Too surprised to answer, too smart to say anything until she gave him a clue about what she wanted from him, he let her come to him. Let her stand in front of him, assess him and smile. Let that dimple tempt him and make him yearn to put his lips on hers. Every time he saw her, he wanted that mouth on his. That strong lithe body all over his. Minus the clothes. Tonight, he wanted her minus the polka dot sundress that dipped low to her navel and cupped ripe breasts he needed to see and suck.
Ah, yes.
She had a knack, this one, for worming her way further inside his brain. Keep In Mind. Kim.
She waved a hand to indicate his very wet, very naked, very aroused body. Then in an accent that was a mash up of all-American girl with crisp English boarding school, she asked, “Will you invite me into your house so that we can talk or do you just want your dangly bits to freeze and fall off in the night breeze?”
Articulate and precise, her words tickled his funny bone and he was determined to give as well as he got. “As you can well see, my bits are not dangling.”
She tipped her head to one side, her moonlit pale hair billowing in the updrafts. “Hmm, do they ever?”
“When you’re around, they’re ready for duty.” His cock got even harder, his balls grew tight and revved for action. He clamped his jaw against the urge to sweep her against him and nail his most prominent bit inside her right there where they stood.
“How would I know?” she whispered, her tone teasing but very serious.
“I thought you shouldn’t.” For all of the visits to his lovely rescued hostage, he had never once kissed her. After their escape to the carrier, he had never touched more than her hand. But the urge to caress every curve had developed from a bad rash to a raging fever—and he had to force himself to stay away.
“Shouldn’t? Is there some SEAL code that says you can’t?”
“Only common sense. Don’t rush the woman who has been starved and terrorized.”
“Kind of Stockholm Syndrome in reverse to fall for your rescuer, huh?” She nodded and her lush mouth spread wide in a grin. “I’m well now. And I have no delusions about the man who saved me.”
“How can I be sure?” He wouldn’t fuck her for the fun of it. Couldn’t. Not her. He respected her too much to make her a one-night stand.
“I’ve done some reading. Understand your job and training. Your mind set. Hard. Fast. Devoted. You are a lot like me. Except I don’t swim naked in the Atlantic at midnight.”
His mind swung like a monkey on a vine from humor to fear. In the shift, he didn’t think rationally, he just bit back. “No, you walk into shitholes in deserts where radicals abduct you for money.”
“Ouch.”
Harry licked at Zeus’s fingers and the affection melted him. God, he was sorry for being a dick. Meanwhile, his cock wasn’t going down. His anger, only marginally so. “How’d you get here? How’d you know where we were?”
“Coyote.” She smiled wistful and hopeful. “Told me to say I was his birthday gift to you.”
Ah, yeah. His best pal was going to hear from him in the morning. But for right now, Zeus was going to enjoy what his buddy had made possible for him to have. The woman he had wanted in his arms again. This time without bullets and madmen or helos and carriers. This time, he’d get to enjoy her in peace and quiet. This pretty prickly lady. His birthday present. Lush, blonde, and wrapped up in pink polka dots.
Stepping close, he inhaled the fragrance of her lemon soap and cupped one hand around her upper arm. “Come with me.”
“Goody.” She did a little jig in the sand and snapped her fingers to bring Harry to heel. “Just what I had in mind.”
Chapter Two
Zeus held open the door to the kitchen for her. She took the opportunity to brush her torso against him as she passed, her arms and her diamond-hard nipples sending sparks of need flaring through his blood.
Tease.
Though inside only the dimmers were on, the rich copper accents and hanging pots cast a brassy, rosy glow onto her skin. Lights or no, copper or not, she exuded health, he was happy to see. Still he recalled how she had struggled to get to her feet outside and he wondered if nerves or some physical challenge caused it. If he was going to take her to bed, he had to know what to expect in terms of her stamina. He was two-hundred-and-fifteen pounds of lean muscle and he wasn’t going to crush her, just possess her.
Her dog Harry followed her inside, then plunked himself down with a satisfied grunt by the door to listen and watch.
She spun to face Zeus, her expression suddenly wary, and rather odd for a gutsy broad who went into war-torn zones as blithely as if she were a tourist looking for trinkets. “Nice digs.”
He put his pager down on the counter, praying it didn’t go off and call him back to duty for at least ten hours. Twelve, if he was lucky. Then, easy in his naked skin, he crossed his arms and stared at her. “Belongs to a friend of a friend.”
“So I hear.” She licked her lips, then stroked the caramel-veined granite counter with her fingertips. “You know, it’s rather disturbing you standing there like a terra cotta warrior with your cock pointing at me.”
“Terra cottas aren’t as big as me.”
“Amen.”
“And don’t get hard-ons.”
She snickered and fell back against the kitchen island, assuming the same stance as he. Minus the dick, of course. “If I’ve assumed too much to come here, then—”
“You haven’t.”
“Oh.” She let out an audible breath and toyed with a smile. “That’s good.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Hungry?” She glanced around the cavernous kitchen. The cool, calm collected reporter was nervous. “No.”
He’d help her out, maybe himself, too, by being a bit more conversational. “I was going to make a pot of
caldo
.”
“You
cook
?” She grinned, obviously thinking the hobby unlikely for a man like him.
“I do. A man has to eat.”
This man has to eat you.
He took a step toward her, wanting to smell her again. Her lemon soap. Her shampoo…which was what? Orange blossoms?
“Are you any good?” Blushing, she opened her mouth and snapped it shut. Then she looked away. She didn’t seem to know whether to come at him as the snappy pro or the sexy broad.
“Proof is in the pudding.”
Let me strip you of that dress, get those two sweet cupcakes of yours in my mouth. Then I’ll go lower, open your wet pussy and lick you until you come with my tongue inside you.
“You’ll have to tell me.”
Her jungle green eyes darkened to black desire. “What’s…um…
caldo
?”
“Chicken soup for the soul. Lots of veggies, seafood, and spices. You eat it to get over colds or love affairs.”
“Do you have a cold?”
“No. Do you?”
“Un-uh.” Her eyes had lost their longing. She shook that gorgeous mane of hers over her shoulders and gave him a brave look. “So you’re cooking
caldo
because…”
“I’m frustrated.”
Over you.
“I’ve been a SEAL for four years and we don’t do affairs. Duty’s too rough. Death rates are high. Marriages—ninety-eight percent of them—fail.” He wanted to get all the nasty stuff on the table now, before they started something easily that they had to finish hard. “I have the hots for a lady I haven’t seen in a while and, until a few minutes ago, I had no hope our friendship might be more than platonic.”
She formed a perfect O with her sensuous lips. “I want more than platonic.”
His heart flipped over and his cock strained, pre-cum dribbling out in his crazy need to take her here and now.
“So, okay then.” She flapped her hands at her sides. “I don’t proposition men often. Actually, you’re the first. So tell me. What’s wrong?”
He let his gaze wander down her figure. “You’ve gained weight since I last saw you.”
Narrowing her gaze on him, she licked her lower lip. “Eleven pounds.”
“Shows up in your breasts and fills out the hollows beneath your cheek bones.”
At his words, her nipples hardened in the halter dress. She shifted.
Why?
Was her pussy creaming for him?
Let it be.
He grinned, well pleased with himself, wanting to make her ripe for him, drenched and swollen so he could slide in and lock, nice and tight. “I like the pink color of the dress, too. Accents the green of your eyes.”
Her lips parted. She stared at him with admiration.
“I liked looking at you in Egypt. You were lovely even though you were sick and dirty. I love looking at you now when you’re all girly and pretty.”
“Glad you like how I clean up. But what is
your
problem? You think I’m fragile?”
“Far from it.” Weak women don’t take up with SEALs. Vice versa, too.
“Then what gives? You’re not being natural with me.”
“Don’t you want a little romance?”
Like I haven’t thought about this hook-up? How unique you are? How impossible
we
are? How fruitless any effort to forge a relationship would be? Me, on call 24/7, off to Timbuktu or one of the “Stans” in a flat minute, while you’re in your own sandbox, a target of homemade mortar and PK machine guns? “
Can’t just bang you and say thanks, now can I?
“Every girl wants roses and wine. But I’m here for obvious reasons and you’re…you’re being a hard ass.”
“Right.” Hell, why pussy-foot around then? She had flown here, declaring what she wanted and what she was ready to give. He hadn’t turned her away. He had a private room and a monster bed. More importantly, he had that priceless commodity—time. Enough to take them both to the moon and back again. Maybe more than once, if his pager didn’t go off.
So he walked up to her and drove his fingers straight back into that wavy champagne hair. Christ, she felt soft and supple. “I like the way you smell. Now I need to learn how you taste.”
“Copy that.” She lifted her face, and her breath, faintly minty, drifted into his nostrils.
And the moment when his mouth met hers, he reveled in all the flavors he adored about her. Citrus, salty ocean air and sexy, welcoming woman.
He groaned. Up on her toes, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close, bringing him in for a scorching brush of lips and a battle of seeking tongues and suppressed desire.
Pulling back, he swallowed hard against the impulse to strip her here and take her in the kitchen. But with all the windows facing the shore, he wouldn’t risk the exhibition. She was famous, more so after her kidnapping and rescue. But tonight, she was his to ravish and please. His alone to view while she came apart just for him. He grinned at her.
“Don’t stop,” she objected.
“Not on your life.” He caught her up, realizing she not only weighed more than she had in Egypt but she had more dexterity. That alone soothed his worries about her wobbly moves out on the beach.
“Want you now, here,” she said, kissing the crook of his neck. “I’ve never made love in a kitchen.”
“You won’t now, either.” He strode down the hall and then took the circular stairs two at a time up to the next floor. “Not in front of half of Key West. Or any of my teammates that come charging through the door. We’ll do this in my room where there’s only you and me.”
“Hope you have a big bed,” she whispered and nipped his earlobe.
He pinched one of her firm ass cheeks, loving her squeal. “Be good, lady. In a minute, I’m gonna give you a big bed, a huge shower, and lots of rug burn. So open the door.”
Chuckling, she reached down and turned the knob. He had them inside in two steps, kicking the door closed. Whirling, he let her feet hit the floor then pressed her up against the wall, his palms rushing over her body, stroking and caressing every bit of her that had driven him crazy with need. He cupped her jaw, rained kisses down her elegant throat, dropped homage into the hollow of her clavicle, and thrilled himself by filling his hands with her generous breasts.
She arched, giving him more, and he nuzzled her, sucked her—dress and all—into his mouth while his painfully stiff cock rubbed against her taut belly.
Christ, she still wore clothes. He was half way to fucking her against the wall and he hadn’t even taken the time to prep her right.
Eager, he stepped backward and she moaned at him.
“Don’t worry,” he consoled her. “Not leaving. Just being a gentleman. Taking your dress off.”
He took hold of her straps and tugged at them, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge over her breasts.
“Too tight, no bra,” she said by way of explanation, wiggling to help him. But in the move, the fabric ripped.
“Hell,” he said, “I’m sorry, honey.”
One hand to his chest, she pushed him back a step and tugged at the garment, this way and that, freeing her firm breasts. Then she shimmied out of the thing.
He stood there, dumb struck. In the moonlit room, there stood Kimberly Stansfield, Chief Correspondent for the Middle East for ACN cable news sans make-up or microphone. Without a stitch on her ethereal goddess-like physique, she made his eyeballs water with her raw beauty.
“Jesus,” was all he could summon while he stared. “I thought you felt good in my arms when I held you in that desert shack. And I liked the way you felt against me a minute ago, but wow, sweetheart, you are stunning.”
Her gaze glistened with dark green desire. “And you are going to fuck me.”
“No.” Holding her at arms’ length, he admired the heavy fullness of her breasts, ripe as melons. Her nipples looked like big succulent strawberries. He savored the sight of her small waist, the surprising little diamond jewelry piercing her belly button. But most of all, he loved the sight of her frothy blonde bush. “No, I’m not.”
She thrashed her head against the wall. “Zeus!”
“I’m going to make love to you. All night.” He hooked his hands on her hips and fit her to him, curve for plane. He bent his knees, and his cock—happy dude—found her seam and slid right between her soaking wet labia. He nearly wept, he was so enthralled. “Ready?”