Free Fall (Elite Force #4)(41)
Author: Catherine Mann

“I’m glad you’re here.” He scratched along his bare chest. “The whole calm before the storm feeling has me antsy. I wouldn’t have slept well, wondering about you.”

Her eyes lingered on his chest. “You sleep anywhere, like today on the flight over.”

“You watched me sleep?” He walked to her, thinking about their night in Egypt. How could he not? He stopped short of touching her. “Honest to God, Stella, I’m not in the mood to talk. I think I should get dressed and take you back to your room.”

She dropped the pin and reached to touch his chest, trailing one finger lightly back and forth, searing him clean through. “I’m thinking more about what I said earlier. The whole point that we could die a truly gruesome death tomorrow.”

“You’re really romancing me here, lady.” He clasped her wrist, stopping her before his erection dislodged the towel altogether.

“This isn’t about romance.” She stepped closer until they stood chest to chest, her pulse throbbing faster against his hold. “It’s about how if I die tomorrow, I’ll regret passing up the chance to be with you again.”

“And if we live?” He sketched her damp red hair back, his knuckles skimming along that vital pulse echoing in her wrist, a vitality he would do anything to protect.

“Then I deal with the fallout.” She angled closer, her words heating over his mouth. “Can you accept that?”

Her meaning was clear. She wanted to be with him again, just for tonight, and hell yes, he knew she wasn’t thinking long term. She was here for all the wrong reasons and he couldn’t tell her no.

He slid his arms around her and pressed her flush against the hard length of how damn much he wanted to be with her. “I can’t think of a time I would ever turn down the opportunity to sleep with you.”

Chapter 10

Making love with Jose felt like the only right thing in a world turned upside down.

She didn’t stop to question why she was with him again in spite of how damn hard she’d grieved over their breakup. She didn’t have the luxury of time right now. If ever there was a night to live in the moment, this was it.

Sliding her hands down his sides, his skin warm and damp from his shower, she hooked her fingers in his towel and tugged, revealing the rest of his bronzed skin. Her fingers sketched down, down farther until they grazed along the familiar tattoo on his butt—the green footprints were a tradition for PJs, or so he’d told her. But remembering that discussion was for another time. Right now, she was all about the now. And she did so enjoy looking at him, tall and rangy, built for strength and endurance he tapped into for work, for play… and for sex.

“Stella…” His forehead rested against her, his wet hair sliding a drop of water down her temple. “Are we good on birth control?”

They’d used condoms at first until discussing how she’d chosen to have a Norplant because of her job undercover, to protect herself in the event of possible capture… and assault. It couldn’t prevent diseases, but at least she wouldn’t have to fear pregnancy. “I’m still covered. And I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

“Me either,” he said raggedly, the pain of the breakup unmistakable in his voice.

His body curved into hers, his head angled down toward her. His mouth was only a whisper away from hers, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Each heated breath flowed faster over her. The fresh scent of toothpaste and soap seeped through her. Who would have thought Crest and Dial could be aphrodisiacs?

His rich mocha-colored eyes still held hers as she tossed his towel to the floor. She leaned closer into him, the thick length of his erection pressing into her stomach. He hissed between his teeth, and yet still no kiss. She ached to be nearer, as close as she could get.

“Touch me,” she demanded softly.

A slow, confident smile spread across his angular face—arrogant man—and she loved it. Soon all that confidence would pour through his bold hands…

On her.

A husky moan crawled up her throat as his palms sketched lightly down her arms inch by inch until he cupped her hips. Her br**sts went tight and heavy in the confines of her bra, only brushing his chest with each inhale. She burned to be flesh to flesh against him. But after a month of living with the possibility of never being with him again? No way in hell was she squandering this moment with fast gropes and a quickie before they rolled over and went to sleep.

And from the intensity in his eyes combined with the restraint in his hands rubbing oh-so-lightly into her hips, apparently Jose felt the same way.

Every breath from him, she took into herself and then gave back, flowing in and out of each other, foretelling the way their bodies would eventually join.

She traced the lines of his collarbone, up the rigid tendons in his neck. “Undress me.”

“I will. Soon enough.”

Just when she thought he would make her ask again, he plucked the hem of her shirt from her jeans. That simple friction of cotton against tingling nerves sent a shiver over her. Bit by bit he bunched her shirt in his fists, peeling it over her head with total precision, control. In the instant her eyes were covered, her breath hitched in her throat, and the loss of connection with his eyes and their synced up breaths cut through her. Her balance rocked. Then he tugged her shirt free and flung it across the room to land on a stone elephant lamp in the corner.

His eyes captured hers again, and the room faded away. The décor and furniture didn’t matter. Just the two of them together, and God, there was something mystical about being here where so much of history began, the timeless connection much like when they’d first made love with the Nile as a backdrop.

His head dipped to brush her shoulder. “Your freckles are the sexiest damn things I’ve ever seen.”

Her head fell to the side as she gave him freer access, her hands sliding to cup his taut ass, every bit of him honed with muscle, the lean body of a marathoner. “My freckles? Really?” Her words rode hitchy gasps. “I think you’re stretching it a bit with that one.”

A simple twitch of his fingers and he’d unfastened her bra as artfully as she’d picked the lock on his door.

“If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” His lips grazed freckle after freckle, lower and lower. “But I’m not budging on this. Counting them, following them… Yep, one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

His tongue flicked one tight nipple. Her nails dug into his bu**ocks.