Lie with Me (8 page)

Even though he should be more than used to the violence, if anything, his tenure under Gabriel made his stomach turn more often than not. Instead of becoming numb and violent, he’d stopped sleeping, because the nightmares got too bad, and he’d started praying.

Sometimes, there will be collateral damage
, his CO had told him, years earlier, when he’d first been admitted to Delta training.
You’ll feel like shit, which should reassure you that you are, indeed, human. And usually it’s just when you start to believe you’re super-fucking-man. It’s a good thing, because you
are
human, blood and bone, and you can break
.

He forced himself back to the present, to the beautiful, unarmed woman lying beneath him. Helpless and still, her gaze locked to his with a mix of power and challenge that made his dick throb.

He was most definitely human. And this was nothing like his last mission.

Why this time would be different, he didn’t know, but it was. Maybe because her touches were both hesitant and knowing. The way her tongue darted out quickly to the corner of her mouth when her hands ran along his shoulders.

She swallowed, her throat moving against his palm, her hips pushing toward his in an almost unconscious movement.

“Are you sure you’re physically okay?” he murmured, and she nodded.

He ran his hand along her throat as he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss shot through him with an unexpected jolt as her tongue hungrily found his, and he shifted his weight and tried to ground himself.

As he kissed her, his fingers splayed along her collarbone, his palm resting at the base of her throat. Close enough to do the job easily—he wouldn’t need to use much pressure … she wouldn’t fight until it was too late.

Speaking of too late, his own breath caught as her hand reached between them and circled his cock. The touch was tentative, but somehow, all the more sexy because she was unsure … because she wanted to prove to him that she could please him.

She had, she was—and he was in more trouble than he ever fucking thought possible.

“Harder,” he urged, and she smiled, and fuck, it was beautiful. She stroked and he kissed and his hand remained just above her clavicle.

You could do it, if you had to
, he tried to tell himself.

But tonight, he didn’t have to and so he let his hand trail down to her breast instead.

“This isn’t all that fair—me naked and you fully clothed,” he told her.

She bit her bottom lip, and then, “Maybe you should do something about that.”

“I plan to.” As much as he didn’t want her hands to leave him, he wanted her naked more, and so he caught her wrist and she blushed and moved her hand. He got to his knees for a second, used his teeth to pull her tank top over her breasts. They were perfect—small, with rose-colored nipples that were already taut. He suckled one, hard, felt her jump against him and then sigh with pleasure.

It spurred him onward, his fingers tugging at the free nipple, pulling it to a stiff peak as his mouth worked the other. Her hands moved along his shoulders, wound through his damp hair as the storm intensified. The room was nearly dark, save for the portable lantern on the dresser across the room, and the sharp sounds of hail let him know they were safe, for tonight, from the outside world.

He eased her low-slung pajama bottoms down, his hands running along her hips as he pushed the fabric far enough for her to kick it off, making sure to take off her bikini underwear as well, and then he gazed at her naked body.

Mine
.

It was the only word that came to mind, a sharp, biting sensation following in the pit of his stomach as his eyes caught on the scar—thin, reddish-pink and raised, maybe ten inches running on a diagonal across her abdomen toward her left side. He sucked in a breath, because he’d forgotten, because he hated to see the remnants of how much pain she’d had to endure.

This woman was as much of a survivor as he was.

He traced the scar with his finger and she froze in his arms. When he glanced back up, she looked so raw and vulnerable, like she was ready to shield her body from his with her arms, to crawl under the sheets.

He murmured, “It’s okay. You’re beautiful.”

“I’m already naked—you don’t have to give me compliments.”

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean, Sky—that’s one thing you need to learn about me,” he told her before he dragged his finger lower, to dip between her legs. Her sex was wet and hot, and her eyes closed at the contact, even as she held her breath for a few seconds.

She was so serious in her pleasure, as if she hadn’t felt any in a long time and wasn’t sure how to react anymore.

But when he entered her with first one finger and then two, her eyes widened, her breath quickened. He used the pad of his thumb to caress the swollen bundle of nerves at the same time, forcing her hips to rock to his rhythm. “Beautiful.”

She shook her head, as if refusing to listen to his words. She bit her bottom lip as he stroked and caressed the delicate flesh, and she was so close to orgasm. Looked so hot getting there that he knew he would make her come a second time … and a third.

How it would feel once he was fully inside of her.

There was no turning back—his way out from Gabriel’s grasp was just outside his grasp. Or in it. Under it …

How had this gotten so fucking far in so short a period of time?

“Cam!” Her sharp cry broke his reverie, unfettered by hate or the mission.

“This is mine,” he heard himself mutter thickly before he could help himself, the blood pounding behind his eyes as if he was the one ready to orgasm. He suckled a nipple and felt the first shudder of release break through her. Her legs stiffened, she pressed herself against his hands as a hard-won moan escaped from the back of her throat.

It was the first show of surrender to him, and it made him want to throw his head back and roar.

T
he frost was over. First, the words and now the orgasm, rolling through her with an intensity Sky swore she’d never experienced.

She was well aware she’d cried out Cam’s name—even more aware that she’d attempted to muffle it by yanking his body close and burying her face against his shoulder.

She might’ve even bitten him, but he hadn’t complained. Had muttered something under his breath, but remained focused on her. Even as she still shuddered, he was sliding down her body, his mouth kissing its way down, farther and farther until …

“Oh!”

She heard him laugh before his tongue found her core again, licked another long stroke down her sex while his fingers tugged a nipple. Her hands wound in his hair, not sure if she was attempting to stop him, or to keep him from stopping. Her sex felt tender, overly sensitive, but his tongue probed gently, persistently.

Her back arched as pleasure speared her—she couldn’t remember being this wet before. She spread her legs and forgot about being scared or worrying about anything beyond the flick of a tongue on the bundled pillow of nerves that had remained dormant for too long. Under her own touch, it had felt numb.

Under Cam’s probing, though, she was alive. Flourishing.

She brought her hand to rest on his, the one that was playing with her nipple, heard him murmur, “Oh, yeah,” as she caressed herself at the same time he caressed her.

A hot rush of pure heat flooded her as he took her core like a starving man. She tried to gain footing on the sheets, ended up with her feet on his shoulders as her release overtook her body. She arched off the bed, grabbing for any kind of quarter, hoped he was holding on tightly, because she was losing track of everything except the slow throb through her womb.

And then she shattered, climaxed against his mouth, her cries incoherent. She lay, an arm over her eyes, her breathing fast, Cam’s warm breath still on her thigh. Her nerves strummed to the point of overstimulation.

Cam seemed to know, let her come down from her high for a bit. And then his kisses rode up her stomach, her breasts, her neck, until they were thigh to thigh. He shifted slightly when her hand strayed between his legs, wanting to feel that power again. And he froze a little, then started as she began to explore further, almost as if the move was unexpected.

But he didn’t stop her, and she continued to stroke him—he was so hard, the skin so soft. So much power in one place.

He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, nipped the lobe, licked the sensitive patch along her neck until she realized she’d been raising her hips in a slow grind, pressing his shaft against her sex. Ready again, pushing for more.

Her skin was damp from nerves and exertion, his body hot against hers, making her hot and bothered.

He took her by the wrists and held them both together in one hand over her head as he bent to suckle a nipple and it was exciting, being held down—and open to him.

The man was big. Everywhere. Big hands, big feet, big shoulders … and the arousal that pressed against her sex was impressively so. His eyes were heavy-lidded. Lazy, even though there was nothing else about this man that could be called so.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” he told her, left the room and indeed returned quickly, condoms in hand.

Yes, protection. She was glad one of them was thinking, as she wasn’t permitted to use birth control beyond condoms because of her condition.

He got back on the bed with her—back onto her. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She touched his face. Without the beard, the sharp cheekbones, the line of the strong jaw, everything was clearer.

God, he was handsome. And even though his eyes held a kindness, she knew that it must serve to hide the rough and ready soldier she shared this bed with. He was experienced, knew how to give her pleasure—made it his mission to do so, even as he prepared to take his own. He ripped the package open and rolled the condom on, and within seconds, his body covered hers, his hand once again imprisoning her wrists over her head.

With his thigh spreading her legs, he shifted to his knees and used his free hand to guide himself inside of her. She moaned as he penetrated—slow and steady at first, and then finally he drove home into her, stretching her in a mix of slight pain and pleasure, which soon turned to all pleasure.

She tried to tug her hands loose, but he wasn’t having it, kept a steady pressure there as he rocked with her. Her legs instinctively went around his waist to lock her ankles behind his back—her own version of tying him down.

The sex was rougher than she was used to—almost as if he was fighting something within himself, fighting her at the same time. And still, it was exhilarating, and her responses showed that this was something she’d obviously craved.

He bucked against her, the loss of control evident in his features—and she was the one doing that to him. She was responsible for it.

He never took his eyes off of her, not even when he came, a moment after her orgasm. Hers pulled him over the edge, his pupils darkening, his mouth opened with a long groan escaping. And then her name was on his lips, and she liked that. So much. Wanted to hear him say it again and again.

She hadn’t felt like herself for a long time. She was always sick Skylar and then dying Skylar, and finally recovering Skylar. The one whose life was in danger, even now.

She was still too thin, her breasts smaller than they were before the surgery, despite the fact that she was eating right—and still Cam stared at her like he’d never wanted anyone more.

It’s okay. You’re beautiful
.

Right now she didn’t care if that was actually the truth or not.

She’d wanted to cry when he said that earlier, had kissed him instead, since that was far more satisfying. And now the hardness pressing her sex had nothing at all to do with pity. Cam wanted her—really, truly wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it with his every touch.

Before this, she’d felt empty, almost brittle, and even when Cam first touched her, she’d expected to hear the subtle snap.

But she hadn’t broken, not even with the heavy weight of his body on hers.

Finally, he let go of her wrists as he rolled off her. He rubbed her arms, which felt like jelly, as did her legs, and basically every other part of her body.

“I think I forgot how good this was. No, I take that back, it was never this good.”

He gave her a small smile. “We’re not done, Sky. Not nearly done.”

She swallowed hard and readied herself as he took her again, wrapped her legs around him, and this time, this time, he didn’t hold her wrists, let her clutch his shoulders and touch his hair, even scrape her nails along his back when she climaxed, hard.

W
hen Dylan had come up for air after swimming laps in the cold water, in the hope of tamping down his needs, he noted Riley had gone inside, but kept the shades across the sliding glass pulled back so he could see her sitting at the dining table.

He’d laid out on a lounge chair, alternately reading a magazine and watching Riley sort through her mail, talk on the phone and watch him at various random intervals.

She’d also turned on salsa music letting it blast through the patio speakers. She knew he hated salsa music.

It was like a big game of chicken, except this was much more pleasant, especially with the beer he’d grabbed from the fully stocked outdoor bar.

Riley was living well. She used to be on the right side of the law. For all he knew, she still might be—but in the spy-for-hire game, all bets were usually off.

There were so many rumors floating around about her that Dylan could barely keep track. The only solid fact was that she’d lived in Maryland until she was fifteen and joined the Navy at eighteen, serving five years. After that, things were muddied. Some intel had her being courted by the FBI before deciding to go and play the spy game on her own.

He knew for sure was that there was no trace of Riley Sacadano in the military, CIA, or FBI systems, which was odd. If she was a rogue, both agencies would’ve been watching her carefully. And she’d been regular Navy—not Special Forces, which would have necessitated the secrecy surrounding her files.