Chapter Nineteen
Gia’s knees were quaking in anticipation, and she’d had to swallow twice to moisten her throat enough to get out the words that both scared her and made her feel more alive than she’d been in years.
Maybe her entire life.
Caleb sat on the couch, hands on knees, head bowed. But when she’d spoken, he'd lifted his head.
The hunger on his face, the flare of desire in his eyes…
Everything else in the room dropped away until there was only him.
“Are you sure?” The hungry rasp in Caleb’s voice glided down her arms in a shiver
He was giving her an out.
Her heart stuttered. She bit her lip.
His gaze hooded. “You aren’t sure.”
He settled back on the couch into a casual pose.
Sort of.
Her eyesight wasn’t so bad that she didn’t see the rather conspicuous bulge in his jeans.
Damn you, Vincente, for making me doubt myself.
“I’m sure. It’s just.” Her face heated. “I’m afraid.”
She swallowed hard, then forced out the rest. “I don’t want what happened between me and Vincente to ruin this.”
Caleb sat up straight, his face hardening. “Fuck Vincente. ”
He rose from the couch in one fluid movement. Disappeared into the kitchen. Returned with a white dinette chair and sat down, jean-clad legs spread, the evidence of his desire on display.
“Come here.” His fingers beckoned. “You’re in charge, baby. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”
Baby.
Her tongue swiped nervously over her lip. “What do you want me to do?”
“Touch me.”
His smile was relaxed, his words a casual stroke of assurance. Calm. Non-threatening. “Wherever and however you want.”
“Are you sure?” Her fingers flexed.
She knew just where she’d start. His firm, muscled chest. The one she’d had to force herself to assess with a clinical eye earlier. No exam gloves his time. And her tongue. She’d use her tongue to taste that smooth, masculine skin.
“Yes.” His hot stare raked her. “You’re in control.”
A giddy feeling fizzed through her veins. The look on his face sparked a memory of who she used to be.
Bold. Playful. Adventurous.
She stepped forward. Her finger glided over his lips.
Caleb’s eyes darkened to molten chocolate. But he didn’t move.
She circled behind him. Brushed her fingers over the short strands of his thick, raven hair.
Bending her knees, she whispered a kiss on his ear, then slid down to allow her lips to follow the jagged line of his scar down to the neckline of his white t-shirt. Specks of blood marred the cotton from the earlier attempt on his life.
His chest expanded on a harsh inhale .
“Someone tried to hurt you.” Anger. It flickered through her. She might have never met him. Now, because of her, he was in danger again.
She pressed another kiss to his scar. Iraq , he’d said.
“He didn’t live long enough to succeed.”
“Good.” She didn’t care if that wasn’t an appropriate reaction from someone dedicated to saving lives.
Her decision to call Vincente had been the right one.
For Caleb. He thought because he’d been a warrior, that he could handle Vincente.
He was wrong. Vincente never acted alone. Never played by the rules. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.
She pushed thoughts of her ex-lover away. He didn’t belong here with her and Caleb.
Instead, she dedicated her entire attention to the man in front of her.
What next?
Chest.
Ah, yes.
Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his torso. She gathered cotton and tugged. “Take this off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His biceps flexed. The t-shirt landed on the floor.
Gia moved from behind the chair to drink in the glorious sight.
Defined pecs. Smooth skin and dusky nipples. The carved peaks and valleys of his abs.
A beautiful male specimen. Her fingers trembled, eager to touch.
She threw a leg over his lap and settled, straddling him. Leaning in, she inhaled sandalwood and spice .
His scent dripped over her like hot fudge over ice cream, melting her insides.
Caleb jerked.
She froze, waiting for rough hands to grab her hair. “Should I stop?”
“Hell no.” His knuckles were white with the death grip he had on the edges of his seat. “I enjoy your hands on me.”
“I enjoy touching you.” A blush heated her cheeks as she admitted it.
She smoothed her palms up the corded muscles of his forearms to his biceps. He was all lean, hard muscle, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow.
Her attention shifted to the angles of Caleb’s face, tracing the straight line of his nose, admiring the symmetry of his features. His lashes were sinfully long for a man.
Those lashes lifted, the lust burning in his gaze nearly knocking her off his lap.
Speaking of his lap.
An evil grin twisted her lips.
She ground the hot and needy part of her against the hard ridge between her thighs.
Pleasure shot from her clit to her womb and traveled up to her breasts. Enough to make her eyes cross and a gasp to escape.
Caleb’s lips parted on a groan.
Who knew freedom could be so addictive?
More.
“Jeans off.” Desperate. She couldn’t get in a proper breath.
So much for sounding commanding.
“Then take them off.”
His words made her shiver .
Not from fear. No . She wasn’t afraid of Caleb. The dominance in his voice should have made her afraid. She’d grown to hate it before now.
But Caleb was different. His dominance came wrapped in protection rather than exploitation.
She slid from his lap.
His hips lifted.
Nerves made her fumble with his zipper, the sound of the teeth synchronizing with the hiss that tore from Caleb’s lips. He kept his hips raised while she wrestled his jeans down, past his black boxer-briefs, and over his knees.
Boots need to go .
She tugged them off, taking his socks with them, then pulled his jeans the rest of the way to the floor.
Then she stood back and simply…admired.
The grip Caleb had on the chair brought his pecs and biceps into sharp relief. He was a Renaissance sculpture, only warm, with beautiful sunset kissed skin and blazing dark eyes that could see clear through to her soul.
And he was hers.
For tonight, at least.
It might be the only night she got. She wouldn’t waste it.
Stepping between his splayed legs, she cupped one of his knees. Let her hand drift up his thigh, to the bulge filling out his sexy black briefs.
His hips arched on a groan that filled her with a heady sense of feminine power. “Let me touch you.”
“Not yet.” She stroked him.
He grew longer, thicker, harder beneath her touch, his hips jerking in small, uncontrolled movements. His head dropped back, exposing the smooth column of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow.
She had the urge to bite him there. An ancient claiming. Mark him as hers so that he remembered her after she was gone.
“I’d rather cut off my hand than hurt you,” he growled. “I need you to understand.”
Her brows furrowed. “I do.”
“Then take your clothes off.” A guttural growl. A command that demanded she obey. “I need to show you how good it can be. For you. For both of us.”
She waited for her stomach to cramp. For anxiety to kick in and steal her desire.
Caleb’s dominant nature wanted to be in control. Vincente had always taken control.
It didn’t happen.
Instead, her breasts felt heavy, her skin sensitive.
She wanted his hands on her. Caleb’s dominance felt…different. Like he was taking her with him, using his dominance for her pleasure, not solely for his own.
She was a partner, not an object for him to slake his lust with.
Slowly, her hands lifted. She gripped the hem of her purple knit sweater.
Inch by inch, she lifted it. Over her stomach, to her breasts. Past her head.
Caleb’s eyes blazed with hunger. “Keep going.”
The shirt dropped to the floor next to his.
She leaned in. Let her tongue follow the line of his jaw to his ear. “I feel like we should be playing strip poker.”
“Too late. I’d win, anyway.”
The rasp in his voice, as if he was hanging on by a thread .
She deliberately arched a brow. Taunting. “Who says you’d win?”
Flashing a sassy grin, she stood and stepped out of her slacks.
“Because I’m a competitive SOB and I always win.” His heated gaze caressed every inch of her, leaving fire in its wake. “You are so fucking sexy. Take off your bra and straddle me.”
“You want this off?” She ran her finger down the lace border of her black bra and licked her lips.
This brazen, wanton side of her she’d locked away in shame stretched her wings with a flourish. “What do we say?”
Oh yeah, that was a sexy purr in her voice.
If it was possible, Caleb’s eyes grew even hotter. “Take your bra off and straddle me…please.”
Her pelvic muscles clenched, sending more liquid heat to soak her already soaked panties.
Any thought of resisting his commands evaporated beneath an aching void she was desperate for him to fill.
She unhooked her bra and shrugged it off to join the rest of her discarded clothing.
Lifting her leg, she slung it over Caleb’s thighs. His erection teased her swollen clit through the thin cotton barrier of their underwear.
She gave in and twisted her hips. Electricity traveled from her core to her breasts. She did it again.
“That’s it, baby. Take your pleasure from me.” Caleb’s voice was strained.
Gia whimpered. The throbbing between her legs intensified. Demanded more.
She twerked her hips again. Shuddered.
Did it again and again.
Her eyes slammed shut. All that mattered was reaching that peak.
“Harder, baby. Take what you need. ”
Caleb uttered other words. Dirty, sexy words she barely heard.
Her nails dug into his shoulders. Her body coiled tighter.
Almost there.
The orgasm rose and swept her away. She cried out as it washed over her in wave after wave until the tide receded and her senses returned.
Oh God .
She’d just rode Caleb like a pony.
Her eyes flew open.
“You are so fucking beautiful when you come.”
He snarled those words. His jaw was granite. His eyes wild.
But he still hadn’t touched her.
She glanced down at the white-knuckled grip he had on the chair.
He ensnared her with his eyes.
Lust.
Need.
Admiration?
“I want your nipples beneath my tongue.”