Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (Wingmen Warriors 6)

"I guess it's a good thing this attraction is two-sided." He echoed an altered version of her words from before.

"That it is, Colonel." She draped the length around his neck, tugged his head down to hers. "That it most definitely is."

He did not speak, but the presence of her scarf secreted away in his pocket was reassurance enough. Interesting how being desired heightened her own desire all the more.

Drew stared down at the unmistakable passion smudging Yasmine's near-opaque eyes and knew he was being a selfish bastard to allow her to give up her first time in the crap confines of cramped military quarters with a guy old enough to be— Hell, he didn't want to think about that.

And damned if he could walk away from her now.

All the rage and loss from a hellish day demanded release. Hard. Fast. In a warrior's roaring need to conquer. Win.

He might be selfish, but he wasn't an animal. He could, would, rein himself in enough to make sure she received the gentle treatment she deserved. He might be taking, but he would damn well make sure he gave her something in return.

Backing her toward the cot without breaking the warm drugging draw of sweeping her mouth with his tongue, he reached behind her to snag the pillow, fling it to the floor on top of the discarded sleeping bag. He cradled her to him, lowered her, dropping to one knee, his hand extended past to slow their fall until he guided her to rest in the fabric folds.

Never had an Army-issue bedroll looked so damned good. As a backdrop for Yasmine's dusky-naked beauty it was goddamned masterful.

Control inched further away with a painful throb.

She stared back up at him with trusting eyes, her fingers twisted tight in the splash of pink from her scarf. Her hair pooled around her, glossy dark on the white pillow.

Kneeling over her, he worked the silken length free from her grasp. He might not be much with pretty words, but he sure as shit understood a thing or two about the subtle nuances of pleasure he would like to teach this woman.

He hooked her scarf on one finger, the two tails trailing. Slowly he grazed the edges over her shoulder, along her collarbone in a gentle never-ending swipe that raised goose bumps on her skin while she watched him. No objection came from her mouth, just the soft rush of a contented sigh that rippled silk.

His path continued, lower to skim the tip of one hardened nipple the exact same deep rose color of the fabric between his fingers. He repeated the scarf's trail further, over her belly, down one leg and up the inside again until he stroked to the vee of her legs. Even as the all-over blush spread across her, she didn't tell him to stop.

Then he retraced his course with the scarf, followed by the caresses of his free hand. And once more. This time with his mouth skimming, nipping just after the gentle swish of silk against silkier skin until he found his way back up to her lips again.

One elegant arm stretched up around his neck, languid, her fingers gliding along his shoulder, tracing every muscle, following down his arm...

To steal the scarf from him.

Her Eve-smile gave him all of three second's warning before she stroked down his chest, her hand covered in the scarf. Down. Down. Until...oh, yeah... damned if she didn't drape the scarf over his erection, deliberately, wrapping the silky length around and around.

She folded her fingers over it, encircling him, stroked. "Am I doing this right?"

His head fell to rest on her shoulder, his breath ragged. "Yeah, I think you've got the right... Yeah."

A woman with intuition and imagination like this could rob a man of his will to breathe. The combination of her hands on him and the smoky, exotic scent all around him stirred him too much, too fast, for a man his age, damn it.

Scooping the scarf from her along with control, he rolled onto his back and positioned Yasmine over him.

Hints of maidenly embarrassment, a sense of awkwardness flickered across her face. "Uh, Drew, isn't that uncomfortable for you—"

"After twenty years in the Army, I've grown accustomed to hard ground." He made fast work of tearing open the condom and sheathing himself. "Hell, the sleeping bag makes this downright cushy compared to some gigs."

"But I'll squish you." She fidgeted against him until he gritted his teeth to combat the sensation.

"Lady, I've jumped out of planes carrying gear heavier than you."

He stroked from her br**sts to clasp her waist. Her muscles tensed beneath his hands into a sheet of nerves in contradiction to her encouraging smile.

"Trust me." He massaged gentle persuasion along the slight flare of her h*ps until she relaxed under his hands.

His hold firm, he guided her down. Stopping. The first touch of her moist heat against him battered his better intentions. Her impatient wiggle threatened to send him deeper, faster, when he knew well they needed to take this initial entry slow, careful. Excruciating.

His muscles trembled more from the effort of holding back than from holding her until finally he breached the thin barrier. Her wince, followed by instinctive tensing of internal muscles had him tensing in return, clenching back the surge of pleasure from her vise grip around him.