Chapter Seven
I was still swimming up from the best orgasm I’d ever had in my whole life. My one and only that was not given to me by my own hand.
Holy wow.
“Baby?”
I blinked away the haze and focused on Jack’s handsome face.
“Huh?”
His hand came up and cupped my cheek, the touch so gentle I nuzzled into his palm.
“You okay?”
“Oh yeah.”
I was more than okay, I was stupendous. The area between my legs was gloriously sore.
My mind was filled with memories of Jack’s rough thrusts, which came in second place only to the hungry look in his eyes as he fucked me.
The look won out only because it made me feel powerful, wanted, so desired Jack couldn’t hide it.
I’d never forget that look or the feeling.
“Fucks me to say this, but we only have a minute before someone comes knocking again.”
Shit, how had I forgotten?
Because you had a hot guy banging you with his hot-guy big dick, giving you a mind-erasing orgasm.
Right, that was why.
For all my bravado when I was hot and bothered and worked up, now that I was post climax, I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
Jack did. He slid out.
I whimpered at the loss of him—then he froze.
“What’s wrong?” I asked when he didn’t move.
He glanced down between my legs. A sudden bout of shyness hit, and I tried to close my legs. This didn’t work for two reasons—first, his hips were in the way, second, his hands went to my thighs and kept them spread.
His gaze drifted back up. My belly did a somersault at the troubled look on his face.
“Jack?”
“I didn’t wear a condom.”
Well, damn.
“I’m on birth control,” I told him. “It’s an implant in my arm.”
He nodded but was no less unsettled.
An unpleasant thought hit me.
“I’m clean. I mean, I don’t have—”
Jack’s thumb glided over my cheek to my lips, and he silenced me.
His eyes roamed my face. Some of the unease in his expression faded, but the knot in my stomach was getting tighter.
“I’ve never not worn protection,” he told me and frowned.
Was he mad . . . at me?
I turned my head, freeing my lips, and asked, “And that’s my fault?”
Lightning quick, his hand went from my cheek to the back of my neck. He yanked me closer, while at the same time he dipped his head.
“It’s my fault. I lost control. I was so caught up, wanted inside you so badly, I forgot.”
Why did that make me giddy? It was totally irresponsible, yet I didn’t care. The thought of little ol’ me making big, bad, tough Jack Donovan lose control and forget a condom filled me with womanly pride.
“I see you like that,” he noted.
I shrugged, fully coming back to my smart-ass self.
“We’ll see how much you like it when I’m leaking out of you while you’re kitted up, waiting for orders.” Jack’s lips twitched, and he finished with, “Though, I know I’m gonna like that part.”
My eyes narrowed. However, I couldn’t fully commit to the glare.
“Is that an alpha-male thing?”
“No, baby, it’s a Jack thing.”
I didn’t have a comeback for that, so I remained quiet.
So did Jack. His eyes no longer held any apprehension, nor were they glittery with lust. They now held something new, a warmth and tenderness I’d never seen—not from him, not from anyone in my life.
Except maybe my mom and gran, though their warmth was different, a familial bond. Jack’s was tinged with intimacy.
“I could get lost in you,” he whispered. “You’re so damn gorgeous, if I forget to brace, you steal my breath.” He dropped his forehead to mine, and he quietly admitted, “It’s been torture. Nine months of hell staying away from you.”
My heart hammered in my chest as it swelled. The pain of watching him walk away from me in Vegas evaporated, the agony of losing him receding. Hope and happiness warred for the top spot.
Before I could respond, there was another knock on the door.
“Two-minute warning,” Mason called out.
The moment shattered.
Jack lifted his head, stared down at me, eyes conflicted. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I can—”
“You can, but I’m gonna do it.”
All righty, then.
Jack stepped away, turned, and reached into the shower, giving me my first look at his bare ass.
And good Lord, was it fine. I was still taking it in when he turned back around.
I’d had the pleasure of feeling that thick, long dick, but seeing it made my mouth go dry.
I licked my lips. Jack groaned. I continued to stare until I lost sight of his dick, and his chest filled my vision instead when he stepped back between my legs, reached to the side, and turned on the faucet.
Ass, dick, chest—his body was a wonderland of visual delights. I could spend hours perusing the ridges and valleys, the dips and hard plains of muscle.
The feel of a warm, wet cloth between my legs pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to find Jack watching himself gently cleaning the evidence of his orgasm from me. When he was done, he pressed the cloth over my pussy, cupping me there, and lifted his eyes to meet mine.
Watching him cleaning me was wildly erotic in a profound way—an intimacy that went beyond private and personal.
In that moment, I knew whatever happened between me and Jack, I would never in my life share something so special with another man.
This was Jack’s, only his, and nothing could or would compare.
“Ready, baby?”
No. I never wanted to leave this cocoon of warmth he’d created. I didn’t want anything to invade or threaten to take him away from me. And sadly, deep down, I knew once the real world came crashing back in, he’d remember I was who I was, and his frustration and anger would steal him from me.
“Yeah.”
He leaned forward, pressed a sweet kiss on my lips that left me hoping it wasn’t goodbye.
But I feared it was.
We were dressed and back downstairs.
Obviously, it had taken us more than two minutes.
Mason and Fallon were lounging in chairs, both wearing matching grins. The living room looked like battle central, with M4s and handguns laid out on the couch, vests and ammo stacked on the coffee table.
“Where’s Pete?” Jack inquired.
“Went out to find little miss a vest to circumvent the argument he knew would ensue,” Mason spoke up.
A vest was appreciated, preventing an argument much appreciated, however, Pete going out in search of one seemed to be a fool’s errand.
“Where in the world is he going to find me a vest?”
“We don’t question Pete’s powers,” Fallon informed me. “We just accept the fruit and don’t ask which tree he shook down to provide it.”
“Seriously? There’s no way he’s coming back with a vest.”
“We’ll see.” Fallon lifted his shoulders and dropped them back down with a sigh.
“What’s going on?” Jack circled to the real question.
“Shep called,” Mason said, but not without flashing a knowing smirk.
I searched my feelings and wondered if I should be embarrassed he clearly knew what had been happening in the bedroom when he knocked.
I didn’t find a smidgeon of embarrassment or shame.
So what if he knew? So what if he heard?
So what if he dished out jibes? I was riding the high of Jack.
Nothing was going to knock me off the wave of mellow.
“And? You going to enlighten us?”
“You sure you’re back to firing on all cylinders after—”
“Don’t,” Jack gritted out, obviously not riding the same wave I was.
Mason’s gaze flew to me, either to make sure I hadn’t found offense in his would-have-been taunt, or to check if my brain had reengaged and I was ready for the rest of the brief.
I gave him a shoulder lift and a smile. He returned the gesture by busting out laughing.
“Yeah, I think you’re a little bit of all right, Catarina Keys,” he said as he chuckled.
I took that as a compliment.
Mason continued with his brief. “Word is there’s an attack planned on the compound where Berta’s holed up. They’ve been notified, and she’s requested backup. We’re her backup.”
Jack’s gaze shifted to me. I felt the weight of his stare. My Jack was gone. Angry, scorch-the-earth-if-you-put-yourself-in-danger Jack was back. “Did you know about the attack being planned?”
“No, Jack, if I knew my target was under attack I would’ve said something. I need her alive to deliver my intel.”
“And that is?”
I blew out a breath, called up the imaginary patience I didn’t have and never pretended to be in possession of, and then for good measure, counted to ten.
“She asked for information. The CIA found it for her but it took them longer than they thought it would. By the time they had it, she’d gone back underground. They sent me to give her what she’d asked for.”
“I didn’t ask for the mission brief. I asked what the intel was.”
“And I gave you what I’m willing to give.”
“I’m not sure I like that the CIA is involved,” Fallon put in.
“I’m positive I don’t,” Mason volleyed. “Makes me twitchy and leaves me wondering how many ways they’re gonna fuck our op.”
“Why would they screw with your op?” I asked.
Mason morphed back into a seasoned warfighter, leaving the lady-killer smile in the dust and replacing it with a deep scowl.
“I mean no disrespect, but you asking that shows your inexperience with the Agency. Rule one: If they can fuck you, they will. Rule two: Always cover your ass, because they won’t.
Rule three is a mash-up of one and two: They’ll let you swing to protect themselves.
Whatever it is they want you to deliver to Berta is what’s important to them at the moment, but that moment can shift second to second and something else can become more important.
If they feel like we’re in their way, they’ll fuck us however they need to make sure what’s important to them is what happens.