by Cindy Dees
And getting to do it with Tessa? Well, that was a bonus. He should have guessed she would be some sort of martial arts expert. Cripes, it had been hot to turn around and see her making mincemeat of the bullies who’d tormented him as a kid.
As much as he hated to admit it, she was absolutely cut out for the Medusas. The very fact that she’d come out of the Kimball fight jacked up and ready for more proved the point. Hell, she’d even reacted like an operator by getting wildly turned on after the fight.
Dammit, he almost missed another turn. He swung into a narrow channel, banking up so hard he was looking almost straight down at water from his seat.
Focus, you idiot.
His post-mission adrenaline rush gradually calmed to semihuman proportions, until Tessa was no longer in danger of him blindly taking her up on her unspoken offer of mindless, blow-off-steam sex. Well, not grave danger.
He slowed the boat and eased into the perpetual gloom of the true bayou beneath towering stands of cypress. Spanish moss hung everywhere, and the tannin from the plentiful oaks turned the water as black as crude oil. This was the swamp primordial that people thought about when they heard the word bayou. Even though he’d grown up here, it was still creepy. He just knew his way around in it.
Now that the engine noise was not too loud to be heard over, he asked Tessa, “Where did you learn to fight like that? If I’d known you were a killing machine, I’d have left all of them for you to take down.”
“I got into martial arts as an after-school thing to stay off the street. I kept it up through high school and college. Helped me work out my anger issues. And I did try to tell you.”
Beau cut the engine completely and the boat drifted to the dock that appeared out of the gloom. He jumped ashore and Tessa tossed him the lines. After tying off the boat, Beau automatically offered her a hand to help her disembark.
She laid her hand in his, and lightning might as well have struck him. Rocked to his core, he concentrated on the strength of her grip. What would that feel like around his—
Dammit! He had to find a way to resist her!
He helped her to the dock and she surprised him by not releasing his hand. “Thanks for letting me help you with the Kimballs.”
“Thanks for having my back,” he replied roughly.
They stared into each other’s eyes, and it was all there. The overpowering attraction. The knee-buckling lust. The intense connection. And on top of it, a healthy dose of adrenaline still thrummed through his blood.
Need to make this woman his, to make smoking-hot love with her, roared through him.
Tessa looked up at him sidelong. Her eyes burned like molten lava and were fully as turbulent. His gaze raked down her body possessively, visually stripping off her clothes. She took a wobbly breath and swayed forward.
How was he supposed to keep his hands off her when she crackled with all this pent-up desire? He was supposed to have supreme self-control. Hell, they both were. But this...this was bigger than he was, crushing his will in its path.
So much for weeks of setting all of this turbulent heat between them aside and pretending like they weren’t totally into each other.
He ground out, “I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried everything. But it’s not working.”
“Then don’t try.” She laid her palms on his chest, and something primitive inside him twisted hungrily. It felt like a sleeping dragon coming to life in his gut, roaring for his mate.
He put his hands on her waist with the intent to set her away from him. But instead, his hands urged her hips forward. Not that he had to urge very hard.
She groaned under her breath. Cripes. She might as well have thrown back her head and let out a mating call to the dragon inside him.
He stared at her, the crazy sexual charge between them snapping and crackling like a static buildup on the verge of exploding. A promise of epic sex hung right there, stealing all the oxygen from the air and making him light-headed.
“So...what do you want to do about this? About us?” he asked roughly. He sure as hell knew how he would answer that question, but he was not going to fall on her like the beast he apparently was.
Teeth clenched, he hung on to his sanity. Barely.
* * *
Tessa stared up at Beau. His eyes were black, his nostrils flared, the muscles in his jaw rippling. Desire rolled off him, almost violent in its intensity.
She’d never had a man like him want her like this. It was...intoxicating.
What did she want to do about their lust-inspired race toward mutual self-assured destruction?
As if she had any answer at all but “bring it on.” Crud. He might have pushed the brake handle to this runaway train at her, but it wasn’t like she had any wish whatsoever to pull it. She didn’t even know if they could stop what was happening between them at this point, let alone if she wanted to stop it.
Which she didn’t. At all.
Which was insane.
But there she had it. She’d officially lost her mind.
And it was kind of amazing.
It was as if two versions of her were at war inside her head. The rational, logical version of her shouted that this was madness. A terrible, disastrous idea that would ruin their careers and lives.
But the other version of her purred with satisfaction. They were finally going to have raucous, raw, mind-blowing sex, and it was going to be everything she’d ever fantasized about and more.
“We shouldn’t,” she managed to choke out.
“No doubt.” He inched closer, and the last of the smile faded from his eyes, replaced by intensity that was literally breath-stealing.
“But I can’t stop wanting it. Wanting you...” she confessed.
“Me, neither,” he agreed, leaning in.
“It’s career suicide,” she tried desperately, her resolve crumbling with every millimeter closer he came. “We can’t have a relationship...feelings...”
“No relationship then,” he ground out. “No feelings.”
“Right,” she breathed. “Just sex.”
His mouth closed on hers and she all but sobbed with relief. He dragged her up against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him to her, as well. They clashed in a kiss of carnal hunger that erased all remaining rational thought from her mind. His tongue swirled around hers; he bit her lip and she bit back. She tugged at his hair, pulling him even deeper into the kiss. She wanted him down her throat.
His hands plunged inside her clothes and were hot against her skin.
Oh, yes.
All the adrenaline screaming through her system released, morphing into desire so intense she actually saw a red haze behind her eyelids.
He pulled on her ponytail not quite painfully, exposing her neck to him. “Welcome to post-mission sex,” he mumbled against her skin.
The peaks of her breasts rubbed against his chest through the thin cotton layers of their T-shirts and her bra, and she moaned aloud. She arched her chest into him intentionally, rubbing her pebble-hard nipples back and forth against him.
“I’ve wanted this since the moment I first saw you,” he muttered, kissing his way across her jaw. “Something fierce.” He claimed her mouth again, devouring her ravenously.
Experiencing the same raging hunger, she wrapped her arms around his neck, plastering her entire body against his. Between hot, wet, tongue-tangling kisses, she panted, “I’ve wanted you so bad. I keep dreaming about you. About having hot, gnarly sex with you.”
“You, too?” He released her momentarily and she nearly growled aloud in frustration. He stepped onto the boat but returned immediately. He tossed a thick blanket down on the dock and then tugged her down with him to kneel on it.
He tightened his arms roughly around her and twisted, carrying her down to the dock. He pinned her thighs with his lar
ger, more muscular ones, and he leaned his considerable weight into his hands, which gripped her shoulders.
Never, ever, had a lover been able to overpower her like this. And from another man, it would have scared her to death. But from Beau—it was exhilarating.
He lowered his big body by slow degrees until he was deliciously crushing her, and she sighed in bliss at the weight of him. “You okay?” he checked in.
“Getting better by the minute,” she answered.
She loved that he was bigger and heavier than she was. It made her feel small and feminine, both of which were novel sensations. He shifted his elbows to either side of her head, and her hands skimmed down his back, reveling in the taut flex of muscles and the barely leashed desire emanating from him.
He was voracious, and she met him halfway, inhaling him as hungrily as he was inhaling her. He lifted his body to fumble at their pants and to shove the clothing down around their ankles. She kicked one leg free and laughed as he did the same impatiently.
“This is a mistake,” he ground out as he positioned himself between her thighs. His arms tensed as he held himself over her, veins bulging and muscles tight. Good grief, he was a sight to see. A warrior in his prime, all male and about to be all hers.
“No doubt it’s a mistake,” she echoed.
“We ought to stop. But I’m not sure I can.”
“Me, neither,” she replied breathlessly.
Understanding passed through his hooded gaze. They couldn’t go on like they had been, circling each other and snarling like a pair of hungry bears. Something had to give. And this was it.
“Nobody can ever know,” he mumbled. “This has to stay between us.”
She tugged his head down to his and captured his mouth with hers. “My lips are sealed. Well, maybe not sealed...”
A gust of laughter escaped him. His hand swept down the bare flesh of her stomach and then lower. His fingers stroked between her feminine folds and she jolted hard against him. Even his slightest touch made wild pleasure rip through her. He did it again, and she gasped, bucking hard against his hand. Impatience tore through her. She wanted him inside her so bad she could hardly stand it.
“Do you need me to show you what comes next?” she gritted out.
He grinned against her mouth. “Nah, I got it. Anyone ever tell you you’re a pushy female, Wilkes?”
“Maybe. But you love it,” she retorted. “Admit it.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Still no action yet, Lambert. You sure you don’t need some pointers?”
More laughter. “God almighty, woman. It’s a good thing I have fantastic self-esteem, or you’d be stealing my mojo.”
“If you don’t mo my jo—like, right now—I’m gonna have to take over this show.”
His eyes glinting with laughter, and something darker and sexier that stole her breath away, he positioned himself.
“Any day now—” She broke off as he pressed into her, filling her so full she thought she might burst. “Ahh, yes.”
He withdrew a little and pressed home again, a little more forcefully this time. She shuddered with delight and already an orgasm clawed at her, trying to break free.
“Where’s the big talk now, Wilkes?”
“More,” she demanded.
“As the lady wishes.” He crashed into her this time, setting up a rhythm that practically made her eyes roll back into her head with pleasure. He didn’t hold back any of his formidable strength. But then, neither did she. Her hips surged up against his, and she met him stroke for stroke. Her heels dug into his cheeks, urging him onward.
She’d never experienced anything remotely like this. Beau didn’t treat her like she was fragile or breakable. He was demanding but not obnoxious, generous with his body while taking freely of the pleasures of hers. And he knew. Just. Where. To. Go.
He kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth in time with their lovemaking. The combination was incendiary. She groaned, and then moaned, and then she screamed into his mouth as pleasure tore her to shreds.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured. “That’s how I like my women. Shouting incoherently.”
“You’ll shout for me, too,” she gasped back, her internal muscles clenching him, daring him not to be as loud as she was.
Her boneless languor transformed once again into taut, torturous pleasure pulsing through her until all she could do was ride the waves of ecstasy. A second orgasm, and a third, ripped through her.
And still he drove into her. Her body gathered itself for yet another explosive release. And then, inexplicably, he stopped. She groaned and reached down to urge him on.
“So impatient,” he chided.
“So slow on the uptake,” she retorted. “I want more.”
“We’re agreed then, that I do know what I’m doing?”
“Sure. Fine. You know. Just don’t stop.”
Laughter shook his chest, and he resumed moving inside her. But this time he picked up the pace, stroking faster and faster until she was a continuous, gelatinous mass of orgasmic bliss. She arched up into him, crying out again and again as he stoked the fire in her to unbearable heat.
She clung to his hips with her legs, and her hands roamed up and down his back. Everywhere she touched him, he was muscle and sweat and restless movement. She reveled in his power and flung her entire being at him with no fear of hurting him. It was liberating and utterly amazing.
Not that she could have held back if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. She cried out against the hollow of his neck, shuddering in ecstasy. He was making her whole from the soul out, and she never wanted it to end.
“You make me crazy,” he gritted out from between clenched teeth. “I totally lose control around you.”
“Perfect,” she panted back. “I hate self-control.”
“I noticed.”
“Don’t hold out on me. Take me over the edge with you.”
He moved again, and the glide of slick, hot steel within her made her positively delirious.
“You’re perfect,” he gasped. His entire body arched into her, pressing her down into the hard dock, and she didn’t care at all. It was glorious. She adored the wildness, loved the fact that she could pull this passion from him.
He stared down at her, his eyes glazed with pleasure. But he clearly saw her. He stared straight into her eyes, stripping her bare and laying her soul wide open. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away as a terrible tension built between them, higher, and yet higher.
Finally, with an entirely gratifying shout, he capitulated. His body spasmed violently against hers and she met him thrust for frantic thrust as epic orgasms tore free of their straining bodies and soared, taking them along for the ride.
They crashed back to reality in a tangle of sweaty limbs, panting breath, heaving chests and incredulous smiles that had no need of words.
She stared up at him in amazement, while he stared down at her in something akin to awe. After what felt like a long time, she finally was able to string words together. “That was even better than my dreams.”
He just shook his head.
“What? You don’t agree? Please tell me that’s not average in your world.”
He laughed shortly. “Honey, that would be mind-blowing in any man’s world. That was the gold medal standard of sex.”
A smile unfolded across her face as relief unfolded inside her chest. “Really?”
“I would not joke about something like that,” he said with a touch of reverence in his voice.
She smiled at him, and her heart sang when he smiled back at her. “Please promise me something, Beau.”
He rolled onto his back and took her with him, drawing her across his chest with an arm casually around her shoulders. He was infinitely more comfortable to lie on than the hard dock. “
What’s that?” he murmured.
“Don’t retreat into your emotional fortress of solitude again. If you need me to back off, just say so. I’ll give you whatever space you need.”
“Aww, Tessa. It’s not you. It’s my head that’s messed up.”
“How’s that?” She would dearly love to press up onto her elbows and look at him, but she was leery of such direct contact with him. Better to stay where she was and keep the conversational tone light. Nonthreatening.
“I’m not ready to quit Spec Ops. But I don’t know if I can get my knee back into good enough shape. It—” He exhaled hard before continuing. “It scares the hell out of me.”
Holy cow. He was actually talking about his feelings with her.
She said carefully, “You handled yourself well in the grocery store. Your knee seems to have come out of that just fine.” And it had held up through some highly athletic sex.
He shrugged beneath her ear. “The Kimballs are amateurs. I was able to use my hands to drop them. No strain on my knee. As a test, they don’t count.”
Just like this sex didn’t count. By mutual agreement, this meant nothing. It was a physical release. Nothing more. Keep the conversation neutral. Nonthreatening. She cast about for something innocuous to say.
“What about you shifting to being a sniper specialist?” she suggested. “Those guys don’t usually engage the enemy up close. And you’re a heck of a shot.” And a heck of a lover. How was she supposed to walk away from what they’d just shared and never do that again?
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “My knee would still have to hold up for ingresses and egresses. And I might not be any good at it.”
As if he wouldn’t be spectacular at anything he put his mind to. Hah. “I’ve seen you shoot, Beau. I don’t think you’d have any trouble extending your effective range to sniper distances. We could work on it together. I need the long-range practice, too.” Anything to maintain this temporary truce between us, where he is treating me like a human being and, furthermore, like a woman.
