Ricochet (Renegades #3)(15)
Author: Skye Jordan

“Perfect,” Nathan murmured, repeating the action. “Fuck me, baby.”

Rachel didn’t have to do much, Nathan had a hold of her hips and was moving her exactly the way he liked. The way she liked too. Something she’d never known she would ever like. A level of pleasure she’d never even known existed.

His thrusts grew stronger, his pull of her hips harder; their meetings grew in force to this side of painful, which added to the pleasure’s intensity.

Every thrust driving ecstasy into her bloodstream like a drug, making her scream like a woman possessed, “Yes, yes…fuck yes.”

He released her hips, gripped her breasts, clamped her nipples between his fingers, her shoulder between his teeth, and hammered into her. Her orgasm exploded at her core. She bowed and screamed. She fisted Nathan’s hair and held tight as he continued to thrust, growling out his own rabid release. When his climax’s grip faded, he lowered to his heels, still inside her, and trembling from the intensity.

With his forehead pressed to her back, his warm breath swept her spine, and she combed her fingers through his hair. Unforgettable. Mind twisting. Life altering. They were all thoughts that flitted through her pleasure-soaked mind.

When he’d caught his breath, Nathan pulled from her body and eased her down onto the oversize ottoman, then followed her, flopping onto his back and closing his eyes.

They lay there, spent, for long, quiet moments when their breaths were the only sound. Rachel fought to keep her mind from wandering to the reality of her situation: lying on a footstool, in a hotel room, naked except for her boots and her bra, next to a complete stranger who’d just given her the fuck of her life.

A complete stranger who was still fully dressed.

Slut.

As soon as the first judgment slipped in, she viciously shut down her brain. Sex was a normal biological human need. Only society put limits on the who, when, where and how of it. And Rachel was done with limits.

“Baby…” Nathan said, his voice choppy around quick breaths. “That was un-fucking-believable.”

She smiled, and a light happiness she hadn’t felt since she’d been young swept in and settled like an old friend. She’d definitely add un-fucking-believable to her list.

His hand landed on her hip and slid down her thigh. “I’m gonna clean up. Then let’s explore this place, find another cozy corner, and mess around some more.”

“Mess around,” she teased. “You make us sound like teenagers.”

Levered up on one elbow, he grinned down at her and splayed his hand over her belly. “You make me feel better than a teenager.”

She laughed, and he rolled into a sit up, then stood, hiking his pants higher.

“Hey.” She turned and grabbed for his shirt, catching the hem. “Why are you still dressed, while I’m nearly naked?”

He grinned over his shoulder before twisting and pinning her upper body with his. Slowly, he let his head fall until their lips touched. Until their tongues spiraled. Until he sighed and pulled away with a teasing grin in his pretty eyes. “Maybe,” he murmured, sliding the tip of his nose down the length of hers in a gesture so sweet it clutched at her heart, “because you were born to be naked and beneath me.”

To ease the pressure in her chest, she pulled in a dramatic gasp. Nathan laughed and rolled to his feet again so fast, she hadn’t even thought about grabbing him until he was out of reach. All she could do now—unless she wanted to move, which she absolutely did not—was taunt, “You wish.”

“Hell yes.” His smile softened, and something passed through his eyes, something that looked in that instant like longing. But then it was gone, and Rachel couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined. “I gotta clean up, babe.”

She sighed as he sauntered toward a hallway. “Come back naked.”

He turned the corner, then poked his head around the jamb and tossed his balled-up T-shirt at her.

“That’s a start.” She couldn’t wait to see all that muscle she’d felt, touch all his tanned skin, slide her hands over his tattoos.

In the distance, a door closed. The sound of water trickled in. Rachel took a moment to close her eyes and relax into the leather beneath her, absorbing the sensation of being so completely, deliberately, and expertly fucked. Her muscles felt liquid, her pussy tingled, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

Why hadn’t she done this a long damn time ago?

The toilet flushed, and Rachel pried her eyes open, then dragged his T-shirt on over her head. She pulled the cotton to her nose, breathing in his scent—musky and spicy and so very male. Then she slipped off her boots and socks, pulled on her panties, and…bit her lip at a new surge of unease.

What happened now?

5

After cleaning up, Ryker braced his hands on the edge of the sink and stared at the reflection of his dog tags in the mirror. He’d forgotten all about them until he’d tugged his shirt off in the hallway. If Rachel had gotten him naked earlier…

A flash of how furious she might have been at seeing his full name on the tags snaked a river of dread through him.

He pulled his tags off over his head and stuffed them into his pants pocket. Only now, he felt naked. No, worse—he felt vulnerable. Which was epically stupid. Taking off a few tin tags couldn’t shed his life in the military.

He shook the thoughts away. She hadn’t seen them, thank God. The rubber edge covers he’d added a decade ago had kept them quiet, and the length of the chain If she’d felt them, she hadn’t said anything. He was pretty sure he’d dodged that bullet.

Explaining these tattoos, though… Not impossible, but probably awkward. Then again, she hadn’t made a big deal out of the flag on his arm. Whatever, he’d power through the inquisition if it came to that. Downplay it as much as he could without outright lying.

Direction renewed, he cupped his hands beneath the cool water and splashed his face again. He’d already done a quick wipe down to clean off his travel, because if he discovered Rachel wasn’t doing a Renegade, he planned on staying supremely personal with her for the rest of the night..

His head was still hazed around the edges from that orgasm. He hadn’t come that hard in a long time. His body hummed with testosterone, adrenaline, and triumph. She was one hot little multi-orgasmic rocket.

A slow smile curved his mouth. He always took pride in a job well done. Only… He lifted his gaze to the mirror. This time he’d done the job with one of Troy’s coworkers.