Hot Zone (Elite Force #2)(46)
Author: Catherine Mann

And the tattoos. Plural. While she’d noticed the music scrolled across his chest, she definitely hadn’t noticed the green footprints inked on his calf. There was a story there, no doubt.

Except then he stepped into the water and her thoughts scattered. He sat behind her, bringing the water higher around them as his legs stretched out the length of the tub. His thick erection pressed against her back with a promise as large as everything else about the man.

He cupped her shoulders, guiding her to rest against his chest. “Relax…”

Really? Really? She was far from relaxed, with tension of another delicious kind seeping through her.

Then his hands slid forward to cup her br**sts and she eased down into the water, giving him fuller access to keep caressing, soothing. The lingering soap on his hands made his touch slick against her ni**les. The calluses along the pads of his finger rasped an added pleasure with each stroke, touch, plucking. His hands splayed wide, palming her in his broad, possessive hold.

Heat pooled between her legs, a sensation that had more to do with Hugh than the shower. And from the way he throbbed against her spine as she moved, he was enjoying this every bit as much as she was. Although, she could take things even higher by being a more active participant.

Swiping the washrag from the hook and the bottle of homemade liquid soap, she lathered a cloth, eyeing his muscled hairy legs on either side of her. She skimmed her fingers carefully around the angry red scratch on his calf where Oliver had cut him during their struggle in the van.

She dabbed along the angry red line. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m a medic, remember?” He kissed and nipped down her neck and along her shoulder. “I can take care of myself. I’m also military, which means I get a crap ton of immunizations. Think tetanus times twenty.”

Her hand slowed along his leg, the water chilling around her. “In case you’re injured in the line of duty.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled against her neck.

“And have you been?”

He stroked down from her br**sts to her stomach, inching lower still until his fingertips were under the soapy water. And then he reached lower still, dipping one hand between her legs. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”

Her knees parted and it was her own slickness, her arousal, that smoothed his touch back and forth along her plumped, oversensitive flesh.

“Guess not.” She shook her head against his chest, her breath hitching as his fingers dipped lower, lower… just low enough. “Oh… Definitely not.”

“Good.” His laugh vibrated against her, through her. “Me neither.”

She tipped her face up toward him just in time to meet his kiss, opening, and what a time to realize there hadn’t been the luxury of time for making out. They’d shared life-and-death moments, deep personal secrets, and even mind-blowing sex. But somewhere along the line they’d missed out on this…

Careful not to break the passionate connection, she angled around and onto her knees until she straddled his lap. Water sluiced over the sides again as she settled on top of him. Facing him, she explored him with her hands and the soap. The shower sprayed on her back, sprinkling around onto him and swishing away the suds. She kissed her way over clean manly flesh. And God, she loved the way his pecs twitched under her lips. So she flicked her tongue, tasting, savoring as she worked her way across until the texture changed with his musical tattoo.

Abruptly, he stood, turned the shower off, and scooped her up into his arms in a move so smooth she barely had time to loop her arms around his neck before they reached the bed. His arms bulged with unmistakable strength under her legs and along her back.

He lowered her on the wide mattress, the crocheted spread enticingly abrasive against her bare skin. The moonlight streamed in through the windows, pouring down his naked body. Hugh stretched out over her, settling on top of her as he captured her mouth. And as much as she was enjoying the make-out session, she was ready for this to move forward.

Her fingernails dug into his flanks and she ached to have him inside her.

“Hurry…” She arched against him, wriggling her hips.

“We’re not rushing it this time.”

“Can we have fast”—she nipped his chin—“then slow?” She flicked her tongue over the same spot.

“Or slow… and even slower still.” He shifted positions with athletic fluidity, lifting her as he slid underneath her.

His erection pressed against her, nudging the tight bundle of nerves that screamed for attention and relief. He rocked his hips, sliding along her but not in her, a sweet torment, so much so, she grabbed his shoulders in a white-knuckled grip to keep from melting over him, off him.

His hands spanned her waist, steadying. “I’ve got you. Just relax and go with it. Let everything fly loose from the past few days.”

He sounded so in control, a part of her wanted to take the control away from him, make him as insanely on fire as he made her.

Faster and faster he guided her until a flush of anticipation prickled over her skin. Her br**sts went tighter, her whole body gathering into a knot of need. She rocked more fully against him and reveled in the groan that slipped from between his gritted teeth.

That deeply growled sound of appreciation snapped the tension inside her. Her head flung back, her damp hair grazing her spine. Each brush stimulated and electrified her every heightened nerve, sending her closer and closer to completion. And he watched her as if reading her face, her body, as he stroked her while laving her breast with his tongue, tugging lightly with his teeth.

The bliss built… and built… until… release unfurled inside her. Pleasure shimmered over her nerve endings as if he touched every part of her at once. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her trembling arms all that kept her from collapsing on top of him. He’d pleasured her to the roots of her hair and still she wanted more of him…

“Protection,” she gasped. “We need protection. Or maybe I could—”

“Hold on.” His hand left her breast to scoop his survival vest from the bedside table. “I’ve got this.”

She remembered their conversation from the supply closet about a condom being kept in the survival vest, a more compact way to keep a water carrier. He pulled the packet and tossed aside the vest. Hugh sheathed himself before the last glimmer of ecstasy seeped from her. And then he was inside her, wringing fresh spasms of pleasure from her with each forceful thrust. She came again and again, and thank God for his bracing hold that kept her upright, taking him deeper, because she couldn’t have stayed upright without him.