The Dangerous Jacob Wilde

But she kissed him. Lifted herself. Came down on his aroused flesh. Once. Twice. Again …

She screamed again. Convulsed around him.

And the cosmos whirled them away in its star-studded embrace.

His heartbeat slowed.

He felt hers slowing, too.

The sounds of the night settled around them.

So did his ability to think.

What in hell had just happened?

He’d been with a lot of women. Until the last year and a half, more, perhaps, than most men.

He’d always liked sex, liked the tastes, the textures of a woman’s body, and he was no stranger to sex as a sudden, exciting encounter.

But this—

This wasn’t like anything he’d ever known.

Part of him said it was because he hadn’t had a woman in a long time.

Liar, a voice inside him whispered.

He’d gone without sex before, during long combat missions, even during self-imposed periods of celibacy before combat when instinct told him that self-i

mposed deprivation would make him stronger.

There was no explanation for what had just happened. He’d lost his self-control.

No finesse.

No tenderness.

And, sweet Jesus, no condom.

Still, he wanted to take her again. Slowly. With time to do all the things he hadn’t done.

Undress her.

Taste her.

Kiss her breasts, suck on her nipples …

“Put me down.”

Her voice was toneless. Even a man still trying to figure out if he’d lost his sanity could tell that wasn’t a good sign.

“Listen,” he said, “about this—”

“Did you hear me? Put me down.”

He nodded, lowered her carefully to her feet and searched his head for something intelligent to say. Nothing happened, so he went for a time-honored classic.

“You okay?”