Out of Uniform (Wingmen Warriors 14)

But the very trait that made Jacob so attractive to her could be the one thing that caused him to pull away. The man was so honorable.

She needed to forget what Blane had done to her and their child. Just for tonight until she could do something to find Evan.

“Jacob,” she moaned, demanded. Determination fueled her fingers as she shoved his buttons free, working her way from his neck down the camouflage uniform. All those necessary layers of cold-weather wear kept her from finding the salty skin she yearned to taste. She groaned her frustration. His hands covered hers.

Uh-oh. Here comes more talk of right and wrong and morning-after regrets.

Stretching onto her toes, Dee grazed her mouth along his neck, up to his ear. She’d never considered herself much of a femme fatale and feared she would fall short now. Blane’s infidelity had torn at her self-confidence. He’d been her first, and after their split, she’d shut that part of her away rather than risk more rejection.

Would she have ever pursued Jacob so relentlessly before she’d lost her memory? Of course not. How odd that it had taken a hefty dose of amnesia to set her sensuality free. Still, she wasn’t sure her fledgling sense of adventure could withstand Jacob turning from her.

Pride forced a huskiness to her voice. “Don’t tell me ‘no.’”

“All right.”

That stopped her faster than any long speech about impulsive mistakes. Pride ducked behind surprise.

Dee’s grip tightened around Jacob’s collar. “You don’t think this is a bad idea? You don’t think it’s an adrenaline high that—”

Jacob silenced her with a hard kiss.

He rested his forehead against hers. “Yes, I do think we’re both riding an adrenaline high. But no, I don’t think we should stop. We’ve both wanted this too long to waste it by rushing. Let’s take it slow.” His light blue eyes turned smoky, whispering over her. “Really slow.”

The hungry sweep of his eyes left Dee with no doubts. He wasn’t going to leave her hurting and alone. Relief turned her legs to soup, like one of those Sunday Jell-O molds left out too long.

It was going to happen. She and Jacob would be n**ed in a matter of moments—slow, stolen moments.

He dipped his head to drink unending, leisurely kisses from her mouth. What made the feel of his hands on her so special, so different?

She met his questing tongue with her own, reacquainting herself with the mind-numbing taste of Jacob. Liquid fire poured straight through her like a swig of his beer.

He looped an arm around her waist to mesh their bodies and walked her with him, their synchronized steps almost dancelike. Jacob locked the door, flicked a switch activating the No Vacancy light in the window, and backed her into his apartment, never once halting his deliberate homage to her lips. Every brush of their bodies against each other nudged his solid arousal against her stomach, a reminder, a promise.

Jacob backed her across his darkened apartment until they stood bathed in the moonbeams streaming through the skylight. True to his word, he peeled away her clothes with torturous precision. His broad hands tunneled beneath the sweatshirt as inch by shivery inch, he bunched the fabric up and free.

Her yellow floral shirt hung loose, draping over her breasts. Jacob fingered the small rips where there had once been pearly buttons. His jaw flexed, and she feared the mood had been broken.

“Jacob?”

Groaning, he pressed her to him. “I should have been here for you.”

She feathered her fingers over his brows. So many shadows lingered in his eyes. Insecurities nipped. What did she have to offer? Very little according to Blane.

She could give Jacob reassurance. “You’ve been there for me since the second I first walked into the lobby. You’re here now.”

“Not a real hardship tour, being here for you tonight.”

In spite of his lighthearted tone, Dee searched his eyes and found a mirror of her own thoughts, an appreciation for the rare window of time they had together.

She cupped his face in her hands. “I need you. I need you so much tonight.”

Suddenly slow didn’t seem as important as the urge to be closer. She reached for him as he reached for her. Their hands dodged each other to stroke aside clothes and any lingering inhibitions. They made their way up the loft steps, leaving a path behind them.

Camouflage draped over yellow flowered flannel.

Rugged thermal rested beneath a white lace bra.

When they reached the top step, she wore nothing but her panties. He wore nothing at all.