Black bursts blinded him. The taste of her throat muted him. Her pleasured cries deafened him. The quivers of her orgasm stole all semblance of sanity and he thrust hard, coming deep inside her, dropping his forehead to the top of her head.
Sweat soaked his skin, heat burned his body.
Shame burned his soul.
He’d taken Amelia like an animal in heat.
She turned, faced him, looked up at him with a smile on her contented face. “Wow,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing the corner of his mouth. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”
Wow was right. It had been good. Great. But what he’d just done to her hadn’t been making love. That had been sex.
Good old-fashioned up-against-the-wall sex for the sake of sating physical need. Amelia deserved so much better. He’d wanted to give her better. How could he have treated her this way? She’d never believe she meant more to him than just sex now.
He’d just used her and she was smiling at him as if he’d done her the greatest favor.
What had he done?
Someone knocked on the door. The handle moved. Amelia’s smile disappeared, her eyes widening as she scrambled to restore her clothing. Cole did his pants up in record speed, trying not to look guilty as the door swung open.
Oh, hell. Someone could have walked in on them. To have been caught like teens would have been a horrible humiliation without the added issues of what getting caught on board ship would mean.
How could he have compromised Amelia this way? What was wrong with him?
“Hey,” Peyton said, stepping into the room, then pausing, his astute eyes tak
ing in where Amelia still stood next to the wall, Cole stood a few feet away. The room probably smelled of sex.
The nurse anesthetist paused, clearly deducing what had been going on as his gaze met Cole’s. What the hell? his expression asked. Have you lost your mind? You can be sent packing for this.
Cole kept his expression blank, battling with a flurry of emotions. He couldn’t put Peyton in the position of having to keep secrets. Neither could he put Amelia in the position of being dishonorably discharged. Hell, he’d already put her in that position. Had put his roommate in that position. Idiot.
“I, uh, came to…” Peyton paused, eyed where Cole stepped protectively in front of Amelia. “Actually, I forgot something. I’ll just go take care of that.” He gave Cole a meaningful look. “You coming?”
Cole tried not to wince at the question. “In a minute.”
Peyton frowned. “You sure? Someone might get the wrong impression with you two shut up in here.”
Or get the right impression.
“I need to close my e-mail account,” Cole said, gesturing toward the computer screen. “I was checking my e-mails.”
“Right, checking your e-mails,” Peyton said, his forehead wrinkling. “You want me to wait for you?”
His friend was trying to save his rear end, to say that he’d be right on the other side of the door so nothing else could happen, so they wouldn’t risk their careers for a few moments of pleasure.
Too late.
He glanced toward Amelia, took in her disheveled appearance, her kiss-bruised lips, the contentment yet appeal in her eyes. She didn’t want him to go, not until they’d talked.
Need for reassurance shone in her chocolate depths and stupidly he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and give her that reassurance. To lift her into his arms, carry her to somewhere private and spend the night loving every inch of her body. The right way rather than against a wall.
They had to stay away from each other or a repeat would happen.
He couldn’t allow a repeat.
Not when doing so would lead to Amelia hating him yet again.
If they got caught it would mean her career. In a heated moment, she might be willing to take that risk, but she’d grow to hate him if he dishonored her, destroyed her military career.