Out of Uniform (Wingmen Warriors 14)

Jacob’s gaze snapped to her protective hand. His brow smoothed before he circled her wrist and eased her arm away. With one thumb, he soothed the faded incision before he placed his broad palm on her belly. His fingers splayed over her stomach with healing heat. “We’ll find him.”

Determination rang from his vow. She wanted to believe him. Even if placing so much trust in him screamed of losing control, she wasn’t left with any choice. If ever a man could accomplish something through sheer will, she believed Jacob could.

Her hand fluttered to rest over his, linking. Then he joined her on the bed. Dee scooched up the quilt as he shadowed her body with his, finally blanketing her without letting go of her hand.

She gripped his fingers tighter and held on. That connection, something so basic and beyond the sexual, anchored her. Just as his friendship had moored her through a time when she could very well have drifted into dangerous waters. She squeezed his hand. “Make me forget. Make us both forget.”

“I’ll damn well try my best.” His callused hands snagged along her skin with a sweet abrasion.

Dee lost herself in a swirl of sensations, his warm body beneath her fingers. She smoothed over his chest, traced a ridged scar along his arm. She shivered at how close he’d come to dying that day.

His strong, columned neck smelled of wind and musk. She sketched along the muscles on his chest, his abs, lower. As her hand curled around his rigid length, exploring, learning him, she found his need obviously equaled hers.

Jacob skimmed her scar once again, but continued lower until he cradled the core of her. He circled and soothed until she writhed against him. A lone finger dipped and dampened to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves.

So much, almost too much, the intensity built. But she knew where it would lead, or rather wouldn’t, and she didn’t want their time ruined by his disappointment.

She clasped his wrist, tugging his hand upward again.

Jacob nuzzled her neck and tugged back. “Not yet. Not until you’ve—”

“It’s okay.” She rocked her hips, seeking to distract him. A hint of desperation leaked into her voice. “We have all night.”

He pulled back and braced on both forearms. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just ready.” Shards of inadequacy pelted her, and she tried desperately to dodge them. She didn’t want Blane’s insults to have power over her ever again, especially not now.

“Like you said, we have all night.”

His hand soothed her again, sending tantalizing yet frustrating ripples through her. She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment, so she turned her face away before she spoke. “Jacob. I can’t. Okay? I don’t, uh, finish.”

The stroking stopped, and she wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.

“You’ve never had an—”

“Jacob—” She clapped her hand over his mouth. Heat crept up her face. Why couldn’t she have been more tempting, more anything to have lured him past this point before he found out? “I guess that’s something else I forgot when I was throwing myself at you. It doesn’t have to make a difference now.” She teased her fingertips along his back, over his buttocks and up again. “Being close to you, that’s what I want, what I need. It’s enough for me, really.”

During her whole rambling speech, he stared at her with those piercing eyes that saw straight to a person’s soul without allowing a reciprocal peek. “Let me ask you something.”

Why did they have to talk? “What?”

“Does this feel good?” The backs of his fingers flicked over her breast. “And this?” He reached lower. “Does it?”

“Yes,” she gasped, “but—”

“Then why rush?” He kissed her protest away. “You say it won’t finish the way I think it will. So? If you’re enjoying it, don’t push me away just because of what you think I expect.”

It made sense. If only she could believe he meant it. Knowing Jacob, he probably thought he could succeed where eight years in a marriage bed hadn’t. She cringed, envisioning the realization that would steal over his face as minutes passed and he accepted that he’d failed. She’d failed.

He breathed against her lips. “Trust me.”

She wanted to do just that and simply bask in the warm tension building from his persistent touch. Where Deirdre would insist he stop, Dee would have taken a risk and let him continue.

How very much she wanted Dee’s boldness. She could have it, for tonight with Jacob. Dee was the woman he knew, the woman he’d taken to bed.

She closed her eyes, forgot about passing minutes or possible goals and savored. She gathered every sensation like a treasured gift, the glide of fingers, the caress of lips along her ear as he whispered all the ways he longed to love her body.

Release crashed over her without warning. Like a wave slapping her, almost painful in its intensity, leaving her struggling for air. Her back bowed off the bed, driving his hand harder, his finger deeper and sending a fresh wave pulsing through her, building until her cries of pleasure rode on the last rush.