Fuck, he was in serious trouble.
And not the kind Sam’s years of training would get him out of. This…this went far deeper than trying to outsmart an enemy. This involved his heart. The one Bridgette had somehow wormed her way back into, resurrecting the damn thing after he’d gone to great lengths to bury it. Hell, he’d burned the fucker into ashes, and yet—there it was, beating frantically inside his chest, and all because of the woman behind the flimsy wooden door.
He’d nearly blown it, again. When he’d first moved over her, he’d come damn close to kissing her. Those pretty pink lips had been so fucking close—slightly parted as if begging him to slide his mouth over top and delve inside. He’d actually leaned into her, pressed his erection against her hip, with every intention of lodging it in her cleft as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth—tasted the sweet essence that had been tempting him all week. Thank Christ, he’d had the sense to gaze into her eyes, first. That was when he’d seen it.
Fear. Oddly mixed with arousal, but fear, nonetheless.
He should have considered the possibilities. That Bridgette might have lingering uncertainties about being in specific positions. But, when she’d confessed she’d taken other lovers after Brock—even if only for brief, limited encounters—he’d just assumed…
Shit. What had said about assumptions? That they usually came back to bite him in the ass? And damn if he didn’t have a set of marks burning a hole in his jeans, right now. Bridgette-sized marks because Sam hadn’t thought through every scenario.
He raked his hand through his hair, cursing the tremble in his fingers. Only it wasn’t from fear. Being that close to her had him on edge. He’d been hard after only a few minutes of trying to bend his body around hers, the feel of her against him driving him mad. Her scent had been a combination of perfume and arousal, and he’d wanted to yank off her jeans and bury his face between her thighs. Drown in the taste of her. Even now, the aroma clung to his clothes like an ever-present itch he couldn’t scratch.
He forced in a long, slow inhalation, using the techniques he’d learned to take control of his emotions. Just a few more breaths, and he’d be able to think clearly. Ease the pounding in his chest and allow himself to focus.
He took a couple of steps away, when Bridgette screamed. The high-pitched sound raised every hair on the back of his neck as he grabbed his gun off the side table and darted to the bathroom door. He didn’t bother trying it, choosing to kick it open, instead. The wood around the lock splintered, shooting chunks through both rooms as the frame gave way, bouncing the door wildly against the wall. He barreled through, gun aimed in front of him, his shoulders braced to fire.
Bridgette screamed, again, as she spun to face him, her face bleached white, her hands fisted around the edge of the towel pressed against her chest. Her nostrils flared, accentuating the overly white look of her eyes. He motioned for her to move into the small space beside the toilet with a flick of his gun then stalked forward, glancing into the shower then out the window.
Nothing.
Sam turned, rechecking the shower before slowly lowering his gun. Blood pounded through his veins, the steady surge of it echoing in his ears. Adrenaline pumped through his system, making him hyperaware, every sense stretched to the limit. He took one last scan of the adjoining room then centered his attention on Bridgette. She’d wrapped the towel around her, the pale color a close match to the hue of her skin.
He took a few steps toward her, cutting their distance in half. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, the jerky motion tumbling her hair over her shoulders and across her face.
He sighed, getting close enough to brush the silky locks back. “Can you tell me what happened? You scared me half to death.”
Her mouth gaped open for a few moments before she seemed able to shut it. “I scared you? What the hell, Sam? You broke down the damn door then looked at me as if you were about to wage war.”
“You screamed. I reacted. Appropriately. End of story. Now, why the fuck did you scream?”
Her brows drew together before she broke eye contact. “Shit.”
“Shit? What’s ‘shit’ mean in this instance?”
“You’re going to laugh. Or get angry. Maybe both.”
“Try me.”
Bridgette sucked her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it for a few moments before groaning. She drew a deep breath, then met his gaze. “I was ready to jump in the shower. All I had to do was get the water running so it could heat up a bit. But, when I reached in to turn on the taps, this…hideous…” She snorted. “I swear it was fucking huge. Like something out of a horror movie. It landed on my arm, and…and…it caught me off-guard.”
Sam arched a brow. “What, exactly, landed on your arm?”
She pursed her lips together, looking incredibly lethal and sexy at the same time. “A spider.”
He stared at her, positive he’d heard her wrong. “A spider?”
“Don’t take that tone with me. It was huge.”
“You mentioned that. Hideous, too, right?”
“See? I told you that you’d laugh and get angry. But you didn’t have to feel that…thing touch your skin. All those hairy legs. And the eyes! I swear they all looked at me at the same time.”
She shuddered, rubbing her left hand over the patch of skin where the spider must have landed on her right arm. When Sam just stood there, staring at her, she swatted him in the chest.
“See for yourself. It’s in the tub…somewhere.”
He waited for a few more moments before reluctantly stepping sideways and glancing in the bathtub. A dark shadow tried to scurry up the side, slipping before it got to the top.
He looked back at her. “You’re serious? You screamed over that thing?”
“It’s. Huge.”
“And, yet, still a thousand times smaller than you.”
Bridgette huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’re just going to stand there and criticize me, you can leave, now. But a real man would kill that fucker so I could get on with my shower.”
He resisted the smile tugging at his lips. “A real man? You bitch at me for asking you why you don’t have a boyfriend, claiming I’m being sexist, then you toss that comment my way? I’m sorry, but I object, Counselor.”
Her eyelids fluttered a few times, giving him fleeting glimpses of blue, before she focused on him. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair. It’s just…” Her chin quivered, but she seemed to gather herself. “How about, as my bodyguard, you hold true to your oath and, you know, guard my body?”
“I hardly think the spider is the one who’s been sending you death threats.”
Red rose high on her cheeks. “Damn it, Sam, do you think this is easy for me? To ask you for help? But…” She shuddered. “I hate spiders. Like on an atomic level.”
“All you have to do is wash it down the drain—”
“No! It’ll just come back. Didn’t you ever sing that annoying song as a kid? ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’? He climbs up the spout, again, which means I’ll only be pissing it off. And, considering we might have to spend the night here…”
She groaned, again, when he didn’t move. “Please, Sam. I’ll pay you back. Give you a massage later, or…whatever. Just please, get rid of that abomination in the bathtub.”
“I’ll take care of the spider. But my price is a kiss.”
He stilled as the words slipped free. Shit. That wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. In fact, he vividly remembered how incredible her massages had been. And he was pretty damn sure they’d only gotten better. But, somewhere between his brain and his dick, he’d lost connection, allowing his prick to answer for him—even if it wasn’t the part of him she’d kiss.
Bridgette snorted. “You want a kiss? To kill a spider?”
“That’s my counter-offer. Take it or leave it.”
“I would have agreed to a dozen kisses if it meant you’d kill that spider, so…” She held out her hand. “Deal.”
“You said that just to try and up me. Don’t think I don’t know you, Bridg.”
He shook her hand then turned, seeking out the spider. Bridgette fussed behind him, telling him not to touch it or he’d have to wash his hands before she’d consider kissing him. Instead, he removed a shoe, killing it with one hit.
He glanced back at her as he slipped his shoe back on. “Can I wash it down the drain, now?”
“Are you sure it’s dead?”
“I’m a highly trained specialist in the art of combat. I’m pretty damn sure I can kill a spider. So, yeah, it’s dead.”
She continued to worry her lip as she nodded. He paused to stare at her. At the way she followed his every move. At how the golden cast of her hair made her skin gleam wherever it touched her shoulders. The woman was amazing, and he prayed he’d be able to control himself when he collected his payment.
Sam flicked on the shower and washed away the corpse. He adjusted the taps until the water was warm, but not so hot it would burn her, before spinning to face her. She swept her gaze down his torso then up, staring at him with those beautiful blue eyes.
Then, she arched a brow. “Guess it’s my turn to hold true to the deal.”
Sam pulled her into his chest before she could move, holding her body tight against his. He smiled at her gasp, searching her face for any signs of hesitation or that their position was freaking her out. Her lips were slightly parted, her pupils larger than just a few moments ago. He didn’t miss the wild strum of her pulse near the base of her neck, her skin fluttering with every frantic beat.
Good. He didn’t want to be the only one insanely aroused. Fighting to bury his attraction. Though, seeing her reaction made him press more fully against her. She definitely felt the hard line of his cock nudging her abdomen, but if it scared her, she didn’t show it. In fact, her pupils dilated further, and her breathing kicked up.
He lifted his hand, brushing his thumb along her cheek as he gently palmed her jaw. After dreaming about this since the day he’d left, he wasn’t about to rush it. He might not get another chance to taste her lips or feel her wrapped in his arms, and he’d be damned if he was going to mess it up. Moments like these needed to last a lifetime, and he planned on making it one hell of a memory.
Bridgette pressed into his touch. Whether actively or instinctually, Sam didn’t know. But that simple action was all the consent he needed. He dipped down, teasing her lips with a hint of contact then pausing with his mouth a breath away. Bridgette whimpered just loud enough to make his dick impossibly harder as his balls drew up against his skin. One more sound like that, and he might just come in his pants.
Fuck that.
He moved, claiming her mouth in one swift tilt of his head. She responded instantly, tiptoeing up as her hands landed on his shoulders. One traveled higher, carding into his hair then fisting around the strands. For the first time since he’d left the army, he praised his decision to grow out his hair. He’d been tempted to cut it a thousand times but had wanted to rid himself of any visible memory of his time in the military. His pathetic attempt to start over. But, standing there, his arms wrapped around Bridgette as she tugged on the strands made it seem possible. That, with her, he could find what he’d been missing. Fill the void inside him that had plagued since he’d held Gray’s lifeless body before passing out.
Bridgette hummed, opening when he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. Fruity sweetness filled his senses, and Sam knew he’d never be able to stop at one kiss. Hell, one round of mind-blowing sex wouldn’t be enough to douse the fire raging beneath his skin.
Bridgette didn’t move once he’d eased back, her pretty gaze locked on him. She licked her lips, and he lost it. He dipped down, again, twisted her mouth open then plunged inside. She battled him for control, finally allowing him to dominate the kiss.
That one surrender had him lifting her in his arms. He glanced at the wall but decided against it. If she’d spiraled by having him over her, pinning her to the wall wouldn’t be any better. And the last thing he wanted was to give her a reason to ask him to stop. To let her go because he swore his fingers wouldn’t release their death grip on her towel.
A breathy moan caressed his ear as he planted her ass on the counter then stepped between her thighs, hoping it wasn’t too confining for her. He nuzzled her nose, their breath mixing. Indecision clouded her gaze, and he nearly pulled back, then it vanished, replaced by lust.
She toyed with his hair. “This is probably a terrible idea.”
He smiled, dipping down to lave her neck—lick her pulse still beating wildly beneath her flesh. “The worst.”
“It’ll screw up our working relationship.”
He nodded, mouthing her nape then nipping her earlobe. “Probably, but…” He lifted his head until they made eye contact. “I’ve got plenty of colleagues.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he took that as a sign to continue. He kissed her, again, taking his time to trace every contour before releasing her and working his way to the edge of the towel. He inched back just enough to yank the edges apart, allowing the terry to drop to the countertop.
Sam took a moment to admire the creamy expanse of skin. The splash of pink on her nipples, and the line of trimmed hair along her mound—like a damn arrow pointing to where he planned on spending the next hour joined to her. He wet his lips, groaning at the shiny evidence of her desire coating her pussy before finally looking her in the eyes.
“Christ, you’re even more beautiful than I remember. And I’d memorized every inch of you. Pictured you countless times in the past dozen years. But, damn…my imagination didn’t do you justice.” He leaned in. “Tell me you want this. I need to know for sure.”
She swallowed, never breaking eye contact. “I want this. It’s just…”
He smiled, thumbing the corner of her mouth. “No trapping you. Got it. Do you feel trapped, now?”
She shook her head, bouncing her hair around her shoulders.
“Good.” He slipped his holster onto the counter beside them. “Because there are countless naughty things I can do to you on this crappy old counter.”
Her eyes widened right before he captured her mouth. He palmed her back, moaning at the soft press of her skin beneath his hands. Bridgette fisted his shirt behind his neck, tugging at it in what he assumed was a desperate attempt to pull it over his head. He made her wait until his lungs burned before easing back and dropping his chin.
The blue cotton slipped over his shoulders, falling to the floor at his feet. He straightened, intent on pressing every inch of her skin against his, when her palms landed on his chest, anchoring him to the spot. Her eyes rounded as her lips parted to form a lopsided O. She made that same throaty noise as she traced her fingers along his pecs then down his ribs. A frown marred her pretty face when she skimmed her fingertips across his collection of scars, finally raising her gaze to his.
Sam covered her hands with his, holding them firmly against him. “Ancient history.”
She opened her mouth, but he leaned forward and claimed it, allowing her hands to slip free from his grasp. They slid down to his jeans, her fingers working to pop open the button and lower the zipper, which he knew wouldn’t be easy with his dick stretching the fabric to the limit.
Bridgette moaned when she finally opened his fly, cupping his cock through his briefs. The firm contact nearly sent him over, and he had to press his fists against the counter to stop from spilling against her palm.
“Hold that thought.”
She stilled as he grabbed his jeans and shoved them over his hips, taking his briefs with them. His dick sprang forward the instant he freed it, slapping wetly against her stomach.
Bridgette closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath before looking up at him. “I could help you out with that. Suck you dry, first.”
A blowjob. He was barely hanging on to his control, and she wanted to give him a blowjob.
“Next time. Some time, but now…”
He slid his palms up her thighs, grazing his thumbs over her mound. Slick fluid covered his skin, and he couldn’t stop from shoving his hand beneath her ass and pulling her forward as he thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt.
Bridgette gasped as her head tilted back, the cords in her neck straining. Sam didn’t move, didn’t fucking breathe, as her wet heat engulfed him. He stared at where they were joined, her groin crushed against his. Fire licked down his spine and into his sac, threatening to end their encounter with his first stroke.
He forced himself to hold still, allow her time to adjust, when he realized he hadn’t put on a condom. A laugh sounded in his head, and he knew his buddy was mocking his carelessness, yet again.
Sam dragged his gaze upward, meeting hers when she lowered her head. Her pupils were blown wide, her skin now a beautiful shade of pink. Her chest heaved against his with every gasping inhale as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
She nipped at his earlobe, her breath cooling his damp flesh. “God, please, Sam. Move.”
He clenched his teeth when she tightened around him, squeezing him so hard he thought his shaft would simply explode. “I have condoms. I swear I do. Shit, they might even be flavored, but… They aren’t helping us much sitting in my damn wallet and not on my dick. I’m clean. Get tested regularly, but… I never forget protection, until, apparently, now. With you. And, once I move…”
Her expression softened, her lips curling up into a sexy smile. “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. I’ve never gone without before, either. So…”
He leaned his head back until he made eye contact. “Are you saying we can go bareback? Every time?” Just the thought had his cock pulsing inside her.
She moaned, angling her head to the side as if asking him to lick her nape. “Damn, you’re big.”
He complied, tasting the hint of salt on her skin. “Answer me because I can’t hold off much longer.”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He snapped. The heat, the wet glide of her sex, the give of her flesh around his overloaded his senses, and he let loose—thrusting into her as he held her on the edge of the counter. Bridgette clung to him, crossing her ankles behind his back and using them to tilt her pelvis—meet every punishing stroke. He kept her steady as his other hand cupped her neck, allowing him to claim her mouth.
He swallowed her raspy pleas, finally easing back enough to stare at her. “Only the first round. God, what you do to me.”
He lowered his forehead to hers, wondering if she was half as close as he was, when she gasped then arched back. Male pride swelled in his chest as her eyes rolled slightly, her walls contracting around his shaft.
“Oh, yeah, darling. Come all over me.”
A rush of warm fluid sent him over. He slammed into her a few more times then stiffened, holding himself still as his release shot forward, emptying inside her in a series of hard spurts. Sweat slicked his skin, the steam from the shower curling around them.
Sam closed his eyes, lost in the racing of his heart and the steady wash of breath against his shoulder. He just prayed he hadn’t been too rough. He was supposed to be proving he could be trusted, not fucking her against any handy surface. But…damn.
He drew in a shaky breath, easing back enough to stare down at her. “You okay?”
She blinked open her eyes, looking up at him as if he was the answer to something she’d been searching for before chuckling. “Not a virgin, Sam. So, yeah. I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. Especially if you’re going to hold true to your word and that was only round one, because…” She licked her bottom lip. “That wasn’t close to being enough.”
“Was that your way of saying you didn’t enjoy yourself? Are you questioning my ability to please you?”
“Paranoid much? That was mind-blowing, but…” Her chin quivered. “I need more. More time with you. I don’t want this to be over, yet.”
“Nowhere close to over, Bridg. Which means, it’s time for a shower, and this time, I’m gonna make you scream.”