A SEAL's Courage (Military Match #1)(34)

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.”