Fully Engaged (Wingmen Warriors 12)

A second healing pulsed through her veins, throughout her entire body, her mind, her soul. A cure beyond what could be found from any doctor or medicine.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, gripped deeper into memorable muscles to anchor her in the moment.

“Okay?”

“Totally. You?”

He throbbed inside her.

She grinned against his mouth, tickled to her toes again that two such chatty people could be reduced to one-word responses by the power of their response to each other. Nola leaned in for another kiss, rocking her h*ps as he thrust up. This would be okay, fun and normal and wonderful. She could have this part of her world and body back.

More sensations tingled to life again along every inch of skin. Shivery and alive and building as they rocked in synch. Bedsprings squeaked in harmony with their movements, echoing the growing riot within her. She dipped her head to taste his skin, beads of sweat popping along his collarbone, her fingers finding the pebbled hardness of his nipples.

He throbbed inside her again, his growl rumbling against her oversensitized chest. Power trilled through, knowing that she brought him as much pleasure as he gave her.

She opened her mouth to give him another of those one-word encouragements only to find even that much speech had dried up in the fire of her response. She could only throw back her head and savor, hold, shake. Surely it was only because she’d gone so long without.

A little voice in her head told her otherwise.

But then she told that little voice to hush up. She was busy right now enjoying the most amazing, freeing sex of her life, soon to be the most awesome completion. Building now and she didn’t want to risk dulling the edge from the finish. Or worse yet, lose her focus and lose the moment…

“Shh…” His voice and hands soothed over her skin as his body thrust. “I’m with you and I’m not finishing without you, like the two of us taking the leap together. Have you ever done a tandem parachute jump? It’s freaking amazing.”

She liked the image of their bodies locked like a joined freefall jump from an airplane. What a lovely vision of their two worlds mingling. He’d found words when she needed them, when she needed him. She believed him, trusted him.

And…oh…her body convulsed so completely around his, her arms locking him so tightly to her, she couldn’t draw him any deeper as she soared into the sensation.

So amazing. Beautiful. World rocking.

She’d deluded herself once before that she could have a weekend only with this man. Collapsing against his chest, she knew this time she wouldn’t be leaving him a note in the morning.

And even as she fought to catch her breath from the wonderful pleasure he’d helped her find again, she knew that untangling her mess of emotions for this complex man scared her far more than any combat mission.

Chapter 9

Breeze whipping off the marshy water and over him, Rick twisted the screwdriver on Nola’s mailbox, removing the last of the hinges holding the door. He might not have the answer yet for stopping the letter-writing, car-bombing, finance-sabotaging scum. But Rick intended to make damn sure there wouldn’t be any lethal surprises hidden in the U.S. mailbox, like a poisonous snake or spider, not to mention another bomb.

He’d been working his way through the list of possible dangerous surprises and general handyman fix-its. Aside from wanting to help her, it felt damn good to be out in the world again. Never again would he gripe about mowing the lawn or changing out the heater-AC filters. Nothing like a year in a rehab center to cure a man of grousing about chores around the house.

If only his body would cooperate with the length of his list. He rested his elbows on the mailbox to ease the pressure on his legs. The night of vigorous sex had tapped his reserves, too.

He grinned. Well worth every aching muscle.

So since he was done with the mailbox, why was he hanging out here rather than heading back inside with her? Giving Nola space.

She’d trusted him with a mammoth revelation, and now she was scared. He’d faced fear—in others, and hell yeah, in himself—enough times in the field to recognize it in a heartbeat. Best thing to do? Watch her and take his cue from her. Protecting her had taken on a lot more dimensions than he’d expected.

A shapely shadow stretched over him, reminding him of his primary purpose for being here—and it wasn’t about being in Nola’s bed, much as he enjoyed the pleasurable position.

He needed to remember how easily this woman could distract him from watching the cars driving by, sparse though the traffic might be on the back road, especially on a holiday. All the same, a large blue truck approached, slowing.

Rick knelt down to pull the hammer from the box and leaned against the mailbox as the truck neared to reveal…her neighbor, the ex-cop, Malcolm Cuvier. The truck pulled over onto the side of the road across the street, crunching downed branches.

The burly man hopped out of the truck cab. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Same to you. What can we do for you?” Had he really just said we in a territorial claim staking of his woman?

Hell yeah.