by Karen Rock
Her moans deepened, and she gasped when he circled her clit with his thumb. He thrust a finger inside her and stroked gently in and out. Her tight flesh clamped around him, making him imagine how it’d feel around his cock... Yet he held himself in check. Wanted to pleasure her first. Chase away the last of those shadows that’d lingered in her eyes.
He delved deeper and she shuddered, back arching and hips thrusting forward, her chest rising and falling fast. She cried out and convulsed as she pressed against his hand. Hard. Then she collapsed, limp in the sand. With her face damp and flushed, her glittering eyes unfocused, she looked every bit as sated as he wanted her to be. As he wanted to be. He blinked down at her, the pressure of his desire licking through his blood.
Her burning cheek rested against Mark’s rigid shoulder and her ragged breathing gradually slowed. Not wanting to rush her, he held himself in check—barely. Kept his balled hands at his sides. Waited. And waited. When he felt her fingers slowly lower his bulging zipper, he shuddered.
Her cool fingers wrapped around his aching erection, gently skimming the length. It took every ounce of focus not to explode in her hands like a teenager. Jesus. She drove him crazy. His guttural moan seemed to encourage her mind-blowing quest. Her fingers circled his damp tip, teasing, before trailing down his rigid shaft to cup the swelling sack below.
Time to end this torture. He yanked off his jeans and shirt, removed the condom he kept in his wallet, ripped open the foil package and rolled the sheath down his cock.
“You feel so good,” he groaned as he slid over her. Her legs lifted around his waist as he nudged her satin opening with his tip.
“Yes,” she breathed as he thrust home, filling her up, drowning her in sensation.
They came together slowly then faster and faster, her hold on him tightening, his lips grazing her skin, her breath ragged in his ear. As her movements grew more violent, he returned them, pulling out then burying himself in her again and again. His hips thrust powerfully and she tightened around him with every stroke.
Incredible. Mind-blowing. Sensational.
He leaned back on his heels and leveraged her up onto his lap, their bodies remaining joined. Her thighs straddled him as she rocked back and forth against his near-bursting hardness. He cupped her ass and kneaded its firm flesh, pressing her even closer, his cock buried to the hilt.
When she rose up and plunged down, he slipped to the edge, about to lose control. He wanted to prolong this moment. Savor it. Draw out each mouth-watering sensation, but it was beyond him. Instead, he held her tight, lifting and lowering her, over and over, faster and faster, their hips meeting frantically.
Their synchronized motion increased to a frenzied, heart-stopping tempo. Her breath came in fast, urgent pants that intensified until he heard the cry build at the back of her throat. When her head tipped back, he stopped her shriek with his mouth, absorbing the sound, her pleasure, so surely that it became his own. Her bouncing breasts, tight spasms and the surf pounding the beach in unison with his thrusts were suddenly too much. He exploded within her, the darkness inside him evaporating at this incredible release.
They fell back to the ground, limbs tangling, chests heaving, his arm around her shoulders as he pressed her close. She shivered, limp in his arms as they held each other.
When their breathing returned to normal, she raised herself on her elbow and looked down at him. Something in her had altered: her features had lifted, the strain had vanished from around her eyes.
An unnamed emotion rolled through him, more satisfying, even, than this mind-blowing physical release. He’d eased her troubles as surely as she’d made him forget his own. He enclosed her in his arms again, pulling her to him so tightly that their bodies molded to one another, her soft curves fitting into his rough edges.
Just hours ago, she’d been a stranger but now...now...well, he couldn’t put a label on it. Just knew that he’d seek her out after the mission. See where this amazing thing between them might lead.
His train of thought was broken by her kissing his chest, his shoulder, his neck, with intense concentration. “You realize,” he said, rolling her over so that her legs were entwined with his, her mouth inches away, “that we’re going to have to do that again.”
“God. I hope so,” she sighed, her lids closing, a dimple appearing as her mouth curled up.
“Want to go for a swim first? I’ll wash you off.”
A wicked light appeared when her eyes snapped open, the color silver in the moonlight. “I’ll give you extra points if you can get the sand out of my hair.”
At the vision of his hands all over her naked body in the water, he hardened again. Before he let himself get too distracted, he got to his feet and held out a hand.
“I’m still waiting for my scores on sexual prowess,” he murmured, gathering her close.
“Are you kidding me?” She skimmed a hand along his hip and pressed her lips to his bare chest. “That number was off the charts.”
Just like that, he was ready for her all over again. He didn’t know how he was going to walk away from her before the sun rose, but he’d sure as hell make the most of every minute before then.
3
CASSIE SNAPPED AN elastic band around her damp hair the next morning as she rode the transport bus to the Coast Guard base. Outside, the dark sky had barely lightened to charcoal and humid air moved sluggishly through the vents. Not the most promising of sunrises. The day looked stormy already.
Yesterday, she might have worried about the bad omen of those clouds overhead. Now, with her limbs pleasantly sore from an overdose of pleasure last night, she felt too languid and satisfied to panic. Amazing what a night of mind-blowing sex would do for a woman. After their swim, they’d headed back to Mark’s hotel, where they’d made love until an hour ago. They’d parted ways in the parking lot, kissing right up until the moment when she’d turned her key in her ignition.
There hadn’t been any promises to call. And not until she’d reached her room did she realize she hadn’t even gotten his last name. They’d agreed to keep an eye out for each other next time they were at Mayday’s.
She’d known even then that she would probably never be there again. And she’d bet he suspected as much, too. But last night had been like a time-out from her regular life. A magical moment when her stars had aligned with those of the hottest guy imaginable. And while it was okay to live a little, the way her brother had told her to, she wasn’t going to suddenly stop being Cassie Rowe from Idaho.
Last night, she’d felt free to demand what she wanted and give it in return. No compromising. No holding back. Just pure, unadulterated passion that’d fired her up and kept her from worrying about today’s flight.
A shiver snaked along her spine. Not much anyway. As the transport bus bounced over a pothole, bringing her closer to her crazy decision to fly into a hurricane-ravaged country, the first buzz of nerves returned.
She pulled the top off her coffee and breathed in the fragrant steam. Definitely a two-cup morning.
Tan, beige and black stone half walls appeared after a few minutes, one with a sign that read United States Coast Guard Air Station Clearwater.
Cassie’s mood plummeted as she glimpsed the orange-and-white Jayhawk helicopters in the distance. Guilt bit hard as she remembered how gratefully she’d shaken off her grief last night for those hours of forgetting.
Raeanne, a fellow nurse seated next to her, squeezed her arm.
“I always get such an adrenaline rush at this point.”
Cassie nodded, though the only rushing going on inside her was from memories of her brother.
“I was nervous on my first flight, too.” Raeanne sipped from her own cup of coffee, her bright Red Cross T-shirt reminding Cassie of their mission. “But everything’s done. Our medical supplies are loaded. All we have
to do is get on the helicopter.”
“Right.” Cassie pressed on the corners of her closed eyes with her index fingers. The thought of boarding one—as Jeff had—created a vacuum inside of her, sucking till her chest caved in on itself. She’d wanted closure, but now, confronted with this reality, her wounds all threatened to split open, painful and raw as ever.
At last the bus jerked to a halt and they slumped outside just as the clouds started to drizzle. The members of her emergency team hurried across the dappled tarmac to a white hangar that resembled an Idaho barn, pitched roof and all. The main building had wings, one stretching out to the rear from each end. Surrounding it were orange-and-white planes and helicopters. Uniformed men and women loaded and checked equipment while others saluted before slapping each other on the back.
Their booming laughter did nothing to offset Cassie’s rising anxiety. She couldn’t help seeing things through Jeff’s eyes, remembering how much he’d loved the same kind of close-knit community on his old base. The ground rumbled under her feet as a plane took off. Wind gusted over the slate ocean ruffled with rising waves.
Once this had been Jeff’s world. Now it was hers. And as much as that might hurt, where else could she find the understanding that eluded her? The replies she’d gotten to the letters she’d fired off to his commanding officer had lacked the detail she needed.
She worked to school her expression as she followed Raeanne to a group of about ten people—Red Cross volunteers and Coast Guard servicemen and servicewomen—standing by a flight line, a Jayhawk behind them.
When they reached the circle, she stood by one of the military helicopter’s wheels and studied her shoes. The uniforms and aircraft all added to the twist of pain in her chest. For a second, she wished she could run back to that beach where she’d left Mark. But she’d known that living in the moment wasn’t always going to be fun.
This day was going to hurt.
“Not everyone’s here, but since we’re wheels up in ten, we’ll go ahead with introductions. I’m Chief Petty Officer Ian McClaughlin, a rescue swimmer and trainer.”
Cassie breathed in and out. Focused on steadying herself before she lifted her gaze to the military man still speaking. After Ian McClaughlin shook hands with the leader of Cassie’s Red Cross group, a few others in the Jayhawk crew introduced themselves. She strained to focus, but their words swirled around her like the storm outside—background noise for all the other thoughts cramming her head.
Forcing herself to join the conversation, she was preparing to introduce herself when the sound of footsteps penetrated her consciousness.
“Sorry for the holdup, folks.” The familiar male voice was like a warm arm around her shoulders, steadying her.
Confused, she turned to see her dark-haired lover from the night before. Except he wasn’t naked and whispering sweet words in her ear. He wore a Coast Guard uniform.
And while she’d guessed that Mark was military, she sure never expected he might be part of her transport to Saint Thomas. The shock stole her breath.
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Mark Sampson, pilot with Elizabeth City Air Station.” He hadn’t spotted her yet as he tipped the black brim of his white hat.
Elizabeth City? That was Jeff’s former base.
Suddenly, the air was white around her, burning things away from the edges in. When she took an involuntary sideways step, the nurse next to her murmured some kind of generic encouragement. The woman had no clue that Cassie’s brain was short-circuiting, struggling to make sense of Mark being here.
Of Mark being a Jayhawk pilot from Jeff’s last station.
“I’m Petty Officer Second Class Larry Volk, flight mechanic with Elizabeth City,” continued the introductions.
Cassie couldn’t breathe. Fear weighted her shoulders. Dread compounded it.
“Lieutenant Robert Fillmore, copilot with Elizabeth City,” spoke up another man.
The whole crew was from North Carolina. What were the odds that this was a group Jeff had known? Jeff had flown with?
Mark was a common enough name. She hadn’t thought twice about it last night. But in the context of the Jayhawk and the Elizabeth City connection, she made sense of all the clues. Heard Mark’s full name and rank and recalled it listed on the flower arrangement card Jeff’s crew had sent when they couldn’t attend the memorial. Mark Sampson. The pilot who’d flown her brother’s final mission.
The man she’d spent the night with was the same man who had left her brother to drown.
At her strangled exclamation, the pilot’s eyes swerved her way, widening in recognition.
But did he really recognize her? Of course not. He had no idea who she was or how deeply she’d betrayed her brother’s memory. The thought of it knocked her breath out, like ice water.
Her eyes drifted out of the hangar and back toward the bus. For a moment she envisioned racing to it, returning to the hotel and then to Idaho. But she didn’t think she could live with this burden any better there than here. She wasn’t that kind of woman any longer.
Hitching her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, she stared at a distant spot over Mark’s shoulder. Leaving wouldn’t honor her brother. This heartless pilot would not take that from her, too.
No.
She’d go on the mission as planned. Maybe, amid the chaos of this natural disaster, she’d better understand the choices Jeff had made—and the sacrifices. To do that, she’d need to avoid the officer whose presence would be enough to keep her wounds from healing, even if that meant ignoring the strongest attraction she’d ever felt for a man.
* * *
WHY WOULDN’T SHE meet his eye?
As introductions rolled on, Mark stared at Cassie and listened to his crazy heartbeat. It’d taken every ounce of willpower to squelch thoughts of their night together during preflight inspection this morning. He’d worried he might never see her again. But here she stood, even more beautiful in natural light, and looking far too vulnerable to fly into the aftermath of a Category 5 storm.
Damn it. He could not let her mess with his head.
Would not let memories of their incredible night distract him from what he really needed. This mission.
And the absolution that each successful operation would bring him.
Exhaust fuel permeated the waterlogged air when more engines fired to life around them. His gaze swept over her as she huddled in the group, her arms crossed, shoulders folding in. The thin, dirty light revealed the purple shadows under her eyes. Shadows he was responsible for.
Did she regret last night? She’d seemed as satisfied as him when they’d parted. Still, the pain he’d noticed in the bar shimmered around her now. Gone was the passionate woman who’d rocked his world.
The redhead beside her finished her introduction and turned, giving the floor to Cassie.
“I’m Cassie Rowe, RN American Red Cross, Greater Idaho,” she said, voice ragged. She hit him with a stare like a threat.
“First timer!” proclaimed the woman next to Cassie and a smattering of cheers and claps rose.
“Getting her dollar ride,” one of his crew put in.
Rowe. The name backhanded him like a slap from his old man.
Jeff’s last name. And hadn’t he been from the Midwest? Mark’s brain buzzed, his nervous system flashing warnings brighter than any heads-up display on a flight screen. He tried recalling the names he’d written on the card to Jeff’s family.
There was definitely a sister.
Outside, the light shower turned into thick, clammy rain. When the group turned his way, he automatically waved them on board, a buzzing in his ears. Time to leave. He had less than five minutes before takeoff. But he had to know.
He tipped his hat to each of the members when they clambered on board, then pulled Cassie aside. She jerked her elbow fr
ee and examined him with flat eyes that sucked in everything and emitted nothing.
“Cassie—”
The rain blew against them, shifting, and an engine whined loud as another plane took off.
She put up a hand and backed away, her eyes overbright. “No. I can’t—” She stared around her, dazed, then tossed her duffel bag into the cabin, bounded by him and hauled herself inside the helicopter.
Damn.
“Yo! Time’s up, Commander,” called Robert through the open cockpit door.
“Got it.”
He climbed into his seat, donned his helmet and strapped himself in. Robert shot Mark a questioning look, which he ignored as he compartmentalized and began the familiar start-up routines. Didn’t Cassie’s last name trip a signal in anyone else’s mind from his crew? His hand fisted in his lap while Robert moved the battery switch to On, flipped on the APU and checked through the hydraulic systems. Mark fired up the engines and the rotors whirred to life, the blades slicing through the fog rolling in off the bay.
After cross-checking his engine and system instruments against his start checklist, he tuned up the ground frequency and waited for a break in the chatter to request taxi clearance.
Something skimmed across Mark’s mind. Cassie’s eyes. Same color as Jeff’s. Then there was his old crewmate’s leave request for a sister graduating nursing school.
Cold sweat popped on his brow.
Shit.
“She’s Jeff’s sister,” he murmured under his breath, his voice ragged.
His shoulders tightened. Not the right time to dwell on this. But holy hell. Given her reaction, she’d realized who he was, too.
Her parents blamed him for Jeff’s death. No doubt Cassie did, as well.
And how could he fault her? He hadn’t stopped blaming himself.
He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the riot of thought and focused, drawing on his training. He was supposed to be putting this shit behind him. He’d sworn up and down to the military docs that he could handle flying.
