Frisco's Kid

by Suzanne Brockmann

  She couldn’t give him the power to become a SEAL again. But if she could have, she would.

  She leaned forward and kissed him. It was a light kiss, just a gentle brushing of her lips against his.

  Frisco didn’t move. He didn’t respond. She leaned forward to kiss him again, and he stopped her with one hand against her shoulder.

  She was kneeling next to him on the couch, and he looked down at her legs, at the soft cotton of her nightgown revealed by her unzipped sweatshirt and finally into her eyes. “You’re playing with fire,” he said quietly. “There may be an awful lot of things that I can’t do anymore, but making love to a beautiful woman isn’t one of them.”

  “Maybe we should start a new list. Things you can still do. You could put ‘making love’ right on the top.”

  “Mia, you better go—”

  She kissed him again, and again he pulled back.

  “Dammit, you told me—”

  She kissed him harder this time, slipping her arms up around his neck and parting his lips with her tongue. He froze, and she knew that he hadn’t expected her to be so bold—not in a million years.

  His hesitation lasted only the briefest of moments before he pulled her close, before he wrapped her in his arms and nearly crushed her against the hard muscles of his chest.

  And then he was kissing her, too.

  Wildly, fiercely, he was kissing her, his hot mouth gaining possession of hers, his tongue claiming hers with a breathtaking urgency.

  It didn’t seem possible. She had only kissed him once before, on the beach, yet his mouth tasted sweetly familiar and kissing him was like coming home.

  Mia felt his hands on her back, sweeping up underneath her sweatshirt and down to the curve of her bottom, pulling her closer, seeking the smooth bareness of her legs. He shifted her weight toward him, pulling her over and on top of him, so that she was straddling his lap as still they kissed.

  Her fingers were deep in his hair. It was incredibly, decadently soft. She would have liked to spend the entire rest of her life right there, kissing Alan Francisco and running her hands through his beautiful golden hair. It was all she needed, all she would ever need.

  And then he shifted his hips and she felt the hardness of his arousal pressing up against her and she knew she was wrong. She both needed and wanted more.

  He pulled at her sweatshirt, pushing it off her shoulders and down her arms. He tugged her nightgown free from the top of her shorts, and she heard herself moan as his work-roughened hands glided up and across the bare skin of her back. And then he pulled away from her, breathing hard.

  “Mia.” His lean, handsome face was taut with frustration. “I want to pick you up and take you to my bed.” But he couldn’t. He couldn’t carry her. Not on crutches, not even with a cane.

  This was not the time for him to be thinking about things he couldn’t do. Mia climbed off of him, slipping out of his grasp. “Why don’t we synchronize watches and plan to rendezvous there in, say…” She pretended to look at an imaginary watch on her wrist. “Oh two minutes?”

  His face relaxed into a smile, but the tension didn’t leave his eyes. “You don’t need to say ‘oh.’ You could say 0430, but two minutes is just two minutes.”

  “I know that,” Mia said. “I just wanted to make you smile. If that hadn’t worked, I would have tried this….” She slowly pulled her nightgown up and over her head, dropping it down into his lap.

  But Frisco’s smile disappeared. He looked up at her, his gaze devouring her bare breasts, heat and hunger in his eyes.

  Mia was amazed. She was standing half-naked in front of this man that she had only known for a handful of days. He was a soldier, a fighter who had been trained to make war in more ways than she could probably imagine. He was the toughest, hardest man she’d ever met, yet in many ways he was also the most vulnerable. He’d trusted her enough to share some of his secrets with her, to let her see into his soul. In comparison, revealing her body to him seemed almost insignificant.

  And she could stand here like this, she realized, without a blush and with such certainty, because she was absolutely convinced that loving this man was the right thing to do. She’d never made love to a man before without a sense of unease, without being troubled by doubts. But she’d never met a man like Alan Francisco—a man who seemed so different from her, yet who could look into her eyes, and with just a word or a touch, make her feel so totally connected to him, so instantly in tune.

  Mia had never considered herself an exhibitionist before, but then again, no one had ever looked at her the way Frisco did. She felt her body tighten with anticipation under the scalding heat of his gaze. It was seductive, the way he looked at her—and nearly as pleasurable as a caress.

  She reached up, slowly and deliberately, taking her time as she unfastened her ponytail, letting him watch her as she loosened her long hair around her shoulders, enjoying the sensation of his eyes on her body.

  “You’re not smiling,” she whispered.

  “Believe me, I’m smiling inside.”

  And then he did smile. It was half crooked and half sad. It was filled with doubt and disbelief, laced with wonder and anticipation. As she gazed into his eyes, Mia could see the first glimmer of hope. And she felt herself falling. She knew in that single instant that she was falling hopelessly and totally in love with this man.

  Afraid he’d see her feelings in her eyes, she picked up her sweatshirt from the floor and turned, moving quickly down the hall to his bedroom. To his bed.

  Frisco wasn’t far behind, but she heard him stop at Natasha’s room and go inside to check on the little girl.

  “Is she all right?” she asked, as he came in a few moments later. He closed the door behind him. And locked it.

  He stood there, a dark shape at the far end of the room. “She’s much cooler now,” he said.

  Mia crossed to the window and adjusted the blinds slightly, allowing them both privacy and some light. The dim light from the landing streamed up in a striped pattern across the ceiling, giving the ordinary room an exotic glow. She turned back to find Frisco watching her.

  “Do you have protection?” she asked.

  “Yes. It’s been a while,” he admitted, “but…yes.”

  “It’s been a while for me, too,” she said softly.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind.” He moved away from the door, allowing her clear access to make an escape. He looked away, as if he knew that his gaze had the power to imprison her.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  He gave her another of his sad smiles. “A sudden burst of sanity?” he suggested.

  “I want to make love to you,” she said. “Is that really so insane?”

  He looked up at her. “You could have your choice of anyone. Anyone you want.” There was no self-pity in his voice or on his face. He was merely stating a fact that he believed was true.

  “Good,” she said. “Then I’ll choose you.”

  Frisco heard her soft words, but it wasn’t until she smiled and moved toward him that they fully sank in.

  Mia wanted him. She wanted him.

  The light from the outside walkway gleamed on her bare skin. Her body was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her breasts were full and round—not too big, but not too small, either. He ached to touch her with his hands, with his mouth, and he smiled, knowing he was going to do just that, and soon.

  But she stopped just out of his reach.

  Holding his gaze, she unfastened her shorts and let them glide down her legs.

  He’d seen her in her bathing suit just that afternoon—he was well aware that her trim, athletic body was the closest thing to his idea of perfection he’d ever seen. She wasn’t voluptuous by any definition of the word—in fact, some men might’ve found her too skinny. Her hips were slender, curving in to the softness of her waist. She was willowy and gracefully shaped, a wonderful combination of smooth muscles and soft, flowing lines.

 
Frisco sat down on the edge of the bed and she turned toward him. He reached for her and she went willingly into his arms, once again straddling his lap.

  “I think this is where we were,” she murmured and kissed him.

  Frisco spun, caught in a vortex of pleasure so intense, he couldn’t keep from groaning aloud. Her skin was so smooth, so soft beneath his hands, and her kisses were near spiritual experiences, each one deeper and longer than the last, infusing him with her joyful vitality and sweet, limitless passion.

  She tugged at his T-shirt, and he broke free from their embrace to yank it up and over his head. And then she was kissing him again, and the sensation of her bare skin against his took his breath away.

  He tumbled her back with him onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him, slipping his hand between them to touch the sweet fullness of her breasts. Her nipples were taut and erect with desire and he pulled her to his mouth, laving her with his tongue, suckling first gently then harder as she gasped her pleasure, as she arched her back.

  “I like that,” she breathed. “That feels so good….”

  Her whispered words sent a searing flame of need through him and he pulled her even closer.

  His movement pressed her intimately, perfectly against his arousal and she held him there tightly for a moment. He could feel her heat, even through her panties and his shorts. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to fill her completely. He wanted her all. He wanted her now. He wanted her forever, for all time.

  Her hair surrounded them like a sensuous, sheer, black curtain as he kissed her again, as she began to move on top of him, slowly sliding against the hard length of him. Oh, man, if she kept this up, he was going to lose it before he even got inside of her.

  “Mia—” he groaned, his hands on her hips, stilling her movement.

  She pulled back to look down at him, her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure and desire, a heart-stoppingly sexy smile curving her lips. Flipping her long hair back over one shoulder, she reached for the button at the waistband of his shorts. She undid it quickly, deftly, then slid back, kneeling over his thighs to unfasten the zipper.

  His arousal pressed up, released from his shorts, and she covered him with her delicate hands, gazing down into his eyes, touching him through his briefs.

  She looked like some kind of extremely erotic fantasy kneeling above him, wearing those barely-there panties, the white silk contrasting perfectly with the gleaming golden color of her smooth skin. Her long, thick hair fell around her shoulders, several strands curving around her beautiful breasts.

  Frisco reached for her, wanting to touch all of her, running his hands down her arms, caressing her breasts.

  She pulled his shorts and his briefs down, watching his eyes and smiling at the pleasure on his face as her hands finally closed around him, closing her eyes in her own ecstasy as his hand tightened on her breast.

  She leaned forward and met his lips in a hard, wild kiss, then pulled away, leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth, down his neck, to his chest, as with one hand she still held him possessively.

  Her hair swept across him in the lightest of caresses and Frisco bit back a cry as her mouth moved even lower, as he nearly suffocated in a wave of exquisite, mind-numbing pleasure.

  This was incredible. This was beyond incredible, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He reached for her, roughly pulling her up and into his arms.

  “Didn’t you like that?” She was laughing—she knew damn well that he’d liked it. She knew damn well that she’d come much too close to pushing him over the edge.

  He tried to speak, but his voice came out as only a growl. She laughed again, her voice musical, her amusement contagious. He covered her mouth in the fiercest of kisses, and he could feel laughter and sheer joy bubbling up from inside of her and seeping into him, flowing through his veins, filling him with happiness.

  Happiness. Dear God, when was the last time he’d felt happy? It was odd, it was weird, it was beyond weird, because even remembering back to when he had been happy, before his injury, he had never associated that particular emotion with making love. He’d felt desire, he’d felt sexual satisfaction, he’d felt interested, amused, in control or even out of control. He’d felt confident, self-assured and powerful.

  But he’d never felt so unconditionally, so inarguably happy. He had never felt anything remotely like this.

  He’d also never made love to a woman who was, without a doubt, his perfect sexual match.

  Mia was openly, unabashedly sexy and unembarrassed by her powerful sensuality. She was unafraid to take the lead in their lovemaking. She was confident and daringly fearless and bold.

  If it hadn’t been for that glimpse she’d given him in the hospital lobby of her sensual side, he never would have expected it. She was so sweet natured, so gentle and kind. She was nice. She was the kind of woman a man would marry, content to spend the rest of his life surrounded by her quiet warmth.

  But Mia didn’t carry her quietness with her into the bedroom. And she wasn’t warm—she was incredibly, scaldingly, moltenly hot.

  His hands swept down the smooth expanse of her stomach, down underneath the slip of silk that covered her. She was hot and sleek and ready for him, just as he’d known she would be. She arched up against his fingers, pushing him deeply inside of her, pulling his head toward her and guiding his mouth to her breast.

  “I want to get on top of you,” she gasped. “Please—”

  It was an incredible turn-on—knowing this fiercely passionate woman wanted him so completely.

  He released her, rolling onto his side to reach into the top drawer of his bedside table. He rifled through the clutter, and miraculously his hand closed on a small foil packet. He tore it open and covered himself as Mia pushed down her panties and kicked her legs free. And then she was on top of him.

  She came down, and he thrust up, and in one smooth, perfect, white-hot movement, he was inside of her.

  The look on her face was one he knew he’d remember and carry with him to his grave. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her head thrown back in sheer, beautiful rapture.

  He was making her feel this way.

  She opened her eyes and gazed down at him, searching his face for God knew what. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to have found it, because she smiled at him so sweetly. Frisco felt as if his heart were suddenly too large to fit inside of his chest.

  She began to move on top of him, slowly at first. Her smile faded, but still she looked into his eyes, holding his gaze.

  “Alan…?”

  He wasn’t sure he could speak, but he moistened his lips and gave it a try. “Yeah…?”

  “This is really good.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He had to laugh. It came bubbling up from somewhere inside of him, and he recognized his laughter as belonging to her.

  She was moving faster now and he tried to slow her down. He wanted this to last forever, but at the rate they were going…But she didn’t want to slow down, and he could refuse her nothing.

  He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her frantically, fighting for his tenuous control. But he was clinging to the side of a cliff, and his fingerhold was slipping fast.

  “Alan…” She gasped his name as she clutched him tightly, and he felt the first waves of her tumultuous release.

  Frisco went over the edge. But instead of falling, he sailed upward, soaring impossibly high, higher than he’d ever gone before. Pleasure rocketed through him, burning him, scorching him, leaving him weak and stunned, shattered and depleted—yet still filled, completely and thoroughly, with happiness.

  Mia’s long, soft hair was in his face and he closed his eyes, just breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo as he slowly floated back to earth.

  After a moment, she sighed and smiled—he could feel her lips move against his neck. He wondered if she could feel his own smile.

  Mia lifted her head, pulling her hair from his face. “Are you still alive?”
<
br />   He felt his smile get broader as he met her eyes. Hazel was his new favorite color. “Definitely.”

  “I think we can safely add ‘making love’ to the list of things that you can still do,” she said with a smile.

  His knee. Man, he hadn’t thought about his knee since he’d locked his door behind them. He still didn’t want to think about it, and he fought to hold on to the peacefulness of this moment.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should make sure that it wasn’t some kind of fluke. Maybe we better try it again.”

  Mia’s smile turned dangerous. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Frisco felt a surge of desire course through him, hot and sweet. “Give me a few minutes….”

  He kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that promised her unlimited pleasure.

  Mia sighed, pulling back to look at him again. “I’d love to stay, but…”

  “But…?”

  She smiled, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s after six in the morning, Alan. I don’t think it’s smart for me to be here when Natasha wakes up. She’s had enough turbulence recently in her life, without her having to worry about whether she’s got to compete with me for your time and affection.”

  Frisco nodded. Mia was probably right. He was disappointed to see her leave so soon, but he had to consider the kid.

  Mia slipped out of his arms and out of his bed. He turned onto his side to watch her gather her clothes from his floor.

  “You called me Alan again,” he said.

  She looked up at him in surprise as she slipped on her shorts. “Did I? I’m sorry.”

  “You think of me as Alan, don’t you?” he asked. “Not Frisco.”

  She zipped up her sweatshirt and then came and sat down next to him on the bed. “I like your name,” she admitted. “I’m sorry if it keeps slipping out.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow. “It slipped out a lot while we were making love.”

  “God, I hope that didn’t ruin it for you.” She was half-serious.

  Frisco laughed. “If you had called me Bob, that might’ve ruined it, but…” He touched the side of her face. “That was the first time in a long time that I’ve actually enjoyed being called Alan. And I did enjoy it.”