Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Colt was one lucky son of a bitch. Luckiest ever, in fact, because Ellis was lying on the bed.
Naked. More aroused than he’d ever seen her.
On the verge of climaxing from the simple touch of his finger.
The scant kisses he’d brushed across her body.
And he got to watch it all happen. Follow the flush of pink along her skin.
How her muscles tensed and flexed as she tried to hold it off—prolong the pleasure.
He remembered how she tasted. Sweet with a punch of spicy musk.
He needed to know if it was as good as the memory.
He dipped down, holding her open with his thumbs then trailing just the tip of his tongue through her folds.
And fuck, it wasn’t as good as he remembered.
It was sheer heaven. Immeasurably sweeter.
Hotter. How could he have forgotten all the subtle flavors?
The hint of honey? The wild spicy essence that was so uniquely hers?
The smooth texture of her skin beneath his tongue?
The slick glide across her flesh, and how it warmed from the simply contact of his skin on hers?
The tiny flutters of nerve-endings springing to life because of him.
The way he touched her. The thought of them making love.
He wasn’t sure if that’s how she saw it. If it was just sex. Two people with history, and obvious attraction, fucking. If, in her mind, this was a one-off. A way to cope with all that had happened. Didn’t matter because he had no intentions of letting her go. Giving her up.
He wouldn’t say those words. Not out loud, and not to her.
Because she’d rabbit. Skitter away and hide in a hole until McCormick or one of his damn SOG pricks found her.
She’d promised not to ditch him, but if Colt pushed too hard—made this about them and not about eliminating the threat—she’d break ranks. Disappear.
She needed him to move slowly. Maybe not during the actual love making—and it was definitely making love for him.
The way his heart tapped triple-time against his ribs.
The scorching heat beneath his skin. The unmistakable urge to bind her to him.
Reclaim what had always been his. This wasn’t merely his body reacting.
It was his heart. The one she’d been carrying around with her.
The one she’d shoved back into his chest. And he’d go whatever pace she needed.
He’d let her down, but his slow ascent to redemption started, now. Here.
He wanted to show her that he wouldn’t be that foolish, again. Wouldn’t ever doubt her sincerity. Her loyalty. That his happiness hinged on hers. He’d said he was all in. Time to prove it.
One lick, and Ellis was already trembling.
Tiny contractions against his tongue. Another, and her fingers carded through his hair, fisting around the strands.
She tugged, seemed to realize it might be too hard, and eased up.
Not much. Not enough he could move his head away from where she wanted him.
Not a problem. He didn’t want to move. Was happy to stay there—his shoulders wedged between her thighs, the soft smooth skin on her legs rubbing against his arms. She was beautiful.
A pretty pink blush coloring her flesh, her chest heaving as she tried to pull in more oxygen.
Her muscles trembled, strung tight as she strained not to come. Not to end everything so quickly.
He smiled, lightly tracing her cleft, circling her clit. “Damn, El. I could watch you for hours. Stay like this for days because you’re so damn beautiful.”
A moan then a grunt. The thud of her head connecting hard with the pillow. “Ten seconds. Maybe. If don’t touch or talk or freaking breathe for five of those.”
A swipe of his tongue followed by a slide of his finger inside her.
“Christ, Brett.”
God, her voice. As if the two words had been ripped out of her.
And the way she said his name… He loved that she still called him Brett.
Hadn’t defaulted to Colt because he wanted to be Brett for her.
The man who was going to make her see stars.
Who was going to win her back—make a life together.
Not the soldier who’d let her fade. Left her to face the monsters, alone.
Another sharp tug on his hair. She wasn’t just close. She was already starting to crest.
Not without his mouth on her. Her release flooding his tongue.
Colt barely touched her skin before she was coming. Sharp, rhythmic contractions against his finger, a wash of fluid across his lips. Her hands flexed against his scalp, each tug timed with a pull from her sex.
God, feeling her unravel with his mouth, his hand, his whole damn body, sent him over the edge.
Flicked some kind of internal switch on his control.
From the man who’d wanted to spend hours caressing her skin—tasting her.
Taking her to the brink and back until she was so consumed with her need, she couldn’t see straight.
Couldn’t form words—to a warrior with a singular purpose.
Get inside her.
Now. Not in a few minutes. After she’d regained her senses. Was able to open her eyes. Smile up at him. This. Moment.
Took him two seconds to reposition her so she was in the middle of the bed.
With room for him to climb on top. Slide between her spread thighs.
Another two to prop himself up on his elbows as he gathered her in his arms, his hands locked on her shoulders.
He had just enough blood still left in his head—enough brain cells still firing to make a mental note not to touch her side.
To keep his body off that part of her—before he was thrusting into her.
Her walls still grasping, only now, at him.
At his rock-hard shaft as he pushed into her, fully seated.
Her release coating his groin. His balls.
If tasting her had been heaven, then being inside her, skin on skin, breath mixing, his name breathy and harsh around them as she arched back, climaxed, again—that, transcended heaven.
Took him to a place so filled with white-hot pleasure, he wasn’t sure he’d come back intact.
That he wouldn’t be forever changed. Branded by her.
He’d intended on binding her to him. Imprinting himself so fully on her, she wouldn’t be able to see her life without him woven into it.
Integral parts of the same piece. Inseparable.
But she’d turned the tables. Snared him.
He let his forehead fall against hers. Had it ever been this intense? This hot? This…
Oh god. Skin on skin.
He groaned. Just the thought of pulling out—of losing even a moment of time inside her, all those slick warm juices surrounding him, drowning him—seemed unthinkable. An impossible request. No different than asking him to stand down. Let McCormick take her.
He blew a rough breath out through his clenched teeth, trying to make his damn body move—back, not forward into her. Pin her harder beneath him. “Condom.”
It’s all he could get out. One word. And it hadn’t really sounded right. As if he’d put the emphasis on the wrong syllable. Mispronounced the second one. It was quite possible all he’d really gotten out was “damn”.
Ellis smoothed her hands up his back, holding him tight. Palms over his shoulder blades, her heels pressing into the small of his back. “Pill.”
She’d spoken. Colt knew she had. A single word, but it was if it had registered in some primal part of brain.
One not connected to his hearing because he was still trying to puzzle out the word.
Make sense of all four letters, as if his brain had never heard it before.
As if she might be speaking in a different language because pill meant she didn’t want him to pull out.
Rip his wallet apart searching for a damn condom.
Pill meant he could keep on going. Grind her into the bed like she’d asked. It meant he could go bareback.
It wasn’t as if they hadn’t before. They’d been together for two years.
Had done away with condoms once they’d decided it wasn’t a passing fancy.
That they were in it. Committed. That if the birth control failed and she got pregnant, it would be a sign that it was time to call it quits.
Move beyond the service, beyond his team. To start their life. Together.
But, now… Now, it meant something different. Something deeper because after everything—the distance, the years, the damn letter she hadn’t written—it meant trust. The soul-deep kind that went beyond words. Beyond actions. Became indisputable. Irrevocable.
By the time his damn brain caught up. Figured out that she had, indeed, given him permission to make love to her without a barrier.
Nothing between them but sweat and heat and all that hot, wet juice burning him up, he was already gone.
Control snapped. Nothing but searing need.
Hers. His. He couldn’t tell which of them was holding tighter.
Was begging more, because there was no separating it.
His body from hers. It was just one tangled mass of writhing flesh. Connected in the most primal way.
Ellis was lifting her hips. Meeting each brutal stroke.
He’d pushed onto his hands, needing the extra leverage to go deeper.
Faster. The only saving grace was that he wasn’t touching her side.
Hadn’t forgotten it would still be sore.
Which was a freaking miracle because just the thought of hurting her. Inflicting more pain… It sickened him.
But it wasn’t pain on her face. Pleasure. Joy. Maybe something more—something he wouldn’t examine in the heat of the moment but would look at later—it drew her skin taut. Flushed her cheeks. Made her eyes roll back as she inhaled. Held it.