On that note, he unhooked his sunglasses from the collar of his T-shirt, setting them behind her on the table. Then, with thumb and forefinger, he plucked his gum from between his teeth and tossed it into the nearby sink.
She watched all of this with a curious, breathless sort of scrutiny.
“So then what do you say to me puttin’ my palm beneath your chin like this?” he asked. To illustrate his point, he cupped the side of her face, using his thumb to tilt her jaw.
When she swallowed, her graceful throat made a clicking sound. “I s-say okay,” she managed. A bolt of hot passion shot through his body, replacing his earlier heartache with hunger, changing his grief into greed, and electrifying him from head to toe.
“And what do you say to me lowerin’myhead until you can feel my breath on your lips?” When he did exactly that, she shuddered delicately. He felt that tremor from the top of his head to the tip of his d— um…toes.
“I sayyessss.” The last word ended with an eager hiss.
“And what do you say to—”
“Damnit, Leo! Just shut up and kiss me!”
* * *
12:51 p.m.…
She’d gone from channeling old Shania Twain songs to channeling old Mary Chapin Carpenter songs—and she didn’t even reallylikecountry music.Sheesh.She had Mr. Farmington, the old janitor at the orphanage, to thank for that, she supposed. He’d blasted the stuff from the portable radio he toted around with him while he mopped the halls. Of course, she immediately forgot about music, Mr. Farmington, and all other matters both big and small when Leo set his lady-killer smile on stun.
Holyshit!
She was instantly dazed, struck senseless. And that was before his lips claimed hers and all thought slid out of her head through her buzzing ears. Somewhere, back in the furthest recesses of her brain, something started scratching. Something that made her think maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. Something that made her question whether or not Leo would want to come within ten feet of her, much less kiss her, if he really knew the truth about Syria.
But he wouldneverknow the truth about Syria. That mission file had been redacted, sealed, and locked away somewhere in the bowels of the Pentagon. And even if that wasn’t the case, it wasn’t like he was going down on one knee and asking her for forever here. Far from it. She got the distinct impression from his joking “Are you askin’ me to go steady?” that forever was the dead-last thing on his mind. And when you added in that he’d been quick to fill in the blank with “lust” when she was searching for the right word to describe what had been between them a year and a half ago, she was convinced of it.
Did that last part prick her pride? Her heart?Sh’yeaaah. No woman liked to think all a guy wanted from her was a little bumping of the grumpies, especially not when that woman felt something decidedlymorefor the man in question. But since therewasn’tany chance for something more to happen between them, she decided,Oh, what the hell, and gave herself permission to just go with it. Permission to let him have her any way he wanted. Permission to simply…feel…
The muscle-strapped hardness of Leo’s chest cushioned her sensitive breasts.
The insistence of his thick erection throbbed against her lower belly.
The gentle sting of his teeth caught her lower lip.
“Bingo, bango, bongo,” he murmured against her mouth. “Step number two complete.”
“Huh?”
“Nothin’.”
“Doesn’tsoundlike nothing,” she insisted, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. But, then…oh! He was really kissing her, his thick tongue gliding into her mouth, and she forgot about everything but the taste of him.
Cinnamon. She remembered that flavor from the last time. Remembered how his tongue had been a wonderfully spicy reprieve from the hot dust of Syria. Recalled how kissing him had reminded her of candy canes at Christmas and the chewy Red Hots treats one of her foster families had kept in a glass dish by the door.
Rough. That was another thing that sparked a memory. How his beard had scraped against her cheeks, creating a delightful friction. His facial hair was close cropped now, the bristles tidily trimmed as opposed to the great fuzzy bush he and the rest of his men had sported overseas. But, still, there were enough whiskers left to tickle her lips as he kissed her so expertly, so brazenly—all languid stroking and deep, penetrating sucking—as onlyheseemed to know how to do.
“God, Olivia,” he moaned, tilting her jaw to better align their lips. “Every time I get my mouth on you, I want to gobble you up.”
She shivered at the unabashed longing in his tone. And for the life of her, she couldn’t think of one good reason why he shouldn’t do exactly that. Being eaten alive had never sounded so good.
“I like this plan of yours,” she whispered, sliding her hands up over his shoulders and delighting in the feel of his muscles flexing beneath her questing fingers. His neck was warm against her palms in the second before she speared her hands into his hair.
Silky. She remembered that too. That his hair was softer, sleeker than any man’s should be. Of course, she soon forgot all about his hair, because…
In and out. In and out. His knowledgeable tongue plunged and retreated, mimicking the sex act in a blatantly unapologetic way. Her body responded with a flood of liquid heat between her thighs, the center of her aching around its own emptiness. She wanted to be filled. She needed to be filled. With him. Only him.
“If you’re going to gobble me up, do you want to add a topping?” she husked between deep, mind-numbing kisses. “Whipped cream? Or, oh!” He did something with his tongue that had her bare toes curling against her flip-flops. “Or maybe a cherry?” she finished with a throaty laugh.
