck first one way then the other, he stared down at her. “For the next phase of our lovemaking, you’re going to hand the reins back to me. Got it?”

  She smiled and gave her hips an experimental thrust. “Yes, Sergeant.”

  He brushed his nose against hers. “You’ll pay for that, Menace.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  Coen moved, keeping the rhythm slow and steady until her mischievous expression transformed into concentration, then he pushed her—them—over the edge.

  Both howling their pleasure into the night.

  The air stirred behind her, and Riley glanced over her shoulder in time to receive Coen’s predawn kiss.

  She couldn’t think of a better way to greet the new day than to have a chorus of birds singing in the background and Coen Monroe next to her.

  “Morning,” he said, drawing her naked body closer to his.

  “Good morning.” She rotated her hips, enjoying the novel feeling of a man’s hardness nestled against the seam of her bottom.

  “Careful or you’ll get more than a kiss.” His lips brushed along her shoulder.

  She pushed into him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not so soon. Give your body some time, or it won’t be as enjoyable.”

  Reaching out, she touched the cover of Night Storm. “No nightmares.”

  “Thanks to you.” He kissed the sensitive area at the base of her neck.

  She turned over until they lay face-to-face, the sheet crumpled at their waists. Lifting a hand, she traced her fingertips over his temple, the side of his head, under his ear, along his jaw, stopping at the crease in his chin.

  “When it’s time,” she whispered, “will you return to your unit?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her forehead, temple, cheekbone. “If they deem me ready for duty.”

  “You seem… different this morning.”

  “Sex does that to a man.”

  She pinched his nose, drawing a chuckle from him and a nip on her knuckle.

  “Not just this morning,” she said. “Last night I noticed it too."

  “Reid introduced me to a special kind of yoga.” He hesitated. “One designed for people like me.”

  “People who have experienced trauma?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be able to share what happened with me?”

  His hand cupped her cheek. “I don’t know. But if I ever can, I will.”

  Covering his hand with hers, she said, “Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a soft, grateful kiss. “When you return and get your next leave, will you—will you come visit me?”

  He studied her face as if it were a fine painting hanging in the Met. “No.”

  “N-no?” she repeated on a cracked whisper.

  “Steele Ridge is a long way away from Fort Bragg.”

  “I could come to you.”

  “What about your work?”

  She nodded. “I would just need to schedule it in advance so I could let Britt know.”

  A smile played on his lips before it disappeared. “What happens when your contract with Britt ends?”

  The dread of reality intruded on her perfect morning. Pulling away, she sat up and hugged her knees. “I don’t know.”

  Coen rose beside her, propping one arm on a raised knee while his hand made lazy circles over her bare back.

  “If your research takes you out of the country, are you allowed to make trips back home?”

  “Yes. I made sure it was part of the funding when I went to Costa Rica.”

  “Randi will likely sell her house soon, which means you’ll need a new home base.”

  “Mom and Dad haven’t turned my old bedroom into an office yet.”

  “What about Fort Bragg?”

  She glanced back and found a hesitant smile on his face. “You want me to spend time on base with you?”

  He nuzzled the crook of her neck. “Lots of time.”

  Twisting around mermaid style, she caught his face in her hands. “Are we really going to do this?”

  “If you’re sure you can handle it.” His gaze held hers. “I may not ever be free of the memories, and there may be worse ones ahead.”

  Kissing his forehead, she whispered, “I’ll help you create more good memories to help offset the bad.”

  “My fearless Miss Indy.”

  41

  “What’s the matter?” Coen asked after Riley hit the Send button on her text.

  “Britt. He’s running behind and asked me to open the public part of the center.”

  Curling his fingers around hers again, he turned away from the greenhouse to head up the service drive.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to the center.”

  “No sense in your hovering around while I go through the process of opening.” She waved to the greenhouse. “It would be a big help if you’d get started on the watering and weeding.”

  Their lovemaking had altered something inside him, right down to the cell level. From the first moment he saw her on the ridge, he’d felt protective toward her. But now he didn’t want her out of his sight. The thought of releasing her hand and watching her walk away locked every muscle in place.

  “Opening the center will be faster if I help.”

  “No, it won’t. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this, so I’ve got to think about it. If I also have to worry about keeping you busy, it’ll take twice as much time.”

  When she tried to remove her hand from his, he held on. She frowned at him until understanding dawned. Brushing a thumb across his cheek, she said, “I’ll be fine. If someone wanted to hurt me, I’ve given them much better opportunities.”

  Feeling ridiculous, he opened his hand.

  “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”
>
  Smiling, she dug her keys out of a zippered compartment on her pack, unclipped the greenhouse key, and tossed it to him. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  When she made to turn away, he grabbed her arm and brought his mouth down on hers, needing, aching for another taste. Another sip that was uniquely Riley.

  By the time the kiss ended, they were both breathing hard.

  “Go,” he growled, “before I change my mind.”

  She laughed and sprinted away.

  Coen followed her long legs and flipping ponytail until she rounded a bend and disappeared. Stretching his neck one way, then the other, he forced himself in the other direction and began ticking the minutes off in his mind.

  Before he inserted the key in the lock, his sixth sense—the one that had always warned him that shit was about to go down—waved a big, red caution flag in front of his face.

  He inspected the lock and found the telltale signs of tampering. Sliding the key into his pocket, he used his finger to push the door open and slipped inside. Fear and memories did not follow him into the greenhouse. Discipline, training, and laser-focused determination pushed him forward and encased him like Kevlar.

  Head low, he darted for one of the high shelving units filled with plants and crouched to draw a knife from his ankle.

  Broken pots, spilled dirt, and trampled plants littered the floor. The drawers of Riley’s desk hung open and were emptied of their contents. He scanned the area for movement but found none.

  What would’ve happened if Riley had come across the intruder? An image of her lying on the floor, eyes vacant and blood pooling around her, sent a searing stab of fear through his bones.

  Was this connected to the texts, note, and Audi Guy?

  Had to be. Why would anyone break into a greenhouse unless they thought something they wanted was here?

  Pushing away from his hiding place, he swept through the structure as if it sat in the middle of a war-torn city he’d been sent to secure. Row by row of propagated plants, he searched for his enemy and their deadly devices.

  The blow came out of nowhere.

  Sharp, skull-cracking pain pitched Coen forward. A haze blanketed his vision. He shook it away and whipped around to face his assailant. A fist connected with his jaw, and he staggered backward.