Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(30)
Author: Catherine Mann

She flicked her tongue along his collarbone, salty sweet and all hers. He ducked to capture her mouth and the minty taste of tea remained. Was everything about him perfect? Even the way he’d handled adversity with a humble strength. God, he was making her fall deeper in love with him by the day. By the hour.

And right now, by the caress.

Backing toward the bed, her legs tangled with his until the mattress met her calves and he lowered her onto the coarse tapestry spread, her feet still hanging off the bed. Before she could think, he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to her stomach. His intent became abundantly clear as he hooked her legs over his shoulders and nuzzled the inside of her thigh.

Being so open and vulnerable to him could have been awkward, but everything with Jose just felt natural. Right. And utterly blissful. Pleasure rippled through her with each intuitive stroke of his tongue, every caress of his talented fingers. She ached to be closer to him, to feel him on top of her, inside her, and just the thought of that alone sent her the rest of the way over the edge. Her back arched into the release, again and again, her restless hands grasping at his head, his shoulders, urging him upward.

Somewhere in a distant functioning part of her brain she noticed how he sheathed himself before sliding upward, kneeling over her, moving with her up the bed. Every rasp against her super-sensitized skin made her shiver with aftershocks as she inched toward the piled pillows.

Her head sunk back into the downy softness as she clasped at Jose’s shoulders, unrecognizable murmurs rolling from her as she urged him closer. Yet, he still held back, driving her crazy with his mouth along her br**sts up to her neck, until finally, thank God, finally he kissed her with an incredible mixture of passion and tenderness. Then thrust inside her, stretched her, filled her, and she knew…

Their date, being together was absolutely perfect. So much so it scared her to think of losing him.

Chapter 7

Jose sensed the change in Stella when she woke, the way her breathing shifted in their small military quarters. He’d been with her so often, he knew the feel of her body asleep—and awake. She’d woken at least twenty minutes ago, but for whatever reason, she chose to keep her eyes closed while she rested her head on his shoulder.

At least she’d rested for more than six hours since the questioning in the hangar. He sure as hell wasn’t going to argue about holding her. He just stroked his hand along her shoulder, the memory of that night in Egypt so damn real in his head right now, he went hard at the images swimming in his mind. He’d known he loved her but suspected if he said it right after sex, she would have thought he was talking with his dick rather than his heart. So he’d waited for the right moment to tell her.

Not that it all mattered in the end. He should have been smarter, should have seen the train wreck before they both crashed full-on into a massive heartache that was still kicking his ass.

Before he could stop himself—and hell, he didn’t even want to stop—he kissed the top of her head. And how sappy was that? He was all choked up over nuzzling her hair. Her hair, for God’s sake. He’d been with this woman dozens of times, tasted every freckle on her body. He squeezed his eyes closed, resting his forehead on her and just breathing in the unique scent of her that overrode any shampoo.

Her hand fell to rest on his shoulder, signaling she was finally ready to admit to being awake.

He eased back to look in her eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Better, rested. Thank you.” Her fingers trailed down to his chest and his body twitched in reaction. “Jose, it would be horribly cliché of us to kiss right now… or more.”

His body went even harder against his fly in reaction to her words. “Clichés aren’t always bad.”

She closed her eyes tightly, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can we just talk? Just see if we can hang out here together? I don’t want to say good-bye yet, but honest to God, Jose, I can’t go back.”

Did she realize how her ni**les beaded against the robe, making him ache to sweep open the neck and take each peak in his mouth?

He decided to take hope from the fact that she wasn’t running out the door. He hugged an arm around her shoulder. “Stay put. The less you move the better it is for both of us.”

She looked up quickly.

He just winked.

Stella relaxed against his side. “I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. This would be much easier if you could be a jackass.”

“There are a lot of things that could make this simpler, but life isn’t going to pave the way for us. So for now, let me just be glad you’re alive and we’ll just ignore the rest.” Like his raging erection. “Anything I can get for you? Food? Something to drink?”

“I’m good now. You were right. I was running on fumes before. I needed to recharge.” Rolling to her back, she pushed a hank of hair off her forehead. “Have you heard anything about the teenager? Or the other hostages?”

Even as they settled into a no-sex agreement, God, how easy it was to lay in a bed together and talk with the familiarity of lovers. How easy it would be to tug the tie on her robe and make them both forget the hellish past four weeks apart.

His hands clenched. “No earth-shattering news. Just a text from Bubbles a couple of hours ago.” He scooped his cell phone off the bedside table and double-checked. No new messages. He tossed it on the bed between them where it bounced once before settling. “The other hostages have been medically evaluated. Everyone was processed separately, so they think you’re simply in another room. Sutton and the others should be flying out and heading home within a few hours.”

“Which technically, I am.” She pushed against the mattress, sitting up.

And driving him crazy with the way her knee peeked between the part in her robe.

She hugged her knees. “And the boy? The code?”

“I’m sure Mr. Smith will contact you once he has something.”

“Waiting is tough.”

He knew that was an understatement for her. He’d seen just how hard it had been for her to walk away from decoding whatever message lurked in that cloth. Stella might not be the most overt with her emotions, but she took her job seriously and her methodical mind had an almost obsessive need to untangle puzzles. He had the feeling she’d probably been trying to break the code from memory even while she’d slept.

“Most high-risk jobs are ninety-nine percent waiting and one percent high-octane insanity.” He should roll out of bed, get dressed, and get the hell out of here. He should. But he stayed right where he was because being tempted with her was less painful than being without her. “You said you came here searching for answers about your mother, that you had unanswered questions about how she died. What do you think happened?”