Along Came Trouble(49)

“Is that how you like it?” he asked, though he fully intended to find out for himself. He was going to figure out everything Ellen liked, and then he was going to do it to her as many times as possible. “You want me rough?”

Something flickered in her eyes then, so unexpected and gone so fast he nearly missed it. But he couldn’t miss it. He knew what fear looked like. He’d seen every variety of fear. Felt most of them, too.

“Hey,” he said, capturing her wrists underneath his shirt. He removed her hands and rolled off to one side, interlacing their fingers. “Hey, Ellen. Look at me.”

She didn’t seem to want to, but eventually she met his eyes. “You afraid of me?” he asked.

“No.” And she meant it, he could tell. But she was worried about something. She’d gone too quiet, too enclosed all of a sudden, where before she’d been brash and playful.

“I was just teasing, you know. I would never hurt you, or do anything you didn’t want me to do. Never.” He traced the outline of her face with one finger. “I promise.”

She nodded, accepting his statement. “I know that.”

“You want me to leave?” He didn’t know what else to say. In his mind, he was already walking out of the room, already trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Other than the obvious—that he was bigger and stronger than her, and damn near a stranger. Of course she was having second thoughts. He was an ass.

She shook her head and said, “I want you to take off that shirt.”

Not the answer he’d expected. And he couldn’t have kept the slow smile from spreading over his face if he’d tried.

He kissed her, softer this time. Testing the waters. “You’re sure?”

Her mouth opened, her tongue accepting his. They kissed for a long time, and whatever tension had gripped her let go. Their bodies nudged closer together, his thigh parting her legs and her hand finding his hip to tug him closer. He memorized the weight of her breast with his free hand, the way her breath caught when he thumbed her nipple.

“I’m sure,” she said against his lips.

He believed her.

Unbuttoning a shirt one-handed wasn’t easy, but he could take an M9 apart, clean it, and put it back together blindfolded. He had talented fingers—always had. And he didn’t want to let go of her hand yet.

He rolled onto his back, sat up, and shrugged out of the shirt, releasing her grip for a second so he could pull the sleeve off and toss the whole thing on the floor. When he looked over at her again, she was staring at his torso and breathing through her mouth, her eyes unfocused.

Maybe there had been a point to all those sit-ups and push-ups and ten-mile runs at five a.m. after all.

“Want me to take off anything else?”

She blinked. Shook her head sharply once as if to clear it. Blinked again. And smiled.

Something about that smile knocked him flat. This woman. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he felt it just the same. This woman was his. She was for him, in a way no other woman had ever been. She cut the legs out from under him.

He wanted her, and he was going to have her, and he was going to keep her.

“Take it all off, soldier.” Her smile turned sassy. “Make it snappy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, and kissed her again.





Chapter Thirteen



Oh, man, Caleb could kiss. He could really, really kiss. He could kiss like kissing was the only thing on his agenda, and honestly, if you could kiss like this, why put anything else in the day planner? She’d be happy to lie here kissing Caleb for the next twelve to twenty-four hours.

Well, mostly happy. A number of her erogenous zones were clamoring for a greater share of his attention. Her breasts were tight and tingling, and some sort of nuclear meltdown had occurred between her legs, because everything down there was wet and hot and swollen and needy. Very needy.

But for the moment, kissing was grand. His kiss was wet, but not too wet. It was hot but controlled, passion banked in favor of a slow exploration of her mouth with his tongue. He was tasting her, testing her, investigating her. He was teasing her. Arousing her. Claiming her.

How anyone could do all that with one kiss, she didn’t know. She didn’t really care, either. Though it did make a girl wonder what he could do with the rest of his fine self if he ever got around to undressing.

“Clark,” she said between kisses. “For God’s sake, get your pants off.”