Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(90)

He pushed away from the door and moved toward her. She read the heated look in his eyes and her stomach did a flip. She stepped back, bumping into the wall, and for the second time tonight she felt foolish.

He stopped in front of her and just stood there, silently. She couldn’t talk. Her chest was rising and falling much too quickly, and her legs suddenly felt like noodles.

His gaze dropped to her wet white bra, then lifted. “If you want me to get another room, tell me now.”

She didn’t say anything. He lifted a hand to her neck and rubbed his thumb over the line of her jaw.

Kelsey opened her mouth but she couldn’t talk. His hand trailed down, lightly, and then the warmth of it closed over her breast. He dipped his head down and kissed her mouth, once, twice, three times, as his thumb traced her nipple.

“Kelsey?”

She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him against her.

His body was hard, warm. And she didn’t realize how cold she’d been until he started rubbing the heat back into her with his hands and his mouth. He touched her shoulders, her arms, her hips, filled his hands with her breasts. He kissed her ear, the side of her neck. He trailed kisses down her throat, and she tilted her head back to give him a better angle.

“I need a shower,” she managed to say.

“Not yet.” His hands went around to unhook her bra and then he shoved it aside. His mouth closed over the tip of her breast, and the hot burst of pleasure made her moan and press against him. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, and just when she thought she was going to melt into a puddle he lifted his head and found her mouth again.

There was an urgency to his touch now. He kissed her deeply, hard, and she tightened her arms around him and tried to give as good as she was getting. It was the way he’d kissed her earlier—raw and uninhibited—and she wanted him to keep kissing her like that and never stop. Her bra fell to the floor. She felt his hand at her waist, unbuttoning her shorts, and then they slipped to her feet, and she stepped out of them, never breaking the kiss. She reached for his shirt and pulled it from his jeans, and then he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet so he could walk her backward the few steps to the bed. They bounced onto it together and she yelped.

He covered her mouth with his and pressed his weight into her, and she twined her legs around him and squeezed. He dove for her breasts again, and she held his head in her hands, letting her fingers curl into his hair as he licked his way down her body.

She heard a low groan of approval and propped herself on her elbows.

“Red,” he said, shaking his head and staring down at the bottom half of the only girlie clothes she’d packed for the summer.

“Sorry. Haven’t done laundry in a while.”

He glanced up at her. “Do not apologize.” He kissed his way down her legs, then back up again, lingering over the lace with his warm breath. She closed her eyes and lay back, and then she felt him stripping that away, too.

She sat up and looked at him, feeling self-conscious. He was fully clothed, and she scrambled to her knees so she could balance things out. They knelt together on the bed, and she helped him off with his T-shirt. It was wet and cool, like hers had been, but the skin beneath it was smooth and warm. She sat back on her knees to marvel at his perfect chest, and she realized she was looking at the evidence of countless hours of pain and hard work and training, and suddenly her throat tightened. He was a soldier. He would leave soon. He was going to get on a plane and go somewhere and he might never come back.

His hand combed into her hair. He tilted her head back to look at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He leaned her back on the bed again, and then the urgency was back, and she put everything out of her mind except the feel of his mouth on her and the hard, heavy weight of him between her legs. The bedsprings creaked as she wrapped herself around him and pulled him closer, and she sighed at the bittersweet pain of him pressing against her.

“Oh, man,” he said huskily.

She rolled her hips, teasing, and he propped up on his hands and smiled down at her in the lamplight.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? I haven’t done this in a while.”

She felt a surge of happiness. A smile and a personal admission all in one moment. “You going to embarrass yourself?”

He huffed out a laugh, and she saw the strain on his face. She loosened her grip on him and he stepped away from the bed to peel off his wet jeans. Her stomach fluttered as she watched him. Oh, God. She was the one who was going to embarrass herself. He dug a condom out of his pocket and put it on, all the while watching her. Was that the errand he’d run? Suddenly his rejection at the dig site stung a little less.

He knelt between her legs, and then he was kissing her again, and she tasted his desire for her and none of it mattered, not his leaving or that this relationship was going nowhere. She just wanted to give herself to him and take whatever he had to give her in return.

As she opened herself up for him, their gazes locked and he pushed inside her. He watched her—his face taut—going slowly at first, and then harder, faster. Then his eyes drifted shut, and she wrapped her arms around him and urged him on with her hips.

“Kelsey, baby—”

She squeezed tighter. She lost her mind in a white-hot blaze of pleasure that went on and on and on until she thought she would die. And he held her through it, and then finally, amazingly, he gave a last powerful push and collapsed on top of her.