Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(64)
Author: Catherine Mann

She raised her arms and he tugged the shirt the rest of the way over her head. She shook her hair free in a gingery cloud that settled around her bared shoulders. Wearing nothing but her shorts and a sports bra, she wasn’t overly exposed, but there was something erotic about her natural beauty that didn’t need glamming up.

As he stared, her ni**les went harder, pushing against the gray cotton of her bra, letting him know just how much he turned her on. And wasn’t that heady stuff?

She shimmied out of her shorts, revealing gray cotton bikinis with lace along the edges, the high rise making her slim legs stretch even longer. She started to pull the matching lace-trimmed sports bra upward, and he swept away her hands.

He traced the straps over her shoulders—lace and cotton, sexy and down-to-earth at the same time. “Call me greedy, but I want to do the unveiling.”

“And if I want to go the striptease route?” Her plump lips went pouty and sultry.

“Next time.” God, he hoped there could be a next time. So far, his body was still full on, hard throttle.

“Or I could undress you.” She punctuated each word by kissing his chest, moving lower and lower still, all the way down to his navel. Her hand landed on his fly in an unmistakable message. In a moment of clarity, he realized she was operating off some old agenda from those jackass duds who took and never gave back.

He brought her face back up to his. “Next time. Right now, I want to see you. All of you.”

Her hands stilled, her eyes searching his, so he let her see just how much he wanted her. Not too difficult a task at all.

“Okay, then.” She spread her arms wide. “I’m all yours.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear.” He eased the sports bra over her head and flung it across the room.

His mouth went dry—then watered. Perfect br**sts, pert with dusky ni**les tight and calling to his hands, to his mouth. All of the above, actually.

He cradled her in his palm and her husky sigh encouraged him to keep right on. He captured one taut tip in his mouth and she more than sighed. Her head lolled and a moan vibrated up her exposed throat.

She cupped the back of his head and drew him in closer, pressing for firmer contact. Damn straight, that was more like it—her letting him know what she wanted.

He was more than happy to provide.

Brandon worked one breast then the other with his mouth, tongue, and teeth until she writhed against him, moaning and whispering her pleasure until he wondered if she might finish right then and there. Which was okay by him. He was a big fan of orgasms. Lots of them. As many as she wanted.

Her fingers tugged tighter in his hair and he realized she was pulling him away, then kissing him. Her mouth was open and eager, her tongue touching his, her arms locking around his neck and holding on tight.

She scooted until she sat in his lap, her legs looping around his waist.

With her br**sts pressed to his chest and the hot core of her pressed against his erection, he wondered if he might finish before he even got his clothes off.

No way was he letting that happen. He eased her back onto the blanket, licking and tasting his way down her body until he tugged her panties with his teeth. He looked up at her briefly to see her reaction. He found hesitation but acceptance.

He tugged at the waistband of her underwear and discovered… two tiny tattooed pawprints along her hip bone. Now wasn’t that a surprise?

“How many of these are there?” He kissed one, then the other.

“Why don’t you count?”

Which meant there were more beneath her underwear.

He yanked her panties off. “I still see just two.”

She stroked his cheekbone. “I was trying to get you to take my clothes off faster.”

“Smart woman.” He smiled against her skin, then lower into the silky soft curls between her legs. “You’ll need to make sure you’re quiet.”

She leaned on her elbows. “You’re mighty confident that you can—”

His mouth closed over her and she gasped. He drew in the scent and taste of her, all the while still tuning in for cues of what she wanted. More of those breathy gasps and her slick readiness. Her elbows slid away and she gripped the quilt in her fists.

Just the sign he was looking for. He teased with his tongue and fingers, hitching her legs farther apart with his shoulders. She spread for him, welcomed him, and heat surged through him until his heart just about pounded out of his chest. The need to be inside her, deeper, seared him with an aching drive. But he held back.

Watching her. Working her. Waiting for her.

She bit her lip. Hard. Encouraging him with the way she wriggled her hips. The rapid rise and fall of her br**sts. How her heels dug into his sides as her legs fell open.

He coaxed her the rest of the way over the edge. A moan vibrated up her throat, and as much as he reveled in the sound, he didn’t want her to be embarrassed. Just as he considered moving up to kiss her and finish her with his hand, she twisted her fingers in his hair, holding him in place. She stuffed her fist in her mouth fast. Her back arched and, hell yeah, he felt her come apart for him. Perfectly. Beautifully.

“Magnificent,” he whispered against her with a light cooling puff that brought another moan from her.

He damn near ripped his clothes off, finesse fading fast. Until he remembered he didn’t have a condom. Damn it. He was without protection when he had the first for-real, usable erection since a bomb exploded beside him in the Middle East.

Catriona’s hand landed languidly on his shoulder. “Looking for one of these?”

Her other hand came out of her hobo sack—holding a condom packet.

He cupped the soft curve of her bottom, bringing her even closer. She suckled gently on his bottom lip before kissing and nibbling along his jaw. Nipped at his ear.

Her cool hands stroked his chest before he had time to think, much less warn her.

Gasping, she rocked back on her heels. “Brandon, oh my God.”

Her fingertips hovered over the scars wrapped around his abdomen, striping upward. Healed burns and grafts mottled his flesh. Lightning streaked through the room, illuminating what she hadn’t already felt. He should have told her before now, but he hadn’t been thinking. Just feeling—feeling good—for the first time in so long.

Discussing what happened overseas sounded like a massive mood killer for the first hard-on he’d experienced in months. He wanted to shove her hands aside and just push inside her. Except she clearly had questions, and as much as he ached to put those questions on hold, he owed her better. He needed to be sure she understood just what she was signing on for in sleeping with him.