Dana loved him. Her life had turned to shit when she’d disappeared from Bagram, and still, she’d thought about him. He rolled onto his side to stare at her. When they got back to Boston, he’d court her properly. Take her on dates. Buy her flowers. Introduce her to Devan and Mac, bring her to Vermont to meet Trina and his two nieces.
Micah would need a good therapist. Stretching over Dana to snag his phone from the nightstand, he sent a message to one of his colleagues who helped trafficked kids re-integrate with their families.
Need the name of the best psychiatrists for a mom and teenage boy. Local to Boston.
“What’s wrong?” Dana asked. Her voice was husky with sleep, and it was so damn sexy, he wished they were anywhere but waiting to rescue her trafficked nephew. This wasn’t the time. In fact, it was the exact wrong time for him to be imagining Dana naked.
If only his dick would listen.
“Nothin’, sweetheart. Just texted my friend Lou. He knows all the best therapists in Boston. Micah and Laura are both goin’ to need someone to talk to.”
Dana’s mouth dropped open, and for a brief moment, Terry feared he’d overstepped. Until she wrapped her arms around him, her head on his chest. “I don’t deserve you.”
What?
“Dana, don’t be talkin’ like that. You deserve a hell of a lot more than me,” he said, scooting up so his back rested against the headboard and pulling her with him. “You deserve the past three years of your life back. You deserve a quiet place all your own—or at least one for Laura and Micah—so they can heal. You deserve someone who’s…whole.”
“You are whole.” She reached down and smoothed her hand over his thigh, from his mangled quadricep to the socket of his prosthetic. “If you think for one minute that this matters to me…”
“I know it doesn’t,” he said quietly. “But some days…it matters to me.”
Dana straddled him, framing his face with her hands and slanting her mouth over his. Cock straining against his jeans, he shifted under her, hoping she could feel how badly he wanted her. When he’d packed the previous night, he’d found a single strip of condoms in his nightstand drawer and had thrown them in his duffel bag—just in case.
“I need you,” Dana whispered, sliding her hands under his t-shirt and running them up his chest. Her short nails raked over his skin, and if he didn’t get his jeans off in the next two minutes, he was going to bust his zipper.
Terry eased her off him, got to his feet, and stripped down to his boxers. The woman he’d loved for three years let her gaze travel up and down his body. “How did you get more muscles? I turned into a marshmallow.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice nothing more than a low growl, “if you think for one damn minute I care what size you are, you’re wrong.” Holding out his hands, he waited for her to take them, then tugged her close to the edge of the bed so he could pull her sweater over her head.
A black bra cupped her breasts, but even the plain cotton was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and her creamy skin begged to be touched. “It’s been a long time for me, Terry.”
“We’ll go slow.” He flicked the button on her pants, and Dana wriggled out of them before Terry eased her onto her back, lying down next to her with his head propped on one hand. “What do you like?”
“Kiss me.”
Leaning closer, he feathered his lips along the curve of her jaw to her ear, and she shuddered when he scored his teeth over her lobe. “I dreamed about doin’ this,” he said. His hand found one full breast. “And this.” Her nipple rose up to meet his thumb, and a quick pinch made her whimper softly. “I want to make you scream, but I’d bet these walls aren’t soundproof.”
“Ask me if I care,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve waited three years for this.”
Chuckling, Terry rolled the tight nub between his fingers, then claimed her mouth to dampen her moan. She was soft in all the right places, and he meant what he’d said. Dana’s curves were beautiful. Perfect. And he’d do anything to keep her safe and his for the rest of his life.
He continued his exploration of her body, skimming his hand down her stomach, to the very top of her panties. Heat seared his palm when he rested it on her mound, and she squirmed, canting her hips against him. “More,” she said breathlessly.
Unable to deny her anything, Terry pulled off the black cotton to find her curls glistening with need. “Can I taste you, darlin’?”
Dana nodded, spreading her thighs so he could position himself between them.
“So damn beautiful,” he said and flicked his tongue through her slick folds. On a whimper, she grabbed the sheets, twisting them in her fingers as her heels dug into the mattress.
Fuck. He could live on her taste, on the noises she made as he traced patterns over and around her clit. The mewls, gasps, and moans replaced any intelligible words, and when he thrust two fingers into her channel, Dana’s back arched, and her inner walls gripped him in wave after wave of pleasure.
Dana
“That…was…my God.” Her body was still trembling, but she needed more. She needed Terry inside her, needed to look into his eyes when he found his release. “Get up here,” she ordered with a weak smile, and he obliged, but didn’t straddle her. Didn’t make any move to seek his own pleasure. Instead, he wrapped her in his arms and held her close.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said, his words rumbling through his chest.
“I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but…we’re not done, are we?” Dana shifted until she could meet his gaze, arching her brows until he laughed, the sound so rich and full it shook his whole body.
