By Honor Bound

by Denise A Agnew, Kate Hill, Arianna Hart

  The way he felt now, he could fuck her all night.

  Blayne’s tired bones should have warned him off, but he knew he’d feel one hundred times better if he could slide deep into Jemma’s hot, wet center and find oblivion from intrusive thoughts and dreams.

  He must have her.

  Deep in Jemma’s belly, a new pulse began, demanded they finish what they’d started. His tongue parted and plunged, thrusting deep into her mouth. She moaned as he invaded with the demanding rasp of his tongue against hers. Each blatantly sexual movement drove her higher, her craving for him growing by the second. She responded, tangling her tongue with his until he groaned against her lips. She gasped as he started a dance, a rhythm sweeping her into fairytale lands and silk-spun visions of naked bodies writhing on satin sheets. Her fingers plunged into his hair to feel the silken strands, and he groaned against her lips as she caressed him. No, no doubt about it now. He wanted her with a passion asking for nothing less than total surrender.

  In a sensual haze, she barely felt his hands under her sweater and opening her bra. Then he cupped her, testing her small rib cage. She writhed against him a little, but he was unrelenting. His tongue tortured as he pumped and stroked in her mouth, the rhythm so much like sex. She clenched her vaginal muscles as the pleasure gathered strength.

  He broke the kiss and worked his way to her ear, his tiny nips along her jaw making her shiver with delight. She caressed his shoulders, wanting more. Seconds expanded into infinite minutes as his tongue stroked over her sensitive earlobe and she gasped in pleasure.

  Tears of total happiness burned her eyes as he nibbled on her ear, then stuck his tongue inside.

  Oh, God. I can’t stand this. It’s too good.

  Her hips undulated, demanding he give her what she needed. His lips brushed down her throat, bathing her skin with licks and kisses. When he found her lips again she kissed him with voracious hunger. Taking the initiative, she swept her tongue over his lips and he opened to her hungrily. A soft growl left his throat and he twisted his mouth over hers, taking her tongue deep into his mouth.

  With gentle, loving caresses he touched the sides of her breasts and she gasped in delight. He broke their kiss, and when she dared look into his eyes, she saw everything she wanted and more.

  Blazing with sexual need, his dark gaze devoured her. He slid her sweater upward. Almost as if he feared hurting her, he cupped each breast and molded her in the hot embrace of his palms. She shivered as pleasure shot through her nipples, hardening them into almost painfully aroused beads.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He backed her toward the couch, then with a swoop of his arms, he picked her up. Startled but pleased, she waited to see what he’d do. She smiled in delight and his sensual grin sparkled in his eyes. He sat down on the couch with her in his arms, then tipped her onto her back. Leaning over her, he pushed up her sweater and his fingers rasped gently over one nipple. She moaned as the feather light caress drove her into mindlessness. She closed her eyes, little moans of startled pleasure leaving her throat.

  His mouth came down on hers and Blayne kissed her deeply. He clasped her nipples and plucked them, a steady tempo matching the stroke of his tongue in her mouth. Shivering in startled amazement, she enjoyed his seduction. Soon the pace overtook any thoughts but his fingers tormenting her breasts and his mouth weaving a heady desire she could never escape.

  Jemma tore her mouth from his and gasped. “Blayne.”

  As he plucked and stroked one nipple, he tortured the other with long licks and gentle sucks. She writhed under his ministrations. He cupped both breasts in his big hands and held them prisoner as he tweaked and stroked, suckled and laved with hot attention.

  She groaned, the dampness and heat deep inside her growing too desperate craving. She dared look down at his dark head. Shoving her fingers into his hair, she kneaded his scalp as he treated each nipple to relentless attention.

  Surely they’d reached the point of no return.

  The phone rang.

  Instantly he released her, his breath heaving in and out of his lungs as he stared at her. “Damn.”

  Whether he cursed because they’d been interrupted or cursed because they’d been making out, she didn’t know.

  Again the phone rang. Twice. Three times. The answering machine started to pick it up. He disentangled himself and lunged for the cordless phone on the breakfast bar. Halfway mortified that she’d been lying on his couch, she stood and walked to the breakfast bar, too.

  Blayne barked a reply into the phone, his clipped voice sounded mighty pissed at the interruption.

  Weak-kneed, she sank down on a stool and stared at him. Then she clipped her bra back together and pulled down her sweater. Her fingers trembled.

  He jammed his fingers through his short hair, scrubbing as if the motion might wake him from a daze.

  Oh, my God. I’ve just made out with Major Forbes. I was ready to strip off my panties, part my legs and let him have me right here. Right now.

  A smile parted her lips.

  Oh, yeah.

  “Graham.” Blayne’s voice sounded rough-edged and deep, and Jemma liked the idea she’d created that rich note in his tone. “Yeah, how’s it goin’? I stopped by your office around lunch. How did you know I was back in town?”

  The pause as he listened gave her a chance to think. Did she want overprotective big brother Graham to know she was here?

  Get a hold of yourself. You’re a grown woman, for pity’s sake. If you want to screw the entire United States Army that’s your business, not your big brother’s.

  She winced at the thought. She wasn’t a slut puppy, although part of her felt wanton beyond control. The burning attraction she felt for Blayne didn’t consist of only lust, but feelings she couldn’t comprehend. In any case, the situation propelled her into dangerous waters. If she touched him again she knew she wouldn’t turn back.

  Seconds later Blayne glanced at her, and the way his gaze surveyed her body said the desire hadn’t worn off. “Don’t worry about her Graham. She’s safe.” A shit-eating grin covered his mouth as he laughed. “Because she’s right here with me. Look, I’ll talk to you later. Maybe in a couple of days we could get together for that beer. Yeah, there’s something I need to tell you. Here’s your little sister.”

  She shook her head, panic taking hold. Her hand automatically took the phone and she was forced to talk to her brother. “Hey, Graham.”

  “Is there something you should be telling me?” Graham asked, his voice tight.

  Oh, great. Is this where he starts twenty-questioning me?

  “Nice to speak with you, too.” She looked around the room. No sign of Blayne. “How’s the snow at Fort Carson?”

  “Piling up. What about at Blayne’s apartment?”

  She glanced outside. “Snowing harder than it was an hour ago.”

  A sigh echoed from him. “You shouldn’t go out in this. Then again I’m not sure it’s safe for you there either.”

  “What? Why isn’t it safe?” The line clicked off. “Hello? Hello?”

  The phone was dead, no dial tone. She hung up, then lifted the receiver again. Nothing. Great.

  “That would be my question.” She jumped at the sound of Blayne’s deep voice. “What’s not safe?”

  Did she really want the truth? “Well, I suppose he could be talking about the weather, but I got the impression that isn’t what he meant.”

  With a wry grin he moved closer to her. “What do you think he meant?”

  “Maybe he sees me as the little sister who needs protecting. Big brother instinct, you know.”

  His grin made her heartbeat accelerate. “Did he hang up on you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. The line is dead.”

  “Damn. Well, I guess even if he wanted to scold you about being stuck here with me, he can’t now. At least not for a little while.”

  He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She almost whimpere
d. Then he leaned in and captured her lips quickly. He didn’t linger, but did a hit and run. Her heartbeat increased, excitement at having him near driving her toward something she didn’t know if she wanted.

  He turned away and headed down the hall to his bedroom. “Make yourself at home while I take a short nap. See ya in about twenty minutes.”

  * * * * *

  While Blayne slept, Jemma took time to check out his bachelor quarters. She realized she’d received the wrong impression when she’d first walked inside. She strolled to the fireplace mantel and looked at framed photographs that sat there.

  One of the five-by-seven photographs showed a night she remembered well. Blayne wore military dress blues and stood next to her and Graham.

  The Christmas military ball from a year ago.

  She smiled at the fond memories resurrecting in her mind. The party had almost turned into a bust for her; her date decided he’d rather dance with other women. Infuriated, she’d almost left. Blayne, who had arrived at the ball without a date, had graciously danced with her. She closed her eyes and recalled the two fast dances they’d shared. Free and happy, she’d experienced the exhilaration.

  Now she knew the attraction she’d felt for him all this time wasn’t one-sided. She touched her lips and sighed. She played it over again; his warm lips teasing, coaxing, seducing reactions from her she’d never imagined resided deep within her. Hunger. Need. Incredible passion.

  She perused other photos. A large eight-by-ten featured his mother and father.

  A fantasy played in her mind as she imagined standing beside him in a family portrait, a new addition to his photos.

  God, I need to take a step back. A few minutes to remember why I’m here.

  One kiss didn’t make a lifetime. It didn’t make one night.

  Of course, she’d done far more than kiss him. At the memory of his hands and mouth on her breasts, she quivered in renewed excitement. Nothing had prepared her for the desire, the craving to know him inside and out.

  Feeling a little nervous, she looked at the Life magazine on his coffee table, then she wandered to his bookshelves. Eclectic was his middle name. He owned copies of Shakespeare, Twain, and other classics. Alongside more conventional fare were mysteries, suspense and adventure novels. Michael Crichton looked like one of his favorites based on the number of titles on his shelf.

  Feeling thoroughly snoopy, she examined his DVD collection. Damned if he didn’t have quite a few of the same movies she did. After that she noted his music selections ranged from smooth jazz, hard rock and classical.

  She turned to the stereo equipment. Maybe if she played soft music she could get her mind off the way it had felt snuggled in his arms, and the way he’d made love to her mouth and breasts.

  Like many men, he owned an elaborate setup including a large television, radio, DVD player and CD player. The huge array of buttons on the equipment scared her. It would be her luck to push the wrong button and startle him straight out of his nap with a huge blast of sound.

  Nah. I can figure this out.

  After a couple of false starts she popped a CD into the player. Seconds later the mellow, soothing tones of jazz eased into the room. Relieved the music played softly, she sank into the easy chair and closed her eyes, a little weary. She sank into a hard sleep almost immediately.

  When Jemma awoke she realized the room had grown darker. Blurry-eyed, she glanced at her watch. Three o’clock. She sat bolt upright, her eyes wide as she realized she’d slept over an hour.

  She left the chair and tried the phone again. Still dead. Then she headed to the window. What she saw made her groan. Sure enough, the snow blew almost horizontal and the wind howled with furious persistence. Snow piled up against the wheels of cars in the parking lot.

  Great. At this rate she would be trapped for the night. While she shouldn’t be affected one way or the other, the thought of staying in his apartment overnight made her nervous and filled with anticipation at the same time. Right now she didn’t have an alternative.

  She heard a soft moan.

  Concerned, she headed down the hall. He’d partly closed the bedroom door, and when she eased it open, it didn’t make a sound. The shade over the single large window was closed, leaving the room in semi-darkness. She crept forward and looked down upon him. A sweet tenderness in her heart made her move nearer, a craving to help him weather storms, the ups and downs in life.

  What images did he see when he closed his eyes? Was his soul marred by the battles he’d fought, every combat zone permanently printed on his heart?

  She swallowed hard as she allowed her gaze to caress him. Did any man deserve to be so disgustingly hot?

  She’d imagined this moment, this delicious revelation in her dreams, in her night fantasies.

  Lying shirtless and spread-eagled on the bed, Blayne represented delicious in a strong, alpha man. Muscular and drawn in authoritative, intimidating lines, his body gave new meaning to the words heart-attack-hunk. In repose, his features softened slightly. But somehow he retained awareness, a spring-load quality that spelled danger. Each taut line and defined curve promised sheer supremacy. In dim light she could still see his rippling, defined muscles. Wide shoulders looked capable of taking on huge responsibility. He possessed powerfully built arms, and she loved how protected she’d felt with those bands of strength around her. Defined pectoral muscles were sprinkled with dark hair that trailed down to his washboard stomach and into his waistband. Her mouth almost watered.

  She sucked in a breath. Of course he owned a chest to-die-for. The man worked out and kept in shape. Mesmerized by the site of his chest moving up and down in sleep, she gave into voyeuristic enjoyment.

  He groaned and muttered, “Look out, Glabowsky! Don’t—”

  His hand reached out, then his brow wrinkled as if he felt pain. He clutched at his chest with one hand.

  Alarmed, she sat on the bed. She reached for his shoulder, pausing as she hesitated to touch his hard, masculine body. When she did touch his shoulder, his skin felt smooth over a rock-solid frame.

  “Blayne? It’s all right. Wake up.”

  He jerked, his eyes popping open, staring like a wild man. He grabbed her arm and yanked. She tumbled forward with a startled squeak. She tried to keep her balance, but fell onto the bed next to him in a heap. Sturdy arms wrapped around her waist.

  Plastered almost nose to nose with her, his fierce expression frightened her until his gaze cleared in recognition and his grip loosened. But he didn’t let her go. Instead he turned her onto her back and his legs twined with hers. Her head was cradled on his arm while the other hand slipped down her arm and cupped her waist. One of his solid thighs wedged between her legs and pressed upward. She gasped as her clit responded to the wicked pleasure, and she arched against him instinctively.

  Oh, man, he felt fantastic. Every inch of his big body pressed into hers. Lying half under him should have panicked her, but instead she reveled in the thrill. Heat radiated from his skin and his intoxicating male musk delighted. His breath touched her lips.

  He scowled. “Damn it, Jemma, don’t sneak up on me like that. Did I hurt you?”

  Shaky, she said, “No, but all I was trying to do was wake you up. You were having a nightmare.”

  Easing his frown, he asked, “A nightmare?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  He sighed and nodded. A shiver racked his body. “Only too well.”

  “Want to tell me what it’s about?”

  Although darkness encroached on the room, she could see the intent in his eyes, the recognition of her body cradled alongside his. “God, Sweets, you feel so good under me.” The hand cupping her waist slipped down, down over her hip, then wandered down to caress her thigh. “This is all I want to talk about.” He reached up to stroke her face with his palm, the touch so exquisite and gentle she shivered with sweet, hot needs. “Not war and nightmares. And me doing something I should have done out in the living room an hour ago. He
ll, I should have done it two years ago.”

  Anticipation spread like lightning in her veins. “What should you have done two years ago?”

  “I should have kissed you. I should have told you how attracted I was to you. We could have been in bed a lot sooner.”

  Amazed and so turned on she couldn’t speak, she knew what happened between them now would be up to her. If she said no, he would stop, but if she allowed him to kiss her once, Jemma knew she couldn’t resist.

  His thumb ran over her lips, and the brush against her sensitive skin made her writhe with the barest of movements. “Speak to me, Jemma. Tell me what you want. When I kissed you earlier I was worried I frightened you.”

  Total honesty meant telling him she wanted down and dirty sex. So, for once in her life, she would be candid to the quick, even if he rejected her. Even if he left on his next assignment and didn’t return. She would have this moment, this night.

  Desperate, she palmed his face and enjoyed the prickly rasp of his stubble against her fingers. “I want you.”

  Fire leapt into his eyes. “The first time will be fast. I’m aching so bad I don’t think I could last long.”

  “I want you hard and fast and deep.”

  With a wicked, hungry grin that said he liked what he’d heard, Blayne laughed softly. “Sweets, I never realized what a reckless woman you are.”

  Only for you.

  His mouth came down on hers, hungry as his tongue plunged deep and started a cadence that spelled Fuck with capital letter. She knew by his kiss, by the way his hands touched her, that he was right. Their first time wouldn’t be tender, wouldn’t be an agonizingly long lovemaking session. No, this would be raw, primitive fucking.

  Heat built inside her, starting a chain reaction of physical sensations she couldn’t control. Her breasts felt tender, the nipples extra sensitive. Her lower body seemed permanently on fire, heat and dampness igniting between her legs. He shifted and she felt his erection hard and long against her thigh.