Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4) - Page 127

He wasn't the moody doctor of the weeks prior or the driven operative of recent days. But Max, a man who wanted her. No games here. She might not have a clue about what made him tick, but there was no mistaking his desire for her—a heady aphrodisiac.

A thrill of anticipation tripped along her adrenaline-heightened nerves. She waited, wanted...

His lips found the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck. Who'd have thought anyone could have so many nerve endings in one patch of skin? Her head lolled back and she sighed. She inhaled the warm sunshine scent of his hair as Max inched the zipper down on her flight suit, following the revealing path with his mouth.

If only she wasn't so aware of how long it had been since she'd put on that flight suit. How damned unfair that he smelled like coconut oil, sunshine and a hint of musk while she likely reeked of sweat and smoke.

She clasped his hand. "Max, wait."

Groaning, he dropped his head to her breasts. "You're gonna make me be honorable, aren't you?"

"No." Definitely not. "I need to shower first. I know it's probably unromantic of me to want to delay, but man, Max. A girl only has one first time and—''

He hooked an arm behind her knees and swung her up against his chest.

"Max!"

"You want a shower, lady, you're going to have a shower."

Why hadn't she just suggested they shower together rather than admitting she smelled like a crewdog? Alicia's voice mocked her as they crossed the room.

Way to go, kiddo.

As much as she and Max might be equals in the work world, his experience in the sexual arena left her in the dust. His past included women who likely wore lace or silk and not a green flight bag with white athletic socks.

She hated encroaching insecurities, especially when she prided herself on conquering in any field she chose. Hang tough and be bold. She wanted this. She wanted Max.

He turned sideways through the bathroom door. He set her on her feet in front of the shower stall and reached to turn on the water.

Darcy looped her finger in the drawstring of his flowered swim trunks. "Maybe I should get a tropical shirt so we'll match."

He cupped her face between both broad palms. "Darcy, there's so much light and life in your eyes, in you, clothes couldn't compete." His sea-green gaze devoured every inch of her. "And there's something so damned sexy about the way you're completely covered in that uniform. Makes me want to..."

He grasped the tab on her zipper and tugged farther. Slowly. Link by link he pulled until he unveiled the hem of her black T-shirt and a hint of underwear.

The combination of his words with his stare hotter than any jet engine swept away insecurities.

Max grinned. "Layers. I like layers. Sometimes the payoff is all the sweeter when you've had to work for it."

His hands slid inside, cupped her bottom, his arms shrugging the flight suit from her shoulders. Darcy whipped the uniform down and off, kicked it free while pulling her T-shirt overhead.

Until she stood in a sports bra and high-cut panties.

His low growl of approval caressed her ears, swirled inside over feminine instincts. His fascination with her dog tags, the way his eyes had so often lingered on the high-cut hip of her bathing suit, all told her that while he might opt for flamboyance in his own clothing choices, he in no way found hers lacking.

Then with two bold sweeps of his hands, her underwear fluttered to the floor. And she knew by the heat of his gaze as he stared at her wearing nothing but her dog tags, he definitely didn't find her lacking.

Sliding his swim trunks down and off, he backed her into the shower before she caught nearly enough of a glimpse of him. Warm spray sluiced over her, warmer still as the water heated.

Or maybe they heated the water. A definite possibility.

Darcy trailed her fingers along hard muscle and Max, down to his hip, discovering another tattoo. Poseidon's trident sliced across a hard hip, launching a tingle up her arm.

She'd spent her life around men, had stumbled into more than a few locker rooms with minimal privacy situations on the road. She might be a virgin, but she wasn't naive about the male physique, and man, oh, man, did this guy have a body to make her go weak-kneed against the wall.

Water rained onto his head, saturated his hair, darkening it. How perfect that he should be surrounded by water. Seeing him through the spray somehow made him seem all the more familiar.

She traced the cut of muscles along his chest, to his stomach, a solid wall of tanned heat. Her hand journeyed lower until she wrapped her fingers around him.

Tags: Catherine Mann Wingmen Warriors Romance
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