Forbidden River (The Legionnaires #2.5)(26)

She tugged the hem of his thermal, and he lifted away and let her pull it over his head. He hungered to feel her warm, soft skin against him. As if reading his mind, she dived for her sweater. He got there first. As he discarded her layers, her hair fell in heavy curls on her shoulders, the curves of her breasts catching the moonlight. Increíble. Magnifique. A goddess in any language.

She circled a fingertip on his chest, over his tattoo.

“I saw this earlier,” she said huskily. “Some French words, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it say?”

“Je ne t’abandonnerai jamais.”

“Meaning?”

“I will never abandon you.”

“Your brother.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s over your heart.”

“A few of us got tattoos at the same time. We’d had a little too much cognac. Got all sentimental.”

And sentimentality was not what he was after tonight. He lowered his head and caught one of her nipples in his mouth. She gripped either side of his head, moaning and sinking onto the earth like she’d lost the strength to hold herself up. Which was cool because he’d found a ton more energy.

“Cody, do you have protection?”

He released her, his cock straining against his shorts like it had ears. “Somewhere. Let me find it.”

Her freckles stood out against her cheeks. Maybe later he’d lie beside her counting them, memorize every detail of her, of this. Get enough of a fix that he could return here whenever he needed to remember happiness and normality. He caught a lock of hair and rubbed it between his fingers. So soft.

“In a minute,” he said, catching her lips and easing onto her. Yep, she felt amazing against him. Soft and strong and pliant, her fingertips pressing into his back. Not a fragile bird who might break but a real woman who smelled of shampoo and desire. He slipped his fingers into her shorts, under her panties, and slid into her slippery curls. He circled and played, as she groaned and thrust against his fingers. So sexy. He dived into her neck, kissing her silky saltiness as she got wetter and wetter under his hand, her moans ever more desperate. Her nails clawed his shoulders and she arched those beautiful breasts into him. Holy shit. This could well be heaven.

Suddenly her hand was on his cock, squeezing and stroking through his shorts.

“I want you inside me,” she said, panting. “Shall we...?”

“...move this along?”

“No, wait.” She closed her eyes. “Keep. Going.” Her mouth fell open.

“Yes, ma’am.” We have all night.

She gave a muffled cry and bucked against his fingers, clamping his cock like she was taking the impact out on him. As she crested, he slipped two fingers into her, his groans matching hers as her muscles pulsed around him. Hell.

She slumped, her hand—blessedly—releasing. “Wow.” She exhaled, her breath cool on his shoulder. “That’s been building longer than you might think,” she added, as if she felt the need to explain.

“You’d be surprised how much I identify with that. Or maybe you wouldn’t.”

“We were...talking about condoms.” That desperation in her tone—oh man.

“I’m on it,” he said, crawling to his gear, because crawling was about all he could manage. He found two in his wallet.

“So you are that kind of tourist,” she teased as he returned.

“Are you slut-shaming me because I carry protection? After you asked if I had any?”

“I thought you could only slut-shame a woman.”

“So sexist. I can totally show my respect for you by stopping right now.”

“Do you respect me?”

“Let’s see,” he said, dropping to his knees and kissing her soft belly. “You fly a chopper, you’re kickass, you’re smart... So yeah, I respect you. And did I mention you’re goddamn gorgeous?”

“Okay, that’s good enough.”

“So you don’t want me to stop?”

“Uh. No. Just stop talking shit.”

“It’s not shit. And for the record, the last time I slept with a woman was a year ago. The condoms are wishful thinking.”

She laughed, her belly shuddering. He licked her navel, earning another shaky giggle.

“Let me guess,” she said. “That was the last time you went on a kayak trip? A hookup with a local?”

“Ah, actually, yeah. But it’s not a habit, believe me.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m okay with you not being a virgin.”

“So we’re doing this, right?” he asked. He couldn’t help sounding a little anxious.

“Hell, yes. Just...let’s not get too carried away.”

“It doesn’t really work unless we get somewhat carried away.”

“True. Well, let’s get carried away in a silent, slow kind of way.”

Yes, ma’am.

*

IT WASN’T THE impersonal shag Tia had expected. With her limited mobility and the need for quiet they took it lazily, cocooned in warmth and safety and trust, hiding from sandflies under his unzipped sleeping bag. Hiding from everything. When they weren’t kissing, she was staring into his dark eyes, her climb into bliss reflected in his gaze like it was a meeting of souls, not just bodies. Intimate. Loving. Like a couple who had known and loved a long time. His back muscles tensed and released under her fingers as he moved inside her, the occasional haunting call of the ruru marking the passing of time. She had an urge to close her eyes and concentrate only on how good it felt, the steady build of agonizingly sweet pleasure, the solid weight of him, his chest flattening her breasts. But she didn’t want to break the connection in their gaze, the comms link between their thoughts.