“And if I’ve made you feel like you’re not good enough,” he continued, “that wasn’t my intention. Icareabout you, Chelsea. And that caring makes me absolutely terrified something could happen to you on my watch. So I’ve tried to remind you to always be careful, to be vigilant, to never lose sight of the fact that this is incredibly dangerous work and that you—”
Hecaredabout her? Oh, how she had longed for this day. And dreaded it too.
Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. Never one to couch her words, she gave him the truth.Hertruth. Even if she knew she would be damned for it. “I care about you too, Dagan.”
Chapter 11
Hearing such sweet words on Chelsea’s lips, hearing hisname, had warmth unfurling inside Dagan. Having her pressed against him turned that warmth into a blazing heat that melted his reason and burned away all his good sense. Or…at least that’s what he blamed for what happened next, for what hedidnext.
Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, feeling her lithe muscles flex through the puffy down fabric of her coat, he walked her backward two steps.
With her back pressed against the boxes stacked next to the bulkhead, she blinked up at him in confusion. “Dagan?” And there it was again. His name spoken in that sexy, husky voice with just the tiniest trace of a Southern drawl.
After that scene in Morrison’s penthouse, he should have known better, should have learned his lesson about taking without asking. But for the first time since Afghanistan, he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe he had been wrong.
She had just said she cared for him, hadn’t she? She had willingly stepped into his embrace to hold him tight, hadn’t she? So maybe there was a chance that an amazing, wonderful woman like hercouldfall for a shitheel like him. Maybe she was able to look past his bad decisions and see that he was doing his damnedest to…what? Not make up for what he’d done—he could never make up for that. But he had been trying to live his life in a way that counted.
Taking her face between his hands, he marveled at the delicate, satiny feel of her skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head, all the while keeping his eyes trained on her, searching for rejection.
He never saw any. Instead, her plump, pink lips trembled and fell open in an unconscious invitation. Her breath was warm and sweet against his mouth. And then… Oh, andthenshe closed her eyes, exhaling a shuddering sigh.Thatwas all the permission he needed.
“Chelsea.” Her name was a harsh whisper, torn from his throat by the power of his desire. Closing the distance between them, he took what she was offering.
Just as before, the instant his lips touched hers, he was sucker-punched with a sense of overwhelmingrightness. As ifthiswas what he had been born to do. As ifshewas the one he had been born to do it with.
“Mmm,” she moaned when he slowly delved his tongue inside her sweet mouth. The low, sultry sound traveled from his ears down his spine and settled heavily in his stomach. And lower.
After a brief moment, her tongue tentatively sought his, tangling, darting, and daring to spear past his teeth into the hot welcome of his mouth. He wanted to howl his joy, his pleasure. In Morrison’s penthouse, he had kissed her with abandon, but she had been too stunned to kiss him back. But now, oh,nowshe wasn’t just kissing him back, she was making love to his mouth. With deep, wet tastes and soft, ball-tightening sucks.
That hope that had flared to life inside him, grew into an all-out conflagration that stoked the fire of his lust ever higher. His control shattered. His gentleness disappeared with it.
A possessive growl sounded at the back of his throat. Using his hands, he canted her head to the side to gain better access to her wanton, wicked mouth. Then he feasted. Like a starving man, over and over he went back to taste, to savor, to devour. Every suck of her plump lips made his thundering heart beat harder. Every stroke of her tongue made the blood rushing in his ears roar louder.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling the strands in her effort to get closer. He welcomed the bite of pain and accommodated her by pinning her lush body against the crates.
She hummed her approval into his mouth, the sweetest melody he had ever heard, and rubbed herself against him. Her luscious breasts raked over his chest. Her hips canted forward, seeking the evidence of his desire.
She found it waiting for her, pulsing and painfully erect behind the fly of his jeans.
“You taste amazing,” he told her, releasing her face to wrap both arms around her waist. The temptation of her ass was too much. He had dreamed about her butt for so long. Dreamed of kissing it, of spanking it, of watching it bounce prettily as he hammered into her from behind. But first…he wanted tofeelit.
Palming a jean-clad globe in each hand, he was delighted to discover she was more than a handful. Chelsea…sweet, sexy, sassy Chelsea was all woman. And everything that made him a man reveled in the knowledge. Her lush curves turned him rock hard. The mewling sounds at the back of her throat had him answering with a low grumble.
“Youfeelamazing,” he added between deep, plunging kisses while kneading her ass and relishing the firm, plump give of her flesh.
It occurred to him then, as he kissed her until they were both senseless, that the air had been sucked out of the room. He lived solely on her sweet breath. The world around him, the boat, the boxes, the stairwell, it all vanished. He saw nothing but her lovely face,feltnothing but her soft body moving shamelessly against him.
“Dagan.” Her voice was huskier than usual when she ripped her mouth away and let her head fall back against the stack of crates. “Please.”
“Please what?” He took advantage of her exposed neck. The skin there looked as smooth as latte and tasted as sweet when he pressed his lips against her pulse. He sucked and felt the beat of her heart pick up its pace.
Breath hitching, she tilted her head further to the side, inviting more. He didn’t disappoint. He nibbled and sucked and kissed his way back to her ear.
“Please what, Chelsea?” he whispered again.
She speared her hands into the open halves of his jacket, fisting handfuls of his sweater. “I don’t know.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.
A small smile curved his lips as he nipped at the delicate lobe of her ear. Man, she smelled as good as she tasted. Like strawberries warmed by the summer sun and dipped in vanilla.
