12
Jesus Christ.
He wasn’t a fucking saint. Her fingers burned him like hot coals, sending tendrils of lust shooting straight down into his cock until he was rock hard, more so than the stone floor beneath his feet. Marley didn’t need this right now. The dark circles forming under her eyes and dirt smudging her cheeks was a loud proclamation of just how tired she had to be. Air Force or not—she had seen one helluva day.
He was used to shit like this happening. Bombs. Gunfights. Pounding it out to the jungle, fighting off snakes with one hand while popping off evil badasses—it was all a pretty typical day in his schedule. He slept on dirt and sand and rooftops, covered in grime and even chemical weapons. He’d gone days without food and water and shelter. The desert, where he pulled off the majority of his missions, was an unforgiving bitch. There weren’t any spare water sources to quench a parched throat, and there weren’t any opportunities to leisurely cook for supper over a campfire. When shit hit the fan, your ass better have an MRE tucked in your back pocket along with a spare pouch of water, or you’d end up a dried-out cornhusk in the dirt, held up like a piñata by the local terrorist group to show the seven o’clock news.
This place was practically a tropical paradise—he’d grown up in the woods in the country, hunting and fishing for food and sustenance. Hell, that snake he’d killed earlier could have fed them for two days. And although he hadn’t told her, he had killed a few more on their path.
But Marley, she deserved better than this.
She was a damn good pilot, no disputing that, and she had serious guts. He liked that she didn’t back down from a fight when he threw a sarcastic comment her way. That she’d met the silent challenge in his eyes with bold audacity. But the last thing she needed was for him to lay her down in this cave and . . .
“You need to rest.” It was hard to choke out the words through the almost animal-like haze of lust clawing at him.
She drew her hand back and he immediately captured it in his own, missing the soft touch of her palm like he missed a cool bottle of water after twenty-four hours with nothing to drink.
“Did I read you wrong?”
Hell no, she hadn’t read him wrong, his cock was about to rip a seam in his black tactical plans. The heavy-duty material was made to withstand just about anything, but if she didn’t stop staring up at him with those wide innocent brown eyes, they wouldn’t stand a chance against his desire.
“You sure as hell didn’t. But you deserve better than this.” He stepped back about an inch, which was all he could manage when every fiber in his body was screaming out at him to get even closer. “You need food, water. You need sleep. The last thing you need is a man mauling you after all you’ve been through.”
He half expected her to take her hand away and he fought the disappointment he knew would follow. Then Marley surprised him and pressed her hand against his chest again, and just like the first time, he felt the instant punch of lust.
“You got any food?” she asked, the sensual tone of her voice doing crazy shit to his reasoning.
He managed to push out an answer, more of a grunt. “No.”
“Got some water?”
“No.” A helluva provider he was turning out to be. He would wait until she was asleep and then slink down into the jungle and forage for some water and food. A place like this was ripe for the plucking, if he could tear himself away from her side long enough.
“You got a bed?” She leaned in when she asked the question, and a fresh wave of her sweet scent wafted up to his nostrils. Mack took in a deep breath, savoring every layer of her that he could get.
Images of her on his bed, spread out naked and wanting, took front and center, and his eyes crossed from the effort it took to hold still, keeping himself back so she wouldn't feel pressured.
“If I had one, you’d be in it.”
Her eyes widened a fraction and those pouty lips parted. He’d scared her with that remark. Good. He wanted her on her toes. That way she’d be ready to react if something unexpected came their way.
“I don’t need to be in a bed to be naked.”
Fuck, his cock went so hard, he was surprised it didn’t bust a seam in his pants after all. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as bad as he wanted Marley. Ever. She was all innocent and sweet, yet full of guts and glory at the same time.
She didn’t play the maiden-in-distress or damsel-in-distress rescue card. Far from it. She didn’t even ask for his help—or want it—when she needed it. But she’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wanted him. And damn it all to hell, he couldn’t resist, not for another second. Mack crushed his lips to hers, snatching her against his chest so he could feel every single curve of her body pressed against him. The soft material of his T-shirt and the hard zipper down the front of her flight suit was an irritation, something he wanted to have gone as soon as possible. He craved naked skin on naked skin. The feel of her satiny flesh sliding over his rough chest.
Marley made a little mewling sound in the back of her throat and threaded an arm around his neck, holding him to her. She met him without hesitation, a full-grown woman who knew what she wanted. And he intended to savor everything she offered.
Mack stepped back, not wanting to be too rough. Then he feathered kisses over her lips before delving back inside that moist, hot, sweet haven. She broke off the kiss, breathing hard and leaning her head against his. “What’s wrong?”
He lifted a trembling hand and tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, savoring every inch of her silken skin beneath his fingertips. “I didn’t want to be too rough.”
“Mack, I don’t need gentle right now.”
She punctuated that bold statement by tightening the muscles in her arm and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. Then she drew his bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled.
Mack sucked in a breath, fighting off a surge of white-hot desire before his eyes rolled back in his head. “Your arm.” Careful not to touch the actual wound beneath the bandage, he skimmed his hand down her right bicep.
