Trent bit back a groan. God, she had to go and say that. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much he did her. He was shaking, for crying out loud. Having given himself permission to want her, taking steps to actually be with her was like opening the floodgates. What he really wanted was to rip her clothes off, to feel all that warm, supple skin against his.
But that meant taking his shirt off, and the thought made his insides shake. Outside of the doctors and nurses, nobody had seen the scars dotting his torso, healed wounds from the shrapnel they’d taken out of his skin. His right arm contained the scarred-over remains of the burns he’d suffered when the IED detonated. It wasn’t pretty. Would it bother her?
Oh, they’d have to get there sooner or later. He just wasn’t ready to do it now. He’d hoped they could take things slowly. One step at a time. So that when they actually made love, they’d be more comfortable with each other and it wouldn’t matter.
Lauren let out a nervous laugh and dropped her gaze, smoothing a hand over his chest. “I’m sorry. That was really out there. I got caught up in the moment. Steph told me once men like it when you talk dirty.”
Great. Here he was, too caught up in his own damn thoughts. Pull your shit together, man.
He smoothed his hands up her back, gathering her closer. “I’m sorry about my reaction. You just surprised me. I’ve never heard you talk like that before.”
Her mouth now inches from his, Lauren traced a fingertip along his bottom lip. “Is that good or bad?”
He skimmed his hands up her thighs and over the curves of her ass, tugging her the tiniest bit closer, so that she could feel for herself what her words had done to him.
“It’s good. Steph’s right. It’s a huge turn-on, especially coming from you.” She shivered, her eyes falling closed, and he bent his head, trailing his lips along the cord of muscle where her neck met her shoulder. “Tell me something. Is that what you want? To fuck?”
A soft, serrated breath left her, and her fingers curled, nails scraping his skin as she fisted his shirt in her hands. “I honestly don’t know. You said you wanted to go slow. I liked the idea, but…”
The hesitation in her voice stopped him. He lifted his head and stroked his thumb along her cheek. “But what? Be honest with me.”
Her eyes opened, heavy-lidded, full of a desire that still filled with him awe to see. “But I’m really out of my element with all of this. I don’t know where to start or where to touch you.”
He was every bit as lost as she was when what she really needed was someone to take charge. Firm in the thought, he pulled up the Navy SEAL. The side of him that knew what to do and wasn’t afraid to take charge. Then he slid his hands up her stomach, skimming the undersides of her breasts.
“For what it’s worth, I thought we’d start with kissing and then take it from there. Keep the clothing on. For now at least.” He arched a brow, aiming for playful. “That okay with you?”
She blinked at him. “A first step.”
“Exactly. As for where to touch me, that’s completely up to you. You told me recently you think about me when you’re alone at night. What do you imagine?”
Lauren rolled her eyes, the flush in her cheeks deepening. “I told you that because I was angry with you.”
He couldn’t help his grin. She hadn’t a damn clue telling him that was a fantasy he’d pondered a lot over the last nine months.
“I like the thought of you touching yourself while thinking of me. I think about you, too.” He leaned in, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “Now answer the question.”
She drew a shaky breath, her gaze flicking to his, hot as hell itself. “Think about me how?”
He swallowed a groan. He was going to come in his jeans before this night was over. That question right there, along with the hooded desire in those gorgeous eyes, only served to add fuel to the flame raging through his blood.
“This. All of it. Your warm, soft skin against mine. The taste of your breath. What part of your body’s the most sensitive.” He skimmed his hands up her thighs again, letting his thumbs graze her heat. “I often find myself with my cock in my hand, wondering what sounds you make when you come.”
A full-body shudder moved through her, a quiet, shaky breath leaving her. “God, that’s so damn sexy.”
His fingers flexed against her thighs with the frustration winding through him, with the effort it took not to touch. He drew a breath and forced his fingers to relax. “Answer the question, doll. How?”
This time she held his gaze, bold as brass. “I think about you at night, when I’m lying in bed and I can’t sleep. Thought about you just last week, actually. And my hands wandered into my panties.” She glanced down, fingers skimming the hairs on his arms. “I like to imagine your hands. I don’t have any reference for sex, or what it should feel like, but you have fantastic hands. I like to imagine that it’s your fingers touching me instead of my own.”
A deep groan finally made its way out. He dropped his head back against the sofa, unable to resist sliding his hands to her ass and tugging her the slightest bit closer. Until he was sure he could feel the moist heat of her against him. “You’re killing me here, you know.”
Her hands stopped moving then, coming to rest over his pecs and burning his skin through his shirt. Those eyes filled with mischief, one corner of her mouth quirking upward as she leaned into him, pressing her breasts into his chest. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, and her warm breaths whispered over his mouth. “You did ask.”
He rolled his eyes and parroted her earlier words. “So I did. Now shut up and kiss me.”
He meant the words as a tease, but her soft smile faded. She studied him for a moment, gaze working his face. That sweet, fiery tension filled the air around them, until he was dragging in labored breaths, his heart hammering an erratic beat.
She leaned in, brushing a timid kiss across his mouth. He let his hands wander up her back, smoothing slowly over her as he luxuriated in the simple ability to touch her, to feel her body. He was content to let her take her time and kissed her back the same way, a tangle of lips, a flick of his tongue.
Whatever nervousness they’d begun with slowly evaporated. She let out a soft moan and tilted her head, her soft lips slanting over his. Her mouth opened, and damned if he could resist flicking his tongue out to taste her. When she reached back, a needy groan ripped out of him. He gripped her head in his hands and pulled her to him. Shaking now with an unquenchable thirst, he spent long minutes drinking her in, drowning in the hot, heady wetness of her mouth.
Lauren gave as good as she got. Her fingers slid into his hair and curled against his scalp, the pressure of her lips against his almost brutal and desperate. Soft mewling noises emanated from the back of her throat, hungry sounds that only increased the ache in his jeans.
All the while she rocked into the pulse of his erection. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, becoming an erratic huff in between sips and tastes. Every brush of her heat against him shot pleasure to his fucking toes. He needed to slow down. Like hell would he come in his jeans, as if he were some inexperienced kid.
Nor could he force himself to stop her. The quiet mewling became a series of desperate moans that filled his soul. He needed her pleasure. So he skimmed his mouth along her shoulder. Licking. Sucking. Scraping his teeth lightly over the skin exposed by the scoop neckline of her top. He dragged his fingertips up her sides and curled his palms around her breasts. She was a delicious little handful, and her nipples strained against the confines of her bra. He couldn’t resist flicking his thumbs across the tightened tips. She rewarded him with another needy moan and pressed closer, pushing her breasts into his hands.
Her every reaction made his chest swell in triumph. He was the first man to ever touch her this way, which made her feel a little too much like his. Every soft shiver fueled the need burning through him to make this good for her. He wanted her to leave their time together glad she’d experienced it. He wanted to fulfill every single one of her fantasies in a way that was starting to scare the hell out of him.
When she began to tremble in his arms, her thighs shaking on either side of his hips, experience told him her orgasm was close. He turned his head and nuzzled her earlobe. “Let it go, Lauren. Come for me, doll.”
Hands braced on his chest, she shivered and pressed closer. It was almost painful how good it felt. Two layers of thick denim separated them, but he swore he could feel her moist heat sliding along his length as she ground herself against him.
He tried to focus on her, kissing and stroking every part of her he could reach. But every time she rocked into him, his erection strained against his jeans and pleasure erupted over his skin. He hadn’t been with a woman in almost two years, and two years of need built on top of his yearning for her.
So he gave in and simply buried his face in her neck. The musk of her perfume filled his nostrils every time he inhaled. Hands on her ass, he pulled her to him, thrusting against her in time with her own, reveling in the almost unbearable pleasure shooting along his nerve endings every time she ground against him.
“Trent…” That was all the warning he got. With a soft gasp, Lauren dropped her head back and began to shake quietly in his arms. The fluid rocking of her hips became an erratic jerking as her orgasm took over.
Trent froze, awed by the sight above him: her brow furrowed in sweet agony, her soft mouth hanging open in bliss. She didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even sure she breathed, but holy God damn it had to be the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
By the time she collapsed against him, he was spent and exhausted, and he hadn’t even come.
Lauren panted into his neck, her body limp in his arms. “That was incredible.”
Shaking right along with her, he wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her to him, and kissed her shoulder. “You’re incredible.”
They sat for some time in companionable silence. He was content to simply hold her, stroking her back.
When her trembling lessened and her breathing returned to normal, she finally stirred against his throat. She tilted her head and kissed his neck, then wound her arms around his back. “Can I ask you something? It’s kind of a stupid question.”
He let his fingers follow the delicate curve of her spine. “There are no stupid questions.”
“I wanted to ask if it was good for you, but then it occurred to me. You didn’t come with me, did you?”
“No.” Not that he was sorry for it. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man. He’d gotten to watch her come undone and know he’d been the one to put that bliss on her face. It made him want to beat his chest like a freakin’ ape. He was shaking with the overwhelming desire to make her do it again as many times as he could before her body simply gave out. “I make a bigger mess than you do. Besides, it wasn’t about me just then.”
She lifted her head, brow furrowed, eyes pinning him to his spot. “This is supposed to be mutual. It doesn’t work for me if you get nothing out of this.”
He bit back a laugh. She really had no idea. “Believe me, doll, I got plenty out of that. You’re damn beautiful when you let yourself go.”
She studied him for a moment. Decision apparently made, she reached for the button on his jeans, popping it free, and slipped her hand into his pants. Her supple fingers slid along his cock and curled around his length, her palm warm and soft as it ghosted over his flesh.
“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, dropped his head back against the sofa, and gave himself over to her. He hadn’t been touched by anything other than his own damn hand in almost two years, and her fingers were the closest to heaven he was sure he’d ever get.
When he stopped resisting, she curled her hand more firmly around him. Very quickly, she gained a rhythm, her hand moving at a speed that flat-out amazed and awed him. Every stroke sent heat prickling along the surface of his skin and pleasure spreading like wildfire.
In less than a minute, she had him on the desperate edge of release.
She leaned her mouth to his ear, her fingers changing angle and speed but never stopping. “Is this okay? Am I doing this right?”
The uncertainty in her voice caught him. He needed to tell her she was doing more than okay. She fucking amazed him. Not that he could find the right words or make his tongue work enough to say them. So he reached out blindly, managed to find her thigh, and squeezed.
As if somehow she understood, she released a pent-up breath. Then she leaned in and nipped at his earlobe, laving the small wound with a stroke of her tongue. “Let go. You want to know what I think about at night? This. Getting to watch your pleasure. That turns me on, too.”
The husky rumble of her voice in his ear lit him up like a Fourth of July firework. He came with a hoarse groan, his orgasm ripping through him, blinding and hot. His hips jerked into her hand, his come splashing his shirt. When the spasms finally ended, he collapsed back into the sofa.
Bone-weary and feeling too much like a limp noodle, he sat there for a minute in stunned silence, attempting to make his lungs works again. Contrary to the take-charge woman who’d ripped his jeans open, Lauren laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling into his neck. Her fingers continued to stroke him, softer and slower now, but sending small sparks shooting along sensitive nerve endings.
He let out a tired laugh. “You really are going to wear me out.”
She laughed, too, and turned her head, kissing his throat.
When he caught himself drifting off, he opened his eyes and kissed her forehead. “I need to get up, doll. I’m fairly certain I just made a mess out of both of us. That’s your fault, by the way.”
She pulled her hand from his pants. “Do I sound like I’m complaining?”
She got up all the same, sliding off his lap to stand in front of him. He tucked himself back in his jeans but didn’t bother doing them up, because he had to change them anyway, and grabbed her clean hand. “Come on. I’ll get you a fresh shirt.”
She followed quietly behind as he led her down the hall into his bedroom. Once there, he released her hand and moved to his dresser, retrieving a clean T-shirt for each of them, a new pair of jeans for himself, and returned to her.
“You’re incredible, by the way.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and attempted to turn away, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him back.
“Ditto.” Her eyes gleamed as she kissed him again.
Then she took a T-shirt from his hand, shoved him out the bedroom door and closed it in his face. He couldn’t stop a goofy-ass grin from blooming, but turned and headed for the bathroom.
Ten minutes and one quick cleanup later, he emerged from the hallway into the living room. Lauren sat once again on the sofa. She had one leg tucked up against her belly, the other curled beneath her, staring with sightless eyes at the dark television screen on the opposite wall. As he stepped into the room, she turned to look at him. Something vulnerable and tender flashed in her eyes, catching him in the chest.
Yeah. There it was. The moment when the desperate desire to come together hard faded, leaving two people who’d been intimate only minutes ago feeling like strangers. With her, it just felt wrong. It created a wall between them, and every cell in his body rebelled against the idea. The problem was, he had to let that feeling remain there. It neatly severed any ties they might have formed tonight.
And they had formed them.
Being with her was so damn easy. She fit. Like his favorite pair of boots, or those jeans he’d had for going on five years now. They were worn and soft and familiar, and they fit like a glove. Being intimate with her only seemed a natural next step.
She made him want. For the first time since he’d come home, since the divorce, the need for more swelled in his chest. Because somehow, when he was with her, she filled all those holes he’d come home with.
Lauren smiled, polite but awkward, and he was moving to her before he’d decided what the hell to do now. He took a seat on the sofa, hooked an arm around her shoulders, and gathered her to him. She slid an arm over his belly, and he tucked her securely against his side and rested his cheek on top of her head.
They sat that way for a while, the air filling with all those things they weren’t talking about. Finally, he couldn’t stand it.
“I’d like to ask to you to stay, but I don’t trust myself. I’m not sure I’d be able to resist you.” He wanted her too damn much. If she lay in bed beside him, those lean curves against him all night, what on earth would stop them from making love? Except his conscience. One taste of her would never be enough.
She remained silent for a moment. Then her fingers grew restless, stroking over his belly. “I know. Because we’re not making love yet.”
He hated the thought of sending her home, but he needed the illusion of distance with her all the same. When this month ended, she’d go back to being a friend. He needed her to. By allowing himself this time with her, he was already breaking his own rule—to never get involved with her. No, it was better for the both of them if he separated himself from this now.
She’d already seen too much of what he went through at night. The nightmares and sleeplessness. He refused to taint her world with that crap any more than he already had.
Neither could he let her go yet. “We could watch a movie.”
Her head rocked against his shoulder. “Sounds good.”
He reached for the remote on a side table. “Let’s see what’s on, then.”
Two hours later, they stood by the front door. The movie hadn’t done him any damn good. It just meant he had two hours to hold her. Two hours to ponder how big of an ass he was for sending her home in the first place. Two hours to think of all the things he ought to be doing instead. Like carrying her back to his bed and curling around her. And making her breakfast in the morning.
If she noticed his anxiety, she didn’t say anything. Rather, she slipped her hands around his rib cage and up his back, pressing her soft body into his. Back in her heels now, she nearly matched him in height, so that she merely had to lean in to touch her mouth to his.
Her brows rose, the question in her eyes even before the words left her mouth. “So, how ’bout we meet on the weekends? I figure we both have to work early on weekdays, and I don’t know about you, but by the time I get home from work, I’m pretty much worthless.”
He thumbed her chin and pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “Weekends are perfect.”
“Good. See you next weekend, then.” She winked at him, then moved out the door, closing it softly behind her.
For a moment he could only stand and stare at the space where she’d been. If sending her home was the best thing for her, then why did he feel like such an ass? Like he’d just become the one thing he swore he wouldn’t—just another jerk on her list. Didn’t that make him little better than the asshole he’d chased from her party last night?
He shouldn’t be with her at all…