He lifted his head, and the air left her lungs all over again. She was struck by the sheer beauty of him, the sharp, predatory slash of his sharp cheekbones, the proud legacy of his Lakota heritage etched into the planes and angles of his stunning features. The moonlight deepened the bronze of his skin to burnished copper and made the deep, true black of his hair gleam like ink.
But it was his eyes that held her captive. Beneath the bark brown of that intense, penetrating gaze, she saw the warrior. He was always so quiet, so reserved, but she knew what lived inside him. She saw the heart of the man whose ancestors once rode into battle on painted horses, fierce and unyielding, driven by a desire to protect their land and their people. That same ancient, honorable ferocity beat in his chest now.
He was poised on the precipice of one of the most demanding military pipelines in the nation, BUD/S. The thought of the grueling months ahead, of the cold water and the exhaustion, would have terrified anyone else. But looking at him, she felt no fear, only a fierce, swelling pride. She wanted to be with him through it all. She realized then that no matter where she was on this earth, no matter the distance or the challenge, her spirit would always be with him. She was his anchor, just as he was her shore.
She ran her hands over the full, gorgeous curve of his mouth, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the shape of him. The warmth and softness of his lips tingled against her fingertips, a stark contrast to the hard, unyielding lines of the rest of him. She felt the reverence in the touch, the awe that this man was hers.
"Than," she breathed, the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest. "I love you... so much. I need you."
He froze above her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that bordered on desperation. He took a trembling breath, his control hanging by a thread.
"Mei," he whispered, his voice cracking. "For so long, I've been crushed by your beauty, your agile mind, and I'm lost, so lost." He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in the quiet space between them. "I love you."
Then he spoke again, a soft, foreign sound slipping from his lips, Lakota. It was an endearment, low and rough, that needed no translation. It carried the weight of devotion, a claim that went deeper than English ever could.
She closed her eyes, letting the sound wash over her, sinking into her bones. She ran her hands down the long, powerful line of his back, sliding over the heavy muscle of his ass, pulling him closer. She lifted her hips, an open invitation, a silent plea.
"Be mine all the way."
His breath hitched, a ragged groan tearing from deep inside him. He didn't wait. He thrust inside her, deep and overwhelming. She gasped at the sudden fullness, the stretch and burn of him claiming her. He rolled his hips as he slowly withdrew, making her shiver, then quivered as he filled her again, inch by devastating inch.
He watched her expression closely, gauging every flutter of her eyelids, every part of her lips. He withdrew almost completely, and she moaned at the hollow loss, the emptiness aching. Then he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp, possessive stroke.
"I can feel your heart beat for me," he rasped, his voice vibrating against her lips. "Like a drum on the wind. Mine."
"Always," she whispered, the promise threading through the quiet room like a vow. "Forever."
He stopped moving, his whole body shuddering at the weight of her words. He looked deeply into her eyes, his gaze searching, stripping away every defense until she felt seen, truly seen, in a way she never had before. Then his head dropped, and he kissed her with a reverence that shattered her. It was clear that he was mesmerized by her, by the reality of finally being able to claim her without pretending he was nothing but a friend.
Yet that was the best part. He was both. Her best friend and the man she loved. The duality of it made her heart ache with a fierce, overwhelming joy.
His lips descended to her throat, scattering her thoughts into the moonlit night. He trailed kisses along the sensitive column of her neck and down to her breasts, where he lavished the plump curves with slow, damp kisses that made her move her hips restlessly against the sheets. He used the wet, swirling warmth of his tongue over her nipples, followed by the arousing scrape of his teeth, and finally the deep suction of his mouth on the beaded tips. It drove her insane for him. Her hands were everywhere on his hard, velvet skin, roving over muscles, hair, and rough stubble, learning texture, form, and variations of Nathaniel Locklear.
She gasped and arched upward, her spine bowing as a bolt of white-hot pleasure shot from her breast straight to the throbbing ache between her legs. The pressure and friction of his fingers still working her threatened to send her spiraling over the edge, but just as she teetered on the brink, he eased back.
She couldn't stop the moan of need that escaped her throat, a broken sound in the silence. Her free hand gripped the covers at her side in a tight fist, her knuckles white. It was all she could do to keep herself from coming apart right then and there.
He shifted between her spread legs and moved lower, settling in so that his broad shoulders kept her knees firmly apart. Her body jerked as his mouth touched down on the inside of her thigh. His lips were soft, his breath damp and hot as he slowly, leisurely kissed and licked his way upward, leaving a trail of fire in his wake until he reached the very core of her.
By then, she was nearly sobbing with need, her body trembling, and still, somehow, someway, she managed to hold back.
He tested her restraint even further when he used his tongue to follow the stroke of her fingers along her sensitive sex, learning exactly what she liked and what gave her the greatest enjoyment. He was a quick study, attentive and focused, and it didn’t take him long to master her rhythm and discover her most intimate secrets.
He urged her legs up and slipped his arms beneath her raised thighs, lacing his fingers with hers at the side of her hips, holding her captive, forcing her to give herself completely over to him. It was an incredibly easy thing to do because she trusted him completely, body, heart, and soul.
Then that wonderful thought fled as the heat of his mouth covered her and his tongue took over where his fingers had left off. Slipping. Sliding. Swirling in and around her soft, swollen flesh before suckling on her clit in the most breath-stealing way.
She unraveled from the inside out. She started to pant, her breath hitching, and then her breath caught on a sob as her climax exploded. She was consumed by an overwhelming rush of pulsing heat. The force and intensity of her release tumbled her into the longest, most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. The shudders within her seemed to go on and on, wave after wave of ecstasy, and before the last of the tremors subsided, Than was moving up and over her.
He covered her body with his own, all hard, lean muscles and barely suppressed hunger. In one long, smooth thrust, he slid into her, filling her completely. She lifted her knees high against his waist to give him the deepest access possible, wrapping her legs around him.
Once he was buried to the hilt, he closed his eyes and groaned low in his throat as her inner muscles clasped him tight, still fluttering from her climax. She knew he had to be aching for his own release, yet he went still, as if relishing the moment, the warmth and softness of being inside her, and the aftermath of the internal contractions still buffeting her.
“Your body feels so good gripping my cock,” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion and lust. “Driving me crazy until I’m helpless and aching to come.”
She gasped at his words, her heart swelling. His thick, inky lashes drifted open, his darkened gaze locking with hers, raw and unguarded.
He began to move, rolling his hips hard against hers, then plunging deeply. Again and again. Long, slow, agonizing strokes designed to make the pleasure last. He lowered his head and kissed her, the soft, sensual glide of his tongue matching the rhythm of his lazy thrusts, a slow dance of possession and devotion.
