Forged in Smoke (Red-Hot SEALs #3)(113)

The answer came immediately. She’d fallen in love with him the night before, when he’d vetoed his teammates’ invitation in order to spend the night with her.

Looking back, the emotion had been building for days—driven by his loyalty to his teammates, his kindness toward her, his determination to do the right thing no matter the personal cost, his unfailing, unflinching courage, which he seemed completely unaware of.

But she’d fallen completely for him the day before when he’d put her first—put her life and her needs before his own.

She took a shallow breath, suddenly wide-awake. He’d used his body as a shield to protect her. Not just the night before, but ten days ago as well. Back at her lab, when he’d pulled her from beneath Big Ben. After they’d been attacked, he’d pinned her against the wall, using his flesh and bone for her protection. It had been an instant, instinctive reaction, this willingness to give up his life so that she might live, even though they’d been strangers at the time. He’d done the same thing—repeatedly—the night before.

And then he’d brought her home and he’d bathed her and held her and listened to her grieving, ignoring his own needs to focus on hers. He’d put her first the night before, above everything, above everyone, even above himself.

And she’d fallen completely and irrevocably in love with him.

Stunned by the realization, she lay there, concentrating on the warm arm pinning her to the mattress, and the big body heating the entire length of her from behind. While he’d told her that they were in a committed relationship, he’d never said he loved her. But if you extrapolated his feeling based on his actions . . .

A man wouldn’t cuddle a woman all night long, ignoring his raging erection—his own needs—unless he cared about the woman he was holding . . . would he? He’d talked about feeding her, for God’s sake—that alone indicated he felt something for her, right? Something beyond the physical?

Suddenly desperate to see his face, she tried to turn over. His arm tightened around her again, pinning her in place. Grabbing his hand with both of hers, she dragged it up, which loosened some of the pressure from his arm. She turned over, dropping his arm as she started the roll. Instantly his arm cinched back around her waist, locking her in place. But this time she was facing the opposite direction.

The bulge that had been pressing against her bottom was poking her in the belly now, and she knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t a hip or a knee—indeed, it was something else entirely.

Not that he seemed aware of it. She studied the relaxed lines of his face and frowned slightly. His face looked much thinner than it had at the airport terminal all those months ago. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who needed feeding.

With his eyes closed, he’d lost the intensity she associated with him. He appeared almost vulnerable, or maybe just tired. Impulsively, using the tips of her fingers, she smoothed the lines between his eyes and smiled as the corners of his lips tipped at her touch. A sunny, warm glow filled her chest. When she shifted her fingers to his mouth, she felt his lips curve beneath her fingers. Her gaze shot to his eyes, but they were still shut, his face still relaxed.

Her heart melted. He wasn’t even awake, yet he smiled when she touched him. Tickled by this discovery, she pressed in closer, her right hand stroking his belly while she kissed the side of his neck. Her hand took a detour to the side of his abdomen to verify that One Bird had healed him to the extent that Rawls had claimed the night before.

His flesh flowed smooth and hard and completely unmarred beneath her hand. She grinned when his heart rate quickened beneath her touch. His erection, which she’d been trying to ignore, grew more demanding, prodding rather than nudging her belly. She strung kisses down the side of his neck and then around to the front, where she nuzzled the hollow of his throat.

A raspy sound, almost a purr, rumbled in her ear. A surge of giddy excitement shot through her, and her smile grew wider. Wicked.

Slowly her hand stroked its way down his abdomen to curl around his penis. His hips arched with each pump of her hand, and the rumbling turned guttural. She lifted her head long enough to scan his face. His eyes were still closed, but the lines in his forehead and bracketing his mouth had tightened even further and there was an air of expectation about him, of breathless anticipation. She was almost certain he was awake.

Bracing her palm against his right shoulder, she pushed. He gave easily beneath the pressure, rolling over to sprawl out on his back.

Perfect . . .

Still grasping his penis, she squirmed up and over him, and went back to work with her mouth and her hand. Only this time she started her downward trek at his nipples—circling one with her tongue and then the other, before suckling.

A groan broke from him, and the arm around her waist shifted, sliding down to her bare bottom. As his hand slid between her legs, it was her turn to catch her breath and freeze. The warmth in her belly tightened and heated. When his hand went still, simply lying there, a thick, burning presence tucked between her thighs, she started moving again. Squirming against him, she trailed a line of nips and wet suckling kisses down his abdomen. With each nibbling caress along his torso, her fingers tightened around his penis, sliding down and then up in a lingering caress.

The rise and fall of his chest increased, so did the thud of his heart. This time when she lifted her head long enough to glance at his face, his eyes were open and locked on her, fiery with hunger. The heat in his eyes burned into and through her, liquefying her muscles and spiking her temperature. She jumped from hot to scorching in an instant.