He leaned in just enough to brush his lips against her silky hair. The fridge ticked and hummed. Her breath grazed his neck. Finally, her hands drifted underneath his jumper and glided up his sides. He braced for a cold touch but she circled warm palms over his pecs and around to his back, her touch growing more confident, drawing them closer but still not to the point of full body contact. In a second his dick was going to take the initiative and close the gap.Patience.
She stilled, her hands splayed across his back. His shoulder throbbed. Long seconds ticked by—literally ticked, on a wall clock he hadn’t noticed before. This was it—she was going to back out.Flight wins.
She drew her gaze up. He couldn’t tell where her pupils ended and her irises began but he was pretty sure they were focused on his lips. She rose onto tiptoes, her palms pressing firm for balance. He closed his eyes and she touched her lips to his like an experiment, like she expected an electric shock.
Hell, there was electricity, all right. Finally, she leaned against him, while maintaining a touch on his lips so feathery, so tentative, it might dissolve if he as much as breathed. Enough waiting. He threaded his fingers into her hair either side of her head and deepened the kiss, ignoring the fire in his shoulder. Her mouth was as satiny against his tongue as her hair was against his skin, as her fingers were, skating across his back. Hot and yielding and holy fuck.
She tasted of the lemon salt he’d used on the fish and the velvety smoothness of the wine. She melded from give and take to give and give, her body pushing hard into his, while her groan told him all he needed to know about what was happening inside her, as it was him. Relief hit him like a hot shower, washing away his headache and the tightness in his stomach. She eased off her tiptoes and slid her hands to the sides of his waist, digging in slightly with her fingernails. Fuck. Her tongue flicked against his. Changing things up.
He coasted his hands down her neck, her collarbone, her ribs. As he explored the shape of her, she stroked up the middle of him, over his stomach and his chest, her fingers coming to rest around his neck, pressing into the skin. The kiss heated, his desire cranked. No doubts, anymore, from either of them.
He scooped his hands under her and hoisted. Her thighs gripped his waist, her heat grinding against him, and her arms encircled his neck, one skating over his wound. Fire tore down to his fingers. He gasped, waiting for the burn to pass.
She broke the kiss, jerking her arm away. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“Seriously, it’s fine.” Or it would be, in a little while.
“I don’t want to stop but...if you need to...”
“I don’t give a fuck about my arm. I don’t want to stop for anything. I want this, Samira, like you wouldn’t believe.”
Long eyelashes flickered shut, and open again. “I think I might believe.”
He managed the few steps to the table and lowered her, taking some of the strain off his arm. Definitely a bullet fragment or shrapnel in there. Something to worry about later. She pushed up his jumper. He grabbed the bottom of it and pulled.
“Merde,”he said, as his shoulder refused to lift.
“Let me.” She skirted behind him and helped ease it off, followed by his T-shirt. Her lips pressed between his shoulder blades, warm and soft, as her arms closed around his chest. He spun, caught her and planted her on the table again, her hair falling, sexy and disheveled, to her shoulders.
“Fuck, I love the way you’re looking at me right now,” he said.
She locked her legs around his waist and drew him in tight, like she was giving his dick a preview. “How am I looking at you?”
“No fear. No doubt.”
“That’s because I don’t feel any of those things. You’re good for me.” She rubbed his arms, up and down, just shy of his wound. “I might have to keep you on.”
He froze, a current shooting up his torso.
Her eyes widened. “Sorry, offhand comment. I know you can’t... We can’t...”
“I wish I could, Samira. I really do.”
She bit her lip.
Don’t ask me why, not now.She opened her mouth to speak but he sealed it with a kiss, which was a little jerky but not as bad as making promises he couldn’t keep. This was an escape, nothing more, and he would lose himself in her as long and deeply as he could. He left her mouth and pressed kisses along her jawline to just below her ear. Under his lips her pulse throbbed, twice as fast as the clock ticked. With one hand he cupped her nape and dived in to kiss her throat, her hair falling over his face. She leaned her head to the side as he explored the satiny hollows with his lips and tongue. She tasted of wood smoke.
Aye, she was just the drug he needed—just so long as he ended things before he couldn’t function without her.
* * *
SAMIRAGROANEDASJamie nuzzled her throat, lighting fires down her neck, her breasts, her belly... But mostly the fire was concentrated in the spot the bulge of his jeans was pushing into. She tightened her legs around him and pressed her fingers into his back. His lean, muscular body was so different from hers. He was far broader than Latif, a body honed from serious training, not casual pavement running.
For God’s sake, stop thinking about Latif. Focus on Jamie.
Jamie pulled away, eyes narrowed. “You okay?”
How the hell did he sense that?
