Chapter 15
Harlan cupped her face and held her gaze. His touch intoxicated her. She hungered for his lips to meet hers as if her most anticipated gift had finally arrived. This man had somehow snuck into her heart and unlocked it. She could not have anticipated her sexual arousal in the midst of her chaos.
His smile curved with mischief as if he had a secret he wanted to reveal, then he leaned in and kissed her. The warmth of his soft lips mingled with the fever from hers. His tongue swept her mouth, and her thighs shook. She gripped his arms to keep from wilting to the floor.
His mouth devoured hers, as if capturing it for his own. He backed her up, never breaking the kiss. Her legs hit the arm of the couch, and they fell back onto the cushions. His weight pinned her, but she could only think about the heat rolling off him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and allowed her fingers to explore the contours of his back. He moved his hand down her side until he gripped her hip. His thumb made circles around her hip bone.
The sensible part of her brain questioned her choices. She hardly knew him. They weren’t on a date. They had no future. Her body wanted choices filled with clothes hitting the floor and the taste of salty skin on her tongue. Choices she might regret once her life went back to normal.
Harlan shifted her to give him more room between her legs. His erection rubbed against her most sensitive spot, and she arched into him, unable to control herself. She needed to touch him, to press against his crushing strength.
He moaned against her mouth as his hands worked at the buttons of her pants. She had never moved at this pace with a man. Their frantic foreplay escalated with each stroke. It had taken two months before she had slept with Randal. The sparks between them had been lukewarm, postponing their lovemaking without any urgency to reach a pinnacle. She had assumed things would work better in her marriage bed as they grew to know each other, but now, here on this couch, in the summer heat of the Pacific, her veins burned at an unimaginable temperature. Her blood rivaled hot molten lava.
She giggled. Harlan’s hand stilled on her breast. He eased back and fixed her with a narrow stare. “No good?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. What we’re doing… it’s incredible… I didn’t think I could… well, you are… never mind. I can’t find the right words, but I like this very much.” She couldn’t explain the silly metaphor that popped into her head when the sexiest man she had ever been with was turning her on in a way she didn’t know was possible.
He ran a thumb over her throbbing lip. “Which part do you like?”
“All of it.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.” She kept her gaze on his beard-dusted chin. She didn’t know how to do pillow talk. That was an area she lacked grace in. She could wine and dine the most intense donors, get millions of dollars from their checkbooks, but tell a man in bed that she liked the way he touched her—not possible.
“Tell me what you like, Storm, so I can keep doing it.” His words were a soft breeze. He tilted up her chin, forcing her to look at him.
She wished it was dark out instead of the bright sunlight that flooded the open floor plan of the honeymoon suite.
“Harlan…” The words failed her. She and Randal never spoke of likes and dislikes. He touched her in the assumed places, her body responded well enough. Randal never seemed to be left wanting for more. She had taken his contentment as enough, but maybe it hadn’t been. Randal may have wanted more and never told her.
Harlan placed kisses on her neck. Each one a spark of fire. His hand slid over her shirt and found her breast. “Do you like this?” he said against her neck.
She nodded.
“Tell me.” His fingers worked their way under her shirt. He pushed up her bra and twisted her nipple between his thumb and finger. The ache between her legs pulsed.
“I like that.”
“Do you want me to keep doing this?” His hand did not slow or relent. His touch made her burn with ecstasy. She wanted the torment to go on, to never end.
“Yes.” Her voice was breathy and far away, belonging to someone else. Someone who wore black lingerie and knew how to satisfy a man like Harlan. He must have been with many women around the world. But she had only been with two other men before Randal and neither of those encounters were special.
His hand remained in control of her breast and when she could not stand another second of his tempting, his hand slid over her abdomen and inside her pants. He paused on her panties. His open, hot hand lay on her pelvic bone. Her blood flamed.
“Is this okay?” His lips moved from her neck to her ear. He nibbled on her lobe, turning her brain to liquid.
She licked her dry lips. “It’s all very nice.”
“Just nice?” He met her gaze with an arched brow.
She covered her face with her hand. “Nice was the wrong word.”
He removed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. He slid her ring finger into his mouth and sucked. Her core pulsed.
“What is the right word?” He held her gaze as he moved from one of her fingers to the next, giving each one their fair share of attention.
She searched for the right thing to say. She wasn’t used to describing foreplay. She left that to romance novels.
“Potent. You are potent.”
“Now that’s a word I can get behind.” He leaned down and whispered, “I’d like to get behind you, if you’ll let me.” His hot breath sent shivers across her skin.
She had to know there would be very little of the missionary position with this man. He was a trained killer, a freedom fighter, a military hero. The prospect of his unleashed passion excited her and sent nerves of bees through her stomach. What if she wasn’t good enough in bed for him?
“Storm, I want you to feel good. If this doesn’t, then I’ll stop.” He eased up onto his knees.
“Don’t stop. That’s not what I want. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.” She fought the urge to look away. She was a mature woman with a successful career. She should have better self-esteem in the bedroom.
“I would not be disappointed. Not possible.” He smiled.
“Why is that?”
“Because I’ve never been so hard in my life.” He climbed off the couch and held out his hand.
She went to him and placed her hand in his. He led her into the bedroom and closed the door. He pulled the curtains together and shut out the bright light reflecting from the ocean’s surface. Before coming back to her, he removed his gun from his waistband and placed it on the side table. Then he undressed down to his black boxer-briefs. His erection was evident. He didn’t try to hide it.
“Do you feel more comfortable?” he said.
“Thank you. How did you know?”
“About the light? I had a hunch. You can keep your clothes on if you want.” He closed the space between them and swallowed her next words when their mouths met.
She eased back, her breath coming in short spurts. “I want to take my clothes off too.”
His expert hands assisted in ridding her of her clothing as he tossed her shirt on the floor and pushed her pants down to her ankles. He held her hand as she stepped out of them. He glided his fingers along her arm, then unhooked her bra, dragging the straps in the wake of his fingers. Her skin vibrated with his gentle touch.
She released him from his underwear and soaked in the size of him. His body was sculpted to perfection. Only the scars along his inner thigh, around his shoulder, and a circle on the side of his ribs marred his beauty.
“What happened to you?” She ran her fingers over the marks on his torso.
He pushed her hair off her shoulder. “War. I’ll tell you about each one at another time. Right now, I want to make love to you until you tell me to stop. We’re forgetting about real life for a while, remember?”
She did. She had asked him for this very thing—to vacate the reality of her life at the moment.
He kissed her again and the talking ceased. Instead of words, she used her body to tell him what she liked. He brought her to the bed, then stroked her until she could only see bright colors behind her eyelids. His hand sought the spot that longed for him the most. He entered her with his finger, and she pushed her hips against him without shame, riding him that way.
She wanted to touch him and take him as high as he took her, but he stilled her hand before she could grip him.
“Turn over,” he said.
She hesitated for only a moment before doing as he asked and lay on her stomach. Her pulse throbbed between her legs, tightening the ache like a vise.
His hands flexed across her back. He massaged the muscles in her neck and shoulders. The tension eased from her back but increased much lower. His finger pads pressed against the knots until she groaned with pleasure.
He slid his hands lower, taking his time with each part of her back. She melted into the mattress. He ran his tongue along her spine, stopping at her tailbone.
“Do you like this?” he said, lying over her and whispering in her ear.
“I do.” Those two words were an effort, not because she was embarrassed by the pillow talk, but because he had turned her into a jellyfish with no definitive edges. She wanted him to keep his hands all over her.
His finger followed the line down her spine that his tongue had made, then his hands splayed across her bottom. He dipped into her center from behind. The world exploded into ragged red liquid. He brought her close to the edge with each stroke.
“You can’t come just yet,” he said. “I want you on your knees.”
She obliged him only to cease the fiery longing. She needed him to return his touch, to be inside her. It no longer mattered that she hardly knew him. She knew him well enough. He was a man of integrity and honor. He was caring and gentle. He was fierce and determined.
He gripped her hips and lined himself at her entrance. She grasped the headboard.
“Are you still okay, Storm? I can stop if you want.”
“Harlan, please, no more talking. I want you. Now. I can’t wait any longer.” She reached around for him, but the angle was wrong, only causing more frustration inside her.
“I’ve got you.”
She didn’t doubt him.
He entered her with a full thrust and filled her up until she could take no more. Their hips rocked on an endless ride. Each stroke of him lifted her higher until she was certain she would fly above the ocean.
“Storm, you’re incredible. You feel so good around me,” he said against her ear.
Her skin was slick with sweat. His hands consumed her. The end became a tangible thing she could not grasp until he took her a final time and a wave of heat crashed over her, spinning her end over end.
She wanted to hold on, to make this moment last in case it never happened again, but her muscles would not cooperate. Harlan wrapped an arm around her middle, pulled her to him and libidinous excitement shook her in waves.
His body stilled, and he joined her on the other side of the frenzy.