Thirteen

Dean didn’t hold back. The dam had burst open, and he met the tentative press of her lips with a fierce growl. A primitive call of possessiveness. A signal of what was to come. She’d unleashed the desire that he’d been fighting hard to contain. Now that it was loosed, there was no reining it in. And there sure as hell wasn’t anything tentative about it.

He dug his hand through the damp strands of her hair to cradle the back of her head and draw her in close, tilting her head at the perfect angle to allow him to taste her deeply.

He found her tongue with his and showed her what he wanted. He wanted to fuck her hard and fast, and then he wanted to do it again slower. Exploring every inch of her body the same way he was her mouth.

But if she kept moaning and swirling her tongue against his like that, it might take a couple of times before he could manage slow.

Dean was in a haze. He hadn’t felt like this in too damned long. She was so sweet and responsive; her body was incredible, and the way she moved against him was driving him wild. He’d known that she’d be good—that they’d be good. But not this good.

Mind. Fucking. Blown.

His other hand had slid down her back to cup her ass and lift her to him. That was where he wanted to be. Oh, shit. Right there. Circling. Sliding. Thrusting. Hard and deep.

She was meeting him at every bump and grind. At every thrust of his tongue. Her hands were on his back. On his arms. Squeezing. Pleading.

He’d had a lot of wild sex. He’d had frantic sex. But nothing like this. It was as if someone had lit a match and the whole room had gone up in flames. Zero to sixty in a heartbeat.

His mouth was on her throat. His hand was cupping a breast that was every bit as incredible as he’d imagined. He couldn’t get enough of her. He was so ready for this; he could fucking explode.

He nearly did when she touched him. Rubbing her hand up and down the long, rigid length of his shaft. Squeezing through the damp denim. He felt like a thirteen-year-old in his first make-out session. He forgot to keep kissing her for a moment. He literally had to grit his teeth against the urge to surge deep in her hand and give in to the pounding at the base of his spine.

Too many clothes. He wanted her naked. He wanted his mouth on her breast and his hand between her legs. He wanted to feel how wet she was, find out how fast he could make her come.

Pretty damned fast if those urgent little sounds meant anything.

She was so fucking hot; he had to touch her.

Somehow he managed the button and zipper of her jeans, and then his hand was inside her pants, delving under the thin silk of her panties to the tender flesh between her legs.

She cried out at the first touch. He covered her mouth with another hungry kiss, feasting on her lips as his finger slid inside that damp little slit.

He swore. Groaned. Tried to find a thread of control. But she was so tight. So warm and soft—and wet. Deliciously wet. But he wanted her wetter.

He couldn’t wait to make her come. It was all he could think about. All he could focus on. It became his only mission. And like any SEAL worth his salt, he approached his mission with single-minded determination that left no option for failure.

He cupped her with his palm, giving her circling hips all the friction and pressure they needed as he thrust and stroked with his finger in a rhythm matched by the thrust of his tongue. When he found that sensitive place, he felt her stiffen. Her breath hitched with anticipation.

Oh, fuck yes, she was going to come.

Dean felt the heady delight of knowing success was at hand. His hand. He held her right there. Right in the palm of his hand for a long heartbeat, savoring the moment of primitive masculine satisfaction before finally giving her the caress she needed.

She flew apart instantly—her eyes locking on his. Something jammed in his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

He swore he saw what looked like surprise in her eyes as her body pulsed. Contracted. Shattered.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He wanted to see it again. Right now. When he was deep inside her.

Instead she said something that stopped him cold.

“Dan . . .”

It wasn’t the soft plea to finish what they started that Dean heard; it was the name. The false name. It was a harsh reminder of everything that was at stake.

What the hell was he doing? He didn’t lose control like this. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her, but that wasn’t the same thing. This—them—was a bad idea. A really bad idea. She knew too much about him already. He should be cutting ties, not making them.

Every bone in his body fought against what he was about to do—some more powerfully than others—but with a sharp curse, he pulled away, setting her forcibly away from him, and pretending not to notice as her legs wobbled. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t do this with her sagging in his arms all warm and weak with surrender.

With her looking at him like that.

He turned away so he wouldn’t have to see her face as he fought for control, waited for his blood to cool, and his cock to stop aching.

But it hurt like hell. His body was still primed and ready to go, angrily protesting the sudden change of plans.

It was the wrong time for her to touch him.

•   •   •

Annie had never experienced anything like that in her life.

She’d had an orgasm before. At least she thought she had, but whatever she’d experienced in the past paled in comparison to the sensations that had just come over her. It had been intense. Fierce. Powerful. All-consuming. Everything she didn’t even know she’d been missing.

That was what her friends were talking about. What made Lisa drop their plans to go see a movie in the afternoon—in the afternoon!—when her boyfriend called. What made her former roommate, Mary, stay locked up with her boyfriend—now husband—in their room all weekend. Literally all weekend, barely coming out to grab food or go to the bathroom. It was what made the walls shake.

Hot sex.

Wild, crazy, hot sex.

Except they hadn’t quite gotten that far. Why had he stopped?

Dan was turned away from her, but from the way the muscles in his neck were pulled tight and his jaw was clenched, it looked as if he was in pain.

She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

He flinched away from her as if he couldn’t bear her touch. “I’m fine.”

She felt a prick in her chest; a tiny pin had just poked the bubble of euphoria. “Then why did you . . . ?”

Stop.

Suddenly Annie realized what was happening. He didn’t want her. Didn’t want this. He was stopping it.

She’d been so caught up, so lost in his kiss, that she’d forgotten how it had started. She’d kissed him.

Mortification mottled her cheeks with heat. She’d thought that was what he’d wanted, but obviously she’d been wrong. He’d gone along with it—more than gone along with it, he’d taken complete control—but he wouldn’t have started it.

He wouldn’t have started it. She could see it so humiliatingly clearly now. If a hole in the ground opened up and swallowed her, she would have welcomed it.

The universe wasn’t that kind.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to break through the tightness in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean . . . I’ve never done anything like that.” Her first move would be her last. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Yes, she did. Lust. Good old-fashioned, lose-your-senses-and-act-like-an-idiot lust.

He finally looked at her. All signs of pain—of any emotion—had been wiped from his expression. If she hadn’t seen his face a few minutes ago, she would have thought he’d been completely unaffected by the entire thing. Steely silvery blue eyes glinted back at her. Cool, emotionless, impenetrable.

God, had she actually thought she’d seen something in there when she came apart?

Humiliation twisted the knot in her stomach a little tighter.

“Forget about it,” he said. “It’s no big deal.”

Not a pin, there was a knife stabbing in her chest now. Wow. Way to put it into context. No sugarcoating, all right.

He wasn’t done. “You were upset—you don’t look as tense now.”

He hadn’t just said that. Was he honestly just claiming to have gotten her off so she wasn’t so tense? Could he be that much of a dick?

Her eyes narrowed. Taking in the tiny white lines around his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders. Maybe he’d wanted it a little, after all. “You’re looking a little tense there yourself. I could offer to return the favor . . . unless you’d rather handle it yourself?”

Just in case he didn’t know what she was talking about, her gaze slid down to the still sizable but not-quite-as-prominent bulge in his jeans.

His jaw went slack before he caught himself. Clearly the captain wasn’t used to anyone firing back at him.

“No favors necessary.” His voice sounded a little ragged.

Annie was never provoking—especially about anything sexual. That was about to change. Her eyes flickered to his for only an instant before settling back down on his crotch. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip before catching it with her teeth. “Pity.”

The sharp tense of muscle told her that she’d won that round.

She glanced up just in time to see his mouth fall in a hard line before he grumbled something about fixing the fire that had apparently gone out while they were . . . occupied.

Annie continued where she’d left off with the mattresses, stewing and surreptitiously watching him the whole time.

She was glad he’d pulled back. Of course she was. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Julien? Had she really been about to fall in bed with a man she barely knew who was clearly hiding something? Although with Julien at least she’d waited awhile. She wished she’d waited longer. Like never.

Dan bent over, putting his head in the stove to try to look into the flue. She caught herself staring at the tight, perfectly shaped backside that was made for football pants.

Furious at herself when her cheeks started to warm, she forced her gaze away. Physical attraction. That was all it was. That was what had made her dissolve the moment his lips touched hers. What had caused her pulse to leap and her heart to beat like a frantic drum. What had made her bones melt and her blood catch fire—everything catch fire.

Annie had experienced something like this once before, although it had been a long time ago. She recalled the one and only date she’d had with the high school quarterback.

He’d looked good in football pants, too.

Shane Madison had pretty much looked good in everything. Tall, solidly built, with an impressive amount of muscle for a high school boy, he was an all-around super guy: smart, confident, and good-looking. Maybe a little cocky, but he was so charming you didn’t really notice.

She (along with most of the other girls in the school) had been half in love with him for three years in high school before he asked her out their senior year. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d noticed her or only dated cheerleaders; he just didn’t seem very interested in dating. He had big plans—the details of which she hadn’t been aware of at the time—and was concentrating on football and a heavy slate of AP classes.

That was how everything had changed. They’d been paired off as lab partners in AP Chemistry—which turned out to be appropriate. The chemistry between them had been reactive. Off the charts. Elemental. She’d nearly given up her virginity in the backseat of his car on their first—and only—date.

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was when she found out what he wanted to do. Shane was working so hard in school to get into Annapolis. He wanted to go to the United States Naval Academy and have a career in the military. He’d even mentioned—shiver—that if things went well, he was going to try to be a SEAL. She had no doubt he would do it. Shane was the kind of guy who could do anything he put his mind to.

Her dad would have loved him. Or her dad would have loved him before the war destroyed him.

What was it about big, strong guys and wanting to save the world? Alphas, her mom called them. Annie called them wannabe heroes. Either way she had no interest. She wanted someone she could count on. Someone who would be there for her. Someone who was normal.

She refused to sign up for more of the same pain, which meant it couldn’t go any further.

The Monday after their date, she’d asked the chemistry teacher to find her a new partner. Shane had called a few times, but she told him it wasn’t going to work out. Eventually he believed her.

Unconsciously, maybe, she’d avoided the type since then. Until now. Dan reminded her a lot of Shane. An older, harder, more dangerous, not as charming and carefree version maybe, but otherwise the same confident, take-charge, “there isn’t anything he couldn’t do” persona.

Similar builds, too, although Shane had been a boy, and Dan was definitely a man with the years of added muscle to prove it. The captain was also a couple of inches taller at six-three or -four.

She felt a twinge of awareness she didn’t want to remember—exactly how her hands had felt all over his body—and quickly quashed that train of thought. It was physical attraction—extremely strong physical attraction maybe—but nothing to be worried about.

Apparently she had a weakness for a few muscles, so what? She was sure that was a weakness shared by a lot of women. It wasn’t a big deal. He wasn’t a big deal. Just as he said.

She needed to stop imagining feelings that weren’t there. This was about her libido, not her heart. Lust, not love.

Love? What was she, a twelve-year-old girl drawing hearts in her journal? Nearly dying—twice—was obviously making her a little crazy.

He’d knocked out whatever had been blocking the flue and was rebuilding the fire by standing the dried turf blocks over a stack of kindling in a pyramid shape. Using a flint and a stone that he must have picked up outside on the way in, he struck it until one of the sparks caught.

“You would have made a good Boy Scout,” she said, breaking the silence. Then suddenly realizing that she knew nothing about him, she added, “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“An hour ago you thought I was a serial killer. Now a Boy Scout?”

He hadn’t answered the question. Clearly he didn’t want her to know anything about him. Which rankled. They were in this together. Didn’t she deserve to know what she’d gotten into?

“Weren’t you the one telling me not to be so naive? To ask questions? Well, I’m asking them. If the police are chasing you, don’t I deserve to know who I’m on the run with?”

“Slow down, Bonnie. You watch too many movies. I didn’t say the police are chasing me.”

“That’s the problem. You didn’t say anything. You lied about being American and are clearly hiding something. You had no interest in waiting around for the coast guard, so what else am I supposed to think?”

He shrugged as if what she thought was immaterial. “I have my reasons.”

Prying information from him was like squeezing water from a rock—and provoked about the same level of frustration. She felt her temper rising. “Why don’t you share a few of them?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business.”

Ouch. Nothing like the slap of cold, hard truth to make the skin sting. Although unfortunately it wasn’t just her skin stinging. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. “No, you just had your hand down my pants. Why would I think you owed me anything?”

She turned away, but he stepped toward her and caught her arm. “Annie, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

Hurt her feelings? She should thank him. Now she wasn’t stinging; she was furious. “You can’t tell me anything about yourself?”

He dropped her hand. “It’s better that way.”

“Better for who?”

He didn’t answer. She stared into his eyes, looking for any crack, any sign of weakness. She should have known better. “Just tell me, is it something illegal?”

He couldn’t be a drug smuggler . . . please.

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

“But you are in some kind of trouble?”

Apparently she’d gotten as much out of him as she was going to get. He ignored the questions and went on with the business of getting the place habitable. She watched as he retrieved his backpack and started pulling out items and setting them on the table. Not a Boy Scout, huh? He certainly came prepared.

It took her a moment, but eventually she figured it out. She sucked in a breath through lungs that were suddenly on fire. The back-off attitude and scruffy appearance had prevented her from seeing it sooner. And he didn’t have the usual swagger and cockiness, but after seeing him in action today, she knew. “Army, navy, air force, or marines?” she asked.