by Billi Jean
With Paris, he didn’t want her to feel as if he only wanted sex, and that’s the first thing he’d done—within minutes of being near her.
“I didn’t plan to start making up so quickly, but, princess, you make it hard.”
“I do?” Paris laughed and sat up to face him again. She surprised him by stroking down his chest right to where he was still sporting a semi hard-on for her.
Laughing at the catch, but not willing to be outdone, he pressed her hand down harder and bent to kiss the tight point of her nipple that he could see through her thin dress.
She giggled and tugged at his hair, squirming on his lap in a way that had him more than ready for another round. He let up on his prize and sucked his way up to her pink lips.
“Yeah, always, you should know that.”
“Always?” she teased, and batted his hand off hers with a sweet, curious expression. She was so damn innocent about so much, it gave him one hell of a thrill to show her that ‘dirty’ side to sex. He still couldn’t believe she’d used the f-word with him.
“Paris, there isn’t a second you’re with me I’m not thinking of having sex with you.”
“You are not!” she said with such indignation that he laughed even harder.
Hell, she was fun. And he now knew she wasn’t always so happy either. He’d seen the pictures Petrok had of her. She’d looked sad, and if he’d read the pictures right, lonely. She had always been happy with him—at least those few days, he reminded himself. He’d make her happy again. If he didn’t, she’d just have to tell him what he was doing wrong, so he could.
“Oh, yeah, I am. You should know that,” he warned her, tightening his arm around her.
“You said that was the Duke drug,” she whispered for some reason.
“Not on me, and we never took that junk. The other stuff just gave me headaches. This is all me, princess.” He flexed his hips so she could feel the full impact of the hard-on she was causing to fill out his BDUs. “Having you near me after you left me? I’m sporting an erection that’s going to need more than that quickie.”
“David!” she exclaimed softly, but giggled and covered her face. “I did not leave you, either, by the way. You left me.”
He knew he was embarrassing her, but he also sensed he pleased her. Maybe he wasn’t Will, but maybe Paris didn’t need him to be. Maybe he didn’t need to be a smooth-talker like his buddy. Maybe she simply needed him to be himself.
“I missed you, Paris.” He said it softly enough he thought she might not hear, but she lowered her hands from her face and reached out and tenderly caressed his jaw.
“David—”
He covered her pretty pink lips with a finger to still her. A man had to say some things, or chance losing everything, he thought, and took the bull by the horns.
Tell it to her straight.
“It’s been hell, not knowing where you were, or what you thought. Worse, if you were a dream, or simply got what you wanted and left, to go back to your life.”
His honesty made her eyes glisten, but he didn’t stop, it was as if once he’d started, he had to give her it all in a rush.
“We both searched all over for you, including every database we had, and found nothing. Not one thing. You didn’t take the cell phone I got you. Hell, I didn’t even have your last name. Or that you were from Canada. That was something you didn’t mention when you were here.”
She tried to talk, but he kept his finger in place, even when she narrowed her eyes and he considered the fact she had nice, sharp teeth.
A knock on the door interrupted him when he opened his mouth, but it was immediately followed by a ‘sir’ he couldn’t ignore.
“Damn it, we’re not done here,” he muttered and dragged her closer and kissed her as deeply as he could as fast as he could. Releasing her, he examined her flushed face and her pretty wet lips. “Not by a long shot, princess.”
He set her on the bed and got up, grumbling his way to the door with the damn crutch keeping him upright.
Roy Moon, a man who worked under Carson, stood at the door, a clipboard in his hand and a sorry expression on his face.
“Sir, we have word from Commander Carson.”
Shit. “What is it?”
“He said for you to pack up and relocate. They’ll be in DC, and contact you from there. We’re to close this place down and leave by twenty-one hundred, sir.”
He fisted his hand on his crutch and calculated how long that was. Not long enough.
“Fine, we’ll be ready. We’ll branch off once we’re on the road. The plan is complete silence, so from that point on no contact.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, sergeant.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Good luck with the leg, sir.”
With that, Moon saluted and left.
Three hours. Three hours to convince Paris this was the right thing to do. Go with him to Vermont, pretending to be his wife so he could keep her safe. And meanwhile, Will would lay his ass on the line doing the same thing.
He turned to find her watching him, sitting small and alone on the big bed he’d hoped to spend the night in with her. Nothing in his life compared to sleeping with his arms around Paris.
“We have to go?” she asked softly.
The worst thing about answering her was that he was glad they were going—not so soon, but that they were going together—even to pretend to be married. Maybe he’d even convince her to do it for real.
As soon as he hobbled over to her, he sat down and pulled her back on his lap. She crawled onto his thigh and hugged him in the same way she had before, but her expression was wary, something it hadn’t been before.
She dropped her gaze and played nervously with his shirt.
Hell, he sucked at this.
Will would know what to say.
How to handle this?
He thought of all the stupid lies he could say to her, all the half-truths and bullshit, but all that he could come up with was the truth. Secure her. That was his mission—to do that he was going to lay it all out and hope like hell she didn’t fall off his lap, laughing her ass off.
She hadn’t last time he’d told her the truth. She’d proved how much he believed she loved him.
Taking a deep breath, he then held it for a few seconds before slowly releasing it.
“I didn’t spend that week with you on a holiday, Paris. This—” He grabbed the bull by the horns, or in his case, the sweet, shocked-looking woman he loved by the shoulders as he said, “Is more than some fling. I just need to know if you want more. And if more from me and me alone is enough, because while the sharing was hot, it’s not gonna happen again, not unless we both want it, sometimes, maybe, later, but us, it’s going to be us. I’m not easy to live with, or easy to get along with, whatever, but I know that. I can work on that. And besides, relationships are hard, they’re work, but damn it, if that’s what it takes so you don’t disappear like that again, than that’s what it takes.”
Paris’ eyes widened, then she did the craziest thing she’d ever done. She shoved him. She surprised him so much he landed flat on his back with her straddling his hips.
Any other time that would have thrilled him, but when the crazy woman took hold of his wrists and shoved them up above his head like a wild cat, he almost prematurely ejaculated in his BDUs.
“David Jansen, is this your idea of telling me you love me?”
His cock grew so hard, apparently willing to show her how much that was true, he panted for enough air to keep from tossing her on her back and taking her the way he really needed to.
“David?” she whispered, hovering just far enough above him that her body didn’t touch his except where her knees pressed to his sides. The heat of her soaked through his clothing and he knew by the flush on her cheeks that she was turned on.
In all their interactions, she’d never initiated sex. She’d been on board, completely willing every time—every single time—but she’d neve
r displayed such sexy aggression before. This was a woman wanting to claim a man—him. The shot of heat that caused had him nearly groaning. Not willing to end this that soon, he tilted his head on the bed and gave her his best smile just to see what she’d do.
She leaned in closer, so close he felt her breasts, and hell, maybe her tight nipples brush his chest, but she didn’t move. Instead she drove him nuts by pressing slowly forward until her lips were a scant centimeter from his mouth.
“Well, is it?”
When she spoke, she rubbed her hips down and the sweet, soft mound of her pussy settled over his eager erection for a too brief moment. He was pretty sure she’d taken her panties off.
“Cat got your tongue?” she whispered into his ear.
He swore his body nearly took over. He was so turned on he felt as if he wasn’t going to last much longer. She released one hand but he didn’t move, not even when she breathed against his ear and slowly caressed down his shirt to the buttons of his BDUs. She took her time, releasing one after another, all the while hovering over him and breathing hotly against his neck. But when she had half the buttons down his cock sprang out so hard it touched his stomach.
“Or maybe you need some incentive?” she asked, then licked a hot path from his sideburn right to his mouth. She didn’t just kiss him, she stole his breath away with a kiss that had his cock wetting his shirt with pre-cum at the memory of her doing a hell of a lot more with those sweet lips.
Paris shifted upward just slightly, and he felt the softness of her skin, then the bare wetness of her pussy gliding along his cock. Without moving, she kept him there, right at her entrance, an inch from paradise as she held one hand tightly in hers. She began unbuttoning his shirt slowly, at the same time driving him nuts with the thought of her soft pussy so close to his cock. When she was satisfied, she shoved his T-shirt up then did some crazy thing with her dress and she was practically naked without taking her lips from his for more than a second.
She sucked his bottom lip and, eyes wide open, she eased her body down that precious inch to his cock.
“Don’t move,” she warned, making him fist his hands but he nodded quickly. “Not one inch, David. When you’re ready you tell me, okay?”
He knew damn well she didn’t mean ready to come, so he grabbed her hand in his and nodded. Her eyes seemed as if they glowed and she pressed back, taking him in with a long, slow slide. It was amazing. Beyond amazing, it was so hot, he could barely stand it. She was always so slick around his cock, but so tight and silky soft at the same time that he never wanted anyone else ever again. Every time was mind-blowing, but this was entirely new. This was what they meant by ‘making love’.
“Paris,” he groaned when she had him as deep as she could. She didn’t move, and the heat of her body drove away all the horrible things he’d had to endure to get to this—a woman he never wanted to be parted from again. All of it, his fucked up childhood, his Navy career, the sacrifices and losses, the pain and suffering, all of it was worth it because now he knew what love was.
Paris. She’s love.
He trembled, so close to coming simply being inside her, he had to do something—anything.
Paris took care of it. She eased upward. The pull and drag of her body along his erection was so good he groaned. Then she pressed back and made love to him with even, slow strokes that unraveled him bit by bit. Just when he knew he wasn’t going to make it a second longer, she breathed against his mouth and kissed him deeply, not stopping until they were both panting.
“So big,” she whispered, pressing back to sheathe more of him. “You’re so full of yourself, David Jansen, but you’re also so very, very sweet,” she added. “That’s one of the zillions of reasons I love you so very, very much.”
“Paris.” He was unable to say more as the rush of cum swirled down his cock and tightened his balls. She continued to kiss along his skin, caressing him with her hands and breasts as she stayed in place, holding him tight. “I love you,” he shouted and shot off, coming so hard he swore he’d pass out. His legs shook and his cock jerked repeatedly until he melted back into the bed, only half aware he was still saying those three words as Paris moaned through her own pleasure.
“Holy hell, Paris,” he managed when she collapsed, smiling, on top of him.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his as if she couldn’t get enough. “Say it again, David.”
David. There wasn’t a person in this world who called him that.
“I love you, Paris, maybe from the start,” he added when those three words had her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t cry, though. Do that again, but don’t cry.”
“Oh, David.” She hugged him around his neck, crying a little.
He turned her to her side so he could gather her closer. “I need these damn pants off and this brace gone, princess, so none of that, right?”
She nodded and rubbed her face, adorable as hell, on his shirt.
“Why didn’t you take my shirt all the way off and how did you get so damn naked?”
She heaved a sigh and frowned at him. “Well, you’re too big, and I couldn’t figure out how to, and if I asked, I might have ruined the mood.”
He laughed so hard she hit him a few more times, but it was so damn funny to think anything would ruin the mood with her, he couldn’t help it. He finally had to hug her tightly and roll with her to stop her attack. “No hitting. Rule number one.”
“Did I hurt you?” she immediately asked, breathless from beating on him with her tiny fists. “Oh, David, is this where you were shot?” She feathered her fingers over the newest bullet wound with a worried frown that got to him.
“Yes, but no hitting, you might get hurt.”
“Oh, man,” she grumbled and tried to hit him.
“No crying, rule number two.”
“Oh, really?” she said, giving him a look that shouldn’t have gotten his body all primed and ready again, but with Paris, he should know better.
“Absolutely, and rule number three, you do whatever I say.”
If her eyes could have become rounder he’d have been surprised. She stayed that way for a brief second, then thumped him again on the chest. He caught her hand and kissed her fingers.
“No rules, then?”
She seemed to think about that, then with a smile hugged him around the neck and brought him down on top of her. “I like that. No rules, except maybe that you should say you love me often, like maybe”—she shrugged shyly—“once a day.”
“Deal,” he promised and kissed her quickly. “Now, can you help me out of these pants? And boots?”
“David, you are too much.” She laughed but kissed him quickly on the lips and wiggled until he got off her. As soon as he had, he got the full impact of her sexy body.
“Damn, Paris, I am one sorry fool, aren’t I? We could have been making love in this room, not talking all this—”
“What?” she asked, hands on her tiny waist. “And miss you telling me you love me?” She tugged his shirt off and threw it behind her then tilted her head. “T-shirt, too?”
“Yes, we’re showering. Not like I want, but there might be a way to make it work.”
Her eyes widened, but she smiled eagerly. “I love showering with you. I have days and days of showers when I’ve been alone that you need to make up to me.”
“Oh, ho! Is that so?” he asked, but damned if he didn’t like that. She hadn’t found some Canadian Mountie. She began working on his boots and took his breath away with the bounce of her breasts with each tug on his laces.
“Yes, sir, you owe me.”
“I thought I was making some headway with that, twice,” he grumbled, but didn’t mean a word of it. He did have some making up to do. He knew it, even if Paris was too sweet to realize it.
She got one boot off and gently pulled at the one on his hurt leg. She winced when he stiffened.
“It’s okay, just pull,” he said, watching the show again with a slight smi
le that got him busted when she glanced up and froze.
“Are you watching my…me?”
“Your breasts? Yep, I’m watching, Paris. I’m a man.”
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she said, ogling his hard-on. “And didn’t we just take care of that? Twice?”
“Baby, you’ve got to start listening,” he told her, sighing in relief when she got his boot off. He’d damaged the leg again on his way to her—again—but hell if he was going to admit that to her or anyone. The surgery, as much as he hated the thought, was a good idea. He’d done his research on the way here. He’d be walking on it the next day, taking it easy, but within weeks he should be solid.
“There, now, seriously?” she asked with a pointed glance at his hips.
He smoothed a hand down to where his erection lay against his stomach and stroked the thick flesh, Paris watching him avidly.
“I’m serious. If you’re around, I’m thinking about sex with you. Naked?” He laughed and got a fierce look for it, but suffered through and watched her sit next to him on the bed. She wasn’t shy about her body—not now, anyway. At first she had been. Whoever had done a number on her needed his ass whipped, or his head examined. “No way am I going to be able to keep myself under control. Now, can you unwind this brace? See those side latches? Just pull those and it slips off.”
She got busy with that, concentrating so hard he simply watched her. It amazed him all over again that she’d said she loved him. It hadn’t sunk in yet, he knew, but he still got a shiver over it. Some men said they only knew they loved a woman when they let them go. He could attest to that. He’d not let her go, but as soon as he’d found her gone he’d known exactly where he’d fucked up—leaving her side. He wasn’t doing it again.
The pit in his stomach, the completely irrational need to run after her, without an idea of where to go, had thrown him for a loop. He’d been unable to concentrate, let alone do his job. There was a reason he’d hurt his leg the second time—his mind had been on Paris and what Sonya had known about her.
“There? Better?” she asked, clearly anxious she’d hurt him.
