Chapter 11
ELEVEN
The words left her mouth—until you—and a wall inside Sinner crumbled.
He was off the couch before his brain caught up to his body, crossing the room in three strides. He framed her face with his hands and tilted her head back as he crushed his mouth to hers.
She made a sound—surprise or surrender, he didn’t know—but she fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. The kiss was desperate, hungry, like they were both drowning and the only air left existed in each other.
He pressed her harder against the wall, his body caging her in, and kissed her like he could pour everything he’d never been able to say into this single moment.
He swept his tongue against hers, tasting much more than the sweetness of the woman.
He tasted the vulnerability she’d just showed him, and the trust that cost her everything.
Everyone had trauma. Everyone had scars.
But the specific hell of not existing, of being erased? Of having their entire life dictated by someone else’s choices and spending every damn day since clawing their way back to a baseline that felt real?
He and Opal shared that. Along with god knew how many others in Lazarus who were trained to be government agents.
She issued soft moans as he angled his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She met him stroke for stroke, short nails raking over his chest.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She arched into him, her breath coming in shallow gasps that made him want to devour her.
“Sinner—”
“I know,” he rasped against her flesh. He slid his hands down her sides, feeling the curves and her power layered beneath them. “I know, sweetheart.”
She clasped his face and pulled it back to hers, kissing him with a ferocity that matched his own. Her nails scraped against his scalp and shot fire straight down his spine.
He wanted to give her everything. Wanted to show her that she wasn’t alone anymore, that someone saw her—really fucking saw her—and wasn’t running away.
When he finally regained enough of his wits to stop plundering her, he pulled back. They were both breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen from his mouth…
She’d never looked more beautiful.
He held her gaze as he reached for the cuff of the flannel shirt he wore, fingers working the button free with deliberate slowness. Her chest rose and fell as she watched.
“The women on base told me you had Zaddy energy. I didn’t see it until now.”
Flashing a grin, he moved to the other cuff, popping it open while his stare burned down into hers. You’re mine.
Her eyelids drooped. And I’m giving myself to you.
The message passed between them without words.
He went for the line of buttons running down his chest next and popped each one with a slow deliberation that she tracked.
When he reached the final button, he eased his arm out and peeled the flannel off.
He held her gaze captive as he pulled the T-shirt underneath it over his head and dropped it on the floor.
She drank in the scars that decorated his chest. Some from combat, some from missions gone sideways. One from a bar fight in Coronado when he was too young and too stupid to walk away.
Opening her mouth on a puff of a sigh, Opal lifted her hands, letting them hover over his skin.
“You’re allowed to touch.” His voice was rough.
Slowly, she flattened her palms against his chest. Though she’d been all over him the last time, they both understood this time was different.
That was lust and the need for him to give comfort and her to take it.
This was a connection neither of them ever expected when they were thrown together on this op.
She swept her hands across his pecs, brushing his nipples, and trailed downward in a blaze of heat to skate over the ridges of his abs. His cock stiffened.
If he let her continue, he’d never last. He gently curled his fingers around her wrists and brought them above her head. Pinning them against the wall with one hand, he reached for the hem of her top with the other.
Breathing hard from the effort it took not to take her hard and fast and now, he searched her face. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
Her eyes blazed, defiance and desire all tangled together. “Don’t you dare stop, Sinclair.”
“My name,” he grated. “Give me my name.”
Her breath hitched, gaze snagging on his as she whispered, “Caius.”
He took her mouth, hard and hot, controlling the moans he let escape from her sweet lips and feeding growls back to her.
He dragged her shirt up and over her head, releasing her wrists just long enough to free her completely before pinning them again. The position pressed her against him, and the feel of her skin made his grip on himself slip another notch.
He dipped his head and kissed a path along her collarbone, her shoulder and the swell of her breast above the lace of her bra. She gasped out, hips rocking forward.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin.
She went still at the nickname that rolled so fluidly off his tongue. He’d called her that before, but now…she was surprised by how much she liked it.
“Sinner…”
He released her wrists and dropped to his knees in front of her. Her hands sank into his hair as he pressed his mouth to her stomach, noting the slight tremor that ran through her muscles.
He found the button of her trousers and looked up at her, waiting.
She nodded, arching slightly forward.
With need pounding his core like a hammer, he worked the button free, followed by the zipper, achingly slow.
The rasp of metal teeth filled the silence between her gasps.
When he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and dragged the cloth down her legs, taking her panties with it, her breaths came faster.
He removed her boots, and she stepped out of her clothes.
Leaning close, he let his lips trail an upward path as he rose to his full height and took in her every response along the way. By the time he was standing again, she was shaking.
He reached for his jeans, holding her stare the entire time. Popped the button.
Her eyes hooded.
Inched the zipper down.
She slipped her sweet tongue over her bottom lip.
As he drew his cock out and let her see exactly what she did to him, she issued a small moan.
“I need you to know something, sweetheart.” His voice was a raw scrape of gravel.
She waited, chest heaving. The pulse in her throat tripped.
“This isn’t about control.” He eliminated the space between them until they were skin to skin. “This is about choosing each other. No one dictates what happens next. Just us.”
She brought her hands up to frame his face, thumbs brushing over his stubbled jaw. “Just us,” she echoed in a whisper.
He kissed her again, softer this time but no less intense, and she reached between them, wrapping her fingers around his stiff length. His vision blacked at the edges.
“Bed,” he croaked.
“Too far.”
“Couch.”
He pulled her toward it, their mouths never breaking contact. He settled her on the edge and dropped to his knees again. Holding her stare, he hooked one thigh over his shoulder, opening her to him.
When he dipped his head and parted his lips over her soaking wet pussy, she cried out. “Caius!”
He rumbled in answer, gliding his tongue up her slick seam. He briefly pressed his tongue against her clit, making her buck into his mouth. By the time she caught her breath on another gasp, he was working his way down again, tunneling through her folds.
As he reached her drenched opening, she was shaking.
He thrust his tongue into her pussy. She bit off a scream and draped her other leg around his torso, rocking into his mouth and taking what she needed from him.
God, he could stay here the rest of his days, worshipping her the way she deserved. Listening to her rasping cries and that moan she made when he reached her clit again and swirled his tongue around and around it.
Her hips lifted off the sofa. He cradled her firm ass and drew her closer, throwing himself into tasting her.
“Caius! Oh god. Your mouth. Yes! I need…I need…”
He tore his mouth away enough to rumble, “Come for me.”
She tossed her head back, entire body going tense. Her pussy contracted against his tongue. When he sucked on her clit, her whole body bucked as the first wave hit.
She writhed against him, clutching at his back, his shoulders, his hair. Seeing her come apart for him was as glorious as he expected. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright, she rode the crest of her release and started down the other side.
He lifted his head and met her gaze. Too late, he realized he was several feet from his bag where he kept a handful of condoms.
He started to go after them, but she hooked her legs around him. “Don’t. I want you. Just you. No barriers.”
His chest heaved. “You’re sure.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A prayer.
She nodded, black hair skimming over her freckled cheekbone. “Just us. Like you said.”
* * * * *
Any restraint he’d been holding on to frayed. He lifted her to stretch out on the couch, his body covering hers in a way that made her feel sheltered instead of trapped.
His weight pressed her into the cushions, solid and real, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him closer. She needed this—needed him—with an intensity that should have terrified her.
But it didn’t.
For once in her life, she wasn’t afraid.
He braced himself on his forearms and stared down at her with an expression that made her chest tighten. Raw desire mixed with more.
She reached up and pulled his mouth back to hers. The kiss spiked with desperation, all tongue and the taste of them both flooding her senses.
His hands roamed her body, relearning every curve he’d already mapped out. When he cupped her breast, thumb brushing over the tight peak, she arched into his touch with a gasp that broke the kiss.
“I need to hear you say it one more time. No barriers?” he murmured against her lips.