by Karen Foley
“Here comes one now,” she said, and took a sip of her wine before leaning over to look more closely at the bottle. “Mmm. Is this a pinot noir? You were actually listening to me.”
Chance nodded and took an appreciative sip. “Did I do good?”
She slanted an amused glance in his direction. “You’ve done okay. So far.”
“Then I’ll have to try harder,” he replied with a soft laugh. “Look, here she comes.”
Jenna turned her attention toward the incoming aircraft. Chance could hear the engines rev as the pilot throttled back.
“Looks like a cargo plane,” Jenna mused as it began its final descent.
“Yep. A C-130 Hercules. The 4th Brigade is doing a night jump, so this baby just dropped them off.”
As the plane drew closer, it appeared that it would fly directly over the spot where they sat. The aircraft came in low, its jets deafening on the night air. The vibration was enough that Chance felt it in his chest, and he looked at Jenna in time to see her mouth form a soundless “oh” of amazement as the big bird screamed over their heads. Even in the indistinct light, he could see the enjoyment on her face and felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure that he’d been responsible for putting it there.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, after the C-130 touched down. “That was freaking amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever watched a landing from quite this perspective.”
“The show’s not over yet. Look.” Chance directed her attention to a helipad on the far side of the runway. “They’ll send a brigade of Black Hawks out to extract the paratroopers from the jump site.”
As the roar of the C-130 engines faded, Chance could hear the thwap-thwap of the helicopter rotors churning to life. The first bird lifted slowly into the air and hovered for a brief moment, silhouetted against the night sky before accelerating forward, directly above the spot where they sat.
Chance lay flat on his back and drew Jenna down beside him, turning his head to watch her as five Black Hawks thundered above them, the downward wash from their rotors stirring the grass and blowing Jenna’s hair around her face.
“Oh, man, I love that sound!” She shifted on the blanket to look at him, laughing, and Chance felt his breath catch.
Setting his cup of wine aside, he rose up on one elbow and used his free hand to tug a strand of hair loose from the corner of her mouth, where it had caught.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, when the racket of the helicopters had faded.
She gazed up at him, still smiling. “Oh, yeah.”
Her eyes were mysterious in the dim light, her mouth soft and lush. Her dark hair fanned out on the blanket beneath her head and Chance twined a silky lock of it around his finger. Beneath her blouse, her breasts rose and fell in an agitated way, betraying the fact that she wasn’t nearly as relaxed as she pretended to be.
“So what made you go to Shooters tonight?” he asked, idly rubbing the strand of hair between his fingers.
She made a small, shrugging motion. “I went with a friend, more out of boredom than anything else.”
He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “And are you bored now?”
“Getting there,” she said huskily, and moistened her lips. “You might have to do something about that. Any ideas?”
“Well, for starters, I really want to kiss you,” he confessed in a husky voice, studying her face.
“Thank God,” she breathed. Reaching up, she slid a hand to the back of his head and drew him down to her.
* * *
CHASE RAWLINS CLEARLY knew how to kiss, and enjoyed doing it. He leaned over her, cupping her face in his palm as his mouth leisurely explored hers. His lips were warm and firm and he tormented her with soft, lingering kisses as his thumb caressed her cheek.
Jenna really had gone too long without sex. What other reason could there be for the way her blood hummed through her veins, or the way his touch did crazy things to her already heightened senses? She was acutely conscious of how warm and solid he felt against her body. He tasted faintly of wine, and she breathed in the intoxicating blend of his aftershave, the warm, fusty odor of the woolen blanket and the crisp scent of the crushed grass beneath them. She wanted to devour him, but he kept his kisses frustratingly sweet, teasing her, but not giving her what she craved.
“Open your mouth,” she breathed against his lips, desperate to taste him.
He made a noise, something between a groan and sigh, and then his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers and ratcheting up her need. The hot, moist kiss triggered an answering rush of dampness between her thighs. She wanted to throw a leg across his hips and press herself against him. Instead, she squeezed her knees together and told herself to slow down. But when he deepened the kiss, Jenna couldn’t prevent sliding her arms around his broad shoulders and arching against him, telling him without words that she wanted more.
He grunted softly in approval, and before she knew what he intended, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she lay sprawled across his chest, her legs tangled with his. Gasping, she eased away enough to look down into his face. In the indistinct light, his eyes seemed to glow in his tanned face, and his breathing came in hard pants.
“I’m too heavy for you,” Jenna protested. But when she would have pushed away, he restrained her.
“Are you kidding?” He sounded astonished. “You feel great.”
As if to emphasize his words, he thrust his fingers into her hair where it hung loose around her face and drew her back down, covering her mouth with his own. Jenna resisted for about a fraction of a second before the heat of his kiss caused her to melt against him. When he wedged a hard thigh between her legs, she instinctively rode it, savoring the friction against her center, where she pulsed hotly. He speared her tongue with his, in concert with the rocking of her hips against his leg. The sensation was amazing, but she wanted more.
Pulling back, Jenna straddled him. He shifted beneath her, until she was pressed fully against the hard ridge of his arousal.
“Oh, man, you feel good,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and moving reflexively back and forth. The intimate contact created a fresh flood of moisture to saturate her panties, and her nipples felt tight and achy.
As if he knew what she needed, he reached up and covered her breasts with his hands. All the air escaped from her lungs in a soft rush of pleasure. Her back arched as his thumbs stroked across the distended nipples.
She was glad now that while he’d been in the store buying the wine, she’d slipped her dog tags off and pushed them into the pocket of her jeans. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to get very intimate, very quickly. She could almost guess how he might respond if he saw the telltale evidence of her military service, and she didn’t need to have him ruin the moment by asking questions. She’d learned from experience that most men found her job as threatening as her height, so she avoided talking about it whenever possible.
Only her father seemed less than impressed with her chosen career. Part of the reason she’d opted to become an army helicopter pilot was to make him proud, although she’d never admit to him how much his opinion mattered, or how everything she did and even how she felt about other pilots could be traced right back to him. She could barely admit it to herself. She was a more than competent pilot, she knew that, yet she couldn’t seem to shake the sense that, no matter how good she was, she’d never be quite good enough. She’d worked twice as hard as any of the guys in her unit, and had achieved just as much, so why did she feel as if she was a disappointment to her father? And why did it matter so much? Aside from teaching her how to fly helicopters, he’d hardly taken any notice of her. She didn’t owe him anything.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped. His face was taut as he watched her. “What you like.”
The small part of Jenna’s brain that still functioned knew she should stop, but the sensations coursing through her body were too intense. She needed more of the delicious contact. Covering hi
s hands with her own, she encouraged his caresses even as she angled her hips for optimum friction.
“I like this,” she assured him. Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar, even to herself. “But I want more.”
When her hands moved to the buckle of his belt, he made a sound like a helpless groan and caught her wrists.
“Wait.”
Jenna’s hands stilled. His features were all hard angles in the dim light and she silently berated herself for having moved too fast. When would she learn that not all men appreciated women who took the initiative? “What is it?”
“I want you to know that I didn’t bring you out here for this. I mean, I’d hoped, of course—” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But it wasn’t something I’d planned on. I just wanted you to know.”
Jenna felt a smile tug at her mouth. She hadn’t expected him to be so considerate, although she should have guessed. After all, she’d seen him dance. “Okay…so does this mean you want me to stop?”
“Hell, no!” He released her wrists. “But it’s only fair I tell you that we might not see each other again after tonight. So if that bothers you…”
“It doesn’t,” she assured him. “Like I said before, I’m only here for a few days, and then I’ll be gone.” She paused meaningfully. “So, unless you’re married or something…”
He laughed softly and raised his ringless hands for her inspection. “No wife. No fiancée. No girlfriend.”
“Then no worries, because I’m not looking for any promises. Your job is dangerous, and you can never be sure where you’re going to be from one day to the next. Trust me, I get it. Not exactly conducive to a relationship, right?”
“Right…”
She heard the cautious agreement in his voice, and wondered if she’d made another faux pas. Maybe he didn’t want her to know that he was with special ops. Some of those guys were funny about revealing their connection to the black world of covert operations. But she really did get it, because her own career made it difficult for her to establish any romantic ties.
“All I’m trying to say is that I’m okay with keeping this casual,” she clarified. “No strings. No commitments.” Leaning down, she put her mouth next to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “No problem.”
3
CHANCE COULDN’T THINK of one damn reason to argue with her, not when her heat scorched him through his jeans and her hands were at his belt, finishing the task he’d interrupted just moments earlier. He’d been honest with her. He’d told her that whatever they shared wouldn’t extend beyond tonight, and she’d been okay with it. More than okay, really. He should feel a little insulted that she was so okay with not seeing him again, but suddenly he couldn’t think about much beyond the feel of her fingers unzipping his jeans and tentatively stroking him beneath the fabric of his boxers.
“You’re so hard,” she breathed.
Oh, yeah.
“You’re sure—”
“Shh.” She lay her fingers over his mouth. “You talk too much.”
As if to emphasize her point, she leaned down and covered his lips with her own, sliding her tongue against his. Chance wanted to groan with pleasure. He buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face for better access, luxuriating in the damp silk of her mouth. She made a small noise in her throat and shifted so that she could reach between their bodies and cover his straining erection with her hand. The heat of her palm through the thin cotton had him pushing upward, instinctively seeking more of the erotic contact.
“Mmm,” she murmured approvingly. “You like that?”
Chance managed to grunt a reply, and then ceased to think altogether when she slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so aroused so quickly. Of course, he hadn’t been with anyone in more than six months, and that kind of deprivation had a way of ratcheting up your libido. But Chance suspected that even if he hadn’t gone through a recent dry spell, he’d have a tough time resisting Jenna Larson. Everything about her turned him on. When she began to rhythmically slide her hand along his length, he groaned loudly and reached down to wrap a restraining hand around her wrist.
“Darlin’,” he panted, “you need to slow down, or this is going to be over a whole lot quicker than either of us wants.”
To both his regret and relief, Jenna released him.
“Sorry,” she whispered against his lips, “but I really want to touch you.”
She raised herself to a sitting position and ran her palms over the planes of his chest, her expression so sexy that Chance knew if she touched him again the way she just had, he’d be a goner. He didn’t protest when she began unfastening the buttons on his shirt and then tugged the fabric free from his waistband until he was exposed to her greedy gaze.
“Holy shit,” she muttered, and stroked a fingertip down the shallow groove that bisected his torso until she encountered the tip of his erection where it protruded above the waistband of his boxers. “It’s like you’ve been…airbrushed. Only, better.”
Chance gave a huff of laughter, grateful for the long hours he’d spent in physical training. He kept his body in prime condition, not just because the army required it, but because he and his brother had an ongoing rivalry over which of them was in better shape. With his rigorous special ops training, Chase usually kicked his ass in that department, but Chance suddenly didn’t care. If Jenna Larson liked what she saw, that was more than good enough for him.
She still straddled his hips, and when she swirled the tip of her finger over the head of his penis, Chance groaned and strained upward.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he growled softly. “My turn.”
Without giving her time to protest, he slid her to one side of the blanket and sat up, bending forward to yank his boots off and toss them aside. Her eyes never left him as he peeled his shirt away and spread it out on the blanket behind him, before he stood and swiftly shed his jeans. Finally, when all he wore were his boxers, he dropped back onto the blanket and turned to Jenna.
“That’s better,” he murmured, and scooted closer until mere inches separated them. Bracing himself on his forearm, he undid the first button of her blouse, and then the second. In the dim light, he could just make out the lacy edge of her bra. His fingers paused over the third button, and he slanted her a questioning look.
“Don’t stop now,” she murmured, and a hint of a smile curved her lips. Beneath his hand, Chance could feel the frantic, unsteady beat of her heart.
He slid a hand beneath the fall of her hair and dipped his head to cover her lips once more. She sighed into his mouth and her hand forged a molten trail along his rib cage and over his hip to boldly cup his butt and urge him closer.
Chance resisted the urge to grind against her, and instead focused on slowly unbuttoning her blouse as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When the fabric fell open beneath his fingers, he raised his head to admire the exposed swell of soft flesh beneath the lacy bra and the long, slender length of her waist.
“Gorgeous,” he muttered, and stroked the back of his fingers across the satiny skin, watching in fascination as her stomach muscles contracted beneath his touch. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he didn’t wait for her permission, but flicked the button open and drew the zipper down in one easy movement. In the splayed vee of denim, he could just make out the top edge of her panties, and was helpless to prevent himself from laying his palm against her smooth abdomen. He wanted to plant his mouth there. Christ, he wanted to kiss her everywhere. He wanted to lick her skin, breathe in her scent and feel her softness against his palms. He dragged in a deep breath and forced himself to slow down.
Jenna made a small sound of frustration, and then her hands were there, pushing her jeans over her hips, even as she kicked her sandals free from her feet. Chance watched, mesmerized, as her long legs were exposed, and then she was gloriously bare except for the scrap of lace at her crotch, glea
ming white in the darkness.
She rolled toward him, hitching one slim thigh over his leg, and running her hand along his bare skin. With a muffled groan, he gathered her fully against him, his hands smoothing over her back to survey the dips and curves of her shoulder blades and spine. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her fragrance. She was slim and supple, and when he drew a hand along the back of her thigh and angled her leg higher over his hip, she made an inarticulate sound of pleasure in her throat and pressed her center against his aching cock. She planted hot, moist kisses against his neck and jaw, and her hands were everywhere, exploring his body with an urgency that told him just how aroused she was. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he cupped her through the scrap of silk.
Heat. Moisture. Incredible softness.
Easing the fabric to one side, he stroked a finger along her slick cleft. She gave a strangled cry of pleasure and her hips bucked sharply.
Lust slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
Jenna moaned softly and pushed herself against his fingers, drenching them with the evidence of her arousal. Chance’s cock grew even stiffer, and with a rough sound of need, he rolled her onto her back and settled himself between her splayed thighs, rocking hard against her core. Jenna groaned loudly and grabbed the back of his head, slanting her mouth over his in a deep, openmouthed kiss that sent bolts of white-hot flame straight to his balls. He had a hard time focusing on anything except how bad he wanted to be inside her. He needed to slow down.
Breaking the kiss, he pushed her bra down beneath her breasts, and then covered one plump mound with his hand and rubbed his thumb across the distended tip.
“Oh, God. That feels so good,” she gasped, and arched upward, rubbing herself along the length of his erection. “Help me take these off.”
