She gave up on subtle and pushed his hand between her legs where she wanted it. He laughed and gently fingered her. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s a start,” she managed to say between gasps. His fingers promised an orgasm as they probed. “Your massages are very...penetrating.” Two fingers plunged deep and she came apart.
It took several seconds, or maybe it was minutes, before she drifted back to earth. “Mmmm, more please.”
Stillman laughed and shifted her around so she straddled him. “Your wish is my command, your highness.”
Caitlyn pressed her breasts to his chest. Yeah, this queen gig was a lot more fun than playing doctor and nurse.
Chapter Twelve
Stillman carried Caitlyn to their bed, her body pink from hot water and vigorous towel drying, to say nothing of the two orgasms he’d given her. He’d never been with a woman that responsive, or quick on the draw. Hell of an ego boost. Almost made up for her calling him Dr. Butt Head.
Almost.
He dumped her on the bed and she squealed. “Honey, you’re gonna pay for that Butt Head crack,” he said. Before he could join her, she slid off the mattress onto the floor at his feet. And looked up at him with a glint that made his mouth go dry.
She scooted closer and rose to her knees. “I want you to remember this,” she said in a deep voice, then ran a lascivious tongue over her lips. Her hands snaked up his legs, squeezing the backs of his thighs. “A royal ceremony only a queen can grant.” She eyed his erection only inches away and smirked. “Kind of like achieving knighthood, except you have to supply your own sword.”
He groaned at her silliness even as he ached for her to slide those lush lips over him. He didn’t have to wait long. “Caitlyn,” he gasped when she took him into her mouth—or as much as she could fit. She surprised him a moment later when she worked him deeper. His next groan bordered on panic. If she kept that up, he’d embarrass the hell out of himself. He slipped his hands over her head trying to ease her back. “Caity, don’t.”
She ignored him and moved her hands from his legs to quickly undo her topknot, never once losing the rhythm she’d set. When she shook her hair down, without releasing him from her mouth, he had to pull out. Or lose it altogether.
She sat back on her heels and frowned up at him. She was right. The sight of her, nude and kneeling at his feet, would be burned into his memory forever. But he wanted to do more giving than receiving.
Especially when he saw the damage to her beautiful face.
He bent and lifted her to her feet, and without stopping, kissed those talented lips. “I want to make love to you.”
She stilled in his arms, her expression momentarily vulnerable. It was gone so quickly he almost believed he’d imagined it. If he could, he’d give back her sense of invincibility.
He made love to her mouth, soft, then hard and demanding, all the while backing her toward the bed. She lost her balance and he followed her down, twisting so she fell in his arms.
Except that put her on top, where she took control. Naturally.
Stillman laughed as she straddled him. Hell, if being in control made her happy, he could deal with it. “Protection’s on the nightstand.”
He stacked his hands behind his head and watched her lithe form as she stretched to grab several packets. Her full breasts swayed with groin-tightening weight, her nipples still hard. Still begging for attention.
There were at least two very good reasons to let Caitlyn be on top. As if reading his thoughts, Caitlyn leaned over and rubbed her nipples over his chest. An answering throb made his cock jump, pressing against her moist heat.
She tore the wrapper off the condom, her eyes intense. “We only have three left.”
He bumped his hips up. “Don’t worry, I know how to make it last.”
Her eye color deepened and the tip of her tongue slipped out as she concentrated on slowly sheathing him in latex. He lay rigid under her, afraid to move, afraid not to. “Caity, honey, you’re not helping.” Sweat prickled across his chest and he drew a ragged breath. He ached to grab her hips and plunge into her wildly. Yeah, like that would help him last longer.
Her gaze flicked up and locked on his. And stayed on him as she rubbed the tip of his penis against her opening. Slowly she pushed down, sliding deeper, until he couldn’t hold out any longer. He arched off the bed, burying himself in pure heaven and watched her eyes lose focus as she convulsed around him.
He could only pray he’d last half as long as he had the night before.
* * *
Caitlyn watched Stillman’s chest rise and fall with steady breathing. He’d left the light on low, bathing the taupe and white room in a warm glow. She’d propped herself up on one elbow to study the sleeping man beside her, something she didn’t feel comfortable doing when he was awake. Dark hair whirled over nicely defined pectorals, outlining small brown nipples before joining in a narrow line that disappeared under the Egyptian cotton sheet. The really good stuff was hidden from view.
His looks may have attracted her at first, but it was his passion for what he did that stole her heart. And made her wary at the same time. He shared too many of Johnny’s traits for her to imagine any kind of future together. Not that he seemed interested in any serious commitments.
Hilary’s betrayal had left him distrustful of women. She’d seen it in his reaction to her flip comment to Atwah about platinum and diamonds. For that matter, from what he’d said about his childhood, trust had always been an issue.
He’d grown up in a world where kids picked their friends based on net worth and family bloodlines. From her own disastrous college experience dating an entitled blue blood, she knew for a fact men like him didn’t marry women like her. Especially when the parents controlled access to the trust funds and disapproved of their son’s potential mate.
“Why the sad face?” Stillman’s soft voice startled her.
Sexy, heavy-lidded eyes were studying her. She shrugged one shoulder. “Just thinking how different we grew up. Your mom sent you off to boarding school as a kid, and my mom cried a bucket of tears when I went off to college at seventeen.” That had surprised Caitlyn. She’d figured her mom would be glad to have the extra bed.
His gaze dropped to the faded USCG Academy T-shirt she’d donned in case of another middle-of-the-night scramble. “So whadya study? What’s your degree in?” he asked as he rolled to his side and folded a pillow under his armpit.
“Guess.”
He narrowed his eyes as if calculating fuel burn on a 747. “Welllll, I could see you doing drama if they had a theater school.”
“What?” She sat up and crossed her legs Indian-style. She’d never once considered acting. Then she chuckled. “Well, shoot. I guess I do enjoy playing the queen, don’t I.” She hummed tunelessly for a moment. “Nope, wouldn’t have worked. Besides, I was raised to be practical.”
Even as she said it, she questioned that assumption. Her mother wanted her kids to find, and use, their God-given talents. No matter what they were. And heaven help anyone who suggested one of her girls couldn’t compete equally with the boys...
“A teacher. Yeah, you’d make a good one.”
She started shaking her head before he finished. “Nope, that’s my mom.” But Caitlyn did want that flight training position. Eventually. When she was ready to give up the adrenaline of rescue work. Good Lord, she was more her mother’s daughter than she thought.
“She taught and had a house full of kids?”
“No, she stayed home after I turned four. By then my parents were regularly taking in emergency placements. Kids whose parents abandoned them, or had been killed, mostly throwaways.” She thought of Joe’s son, Tyler. The idea to take him in had come as naturally as breathing. She started laughing. Son of a gun—
“What? You talk
about throwaway kids and laugh?”
She punched his chest. “No, doofus. I just realized how like my mother I really am.”
His expression sobered. “She must be a hell of a woman, judging by her daughter.”
Warmth spread like cocoa butter under the Florida sun. “That she is.” Caitlyn’s mouth crooked up. “She even has those green eyes you would’ve bet I had.”
Stillman groaned. “Don’t tell me you remember everything I said that night.”
She raised her chin. “Of course. I remember how you freaked out when I mentioned Dr. Golden. Which is a normal reaction to anyone who is unlucky enough to know the arrogant bastard, but since you claimed not to, I was a little confused. Then you got way too personal about my looks.”
He rolled onto his back. “Add me to your arrogant bastard list.” His throat worked for several seconds as if he couldn’t quite get the words out. Jaw muscles twitched then relaxed on a soft exhalation. “My mother had been calling nonstop. She wanted me to talk to my father. I thought it was about a partnership in the family practice. Turns out she wanted me to come home for his surgery.”
Caitlyn scooted closer and ran her hand down his arm, the hard muscle a tactile thrill all its own. “Then she should have said so. Don’t beat yourself up because she was being less than truthful with you. So, when I mentioned a plastic surgeon you went off?”
“That was only part of it.” He turned his head, his look meeting hers. “The other was simple jealousy. I could picture you on that yacht you mentioned.” His gaze drifted to her breasts—something he tended to do often. “In a skimpy blue bikini the color of your eyes, and hell, I got mad.” He looked away, deep red staining his harsh cheekbones.
She leaned over him, chest to chest. “So maybe you should take me flying in George again. I could wear a blue bikini just for you.”
He cupped her shoulders in his palms and pushed. “We’re out of condoms, remember?”
He continued to push her away until she sat at a safe distance. Spoilsport. “There are other ways to have fun you know.” She pulled her knees to her chest and slid her T-shirt over them so only her red toenails peeked out.
His grunt sounded noncommittal. “Back to my original question. What’s your degree in?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. His single-track mind wasn’t near as much fun when it wasn’t stuck on sex. “Mechanical engineering.”
Blue eyes stared then blinked once. Twice. “Mechanical...you’re an engineer?”
His disbelief was downright insulting. Oh, she’d hurt him for sure. “Yes, is that so improbable? The babe with the boobs also happens to have a brain? Wow, what will they think of next?”
He reared up with a growl. “No more improbable than a chopper jock becoming a doctor. Or that the redheaded babe flies better than any damn slug-driver I know.”
Caitlyn’s heart danced in her chest. His irises had all but consumed their blue perimeters. She tested her assumption that he was turned on with a quick flick of her tongue on her lower lip. Her shirt was off and she was flat on her back before she could say, “Holy shit.”
His hands stayed locked on her breasts as he inched his way down her body, lavishing openmouthed kisses as he went. “I’m in the mood for a snack, mechanical engineering babe, and you’re the only one on my menu.”
Jacksonville, FL,
Saturday, 24 September, 1345 hours
Valerie sat, amazed at the activity going on around her. Even more amazing was the fact Munson kept her firmly in the loop. She’d been ensconced in a reasonably pleasant hotel for the night, provided access to shopping, fed again and now she was sitting in the middle of another meeting. And they were asking her opinion about the data they were collecting.
A harried-looking suit, sans jacket, scurried into the conference room to whisper something in Munson’s ear.
“What?” he roared at the agent-in-training.
The mumbled reply did nothing to calm Munson’s anger. He turned narrowed eyes to Valerie. “They lost him.” He pushed away from the conference table. “We have at least ten agents watching this clown and now we don’t know where he is?”
Incidental office noises stopped cold.
Uh-oh. “Exactly which clown did you lose?” Val asked into the dead silence.
Munson glanced at her as if he’d forgotten she was there already. “Ali. I don’t frickin’ believe it.”
“Does he know he’s being watched?”
That earned her a dark look.
“Sorry, your guys aren’t perfect. And he pays a lot of people to keep an eye out for his many enemies.” She ignored the condescending looks aimed at her. Hell, she was immune to them after years in the male-dominated shipping business. “Check his itinerary. Make sure he hasn’t canceled the party. Look at all his properties in the state or ones he can easily travel to by plane.” She shrugged. “You have manpower. Use it.” She knew she wasn’t telling them anything new, but it was easy to get so caught up in what wasn’t working and forgot about what did.
She went back to reading translations of Ali and Atwah’s phone conversations. And grinned when Munson repeated her suggestions. Verbatim.
Daddy would have liked Agent Munson—even if they viewed the world from opposite ends of a telescope.
Egret Isle, FL,
Saturday, 24 September, 1558 hours
Stillman secured another loose life jacket in the belly of the Jayhawk. Knowing they could be evacuating in a hurry sometime in the next twelve to fifteen hours added incentive to stow anything that could conceivably come loose. He wanted to make damn sure they had more than one way out of the helo when it went down. And that nothing unexpected was blocking an exit.
Atwah had been conspicuously absent all day. Yasin shrugged it away, but didn’t look pleased about his boss’s disappearance. He had no new word on their launch time or whether the date had really changed to Saturday.
Caitlyn handled the stress by alternately snapping at him and Yasin, or reverting to her wacky humor. She sat in the pilot’s seat securing manuals and charts, and muttering to herself.
Stillman sat cross-legged on the metal floor of the helo’s cabin looking for anything else to store or pitch if it couldn’t be tied down. If it wouldn’t attract Atwah’s attention, he’d be tempted to strip the interior bare.
“I’ll try to find a soft spot. Trust me, baby, the Coast Guard won’t abandon you.”
Hearing Caitlyn’s soft voice, Stillman looked over his shoulder. Who the hell was “baby”?
He crawled forward, between the front seats scanning the cockpit. Empty except for Caitlyn. She sat with her hand resting on the plastic shield that protected the instrument panel from the sun’s glare.
She patted the plastic. “Heck, you’ll be back in service by Christmas. We can do that Santa run—”
“Who the hell are you talking to?” Even as he asked the question he knew. Hadn’t she carried on a similar inane conversation with “George” the night he took her flying?
Her head whipped around so fast she slapped herself with her ponytail. “You scared the shit out of me. Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? The one where you were instructed not to sneak up on me?”
Her indignation seemed a little forced. Pink color infused her cheeks, bringing him up short. “I can’t believe it. You’re embarrassed.” Uh-oh. That made her mad.
She turned away with a little snort and leaned closer to the panel. “Ignore the idiot beside me. He doesn’t understand.”
He shook his head in disbelief, then saw something out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, my music box,” he said and reached over the console to touch the little plane she’d clipped to the dash.
She smacked his hand away. “My music box. It was given to me as a gift, so it’s mine.”
“Excuse me. You ar
e in a mood.” He sat back on his heels to contemplate this unknown woman. Her gaze swept the cockpit with a look he could only describe as love. “Caitlyn, it’s just a machine.”
She shook her head and blinked rapidly. Son of a—”You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she said in a voice choked with emotion.
Shit. He glanced away when she took the back of her hand to her eyes. If he offered to hold her would she take his head off?
“It’s not ‘just a machine.’ Fly Baby got me a commendation.” She ran her hand along the cyclic. “We flew ‘round-the-clock flood rescues in Georgia two years ago.” Her fingers danced over the switches and relays on the center console. “She’s seen births and deaths onboard. And everything in between.
“So excuse me if I mourn her possible demise at the hands of a madman. She’s taught me a hell of a lot about being a damn good pilot.” With that, Caitlyn swung the door open and hopped out.
Stillman sat back on the floor. Handled that with sensitivity, hadn’t he. He looked around the helicopter and thought of the missions he’d flown—the blood, and fear, and triumphs. He closed his eyes. She was right. Somewhere along the line, they stopped being machines and became a best friend or worst enemy, depending on their nature.
“Fly Baby, you’d better take care of her tonight. Or you’ll answer to me.”
The Gulf, thirty miles north of Egret Isle, FL, Saturday, 24 September, 1700 hours
Atwah pushed the boat’s throttle forward another notch. He was running late, which meant he’d have little time to verify the helicopter’s fuel level. He gritted his teeth till his jaw felt like it would shatter. Ali loved jerking him around.
The cigarette boat hit a wave and plowed sideways until he put his attention back where it belonged. Sinking the boat wouldn’t get him the revenge he craved.
If there wasn’t enough fuel, he could radio ahead and have barrels delivered to the pickup site. He eased his grip on the wheel. Yes, his brother would make that arrangement for him.
Jayhawk Down Page 17
