Chapter 30
Lark woke to darkness. Not the deep, frightening darkness of the cabin in the mountains, but the soft gloom of a storm-heavy afternoon. Rain tapped against the windows, and the room had taken on a bluish-gray cast.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
Then she felt the warmth beside her. Everything came rushing back.
She remembered the dam breaking, tears streaming uncontrollably as her body released the tension held for over two days.
Cormac had held her while she cried. He hadn’t tried to fix her or tell her everything would magically be fine.
He’d simply held her, listened, and let her fall apart without ever making her feel weak for doing it.
She suspected very few people had ever seen that side of him.
And something deep inside her believed she could very well be the only woman who had ever received that kind of tenderness from Cormac.
She thought of how he’d tucked her into bed after she’d cried herself empty.
Her vulnerability embarrassed her, especially when she remembered grasping his hand and asking him to stay.
It had been such a small, needy thing, but Cormac hadn’t teased her or made her feel foolish.
He’d simply stayed, lying beside her until she’d fallen asleep, as though there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
The memory still made warmth creep into her cheeks.
Upon noticing the darkened room, it was clear they had slept through most of the day. After everything they’d endured, they’d needed it.
Lark turned her head. He was still asleep. And she allowed herself to look.
His nearly buzzed hair had somehow managed to become mussed in sleep, the short strands sticking up in every direction, softer without its usual military neatness.
Dark lashes rested against his cheeks, making him look younger somehow.
His brows were strong and slightly furrowed, even in sleep.
She followed the straight line of his nose to his mouth, where his lips were relaxed and unexpectedly soft-looking.
And then there was his beard. That almost lumberjack-looking beard she’d found so intimidating when they’d first met. She’d discovered she liked it. A lot.
Her gaze lingered over the broad line of his jaw and the strength evident even when he wasn’t doing anything.
This man had frightened her once. Now, looking at him, she felt something entirely different.
Words like safe, wanted, and maybe even cherished filtered through her mind.
Her heart gave a little squeeze. I’m falling so hard.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his lashes fluttered. Lark immediately closed her eyes. She was absolutely not going to get caught staring.
She felt the mattress shift. He’d woken. She could feel his gaze on her. It lingered long enough that pretending became ridiculous.
“You keep looking at me like you want to say something.”
His voice was low and rough with sleep. “Maybe I do.”
“Then say it.” Silence. Lark opened her eyes. He was watching her. “So?” He didn’t answer. She moved a fraction closer. “Coward.”
Then, before she could lose her nerve, she kissed him. For one heartbeat, Cormac went completely still. Then his good arm came around her, and he kissed her back.
The kiss quickly deepened, all the uncertainty of the past few days burning away beneath it. His hand settled at her waist, drawing her closer. Lark slid her fingers over the cropped strands of his hair, and the low sound he made against her mouth sent a shiver through her.
He broke the kiss long enough to look at her. There was a question in his eyes. Lark answered by kissing him again.
His restraint finally cracked. He kissed her with a hunger that left her breathless, but every movement remained careful of his injured shoulder. His hand moved along her back, tracing her shape as though he were memorizing her.
When his fingers caught the hem of her shirt, he stopped. He looked at her. Asking.
Lark’s heart hammered. She caught the fabric herself and pulled it over her head. His eyes darkened. Her hands found the hem of his T-shirt next. She hesitated.
His expression softened. Lark carefully helped him remove it, mindful of his stitches. Then she leaned down and kissed the skin beside the bandage near his shoulder. A trident tattoo was inked onto the opposite shoulder, and she kissed that too.
Cormac’s eyes closed, his jaw tightening. “Careful,” he murmured. “I’m still trying to behave, and you’re making that increasingly difficult.”
Lark smiled against his skin. “Good. I was beginning to wonder if the big, scary SEAL had any weaknesses.”
His eyes opened, a wicked glint flashing in those shocking blue depths. “You might be one of them.”
Her heart skipped. “Then I guess you’d better be careful too.”
“Pretty sure that warning came a little late.” His mouth curved. “You’ve been my weakness since the day you spilled my espresso.”
Lark’s breath caught at his words, and for once, her usual snark deserted her.
She studied his face, searching those amazing blue eyes as if she could tell whether he meant the words as much as they sounded like he had.
But instead of letting him see how much they affected her, she lifted one eyebrow and a mischievous smile tugged at her lips.
“Since the espresso?” she whispered. “I thought you were just annoyed with me.”
“I was.”
She laughed softly. “Good. I’d hate to think I made a terrible first impression.” She leaned closer until their foreheads touched. “Although, if I’ve been your weakness since then…” Her smile turned playful. “I suppose I should apologize.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For ruining your peaceful, uncomplicated life. I hear you SEAL types like things orderly.”
Cormac’s mouth curved, but his eyes stayed on hers. “Peaceful and uncomplicated?” he repeated. “Lark, I haven’t had either of those things since I was nineteen.”
She smiled. “So I’m not really ruining anything?”
“Not even close.” His hand slid gently along her waist, careful of his shoulder. “You’re just making it a hell of a lot more interesting.”
She laughed softly. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“It’s the way I’m choosing to look at it.” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “And for the record…” His thumb brushed her cheek. “Some things are worth disrupting the order for.”
Lark’s heart gave a little flip and her smile widened. “Was that your way of telling me I’m worth the trouble?”
His eyes held hers, the teasing fading into something warmer.
“Believe me, you’re worth every bit of trouble you’ve brought into my life.
” His hand drifted down the column of her neck before he gently buried his fingers in the thick hair at the back of her head. “And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
With a tightening grasp in her hair, he pulled and positioned her head just so for his kiss. He kissed her with a possessiveness that took her breath away.
For a moment, she could do nothing but cling to him, fingers curling into the skin of his biceps as the world seemed to narrow to the warmth of his mouth and the solid presence of him beneath her hands.
There was something different in the way he kissed her now—less guarded, less restrained.
As though he’d finally stopped fighting what had been growing between them.
She answered him with equal certainty, sliding her hands up around his neck.
His fingers remained fisted in her hair, holding her close.
The initial sting of pain transformed into pleasure as his tongue moved insistently within her mouth.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder.
With her lace-clad breasts creating friction against his exposed torso, their tips were achingly firm and desperate for his touch.
“Still think I’m ruining your peaceful life?” she panted.
A crooked smile appeared. “Definitely.”
Lark studied him for a moment. This man, who had spent years surviving things she couldn’t imagine. This man who had walked into danger for her without hesitation. The same man who could make her feel protected simply by holding her hand.
“I don’t want to be trouble,” she admitted quietly.
“You’re not.”
“You sure?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Lark, you’re the first thing in a long time that doesn’t feel like a problem I need to solve.”
Her throat tightened. “What does it feel like?”
Cormac’s expression softened. “Like home.”
The single word settled between them. Lark blinked rapidly, fighting the sudden sting behind her eyes. She’d spent most of her life feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere. And somehow, this gruff, stubborn man had managed to make her feel as though perhaps she’d finally found somewhere she did.
She leaned forward and kissed him softly this time. “Then I guess we’re both in trouble,” she whispered.
His arms tightened around her. “I’ll never shy away from trouble,” he murmured.
The rest happened quickly, deliberately, with neither of them willing to stop long enough to breathe. Each time he paused, Lark answered. Each time she hesitated, he waited.
Soon there was nothing between them but warmth and skin and the steady thud of two hearts that seemed to have forgotten how to behave.
He enveloped her in feelings so intense they left no room for anything else.
His hands touched every inch of her burning skin, and soon her lace underthings were sent flying.
She lay naked before him, and he devoured her with his intense blue eyes as if he couldn’t wait to chow down.
And he did just that. His hot mouth found her breast, his tongue rolling the stiff nipple.
Desire shot delicious ripples through her core.
She squeezed her legs together in an attempt to get the friction she needed.
“Nuh-uh, little bird,” he murmured as his hand found her thigh and slipped between her legs. He applied pressure, pushing them open. “You will not close yourself off to me.” His fingers found her soaking core sliding through her slit before he added, “Or my touch.”
A gasp escaped her lips as he thrust two fingers inside.
Holy hell. That was hot. He was half hovering over her, lips and tongue still teasing her breast while his fingers did their thing.
Her hips moved, meeting each forceful thrust. Faster.
Riding the edge of an incredible wave she was afraid would drown her.
“Give it to me,” he growled, sucking her nipple into his mouth while his thumb found her clit. “Now, little bird.”
Her whole body strained, obeying his command. Poised and trembling on the edge of something she’d never experienced before until that blinding moment suddenly engulfed her. She threw her head back, her entire body arching into the carnality of the act as a scream ripped from her mouth.
Lark had spent most of her life believing intimacy was something expected of her. Something owed. Something performed because it was part of the role she’d been assigned.
This wasn’t that. Cormac wasn’t asking anything from her. He wasn’t trying to possess her because of her family. Wasn’t trying to dictate who she was or how she should act.
He was simply demanding.
Demanding her pleasure. Demanding her wants and needs. Demanding she trust in his control. Because when she gave in to that demand, exquisite pleasures awaited her.
He wanted her. He wanted her pleasure. Wanted her screaming for him. And he’d succeeded. She’d experienced her first orgasm that wasn’t self-induced, thanks to him. And he had only just begun.
He pulled his fingers from her body and, with his gaze locked on hers, placed them in his mouth. “I’ll taste you properly next time,” he declared. “But right now I need to be inside you. Please tell me I can fuck you,” he requested with just a hint of vulnerability beneath the need and want.
She ran her hand down the hard planes of his chest. Lower and lower until she found his hard length beneath his pants.
For a moment, the size concerned her, but the heat in his eyes made her forget all about it.
“Permission granted,” she purred. “Now let’s see if you’re as confident as you usually pretend to be. ”
He had his pants off and a condom rolled on in record time. Before she could utter another word, he was covering her with his body, heat radiating off him in waves. He paused with his tip just at her entrance as if still asking permission.
She raised her knees, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him in. He slipped further inside her, and they both groaned. “Fuck, Lark,” he growled. “So tight.”