Hell or High Water (Deep Six #1)(69)
“I’ve checked Maddy’s brother’s equipment,” he assured her. “It’s good to go. And Wolf will suit up in the regular scuba gear and hang out at the halfway point. We’ll attach a rope between us. If things go wrong, he can reel me up and—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Leonardo David Anderson,” she spat, giving his head a little shake. His mouth curled at her use of his full name, and he was keenly aware of the cool pads of her fingertips against his cheeks. He wanted to feel them skimming over every inch of his body. Over his shoulders, his belly. Rubbing over his nipples, the head of his—
“If something goes wrong, there’s nothing that can be done for you at that depth. You’ll either drown, or you’ll have to rise too quickly and get DCS.”
That she knew the divers’ abbreviation for decompression sickness surprised him. Though, it probably shouldn’t. Olivia prided herself on being at the top of her game, keeping herself apprised of every little detail of her missions.
“And if I don’t go down and get those capsules, then what?” he asked.
“Morales can call in an active SEAL Team to retrieve them, go the whole nine yards and—”
“Obliterate your chances to keep flyin’ under the radar,” he finished for her. “Christ, Olivia, the point of all of this was so that you and your boss could try to make sure this snafu stays under wraps so you will have another shot at catchin’ the traitor or traitors inside the CIA. Now you want to throw that all away? It’ll make the sinkin’ of Wayfarer-I completely meaningless. Everything will have been for nothin’.”
“But Maddy said that terrorist made a phone call after we hailed them from the Wayfarer. He thought we were CIA, which means it’s likely he passed his supposition along. The mole or moles, whoever they are, are probably already busy covering their tracks.”
She was reaching, and that wasn’t like her. “First of all, Bran said one look in the guy’s eyes told him the dude was crazy on a cracker. And crazy on a cracker usually goes hand-in-hand with paranoia. He was probably seeing government spooks lurkin’ in every corner. So the question becomes, even if he did pass along his supposition, would the traitors really believe him? And do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked for on the off chance they did? And second of all, you can’t be one hundred percent certain it was even them on the other end of the line. That phone call could have been to anyone.”
“But—”
“Darlin’…” He placed his hands on her hips, loving the subtle roundness of them. They fit perfectly into the curve of his palms. “I’ve done this dozens of times before. I’ll be all right. Let me do this for you.” Because I love you. “Let me finish it.” Could you love me, too?
She blinked and, after a bit, hesitantly nodded. Her expression remained troubled.
He knew just how to take her mind off her worries. “How about you give me a little kiss for luck, though. You know, just in case.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes taking on a definite sparkle. Bingo, bango, bongo. “That’ll never work,” she said, squeaking when he pulled her close so they were pelvis-to-pelvis, so she could feel what she did to him, know what she did to him. She gasped at the contact, her succulent mouth falling open the tiniest bit. An invitation to put something in there, perhaps?
Most certainly. But that would come later. For now… “Why won’t it work?” he asked, bending to run his nose over her temple, closing his eyes and breathing her in. Salt water and jasmine and…Olivia. His Olivia.
“Because we’re incapable of little kisses,” she told him, her voice going all through him, lighting him up, burning him down. He wanted her to go on talking forever. Just so he could listen. And enjoy. “Our little kisses turn into big kisses. And then our big kisses end up with one of my nipples in your mouth.”
He groaned at the memory. “Exactly,” he murmured, framing her beloved face with his hands and hungrily claiming her lips.
She met him openmouthed, eagerly, her agile tongue darting out to greet his. And then there were no more words. No need for words. They spoke with their bodies, with their hands. With their sighs and their moans of pleasure and encouragement. And just as she’d said, the little kiss turned into a big kiss. Into a long kiss. It went on and on, lips and teeth and tongues mating over and over. It was delicious. Decadent. But he wanted more. So, so much more.
Thankfully, he knew the way to more now, had mapped this part of the journey before, back on the Wayfarer. So he reached around to palm her sweet ass and simultaneously pulled the hem of her tank top over the tops of her breasts. This time he flicked open the back closure of her bra before yanking both cups down. He broke the sanctity of the kiss because he just had to look.
And the sight that met his eyes had his blood roaring through his veins like lit kerosene. Black tank top above. Black bra cups below. And in the middle were two lovely, creamy mounds of feminine flesh with quarter-sized, berry-colored nipples. She was perfect. Perfectly edible. From the plump of her cheeks when she smiled to the subtle arch of her back where her waist met her ass. Curves. She was endless, delicate curves. And he was going to feast on all of them.
Starting now.
“Leo…” She breathed his name when he released her amazing derriere to cup a luscious breast in each hand. He pushed them up and together, so he barely had to turn his head to lave first one pouting nipple, then the other. “Oh God,” she moaned when her areolas contracted, forcing the tips of her breasts to rise high and tight against the rasp of his tongue.