Chapter 11
ETHAN
Olivia didn’t move under my lips. That was my fault. I’d moved too fast and hadn’t given her much warning. Most of the time, I commanded absolute control over myself, but the woman before me obliterated it.
Her hair was soft and her mouth softer as she allowed the kiss. I parted her lips with my tongue, venturing deeper, possessing her.
Stop what you’re doing, my mind ordered, but I disobeyed.
I shifted her head in my hands, tilting it back so I could better control the kiss. Her palms flattened against my chest, and she sighed like she was surrendering. It was so fucking sexy, heat pumped through my veins and steam filled my body.
Her hands fisted my sweater. Drawing me closer, fighting for dominance. I abandoned her lips and focused on the spot on her neck just below her ear.
“Oh, so we’re doing this now?” she said, reaching up to weave her fingers through my hair.
“Yeah. If that’s all right with you.”
I trailed a hand down her neck, over her collarbone, all the way until it was on top of one of her breasts. Once again, I was moving much faster than I should, but she made me reckless. She moaned almost inaudibly while I squeezed and teased her through the fabric of her shirt.
Every touch, every taste of her choked out the logical voice in my head, making it fall silent.
Yet touching her through her clothes wasn’t enough. I was hungry, desperate. I needed to have her bare skin beneath my fingertips, wanted to use my mouth on her. The shirt in my way needed to be dealt with.
“This is coming off,” I announced, gripping the hem and yanking up—
But her arms slammed down on her sides, stopping me. “Turn off the lights.”
“You like it dark?”
That was disappointing, but I could make it work. My fingers fumbled over the switch on the wall nearby, and the overhead light went out. The only light left streamed from a dim lamp on the far side of the bed, casting our shadows on the wall.
“That goes off, too,” she ordered.
Since she was so comfortable giving me commands, I was comfortable pushing back on them. “No, it doesn’t.”
I worked my hands under her shirt, caressing my palms over the smooth skin of her stomach, and she jumped at my touch. Skin on skin. But her eyes hooded, like she enjoyed the sensation as much as I did.
“I told you,” I said, “you make it hard to focus on anything else, and part of my time was spent imagining you without clothes on.” I shouldn’t admit it, but it slipped out. “A big part.”
If it really bothered her, I was willing to negotiate on the lighting.
“You’ll change your mind.” It rang from her as a grim warning.
I traced the pads of my fingers around her sides onto her back, ventured upward over uneven skin—
My movement slowed as she stared up at me, a new emotion brimming in her eyes. Fear? She raised her arms and let me drag the fabric up, freeing her.
“Christ,” I groaned appreciatively. Just the sight of her breasts locked inside the lacy red bra was better than I’d imagined.
But the curious side of my mind would not be quiet, and Olivia’s eyes questioned my hesitation.
“Show me?” I asked.
Her expression was heartbreaking as she turned away from me.
I stayed silent as I evaluated the dark pink ridges and pockmarks marring her skin, some of which had faint tracks left behind by deep, large stitches.
The burn marks started below her shoulders and flowed all the way down, disappearing beneath the belt of her pants.
I’d picked up that she was ex-military, and I’d seen my share of IED victims. “Where?” I asked, my tone gentle. “Afghanistan?”
She blinked, momentarily stunned, and nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I leaned down and skimmed my lips over the crook of her neck, creating goosebumps on her skin. “Okay,” I said. “My plans don’t include conversation.”
She startled at my touch again, but likely because my fingertips were cold. I began to trace the worst scar, the one that cut a diagonal from her shoulder down to her hip on the other side, but stopped in the center of her back.
I pulled at the hook and undid her bra so my hands could roam over her patterned skin. Braille telling me the story of how close she’d been when the explosive went off.
Olivia was lucky to be alive.
The damage to her body was nothing to be ashamed of. She’d been injured serving her country. Our country. It tore at my fucking heart. She made a noise of satisfaction when I drew my hands around and pulled her up against me, her back tight to my chest.
Her moan was louder this time when I palmed her breasts, and she closed her hands over mine. Her back arched, encouraging me, and a smile twitched on my lips. She might want control, but this position made that difficult.
She turned her head over her shoulder and yanked me down into her intense kiss. Shit, she tasted good. The desire for her was so strong, I couldn’t keep control of myself. My hands fell from her breasts, caressing down her bare stomach to the belt of her pants, sliding the leather from the buckle.
I wasn’t fast enough, because she pushed my hands out of the way and undid her pants herself, shoving them down to sit low on her hips.
Shit, I’d never wanted anything more than this woman in my whole miserable life.
When her pants puddled at her ankles, I guided her to step out of them, so she was clad only in her underwear. She turned in my arms, slamming her mouth against mine.
Like the other night, she was impatient. Her soft hand glided down my stomach and settled on my belt, and although I wanted it badly, I also wasn’t ready to relinquish control. Maybe next time I’d let her—
Next time?
There could be no next time.
I stepped back from her hands, parted the flimsy mosquito netting hanging over the bed, and held it open for her.
“Get on the bed,” I said.
I watched every sexy curve of her body as she crawled across the mattress on her knees, then turned and waited for me to follow.
The gun came off first, and I placed it on the nightstand where it’d be easily within reach. Next, my sweater and shirt. Her eyes locked with mine through the gauzy curtain that was like a soft-focus lens on her. I hurried with my pants until I was left in only my boxers, ready to join her.
More than ready—aching for her.
Her sultry green eyes were large when I slipped through the curtain and knelt beside her. Her gaze wasn’t focused on mine, though. She studied my chest, which was adorned with wounds as well. The pads of her fingers touched my shoulder and the pale, circular scar.
“Where?”
“Syria.” Where a bullet had shattered my clavicle. Her fingertips dragged down to another one surrounded by my chest hair. A particularly nasty one, an electrical burn. “Saudi Arabia.”
She lingered over the scar near my waist that was only six months old. So fresh the healing skin still itched at times. That knife had been dangerously close to a kidney. “Germany.”
My scars were in service of my country, just like hers.
The thought burned away when her fingers curled around the waistband of my boxers and urged their rapid descent. Her gaze flicked up to mine when she discovered the old scar in front of my right hip, and a smile curled my lips.
“Kentucky.” My appendix when I was fifteen.
I urged her onto her back, set a hand on her shoulder, and trailed it slowly down the slope of her body that was sexy as sin.
Over her breasts, down her stomach, onto a hip covered with the band of underwear.
As my palm slid inward, she parted her knees and made room, encouraging me to put my hand between her thighs.
I pressed my fingers to the lace there, rubbing one tight circle against her clit. It made her hand clench the sheet beneath her, and the sound she gave was a whiny moan. It was another language I understood.
More.
My rapid pulse beat faster still as I caressed and rubbed her through her dampening panties, enjoying the way she writhed and bowed on the bed. Watching her, hearing her, touching her . . . My dick was so goddamn hard, it throbbed.
There should have been more foreplay. I wanted to take my time, even though I didn’t have any, since I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Yet her hand closed around my dick, stroking me from tip to base, and all thought vaporized. It felt so good, my vision blurred. I was in over my head with her, but it was too late. The only desire now was to finish what she’d started against the wall of her cabin two nights ago.
There was a condom in my pants pocket, just in case things got out of control, which I had desperately hoped for. I leaned over and fished it out of my wadded pants on the floor. I held it up for her, pinned between my index and middle fingers, my breath tight in my chest. “Yes?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “Fuck, yes.”
I dropped the unopened condom onto her stomach because her panties were begging to be removed, and I obeyed, yanking them down her long legs so she could be as naked as I was. And while I did it, she picked up the condom and tore open the wrapper.
The sight of her bare flesh drove me crazy with lust. She was so undeniably sexy and gorgeous, it was hard to catch my breath. I plucked the condom from the wrapper when she offered it to me, and I worked to put it on. It was a goddamn miracle my hands were steady because inside I was desperate.
Then I moved over her, my knees between her parted legs, and lowered in so I could kiss her. It was urgent, maybe even frenzied, because her soft, warm skin flattened against mine made my head buzz. I reached between us, positioning myself and began to push my hips forward.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned.
The hit of pleasure was immediate, even when I was barely inside her.
Her long fingers curled on my arms, holding on to me, and her silky legs wrapped around my hips. I advanced slowly, forcing myself to control my breathing. She was so fucking snug and hot, I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on the sensation.