Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

She wanted control back. Somewhere. Somehow. Of something in her life. Instincts. She could trust those.

Go with it.

Darcy surrendered to the moment, the sensual caress of Max's lips on her skin. Hers on his. He whipped the sheet free and pitched it aside. She trailed her fingers down his chest, along his scarred shoulder. Felt his strength. Reveled in rocking his control.

Her hands glided around to his back, his skin so hot under her hands as if he'd soaked up all the sun's rays. That heat seeped right back into her until it pulsed through her veins, chasing away the chill of childhood memories.

And how she welcomed losing herself in Max. She slid from his lap and dropped to her knees.

His hands fell to her shoulders. "Darcy—"

She took him in her mouth and whatever he'd started to say choked off in a groan. She let those instincts guide her into new, uncharted territory she very much wanted to explore. She lost herself in the moment, in the unbridled pleasure of giving pleasure until Max gripped her arms and hauled her up.

"Enough," he growled, hooking an arm behind her legs and tossing her on the bed.

Max blanketed her with his body, elbows keeping the bulk of his weight off her, simultaneously sheltering while exciting. She savored the steely strength of him stretched out over her, yet wrestled with the need to flip him on his back. Be the one over him. But as she'd found only moments before, even in taking control she surrendered.

His pleasure was hers.

She couldn't conquer or control. If only she could find an equality, a way to hold on to herself and have him at the same time.

Then Max rolled to his side, pulling her onto hers.

Confusion niggled, threatening to slow her momentum. "Max, help out the rookie here."

"A rookie? Not for long." Max cradled her thigh in a firm but gentle hand and urged her leg over his hip, bringing her closer as side by side they faced each other. No one above or under.

How did this man seem to recognize the wants she hadn't even given voice to? Damn but that scared her.

Excited her.

Her leg locked around him as she guided him into her body. Wanted to let him into her heart. What would it be like to spend years, a lifetime even, being challenged by this man who saw beyond boundaries? Made his own rales, yet respected hers, at least here.

It could be... everything.

Slowly he filled her, stretched her tender body and stared into her eyes while giving her time to adjust. He communicated so much through his eyes. Why hadn't she ever realized that before? He didn't use words. He sensed.

Sensed her fears. Sensed her needs.

Now.

And somehow he heard her. His hand rasped lower to cup her bottom, guiding her forward. Meeting her. Moving inside her, deeper, until she forgot about logic and concerns and just felt. Felt and moved, heat tightening, building low and intense. Enough, and at the same time there could never be enough to make her stop wanting more. More of him.

His hand slid between them, palmed her breast before sliding down, touching, finding, bringing...

Completion.

Max sat with his back against the headboard and watched the glowing numbers on the bedside clock blink away the night—2:00 a.m.

Darcy lay on her stomach sleeping, her face turned away from him as if she wasn't ready to see the morning or him yet.

True enough.

The hurricane shutters might be blocking out parking lot lights, but it couldn't stop morning from arriving, anyway, in another few hours. He knew Darcy well enough to understand she would likely start running. Soon. She would rebuild her boundaries before facing him again. If she came back.

He needed more time and they didn't have any, not with a case to close. But he sure as hell wasn't letting her climb back in another plane until they had the people responsible for her emergency landing in custody.

So he watched the clock and counted down the minutes until he would have to leave her.