While my mouth worships her flesh, my hand travels over her thigh, up to her hip, and then down between her legs where she’s hot. If her shorts were off, she’d be wet and slick in my hand.
God, I want that more than anything in the world.
But we’ll get there.
She moans and arches into my touch, wanting so much more than just over-the-clothes petting.
“Liam, take my pants off.”
“Not now.”
“I’m going to be fifty by the time you get me naked.”
“Maybe thirty,” I reply with a grin. “Why are you so impatient?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It could have something to do with the fact that I’m sexually frustrated every single day lately. Are you ever going to move faster than turtle mode?”
“Maybe.”
I gently rub my thumb over the hard nub in her shorts and feel her jerk in her seat.
“Are you what they call a sadist?”
My head comes up so I can look her in the eyes. “What do you know of sadists?”
“I read. I think you like torturing me.”
“Is that what I’m doing? Torturing you?”
She nods and moans when my thumb moves once more. Finally, I push harder, rub just a little faster, and watch with absolute fascination as Ellie comes apart in my arms, right here in the front seat of my car at Make Out Point.
She’s panting, her hands in fists as she rides wave after wave of ecstasy.
“I’m not a sadist,” I whisper into her ear. “I’m just not in a huge hurry.”
She licks her lips, trying to catch her breath. “That was rather fun.”
I feel my lips twitch in response. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
* * *
Staying the night again with Ellie isn’t the best idea. In fact, it’s a horrible one. My men will start to wonder what the fuck is going on.
And that’s not even the tip of the iceberg of the long list of reasons this is the worst idea I’ve ever had.
But when we returned to her apartment in the boathouse, and she smiled so sweetly, then took my hand and asked me to stay, I couldn’t turn her down.
I’m a fucking idiot, but I couldn’t leave.
So, here I am, in her bed, holding her to me as she sleeps peacefully.
Her touch, her even breathing, it soothes me. My eyes are heavy, and sleep calls seductively.
Gunfire. There’s always so much damn gunfire.
“Cunningham!”
“Adams! Retreat, goddamn it! Get the fuck out of here!”
“Cunningham, where are you?”
Why can’t my men see me? Hear me? I’m right here, damn it!
“Get them behind the building! Retreat!”
“I’m going to die.” Beller, the private I’ve come to think of as a younger brother, says with tears in his eyes. “I’m going to die, Cunningham. I want to call my mom.”
“There’s no time,” Adams yells. “We have to find Cunningham!”
None of this makes any sense. I’m right here. Why can’t Adams see me?
“I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die.” I pull Beller in for a hug, trying to protect him from something that I already know is coming.
His body jerks from the gunfire, and he falls against me, crying out. “I’m hit! I’m hit!”
“It’s okay.” I lower him down and see the blood start to spread on the ground beneath him. But when I look back up at his face, it’s not Beller.
It’s Ellie.
“Save me,” she pleads. Her face is dirty. Blood is smeared on her cheek and dripping out of her mouth. “I don’t want to die, Liam. Save me.”
Fucking hell, I have to keep her alive. I have to. I pull her against me and push against the wound in her back.
“Stay with me, baby. You’re not going to die. I promise.”
“Liam.”
“No, you’re not going to die.”
“Liam.”
“Keep breathing. Just breathe.”
“Liam.”
I jerk awake. Ellie’s petting my shoulder, crooning.
“Liam, wake up. It’s just a nightmare, darling. It’s just a dream.”
I recoil from her touch, bound out of bed, and sink to the floor, my back against the cold wall.
“Don’t touch me. Stay away from me.”
“Hey.” She follows but doesn’t touch me. She squats next to me, keeping her hands to herself. “You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’ll hurt you,” I rasp, my heart hammering in my chest, in my head. My God, I could hurt her in my sleep. What the fuck was I thinking, staying with her? I can’t protect her like this. I can’t protect her from me.
“Liam.” She reaches out for me, but I shrink away.
“Don’t touch me, Eleanor.”
“All right.” She holds up her hands. “I won’t touch you. I promise. I’m over here.”
“This isn’t going to work.” I swallow hard, over the cotton on my tongue. “This is a bad idea.”
“Take some breaths.”
“You don’t get it.” I push my face into my hands. I’m embarrassed and mortified that Ellie saw me like this, at my absolute fucking worst.
“Tell me then.”
“I have PTSD,” I say and take my hands away from my face so I can look her in the eyes. “Nightmares every night. I barely sleep, but when I do, this happens. Every time. I’m scared to death that I could hurt you, Ellie. And that’s the last thing in the world I want. It can’t happen. It won’t. So, we either have to keep seeing each other only during the day, or not at all. I’ll quit if you want me to.”