Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

by Piñeiro, Caridad

  “Mighty good timing, if you ask me,” observed Dicker, as he closed the big toolbox mounted behind his truck. “See you in the morning, boss. Bye, Nick.”

  Nick nodded as he adjusted the hood that protected his Jeep from the elements. “Yeah. See you, Dicker.”

  Jaymee watched him for a moment. “Need help?”

  “No, I’m almost done.”

  “I’m going inside for a late lunch. Hungry?”

  He gave her a look that sent her scrambling toward the back of the house with his laughter following her. How did he do that? She nervously rubbed her hands on her pants. One look, and she felt like a tar kettle on fire. Where were her well-practiced rebuffs? A few weeks ago, she’d have squashed such blatant come-ons like a gnat, and the poor man would have left her alone after that. But of course, Nick was a humongous gnat, and she laughed at her silliness. Another thing—where did this silliness come from?

  Big plops of rain came down just as she climbed up onto the back porch. She waited for a minute or two, but he didn’t turn the corner.

  “Nick?” she called over the rush of wind that usually signaled the beginning of a Florida summer storm. It was suddenly dark outside, all sunlight curtained off by rain-swollen clouds.

  “Get inside, Jaymee. I’ll be there,” she heard him answer. Satisfied, she went into the kitchen to prepare a quick snack.

  Finishing his task, Nick glanced around the front yard, ignoring the fast falling rain. He had an uneasy feeling he was being watched, and he scanned the terrain carefully. With the wind picking up, he couldn’t really see anything among the moving clumps of trees in the acreage. Big sheets of rain descended suddenly, ferociously, and he hurried to the back of the house. Too late, he was instantly drenched to the skin.

  Jaymee took one look at him and shook her head. “What were you doing out there?” She put away the bread and screwed the cap back on the jar of mayonnaise. “Guess I’ll get you a towel first, and something dry to wear.”

  She disappeared in the direction of her bedroom. Opportunity knocking, he quoted his favorite saying under his breath, and promptly followed her.

  Jaymee had a suspicious inkling she was walking into a trap of her own making. He didn’t make a sound as he casually walked behind her, past the sofa in the living room, round the corner, past the spare bedroom. Her room at the back of the house was down a long corridor and it usually only took a minute from kitchen to bedroom door. Today it appeared to last forever as she trotted down seemingly narrowing walls.

  She stopped outside, turned around and firmly said, “You can’t come in here. I’ll get the towel and a shirt.”

  “I’ve been in there before,” he reminded her and came closer.

  Was that thunder from outside or was that her heart? “Nicholas...you’re not making this easy,” she breathed out.

  Nick gently reached behind her and opened the bedroom door. “Easy is laying shingles in the summer. Easy is working till you drop.” He backed her into her own room, drops of water trickling onto her dry clothes. “Handling me should be a piece of cake, Jaymee.”

  Despite the precariousness of her situation, she couldn’t resist a small smile. “So you compare yourself to a job for me to handle?”

  “Don’t you take care of every detail in your work?”

  His drenched shirt contoured the muscles of his chest and stomach. His long hair, dripping wet and blown by the wind, looked like a mane. She could see the tic under his ear again, the sudden flair of his nostrils, the tightly-drawn passion on the plains of his face.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Don’t you make sure everything is perfect when it comes to your work?”

  She couldn’t deny her obsession for getting things right. “I...try.”

  “Don’t you remember everything there’s to know about every one of your roofs? The color, the square footage, down to the day you were on it?”

  She stared into those blue-gray eyes, drawn by their seductive power. “Yes,” she said again.

  Nick’s eyes became intensely, fiercely demanding. “That’s how I want you to handle me, Jaymee. As easily as you handle your perfect roofs.”

  He didn’t have to tell her her time was up. He’d waited and patiently let her get used to him, as he had so arrogantly told her. It must be magic. He’d brought out the Jaymee she’d desperately tried to hide and now, he summoned her like a pagan witch calling for a spirit under his power. The rain outside drummed on the roof and danced against the windowpanes, like some incantation that rendered her powerless to this man. His foot kicked back, and the door behind him clicked shut.

  Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Six

  The bedroom was darkened by the storm outside, and Jaymee couldn’t see Nick’s face. In the shadows, his words coursed through her veins like warm brandy, and she felt hot and out of breath, like she’d been running fast. Except she couldn’t run any more. She realized he’d stalked her all this time, allowing her to move away only because he wanted to.

  Now, with her bed behind her, the door shut, the rain a steady rhythm outside, and no job to finish, there was nowhere she could hide, no work for her to use as an excuse. With small, jerky movements, she backed away. Nick’s hand snaked out and held her arm, pulling her inexorably closer.

  “Easy,” he repeated softly, as if she was a nervous mare. “Easy, sweet Jaymee. We’ll do it slow and easy.”

  “You’re all wet,” she said belligerently.

  Of course he was all wet. She was going to get him a towel and that was what got her into this situation. Her mind fought for control over the internal storm muddling through her system, as she allowed herself to be backed all the way into her bathroom.

  “Dry me,” he murmured in that soft, gravelly tone of voice. The look in his eyes made her gut clenched. She swallowed.

  Without thinking, she automatically pulled the towel hanging on a hook, then stupidly stared at the wet clothes on him. Her eyes followed the heaving motions of his chest, moving up to study with fascination the droplets of water that were still running down his strong neck, and still higher, all the way to the wet lock of dark hair curled over his forehead.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “You have to take off my clothes first,” he whispered back. “Take care of me, Jaymee.”

  She opened her mouth but words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pushed the toilet seat down and gestured at it. He sat, opening his long legs and pulling her between his thighs. She gave him a desperate look, mutely begging him to release her, but he only took the towel from her and then placed her hands on him, near the waistband of his jeans.

  The glitter in his eyes seemed to pull at her. He had a power over her like no other man.

  Jaymee found herself pulling the wet shirt out of his pants, tugging it as he helped her by lifting those muscular arms. Picking up the towel from his lap, she slowly rubbed his chest with it, one hand following the path of the towel. It was strangely empowering as she moved over him, taking her own time at it, exploring every part of him that had fascinated her. He was cool to the touch, and she pulled the towel languorously over his chest, then down those abs she was sure didn’t come from roofing work, her finger scraping over the little “outie” belly button. The feel of his skin—the texture, the softness of his body hair, the ridges in the abdominal muscles—mesmerized her. Had she ever felt a man’s body like this before? All power and promise and patience. For her. Just for her.

  It was exciting to feel a man’s passion, and she reveled at his barely suppressed desire under her exploring hands. It moved like an electric current everywhere she caressed. Over the taut shoulders. Slowly down the broad back. And up the flat of his belly over his broad chest.

  Nick kicked off his shoes and stood up, waiting. Her teeth biting down on her lower lip, Jaymee reached cautiously for the top button of his jeans, and his belly sucked in as she released it. Her fingers hesitated over the zipper. She stared with intrigued rapture as the bulge und
er the restricting material grew, daring her to touch it. He still didn’t say a word, just stood there, but she could hear his deep and harsh breathing.

  For her.

  She touched him, and heard a groan, but her eyes were riveted to the part of him that was pulsating under her hand. It felt impossibly huge, hidden from her, and she wanted to see him. Slowly, tentatively, she pulled at the zipper. He helped her with it, and she soon found out why.

  Nick Langley wasn’t wearing any underwear. He was all male glory under those jeans and his erection sprang into her waiting hands. She gasped at its heat—a fierce, powerful arousal that called out to her, demanded her.

  Nick’s eyes closed for a moment as he checked the immediate painful need to thrust into those small hands. Sweet baby Jesus, but the woman didn’t know the torture she was giving. With a smothered groan, he sat back down on the toilet seat. It was either that, or push her against some wall and go at her like a mad, lusting bull.

  Instead he sat still, letting her take charge. Her hands were heavenly soft and wildly exciting. She touched him like a man wanted to be touched, with teasing gentleness mixed with a tinge of sadistic torture. At least, that was how he viewed it, as those hands moved down his hard length and cupped his softness, running her fingernails with unexpected mischief back to the tip where it was most sensitive. He growled, unable to bear it any more.

  Startled, she looked up, a dreamy expression on her face. “You wanted me to take care of all the details,” she said, still stroking him.

  He felt himself hardened even more at her words. “You’re doing an excellent job,” he told her, the harshness in the tone of his voice bringing a smile to her face.

  He watched her pull at his jeans and he kicked them off. He wanted her naked and reached for her, but she surprised him by kneeling down between the vee of his thighs. All muscles tensed. It was all he could do not to growl again when she leaned down and tentatively tasted him.

  That did it. No more.

  Nick dragged her onto his lap. She sat willingly astride him, intimately pushing against his engorged need that was begging for release.

  “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

  He removed the pins and barette in her hair, scattering them onto the tile floor. The heavy tresses flowed down in ringlets, just the way he wanted it.

  “My big, bad wolf,” she whispered. “Not nice. Not safe.”

  He’d warned her about that in the study. “And definitely never easy,” he admitted, and with one fluid motion, ripped her old tee-shirt to rags.

  Her almond-shaped eyes grew huge as he impatiently pulled at her bra, snapping the material in half. He was still in control—barely. His turn to taste.

  Jaymee gasped as he sucked at her nipple. His mouth felt shockingly hot, in contrast to the coolness of his skin. The pleasure zinged through her body. Wanting more, she rocked back, giving him more access, even as she pushed down against the rock-hard length burning so intimately against her. To know a man would want her so—the scent of clean male flesh, the feel of his heartbeat under her hand—was the most erotic sensation she had ever known. She whimpered at the sensuous assault of his mouth and tongue, and dug her nails into his shoulders.

  In response, he wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and stood up, and she clung on as he strode back into the bedroom. Standing at the foot of her queen-size bed, she felt his hands grope the back of her Lycra pants and easily rip that apart too. Her body trembled with shock at the barely contained violence of his actions. He lowered them both onto the bed, and she lay there passively, staring up into the dark shadows of his face.

  His head lowered and she closed her eyes. His kiss was hard and possessive. His tongue danced across hers and demanded response until she became lost in a vortex of desire and need. Licking her lips, he ran his tongue down her neck, over her breast, stopping on one rosy nipple, then traveled down her torso to dip into her belly button. She arched helplessly and heard the front of her pants ripped to shreds as well. His roving tongue went lower, over skimpy panties, and tasted the soft, silky flesh between her thigh and her waiting, aroused sex, and she moved restlessly, letting him get rid of what was left of her pants from each leg.

  “I’m going to eat you,” Nick promised, from between her legs and bit down on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. A soft wail erupted from her as he started to nibble the vulnerable flesh. His hand on her tummy held her down and nudging the panties aside, he began to do exactly as he promised. Unlike the night before, he wasn’t teasing or patient; this time, he was all conquering male, intent on taking what was his. Her breathing came out in gasps as she tried valiantly to hold onto some sort of control.

  Shifting position, he put two hands on her last piece of protection and with a savage hiss, tore her wispy string bikini away like pieces of paper. A moment later, his weight was on her, and he held her face still between his large hands. Staring deeply into her eyes, he began to push inside her. He nudged her thighs higher, demanding more.

  Control slipped away like the outgoing tide. Jaymee whimpered. He felt hard and immensely huge against her vulnerable flesh, and every one of her feminine muscles bucked inside with panic at the unfamiliar siege. Unfamiliar, because it had been eight, long years. Her muscles, taught to resist, fought to stop the invasion, tightening and pushing back.

  “Relax, baby,” Nick said, sounding strained. “Let me in.”

  But her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and was determined to forbid entry. He inched in, and despite her readiness, she groaned at the discomfort. A niggling doubt arose. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she just wasn’t good at this and was going to embarrass herself. Panicking, she started to push and fight him off.

  Nick felt her growing alarm and looked down at her, her eyes so tightly shut, little drops of tears squeezed out at the corners. He immediately stopped pushing, kissing her eyes until she opened them again. He could feel every tremor of her body. His own was trembling too, desperate to have her. He’d never wanted—needed—a woman more in his life, and determined not to frighten her, he fought for every ounce of control that was left in him.

  “Look at me, Jaymee.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and her lips trembled. “I c...can’t do it, Nick. You’re too...big.”

  Nick just smiled tenderly down at her and told her, “Yes, you can, darling. I forgot to go slow and easy, that’s all.”

  Fiercely clamping down on his raging desire, he rained soft kisses on her face, until she started responding. He searched for a distraction and found her ear.

  Jaymee jerked when his tongue slipped into the erogenous shell and helpless gurgled as it wickedly explored. All the blood in her brain seemed to disappear. She tried to squirm away, but it insistently plunged in and out until she melted into the pillows, moaning softly, incoherently. In the helpless throes of that clever tongue, her body let its guard down, and with one decisive thrust, Nick pushed inside her, filling her all the way. She gasped at the fullness of his possession. He pushed her thighs higher still and sank even deeper inside her.

  Nick fought for control. God, she was tight, holding him as possessively as he wanted to take her. If he moved, it’d be all over. A roaring need blanketed everything else, and he groaned at the sheer agony of needing to thrust and yet not daring.

  Jaymee couldn’t breathe, gasping for air, as his hard length continued to fill and stretch her. The discomfort disappeared as her body adjusted and accommodated to his size. Every nerve sang with anticipation. Why wasn’t he moving? She needed him.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please, pleasepleaseplease...”

  Nick moved out, then slid back in. They both moaned in unison.

  He moved slowly at first, carefully, as if he were afraid to hurt her. The pleasure from the tortuous slide of his thick length inside her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. And each time he plunged deeply, she didn’t want him to leave her, and he returned, steady and sure
, to take her even higher. She arched up, wanting more.

  Wet and hot. Nick closed his eyes at the feel of her womanly softness. Home and paradise. Every stroke was bliss and agony, and with every thrust, he wanted to go deeper into the woman. Bury so deep, his thoughts would just fixate on this feeling of being taken and giving himself. So deep, like this. And this. Take this. He didn’t think he’d ever get deep enough.

  There was taste and texture, as flesh slapped into flesh, as tongue tangled with tongue. Mindless pleasure built until each glide of his flesh was a mini orgasm, and she couldn’t see or hear anything but their beating hearts echoing each other. And then the world simply tilted off its axis and the universe was bright with exploding stars.

  They shuddered against each other, still mating with tongue and flesh and soul, speaking a universal language as they strained and pressed again and again. At last, a warm, sweet darkness overtook their frenzied dance. Minutes, or forever—they couldn’t tell—went by. The rain still pattered on the rooftop. The room was dark and musky. In the shadows, still joined, they stared at each other, afraid that if they moved, the magic spell might be broken.

  Jaymee searched for words, but none came. Never had she given herself like this to a man, so totally her body felt like it was no longer hers, her mind in a stupor from the experience. Whatever she’d felt before for Danny was some silly myth, compared to this churning maelstrom. Her heart rejoiced, but her mind mourned, because she knew she’d fallen in love. She loved him, and he’d told her he was leaving.

  Nick stared down at the passionate woman under him. Did he think he could switch her on and off, give her what she wanted and needed, and somehow avoid any long-lasting effect on himself? He’d known from the very first she was different, that his feelings for her were more complex than mere attraction. What they just shared proved it—she belonged with him. He belonged with her, damn it. And there was nothing he could do to make it last. It was simply not possible. He couldn’t see her away from her business, plucked from her responsibilities she took so seriously.