“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he said, talking through the wood frame.
“Yeah . . .” a small voice replied and he cracked the door, surprised to see her blotting her face with a tissue.
At a momentary loss, he moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him, twisting the tissue in her hands, and it simply made him cover them with his own.
“You are so beautiful it’s frightening,” he said. “Everywhere we’ve stopped, there have probably been a thousand guys who would kill to have you . . . but I’m not interested in bragging rights.” He hung his head and spoke to the floor while grasping her hands and then finally looked into her eyes. “Sounds so foolish, but over the last few days, I’ve laughed more than I have in so long, ’Nita . . . I’ve reconnected with my past, felt what it was like to come in from a long day and just sit with somebody who gave a damn about me. I got to know the real Anita Brown, who is just as gorgeous on the inside as she is on the outside— someone who is real, caring, giving, loving . . . the stuff you did for your family, man . . .”
Zach shook his head and released her hands, pushing wet strands of hair behind her ear. “If I go this next step, this soldier is going to be in too deep to get out. Black Hawk down, do you understand? We shouldn’t start this if we’re not going to finish it. I don’t want a fling.”
She touched his hand covering it where it cradled her cheek. “I’ve never had a man tell me no for such a beautiful reason.” She closed her eyes and two big tears ran down the bridge of her nose. “Nobody has ever taken the time to get to know who I am, to talk to me, to try to protect me, to think about the future with me . . . and to rack their brains to figure out how that might all work in their life. I was always their eye candy, a trophy, or a toy.”
Zach softly kissed away the tears that had slid down her nose and then landed a soft kiss on each of her eyelids. “’Nita . . . when I was a child, I played with toys . . . and spoke like a child and thought like a child,” he said quietly, tracing her cheek in the dark with trembling fingers. “But when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
“Corinthians,” she said, resting her palm against his chest. “You knew the quote, and it’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” he murmured, coming to lie beside her, “because when you really care about somebody, really love them, you’ll put away childish things . . . and I’ve been watching you try to take care of me while I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He shook his head, drawing her into his arms. “I can’t remember when somebody cared enough to try to take care of me.”
He found her mouth, brushing it with gentle sweeps, and then testing for deeper acceptance with his tongue probing hers until she consumed him. What began as slow exploration against satiny skin with gentle caresses became a struggle to remove clothing.
Impatient, she pulled at his T-shirt, her hands splaying across his bare chest as she suckled his nipples. Every place her mouth landed drew a moan up from his depths . . . it had been so long, his desire for her had been so repressed that as she tongued his navel he almost wept.
Her robe hung off her shoulders, his hands reveling in her damp, tangled hair to slide down her arms, shedding the terry obstruction so that her breasts could finally be freed. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to drink her in and then gently pulled her closer. She didn’t understand that he needed to pay homage to her beauty, and right now the only way he knew how to do that was with his mouth, nuzzling her breasts, drawing in the taut nipples between his lips to flick against his tongue until she arched and cried out.
Giving never felt so good. He wanted to give her so much pleasure that his shaft throbbed in agony. Their foreplay had become feral, tenderness ebbing as she yanked his sweat-pants down over his hips; she clearly had the same idea and it buckled his body the moment she held him, her palm slicked by his need. Someone had to yield and he was glad that she was gracious enough to do so, rolling over on her back so that he could continue his trail of kisses to the place that would make her call his name.
Sweet sticky essence of woman covered his face as she writhed beneath his attention. There was no extraction from this once he’d entered, there was no way to wa
lk away from her or make something this profound casual. He felt her shudder as her thighs clamped against his skull, her hand stroking his hair, and her sighs a melodic refrain, “I need you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he murmured against her bud, and then kept time to her thrusts with the tip of his tongue.
He wanted her wild, crazy, out of control. Needed to feel her arch and release until her knuckles turned white holding the sheets. One finger entered her in a lazy stroke that made her strain against his hand, demanding a second. She tasted so good, was so wet that he was losing his mind. Her body spilled pleasure into his mouth as she bucked her hips, need and frustration making her moans more insistent. Then suddenly she gasped hard and thrust hard against him, beginning to convulse. That was what he’d been waiting for . . . for her voice to become a series of pure gasps, high-pitched moans, her rhythm lost to violent shudders. He wanted her to feel the way he was going to feel: head back, insane the moment he entered her . . . and she rewarded his patience by begging him, “Put it in.”
Yes, ma’am, anything the lady wanted. A condom was the last thing on his mind. But as he lifted his head to plant deep kisses against her belly, she murmured a truth that almost made him slide against her.
“In the drawer,” she said quietly scooting up to reach across the king-sized bed. “Every night I was hoping you’d come in and stay like this.”
He remained paralyzed on his hands and knees as she reached over and tore open a foil package. Too close to the edge, he couldn’t even help her as she put it in her mouth and slid down the bed to sheath him. Warm, soft hands, her mouth made him drop his head back and bottomed out his voice, “Oh, ’Nita . . .”
Female wisdom, female mercy guided him with shapely calves wrapped around his hips, then his waist, bringing him deeper, sinking him into a place he could never leave— a point of no return. She’d gone there, too, had fallen, slipped into the abyss of passion, her hands scrabbling at his back as her voice rent the air. His chasing her soprano like a sonic boom, bottoming out on “Oh, baby,” creating music on the fly, riffs, and solos, the applause a standing O of feminine convulsions.
Every thrust sent beads of perspiration rolling down his back, his temples, and his chest. A phalanx of contractions jolted his sac so brutally that he cried out and lifted her under her waist. One hand against the headboard, one tightly gripping her back, a year and a half of denial, the near miss, the long flight, and five days of agony all became one thunderous release.
Breathing hard, they both rolled over on their backs, and then slowly came back together, him pulling her against him.
“Wow . . .” she murmured.
He was still catching his breath and could only nod with his eyes closed.
She kissed him, petting his erection. “Now I know why you said we shouldn’t start this if we weren’t prepared to finish it.”
He opened his eyes and smirked. “Oh, I’m hardly finished, ma’am.”
CHAPTER 9
THE HARDEST THING now was to get the genie back in the bottle. He didn’t want her to end up in the tabloids for doing her bodyguard, or for him to wind up in trouble for moonlighting— and then exhibiting conduct unbecoming an officer on leave. But after two nights of insane lovemaking, it was physically painful to sit apart from her and act aloof for nearly two days’ worth of flights.
There was a chemical difference that anyone around them with half an ounce of common sense picked up on. Sly looks, raised eyebrows, inquiring minds wanted to know. The fact that they were both dog-tired was a dead giveaway, but his lips were sealed. The main thing was to get her back to her pent house, make sure she was secured, and then get to Lowell and Anne Marie.