Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)
“Then what is it?”
I slide off my cot, sitting on the hard ground across from Saint. With his legs stretched out in front of him, my calf brushes against his thigh when I mirror his position.
That small touch, even through layers of clothes, sends tingles up my leg and through my gut.
Saint’s blue eyes stare at me in a way that’s so expressive it almost breaks me. He wants this. He wants me. But it’s tearing him in two because of the rules that don’t even apply here. Technically.
“This is what it is,” I say. “This is ten years in the making. Doing something we should have been free to do back then without either of us feeling dirty or ashamed for wanting it. This is us, taking what we both want.”
“Temporarily,” he says, and I can’t tell if it’s a question or a reminder.
“Temporarily,” I reiterate.
The move of his hand is so subtle, I barely register it on my khaki-clad thigh.
We’re both still in our pants and tight T-shirts from today’s activities because I couldn’t be bothered to strip down when I threw myself on my bed. I’m regretting that decision now.
Saint, though, he’s been in his tent for over half an hour. It tells me that this was planned. That he wanted me to reassure him it’s okay to happen.
He squeezes my thigh and then moves his hand higher.
“Come here,” I order. I crook my finger. “Before we get to the good stuff, I need something from you first.”
Saint sits up and leans forward, not quite halfway between us, but close. Always with the power moves with this guy. I wouldn’t expect anything less. So I match his distance, keeping mere inches between our lips.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“I need you to kiss me.”
His mouth tips up at the side. “And? I get the impression there’s an and on the end of that.”
“And don’t hold back. This is our only chance.”
Saint closes the distance, and the second our lips touch, it’s everything and nothing like I’m expecting.
I anticipated his strong, commanding control, his need to decide when to add tongue, how far to push it into my mouth, and how much he’ll allow me to take. I knew this would be a struggle to take the lead.
What I wasn’t expecting is the way I give in almost immediately, the way my body becomes pliant and willing under his touch, or the way I like it. I want to give him the upper hand.
Saint breaks from the kiss. “You taste exactly how I imagined,” he growls.
“Like sarcasm and poor choices?”
“Like a mistake I’m making ten years too late.”
Images of what would’ve happened had he been out back then flash through my mind, but it’s not the sexy hookups I’m imagining. It’s something more. Longing looks, knowing smiles … dates? Off base?
“Get on your back,” Saint says.
I quickly grab my pillow from the cot and place it on the canvas tent flooring. The bed is nowhere near big enough for both of us. I lie back, one hand propped under my head as I watch Saint maneuver himself between my legs.
His gaze rakes over me, from the bulge in my pants to my muscles, and then it settles on my eyes. “Is this really happening?”
“I could punch you to see if you’re dreaming if you want.”
“I think you’re supposed to pinch, not punch.”
I frown. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Saint’s eyes roll back into his head. “Okay, this is definitely happening, then. In no fantasy of mine would you be mouthing off. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to speak at all.”
“Shame my ball gag is in my toy drawer at home, then. If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve brought it for you.”
He studies me, unsure if I’m fucking with him or not.
“I do have an actual ball gag.” I lean up onto my elbows and lower my voice. “Only, I’m usually not the one wearing it.” I wrap my arm around the back of his neck and pull him down to meet me, our mouths crashing together and his body blanketing mine.
The way his big physique fits against mine, it makes me crave skin on skin. But we’ll get there.
Seeing as this is our only shot, I’m not going to rush it. I’m going to enjoy this, savor his taste, and take it all in. The only problem is, there are way too many scenarios I’d want to play out and not nearly enough time to do them all.
When I get the man of my dreams in my bed, where am I supposed to start? We don’t have the luxury of time or a repeat, and we don’t have supplies to do what I really want, so it all comes down to this one moment.
We can use each other’s bodies to get off, but even that leaves us with so many options.