Whether or not he’d done it consciously, Beck had leaned back into her touch, leaving a gap of room between his body and the table. Kenna stepped into that space now, between his parted legs, and ran her hands up his muscled chest. Beck’s head fell back on a rough exhale. “Kenna, I’ve got a strong will, but you’re testing the hell out of it.” The column of his throat worked. “This isn’t right. Not here.”
She looked down and saw the thick ridge of his erection, outlined where it lay against his belly. Anticipation sent dampness spreading between her legs. Need him inside me. Need him to need me back. “When you think about your first time, Major…” She flicked open the top two buttons of her shirt. “Am I on top, riding your big body? Or do you have me on my back, taking it hard?”
His tight-lipped groan sent a shiver pulsing up her thighs. “Don’t make me say these things here. I’m trying to do this right.”
Trying to do what right? Be respectful to her father…or something else? She didn’t want to know, so she finished opening the trail of buttons and parted the thin material of her shirt. He managed to keep his gaze plastered to the ceiling until she unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. His head came up, eyes blazing as her bare breasts bounced free. “Jesus Christ.” His tongue dragged along his bottom lip like a man getting ready for a meal, but instead of feasting on her, he said, “I could live off the sight of you, darlin’. But if you don’t put your shirt back on, I’ll hold you down and do it myself.”
Her sex clenched at his words, the mental image of Beck angrily dressing her. “I’ll put my shirt back on if you answer my question.”
Kenna stepped closer, bringing her breasts within an inch of his mouth, and his entire body shuddered. “What was the question again?”
“Your first time.” His puffs of breath made her nipples tighten. “Me on top? Or you?”
For a split second, she thought he might give in and suck one of her peaks into his mouth, but he remained in place. “When I first saw you, I thought of…”
“Tell me, Major,” she whispered hoarsely. “Say all the bad things in your head.”
His swallow was audible. “I wanted to hold you down and—and fuck you. Without holding back. I wanted to push your legs wide open and fuck you while your nails made my back bleed.” The words were rushed, out of breath. “Even if you screamed, I didn’t want to stop. Just wanted to pump and fuck until I stopped thinking and only felt you.” His hands shot out to grip the sides of her open shirt, closing the material over her breasts with a heavy, relieved exhale. “But I’d want you on top, Kenna. I don’t think we could do it the other way. Wouldn’t I hurt you, darlin’? You’re so small compared to me.”
Very few times in her life had Kenna been struck speechless. Beck’s graphic description of what he wanted to do with her blazed through her middle like a lightning storm, but the sweetness that followed, his covering her breasts, laid a balm over the scorched earth left behind. She felt pulled in two directions and each one was equally appealing. Sex with him wouldn’t be as black and white as she’d hoped. The tingling in her neck said run, run away and don’t look back, but when she remained silent too long and a hint of vulnerability crept into his expression, she knew it would never happen.
Messy or not, she was running headfirst into the oncoming storm.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beck studied Kenna from the passenger seat, wishing like hell she’d say something.
See? This is why he kept his sinful thoughts to himself. Since Beck could remember, he’d been tested by desires that a good man had no right to feel. At age fourteen, he’d even gotten the nerve up to confide in the youth minister at his church, but instead of giving Beck a way to control the urges, he’d been instructed to ignore the need to…rut. Not just to have sex, but to recreate the sweaty, flesh-slapping images his mind conjured up. He’d been told that they were the work of the devil, that lovemaking was a quiet, caring act shared between husband and wife. Over time, he’d learned to keep the thoughts at bay until late at night, in the dark, when they wouldn’t remain caged any longer. It had worked well enough until Kenna had sauntered up to him at the landing zone and mental hell had broken loose.
Everything he’d said to her had been truthful. The afternoon he’d woken up to find her gone, he’d been so painfully erect, he’d been forced to ease himself before rising from the bed had been an option. She’d poked the sleeping bear inside him and now it roared through his insides, looking for its mate. Last night in the bar, he’d only been capable of mustering a mild appreciation for other women, much like he’d felt for the female soldiers he’d encountered overseas. But he’d needed Kenna. Only Kenna. Didn’t even want to consider someone else’s hands on him. Or hers on someone else.