Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

"A deal?"

She smiled up at him playfully, even while the magnitude of her risk threatened to buckle her already wobbly knees. "I won't pitch your weights out on the lawn tomorrow, if you'll promise to talk to me. Really talk to me—after."

It wasn't a promise of forever. And the problems would still be there—everything from the lengthy separations brought on by his job, her temper, his hang-ups about her paycheck. But this compromise would pacify her irritatingly insistent logic enough for her to jump this man before she combusted with lust.

"If that's what you want."

She blinked, stunned by his easy acceptance. "You agree?"

His intense gaze shifted to a sensual smile to match hers. "But then I'm a guy. I'd promise to dance down the flight line in a tutu right now."

Much-needed laughter bubbled, a welcome reminder of one of the things that drew her to this man—the surprise humor he saved for just the right moments.

Even as his blessed sense of timing had attracted her, so did his innate honor. This man would never lie to her. The promise of that talk offered her pride and common sense enough hope to let her body do exactly what she so desperately wanted.

Her forty-year-old pregnant body.

A moment of insecurity flickered. Then his eyelids went to half mast, silvery gray eyes gliding over her with an icy tickle that heated, excited. She knew. He definitely wanted her body, no matter what the age or pregnancy state.

Relief sweeping over her to bury any doubts deep, she brushed her lips across his collarbone. "Do you still like it when I do this?"

J.T. clenched his fingers in his wife's wild curls, the weight bench pressing against the back of his legs a welcome brace at the moment. A jolt of white-hot lust bolted from that patch of skin on his collarbone straight to his groin.

Hell yeah, he still liked it when she did that. His body shouted a resounding Go for it, while his brain insisted, Don't forget how often sex screwed things up.

And not the good kind of screwing.

He should take his time, do some more of that talking now to be sure she really wanted—

She licked his earlobe.

His brain fogged. The sensuous glide of her moist tongue against his skin proved too damn tempting on a night when the combination of the flight and the invasion of his home left him feeling raw. Basic. In the grips of the elemental need to stake his claim, protect what was his. "Rena, babe—"

"I still remember the first time I did that and how your eyes turned all intense and your lids went to half mast. Knowing what I was doing to you made me shiver. Which sent your eyes even grayer." She sketched his eyebrows with whisper-light fingers. "You still do that to me with just a look."

No doubts. She really wanted this, too.

He dipped his head to kiss her quiet before she could send him over the edge with only her words. The fan behind Rena blew her spiraling hair forward to tangle around his shoulders.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Where he could give her an air-conditioned room and bed, if not roses and candles and all the things this woman deserved.

"I want here. Now. With you."

She nipped his shoulder, tunneled under his T-shirt, scored him lightly with her nails on a trek down that led her to snap the waistband of his boxers. Her hand dipped inside, found him, cool fingers wrapping around in a single stroke down. Up again.

All right then.

They'd done it in every room at some point, unable to resist an empty house when the impulse hit. But for some reason, they'd never had sex out here, in this place completely his.

Maybe there was his answer. He'd considered it too stark, messy, gritty for his wife. But with her gentle fist gliding along him as they stood right in the middle of the freaking weight room, he wondered if he'd caused them to miss out on something incredible by limiting their options.

Gripping the sweet give of her hips, he scrunched her dress up with crawling fingers, baring her legs to rub skin to skin against him. His fists full of silky dress, his legs against silkier skin, he tugged the dress up, over her head, her hair sweeping, falling free and…

Hell yeah. More creamy skin, lush woman and sensuality filled his gaze while lust filled his body. Her br**sts swelled within the purple cups of her demi-bra. Generously. All those extra pregnancy hormones worked their magic. The bikini cut of her panties rode low, drawing a gentle line and attention to the slight curve of her stomach.

Again that primal chord strummed inside him. She was his. She carried his baby inside her. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands gripping tight to the soft fabric still holding the warmth of Rena's skin.

A final question stalled him. "Is everything okay with the baby? You've been through a lot the past couple of weeks."