“It’s startling.” An apology shimmered in her eyes. “I mean, I got a glimpse before, but I really didn’t comprehend...”
“I’ve been a Dogman a long time.” Lincoln pushed up on his elbows. “Battle wounds are par for the course.”
Her bright blue eyes blinked back tears. She hurt for him—he could see the pain twisting her features.
“These scars aren’t worth your sorrow, Angel. They healed and I’m still living.” He sat up. “I don’t regret any of it.” Especially because the path he’d chosen had led him to her.
He clasped the cup of his prosthetic. “Should I take this off? Or get dressed?”
Angeline took his face in her hands. “I’m not put off by your scars. And I want you. Very much.” She kissed him hard and passionately, breaking away to remove her sweater and yoga pants. The black lace bra and panties against her pale skin made his mouth water even as his throat dried.
“Your turn.” She pointed a slender finger at his leg.
Carefully, he worked off the prosthetic.
“Can I hold it?” Angeline held out her open hands.
Gently, he entrusted her with the state-of-the-art limb.
“Wow! It’s—”
“Expensive,” he interrupted.
“I was going to say heavy.” She carried the prosthetic to the dresser and propped it against the drawers.
“It shouldn’t weigh more than my natural leg would.”
“Have you seen your leg?” She sashayed toward him. “Tree trunk size and solid muscle.”
He scooted farther onto the bed as she stalked up his body, then straddled him. Her sizzling kiss short-circuited the higher functions in his brain, reducing his ability to talk to a series of grunts and groans and growls.
Her lips trailed down his throat. The floral scent of her hair was as feminine and intoxicating as her touch. She kissed each and every scar on his chest and arms, making them more than worth the pain he’d suffered obtaining the wound.
Following the dark line of hair below his belly button, she licked, nibbled and kissed his skin all the way down to his groin. Never in all the nights he’d been alone had he dared to hope for a moment like this with her.
Maybe he had died in that explosion and been found worthy of a little piece of heaven.
The tip of her tongue traced the seam of his sack to the top of his cock. The anticipatory tension inside his groin coiled tighter, making it difficult to breathe normally. His pants sounded as ragged as a man dying from thirst yet inching his way toward a lush, beautiful oasis.
That was what she was to him. Hope. Soft and wonderful and incredibly beautiful.
Taking him into her mouth, she laved her tongue over his slit and down his shaft. His mind turned into a quagmire of images and instinct, all driving him toward claiming his mate.
* * *
“Mine,” Lincoln said in a harsh, hoarse whisper.
Angeline ignored the declaration in favor of savoring the salty, masculine taste of him. Beneath her hand, the taut skin of his stomach trembled.
He was close, so close, and she took pleasure knowing she had brought him to the pinnacle of agony and ecstasy. She wanted him to teeter there a little longer, to share the experience of aching and clenching with need.
Men, always in a rush to the finish line, often missed the softer nuances of coupling that a woman wanted.
Slowly, she eased his shaft from her mouth and kissed a trail from his belly button to the hollow spot at the base of his throat. A sigh drifted on his long, drawn-out breath.
Though his lashes fluttered, his eyes did not open. Large, calloused hands gripped her hips and the contact unleashed a flood of hormones in her body already raging with feminine desire.
She looked down Lincoln’s body, his bronzed skin marred with scars but no less beautiful. His loss of a leg didn’t diminish his vitality or lessen her want of him.
His long, thick shaft pressed intimately against her lacy panties. She rocked back and forth, teasing him.
“Angeline.” It sounded like a croak.
She did it again and again until his eyelids lifted and he seared her with his molten gaze.
“Now that you’re awake...”
He growled, menacing, with a slight undertone of desperation.
Reaching behind her, Angeline unhooked her bra then took her time drawing her arms out of the straps before lowering the cups to expose her breasts. Lincoln seemed to stop breathing. His chest stilled completely and not one muscle in his body flickered.
Slowly, she leaned over him and softly touched her lips to his mouth. As they kissed, Lincoln slid her panties down her hips. Easily, she maneuvered out of the undergarment one leg at a time. Completely naked and straddling him, she watched his gaze follow his hands over every curve.
He brought her forward to take her breast into his mouth. Her growl competed with his as he fast-flicked his tongue over her nipple. With his arms wrapped securely around her middle, she couldn’t escape the unbearable pleasure.
Though his hold did not lessen, she felt his hand move down the curve of her ass and his fingers caressed her inner thigh before teasing and sliding against her folds.
“So wet,” he panted against the valley between her breasts as his mouth moved from one to the other.
The response on her tongue became a deep feminine groan as his finger traced her opening before pushing inside. Dropping her head, she rested her forehead against his shoulder as every muscle in her body went slack except for those in her lower belly. Those grew tighter and tighter, coiled and primed for release.
Lincoln grinned, damn him. Though he had every right. Turnabout was fair play and she had teased him to the point of ecstasy. Only she’d stopped at the pinnacle, hoping to prolong the moment. From the rhythm and pressure of his pistoning fingers, he had a different agenda.
Each time she tried to call his name, a passionate groan escaped. With her muscles refusing to cooperate, she simply indulged in the pleasure each stroke provided.
“Oh, God.” The words were a chant in her mind.
“Want me to stop, Angel?”
“Do and die.” She barely managed the thought before shattering in sheer ecstasy. Buoyed on the feeling, she barely noticed Lincoln rolling her onto the mattress.
He crouched over her; a wildness in his eyes she’d never seen made him all the sexier.
“Grab a pillow and put it under my leg,” he said hoarsely.
It took a moment for her brain to process the words before her arm reached over to do as he’d asked. As soon as she did, some of the strain eased in Lincoln’s shoulders.
Angeline molded her hand around his shaft and guided him inside her. Though it took a few positional adjustments for him to comfortably thrust, the trials and errors were worth the effort. They sighed in unison as he filled her.
His essence entangled with hers, heightening the sensation of completeness. She’d never expected to experience that feeling again, especially with another Dogman.
Lincoln had expressed his intent to retire from the Program and she found herself less afraid to open her heart to him. They had a long way to go, though, before they committed to a mateship but the getting to know each other part was rather fun.
“Mmm.” His lips whispered along the curve of her neck, turning her insides giddy.
“No biting,” she gasped.
A wolfan bite during sexual intercourse established a mate-claim and was binding until death. A mate-claim did not guarantee that a mate-bond would form. And some couples, like Tristan’s parents, never became a cohesive pair after the claiming.
Lincoln licked a spot that instantly became her new favorite, causing her hips to arch and her fingers to dig into his back.
“Same goes for you, Angel.” Lincoln’s voice floated through her mind.
/> Peeking open her eyes, she realized how close her teeth were to his shoulder. Moving away from the danger zone, she captured his lips in a breath-stealing kiss that broke only when her head tipped back from the force of the orgasm pulsing through her body.
Wave after wave battered her senses, drowning her in an ocean of pleasure. Only Lincoln’s strong, steady presence kept her from slipping into oblivion.
He shuddered against her and stilled, except for the rise and fall of his chest with each panted breath.
Her breaths easing, she brushed her fingers through his dark, wavy hair and tried to imagine how different the texture would feel if shorn in a military buzz cut.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. “Hello, Angel,” he softly growled. The gleam in his gaze was possessive and smugly satisfied.
Mine, mine, mine. Her heart thumped the declaration with every beat. Though neither had physically claimed the other, she sensed the power of the mate-bond stitching them together mind and body, heart and soul.
“That was fun.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth.
“Fun?” His brow scrunched though humor lit his eyes. “Admit it, that was pretty amazing.”
“I admit nothing.” She made a turning-the-lock gesture over her lips.
“My training included techniques used to make people talk.” Settling on his right side, he drew his left hand from her hip across her ribs and traced the curve of her breast, causing her to suck in a breath. “Shall I continue?”
“Please do.”
He chuckled and Angeline reminded herself that unless she wanted Lincoln reading every thought that crossed her mind, she needed to remember to shield them from him.
Using the pad of his thumb, Lincoln strummed her nipple until it tightened into a sensitive bud. “Still not talking?” he teased and then lowered his head to suck her peak into his hot, moist mouth.
The comfortable ebb of satisfaction that had lulled her into a relaxed state suddenly churned with want and need and the knowledge that Lincoln could quench both.
Teasing and tormenting, his tongue flicked against her nipple a dozen times before he sucked it long and hard, driving her to near madness, and releasing it only to start the cycle again. On the fourth round, his hand slipped down her abdomen and between her legs, parted in welcome.
Gingerly, he fingered her folds. She wanted to stroke his shaft in tandem, but the way he was positioned prevented her from reaching his groin. Since his face was practically planted in her chest as he continued to lick and suck her breasts, she gripped the back of his neck, massaging the thick, corded muscles beneath her palm. A slight shiver rolled across his shoulders but didn’t impede the attention he showered on two particular parts of her body.
Once more on the cusp of ecstasy, she arched her hips. A few more strokes would send her plunging over the edge. Only he stopped.
“Lincoln?” His name tore raggedly from her throat.
Silently, he cocked his head at the open bedroom door.
“Okay,” she nearly panted, “I admit it. Sex with you is downright amazing. So, can we get back to it?”
“I need to answer my phone!” The urgency in his voice made her heart race.
They both sat up. He swung his leg over the edge of the bed and looked toward the dresser where his prosthetic rested.
“I’ll get it.” She scrambled off the bed and dashed into the living room, following the sound of the ring to the satellite phone on the coffee table. Someone from the Program was calling.
Her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach, she grabbed the device, rushed into the bedroom and handed it to Lincoln.
“Adams,” he answered, his voice tight and his body rigid.
Angeline placed the prosthetic leg next to Lincoln on the bed. Then she quickly gathered her clothes and went to dress in the bathroom. Playtime had ended. And more than likely, her days with Lincoln were numbered. He’d warned her that he’d have to return to the Program for a while. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Program would really let him go.
Chapter 21
Dayax is alive!
Lincoln’s heart nearly cracked his chest with its furious beating. The adrenaline-laced blood rushing in his ears made it difficult for him to comprehend much of what had been said afterward.
All this time not knowing but hoping and praying. Refusing to believe any other outcome. To learn that the boy he loved like a son had been found, Lincoln came as close to tears as he’d ever been in his entire life.
“Are you orders clear, Captain?” The CO’s crisp voice snapped Lincoln to attention.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I’ll see you soon, Adams. Safe journey.”
“Thank you, sir.” A deluge of relief and determination rocked his body. The allied forces had eyes on Dayax and a group of children rounded up by the insurgents. But the wolfling wasn’t safe yet.
Lincoln dropped the phone on the bed. Pocketing his fist into his other palm, he pressed his hands against his mouth and clenched his eyes, sending a silent proclamation.
I’m coming, little wolf. Hold on for me a bit longer.
His senses returning to baseline after the adrenaline boost, Lincoln noticed the leg on the bed and Angeline’s absence. A different set of emotions now churned inside his chest. Time with her had become extremely short and there were so many things he needed to explain.
He and Angeline might recognize the mate-bond drawing them together, but there was so much they didn’t know about one another. Despite the warnings from the CO that the wolfling might not be cleared to leave the country, Lincoln had every intention of bringing Dayax home to Walker’s Run.
But Angeline knew nothing about the wolfling and Lincoln had no idea if she wanted to be a mother. Or what he would do if she didn’t.
“Angeline?” He sensed her in the apartment, but she neither answered nor returned to the bedroom.
Quickly and carefully, he secured his prosthetic and pulled on his boxers and pants, then put on his shoes. Strolling out of the bedroom, he stuffed his arms into his sweatshirt and yanked it down over his chest.
“Hey, we need to talk,” he said, walking around the couch to stand in front of Angeline.
“Shh!” She flicked her open hand at him without looking up. “No, not you,” she said into the phone. “Lincoln just walked in. Never mind about him. I’m on my way. I’ll deal with your parents. Just get in there and help Nel deliver that baby!”
Angeline disconnected the call and looked at Lincoln, her face all aglow. “I’m going to be a godmother.” Her happy shriek rolling into a squeal, she jumped up from the couch, her arms askew, and hopped around in a dance reminiscent of the one he’d seen earlier.
For someone with such musical talent, Angeline didn’t have any rhythm when it came to dance moves. Still, he found her jerky, uncoordinated movements quite endearing.
“My purse!” She dashed into the bedroom.
Lincoln snagged his keys from the coffee table. Waiting at the door, he took her coat off the stand and picked up her boots.
“Here.” She rushed to him, holding his Program-issued phone.
Now that he’d been notified about Dayax’s whereabouts and received official orders, Lincoln doubted he’d receive any more calls from HQ tonight.
“Thanks, Angel.” Dropping the device into his other pocket, he kissed Angeline’s temple then passed her the boots.
“Sorry, I’m rushing off,” she said, holding on to him with one hand while using the other to pull on her boots. “But the baby’s coming. And I—” She looked around. “Have you seen my keys?”
“Are they in your purse?”
“Maybe.” She glanced around the room. “Do you see it anywhere?”
“On your shoulder.” He lightly tugged the strap.
“Duh,” she said. “I don’t kno
w why I’m so scattered. I’ve been around babies. Five, in fact.”
“Is this your first time being a godparent?”
“Yeah.” Her face lit up with a huge grin and some of his worry faded.
He’d watched Angeline with her nieces and nephews. She was an absolute natural in handling them and they loved every minute spent in her company. Dayax would be lucky to have her as a mother—if she could accept a package deal.
Lincoln helped her into her coat then flipped up the hoodie on his sweatshirt as they stepped out while she locked the door.
“This was...fun.” She offered a half shrug and a smile. “See you around?”
He didn’t like the way that sounded. Was she brushing him off?
“You’ll see me for the rest of the night,” Lincoln said, walking her to the stairwell. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Instead of arguing, she looked relieved. “Thanks. I didn’t expect to be this nervous.”
They started down the three flights of stairs.
“I wasn’t asked to be involved with the births of my neice and nephews.” Though Angeline’s voice remained cheerful, Lincoln sensed the deep hurt the slight had caused. “Tristan and Nel have no siblings and Nel’s parents were killed in a car accident when she was young. Tristan’s parents—” she peeked at Lincoln “—well, you’ll see for yourself.”
“In case no one has ever told you,” Lincoln said, “you’re great with kids.”
“You’ve mentioned it.” She smiled. “After Sierra’s party—which, by the way, she hasn’t stopped talking about. I think she’s your biggest fan.”
“I was hoping her aunt would be.”
Angeline laughed softly.
“Have you ever wondered about becoming a mother?”
Her steps faltered slightly. “When I was younger,” she finally said. “But life happens and now I’m not sure that I want to do the whole pregnancy thing.”
“There’s always adoption,” he said quietly.
She touched his arm as they reached the first-floor landing. “Do you want be a father?”
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