When they reached the master bedroom at the back of the house, Rachel slowed.
She hadn't expected it to be so beautiful. A wide bed with soft linens in shades of cream and gray. Warm light from a sconce on the wall cast everything in amber. Glass doors lined the far side, opening to a veranda that overlooked the bay. Moonlight fell across the floor in pale stripes, and through the glass she could see the water, dark and calm, stretching toward the lights of San Diego in the distance.
This was his space. His sanctuary. And he'd brought her here.
Ghost turned, caught her by the waist, and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him, breath catching. His arms held her secure, hands splayed wide across her back. She felt his heart beating against her chest, could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He carried her across the room, and she buried her face against his neck, breathing him in. Sweat and skin and that clean scent she was starting to associate with safety.
At the bed, he set her down gently. His hands lingered at her waist for a moment before he stepped back.
He opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a worn T-shirt, dark gray, military issue. The fabric was soft from dozens of washes.
"For you."
Their fingers brushed as she took it, and the contact sent a shiver up her arm. He turned away to undress, giving her privacy even though they both knew where this was heading.
Shirt first, pulled over his head in one smooth motion. His back was all muscle and scars, a puckered mark near his shoulder blade that looked like a bullet wound, a long thin line across his ribs that must have been a knife, evidence of a life spent in combat. Then jeans, unbuttoned and pushed down his hips until he stood in just black boxer briefs that hung low. She watched the muscles shift in his back as he moved, watched the way his body carried the tension of the day even now.
Rachel undressed. No hesitation, just shedding the layers of the day, of everything that had happened. Her shirt hit the floor, followed by her jean shorts. When she pulled his shirt over her head, it fell past mid-thigh, the hem brushing her legs. His scent clung to the fabric, clean and warm, cedar and something sharper, like the ocean at dawn. Like him.
She turned, and found him watching.
His gaze had gone darker. Pupils dilated, jaw tight. He took her in like he was memorizing every detail, the way his shirt hung on her frame, the bare skin of her legs, the mess of her hair around her shoulders. For a moment he just stood there, and she saw something cross his face. Want, yes. But something deeper too. Something that made her chest tighten.
He stepped in close. One hand slid to her jaw, fingers threading through her hair. The other slid into her hair, fingers threading through the strands. He tilted her face up to his.
"You're so damn beautiful," he said quietly.
Then he kissed her. Firm and unhurried. His lips moved against hers with purpose, like he was trying to memorize the taste of her. She melted into him, hands coming up to rest against his chest. His skin was warm under her palms, his heart beating hard and fast beneath her touch.
When he pulled back, she didn't let go. Her hands stayed on his chest, fingers spread across the definition of his muscles. She could feel him breathing, could feel the restraint humming through his body.
He kissed her again, deeper this time. His body pressed into hers, and she felt the hard planes of him against her softer curves. His hand skimmed down her side, fingers trailing along her ribs, then lower. He gripped her hip through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding her against him.
His other hand was still in her hair, and he used it to angle her head, deepening the kiss further. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting her, and she made a small sound against his lips. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, holding on.
His hand skimmed her thigh beneath the shirt, rough palm against smooth skin, then higher. When his fingers grazed the lace of her panties, she gasped against his mouth. The touch was gentle, almost teasing, and it sent heat pooling low in her belly.
Ghost gripped her hips and lifted her again, and this time he laid her back against the bed. The mattress was soft beneath her, the linens cool against her overheated skin. His body followed, settling between her thighs, and she felt the weight of him press her into the bed. Solid. Real. Here.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. He leaned over her and slowly pulled the shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. That left her in nothing but thin lace, a simple bra and matching panties, already damp against her skin.
He looked at her for a long moment. Really looked. His eyes traced over her face, down her neck, across her collarbones, lower. She felt exposed under his gaze, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with being nearly naked. This was more than that. This was trust.
"God, Rachel," he breathed.
Then he kissed her again, rougher this time. His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her, claiming her. She moaned into his mouth, and her hips arched up on instinct, seeking friction. She felt the hard length of him straining through his boxer briefs, pressing against her through the thin barrier of lace.
Ghost let out a breath that sounded like a growl. He rolled his hips against her, and the pressure was perfect and not nearly enough all at once. Wetness soaking through the fabric betweenthem. His grip tightened at her waist as he ground against her, and the friction drew a raw, broken sound from her throat.
His hands moved to her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra. He paused, lips still against hers. "Can I?" he murmured.
"Yes."
He unhooked it with practiced ease, the band loosening around her ribs. He pulled back just enough to slide the straps down her arms, his eyes following the movement. When he tossed the bra aside and looked at her again, his pupils were blown wide.
" Beautiful," he said quietly, almost reverently, then his hands were on her, palms cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. The sensation shot straight through her, making her gasp.
He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue had her arching off the bed, hands flying to his hair, fingers threading through the short strands. He sucked gently, then harder, and she felt the pull of it all the way down to her core.
