Trail of Desire [Class of '93 Trilogy Book 2]

by Felicia Forella

  "Get rid of this dang thing.” She swatted at the offending garment and burst into laughter when she glimpsed his forehead. “I think you took me,” she paused to catch her breath, “a little too seriously when I told you that I wish men came with signs on their foreheads.” A trembling finger reached up to trace the letters he'd written in edible body paint. Committed. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Her mood turned serious.

  "It means if you'll have me, I'd like to see where this leads. I've never felt this way before. I know that sounds cliché and mushy and—"

  "I love the way it sounds. Shut up while you're ahead."

  Her spunk had returned. He trailed his lips down the soft skin of her neck to the spot where it joined her shoulder, drawing a purr from her. “And if you won't have me, I'll need to be committed to the nearest mental hospital because I'll go out of my mind without you."

  The silence surrounded him, crushing him until he feared looking in her eyes. Instead, he kept his nose buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling the soft sweet scent of her skin. Her fingers stroked along his hairline, just grazing the “c” in committed along his jaw line, and stopping at the cleft in his chin. The tip of her index finger exerted just enough pressure to force him to tip his head.

  Her words whispered into his soul. “I'm glad you didn't listen when I told you to shut up."

  "I'm not exactly a poet.” He stroked her hair back from her face.

  "No, but you speak from your heart. Now it's my turn. I still have some guilt about the accident that won't go away overnight.” She touched her fingers to his lips, stopping his comment. “But you don't hate me for what happened. And...” she faltered, “I guess it's a good thing Griffin called this morning to ask me if I wanted the SupSpAg position at Quantico."

  "Does that mean—"

  "It means we're no longer working together."

  "And?"

  "It means I want there to be an us.” She pressed her lips to his, soft and supple, and poured out all of her emotions. “If you think we can manage a long-distance relationship."

  "I think we can handle anything we set our minds to. I can always request a transfer to a closer field office like Baltimore or maybe even Headquarters."

  "I like the sound of that.” She nuzzled his neck and nibbled at his ear.

  "I like what you're doing to me."

  "My bedroom is at the end of the hall."

  "We've never made love on a bed before. Even when we had a bed available, we ended up in the shower and on the floor."

  "There's a first time for everything. Although, I did enjoy the shower."

  "Where's your bathroom?"

  "Bedroom first."

  Cradling her close to his body, he rose to his feet and made his way down the hall, careful not to bump her injured arm. He paused at the door to her bedroom, shocked by what he saw. He'd expected a no-nonsense decor like the rest of her condo. He'd crossed the threshold of a soft feminine environment. A large—hallelujah—four-poster bed occupied the center of the room, with some sort of netting or gauze suspended from the ceiling to each of the posts. He'd have to be careful or he'd end up tangled up in whatever that was. The off-white comforter with large blue flowers looked warm and inviting.

  The bed captured his imagination as he placed Katrina in the middle of it. Moving to the foot, he removed her socks, shorts, and panties, getting an eyeful of that amazing tattoo.

  "I don't want to hurt you, so it might be best if you take off your shirt.” His gaze was glued to her hands as she manipulated the buttons, exposing the valley between her—oh, thank you, God—braless breasts. She teased him, the twinkle in her eyes making him hotter than hell. The buttons slid free with excruciating slowness and she shrugged off the garment, leaving her breathtakingly gorgeous.

  Katrina lay back on the bed, anxious for Braedon to join her. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing acres of broad shoulders and a wide expanse of bare chest. She'd never get enough of his body. He toed off his shoes and toyed with the button on his fly. Her mouth watered at the sight of the bulge pressing against his zipper. She longed to take him deep in her mouth, but she wanted to make love to him even more. They'd have time to do both if she convinced him to spend the night. As he pushed his shorts and boxers to the floor, the cause of her drooling sprang forward, reaching out for her.

  "I think it wants me.” She crooked her finger in a come here gesture.

  "Oh, believe me, sweetheart, it does. It wants you all the time."

  Sweetheart. He'd never used a term of endearment. She liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue.

  Crawling, he made his way to her side and stretched out next to her. The sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains landed on his body, allowing her to study the play of rippling muscles. She buried her face in his neck, reacquainting herself with his scent. Even inside, a hint of woodsy outdoors clung to him. Her hands reached for his body, touching him everywhere, relearning the feel of taut skin and generous muscles.God, she was wet and ready. The insides of her thighs were damp from the moisture pooling between her legs. She needed him. Now.

  Before he had a chance to react, she straddled his waist, planting her aching crotch over his penis. She circled her hips, grinding them together, coating him with her moist heat. With her hands braced on his chest, she felt the groan rumble a split second before she heard it. He tugged her arms out to her sides, pulling her to his body and claiming her lips. He molded his mouth to hers and sucked her bottom lip between his. The tug radiated through her body straight to her clitoris. He must have felt the electric impact of the kiss judging by the jerking of his erection. Her tongue probed, searching out his for a sensual game of cat and mouse. He tasted divine, a hint of toothpaste and all Braedon, a unique combination she'd be happy to sample all day long.

  Or not. His hard penis flexed again, making her want more. She pressed her hands to his cheeks, angling his face for more intimate contact. He stroked his tongue along hers and sucked it into his mouth. Oh, yeah, she wanted more.

  Wiggling back, she bumped the tip of his penis at the entrance to her vagina, the head slipping inside.

  With a tortured groan, Braedon broke their kiss. “What are you doing, Kat?"

  "I'd think it's obvious by now.” She shimmied and more of him slid inside her.

  "It should be equally obvious that I'm not wearing a condom."

  "Relax. I'm covered. I'm on birth control. Didn't you ever wonder why we were out on the trail for almost a month and I didn't get my period?” By now, she managed to impale herself on half of his long thick erection. The heat of his skin scalded her. She wanted it all. Her pulse pounded in her vagina, and she was desperate to be completely filled.

  "Guys don't think about those things. Given half a chance, we'd pretend it never happens if we could.” He gripped her hips, effectively stopping her.

  "What's the problem? I'm safe, you're safe—"

  "How do you know I'm safe?"

  "You just had an FBI employment physical, remember?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  Poor man, it must be difficult to think when so much blood rushed south at a moment's notice. “If we're going to be in a monogamous relationship ... we are going to be in a monogamous relationship, aren't we?” He bobbed his head. “Good, then we can dispense with the condoms. Unless you have a thing for them.” Please, no. She wanted—no needed—to feel him and only him this time, every time from now on.

  "God, no.” He jerked his hips, joining them solidly together. Tightening his arms at her waist, he flipped her to her back, causing her to shriek. “I love you, Kat."

  "I love you, too, Braedon.” He looked so startled she bit back a laugh.

  "You don't have to say anything you don't mean."

  "I mean it. I love you."

  He hooked her legs over his arms and began to move with long, slow strokes that drove her passion higher with each thrust of his hips. She watched him as he commanded her body with ease,
demanding she respond to his motions. Falling deeper and deeper into his midnight dark eyes with every passing second, white light exploded inside her, drawing a scream from her throat, the glide of burning flesh against burning flesh intensifying the sensations. As he groaned and stiffened, a warmth flooded her. The physical one of his release combined with flame of their growing feelings. When he tumbled to her side and pulled her close, she snuggled up, physically satisfied and emotionally complete.

  They'd survived the environmental journey of the Appalachian Trail, braving rough terrain and unknown circumstances. Something told her that braving this new terrain of their evolving relationship would be just as challenging and rewarding.

  And a hell of a lot more fun.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Felicia Forella began writing in grade school with the help of a friend. She quickly gave up trying to be the next Carolyn Keene when she realized that she gave away the who-done-it by the third chapter. She became hooked on romance in high school when her mother bought her a (now autographed) copy of “Ashes in the Wind” by Kathleen Woodiwiss. (See what you started, Mom!) A long hiatus from writing began in college when she realized no one cared if she became the next Margaret Mitchell. She began writing seriously again in the late 90's and her New Year's resolution for the new Millennium was to become a published author. She is proud to say this is one New Year's resolution she actually accomplished.

  Felicia is a former Air Force brat, which might explain her obsession with men in uniform, who lived all over the South and in Spain. She now lives in PA with her hero husband and her hero-in-training teenage son, although, given her choice, they would be living somewhere down south as close to the ocean as humanly possible. They have a middle-aged beagle/border collie mix affectionately known as the Supermodel beagle, who is the only female in the house who responds to her husband's every beck and call.

  Felicia loves to hear from her readers. She can be reached at felicia@feliciaforella.com or through her website at www.feliciaforella.com.

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