Chapter Fifteen
His thoughts cut off like a scratched record. Jaw tightened. He fought to relax his brow. He forced a smile. “You sure you never played baseball with those curveballs you’re pitching?”
She simply gazed hard at him, not conceding to his joke, just watching him, as if she could see though his bullshit. She’d always been able to see through his layers. He cleared his throat. Compelled to give her at least an answer to her question, even if it wasn’t the answer.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, tight-lipped.
“I don’t buy it.”
“I ain’t selling it.”
“Travis, talk to me.”
Her concern only made him feel cornered. Her hand upon his thigh was confusing. Did she want more right now or not? Her words were seeking. His pulse notched up a degree again, and he eyed her chewing that lip. He wanted to kiss it. Silence the questions. Exist in the moment, the past be damned. If he told her one thing, then everything would pour out, and he dipped his head to hers.
“Be in this moment with me, my Sky,” he murmured gruffly. “I can’t talk about it.”
His lips pressed to hers. Don’t ask me anything else. You won’t like the answers, sweetheart.
She froze, holding deathly still, as if deciding whether she was going to push him away or not, then gripped his face and melted into the kiss, as if she wanted it just as badly, or perhaps, she’d sensed he needed it.
“I’m sorry, Trav,” she murmured, but he bored down harder into the kiss, to push the thoughts away. His eyes open, he wanted to absorb how she looked in the twilight. The sun was partially down, and the sky was now an array of lavender, gray blue and dark blue, the North Star and Venus finally visible.
He intensified his focus on her lips, his tongue inviting a dance with hers, the intensity brewing, growing. Carefully, he shifted, as did she, turning into his side to face him and improve her angle, guarding her bottle so it didn’t spill. Her lips tasted much sweeter than the sour taste of the answers she’d been seeking. Hesitantly, she rose up on her knees, the bottle an inconvenience that he finally extricated from her grip before they knocked it over and deposited into the cooler barely within arm’s reach, doing the same with his between his legs, and slipped his hands around her waist as he felt her move over him to straddle his lap, settling down upon him.
Fire. He groaned now, to feel the crux of her thighs splayed upon his cock, and his head fell back, his lips tearing away, unable to resist nudging up beneath her, knowing it was only her underwear and his zipped fly separating her from sliding nice and slow down upon his hardening shaft. Skylar might have been sweet, but this chemistry was always an explosion simmering beneath the surface. His palms slid up her soft, bare thighs, beneath her hem, gripping the flesh.
Her breath hitched. She ground down upon him, a primal reaction to his hands now holding her hips and guiding her into a slow, simmering rocking, and he greedily crashed his lips to hers again to swallow the sound of her breathing, growing erratic, straining toward her as if she were the elixir and he needed life. Unreal, how silky she felt. She moaned a soft, sensuous sound, gripping his nape and cheek, deepening her kiss as he swallowed the needy sound and met her tongue thrust for thrust, focusing on his mission.
He wanted to tear her panties away. Wanted to look at them. He shoved her dress up her thighs and hooked his thumb beneath the elastic edge of the cute-as-hell boy-short panties to test the waters and gauge her reaction, felt the torquing of her tendons as she flexed and relaxed, moving over him with increasing pace. Held her firmly as he freed a hand to slide up her side and over her breasts. Her head fell back now.
“Travis…” she whined.
“Go for it, sweetheart,” he groaned, watching her face, drinking in the pleasure he saw upon it. Chase that pleasure, baby.
His condoms were in the glove box. Did he need them? Or were they just making out? Was that even possible to do with Skylar? Or was it like he feared, and it would be like every damn time they’d been together in the past, when they would get carried away on a current and an hour later find themselves tangled in naked limbs, joined, sated, sweating and grinning, storing up energy for round two—
She unzipped his jeans. He couldn’t think straight. He unhooked his buckle, and a moment later, his boxers were ripped down and his cock sprang free. He guided her panties back and forth with his thumb. She glided upon him damp as if he’d commanded it, her head tearing away and falling back, resuming the kiss on a hitched breath, this thin piece of cotton the sole barrier between her soft, welcoming heat and his frustrated soldier.
Get a condom, man, now—just in case, so he didn’t find himself scrambling for one when his body was at an aching and breaking point. Like right f-ing now. They shouldn’t go all the way just yet, no matter how much the idea of hot, passionate sex with Skylar after the longest dry spell in any man’s history sounded like heaven, but spiraling down this path with her had led to them playing with fire. They hadn’t always been responsible about protection, and they were damned lucky she’d never accidentally gotten pregnant. He knew better now to put a jacket on it.
His hand roved up her back, over her breast again, kneading the flesh in his palm as she encouraged him to ride her. His balls ached. His thumb beneath her panty elastic brushed dangerously upon her lip, feeling the wetness for himself.
Jeezus. He groaned, the sensation of her warm arousal slickening his thumb, swallowed the whimper that rolled up her throat and into his, basked in the feel of her nails scoring his neck and shoulders as she held on to him as he kept her firmly anchored, felt her grip slide hungrily down his shoulders, across his pecs, over his T-shirt, pushing his open plaid out of the way. Her undulating intensified, filled with energy and the need to squirm. Anticipation coated his helm and soaked her panties. His grip upon her hip guided her faster.
Ah yes, he knew what she needed, knew how to give it to her. Remembered every tried and true thing that she liked, how to slide his finger into her and extract the perfect, drawn-out orgasm. It was all he could think about as she pinched her knees around his hips and legs, as he cinched his arms around her to anchor her down upon his stiffened cock, thick with need.
“What do you want from me, babe?” he asked, his voice gravelly and rough and breathy as he pulled upon her, as her fingers pressed into him, holding him. “How far we going? You know I don’t have an off switch with you, Sky, and I need to grab a—”
She surfaced swiftly for air and yanked back with a dazed, surprised inhale, almost as if frightened. Her eyes were wild and crystalline in the rising moonlight, the sun long gone. How long had this heavy petting been going on? Shit, he didn’t want this moment to end. Didn’t want to lose this connection. His brow furrowed. He brushed back her flyaway wisps. She’d pulled back from him in the clinic, too.
Her cell phone buzzed.
“I need to get that,” she said, almost as if it were an excuse, and his head dropped back on the glass in frustration as she scrambled off his lap to pull her phone out of her bag.
What did these little flinches mean? He’d vowed to proceed with a little caution, and already, they’d both thrown caution to the wind like children blowing dandelion seeds.
The cell screen glowed stark blue light upon her face, marring her periphery in distorted shadows as she checked her messages—