Forged in Ash (50 page)

Kait kept an eye on Cosky’s legs as the hike grew more and more strenuous. At the first sign of a limp, she was sitting him down for another healing. But as the elevation climbed and the path wound up the mountain, his stride never faltered.

By the time they crested the bluff, they were damp with sweat, their lungs laboring. But good God, the beauty below was worth every bit of wobble in her legs.

Sighing in content appreciation, Kait paused to gaze down at the lush little valley below. The meadow was in the shape of a bowl, quilted by a thick pad of emerald grass and rimmed by cliffs, two of which sported healthy waterfalls.

At the base of the cliffs, the waterfalls cascaded into a shimmering pool of blue green.

The spot was absolute perfection.

“It’s beautiful, just like Wolf said,” Kait murmured, mesmerized by the foaming water as it steamed from the rocks above, colliding
with the pool below in a foaming spray that peppered the air and rocks and grassy meadow surrounding it.

“Beautiful,” Cosky agreed, his voice husky.

Kait turned a smile in his direction, only to find his gaze locked on her face rather than the idyllic scene below.

A flush warmed her cheeks at the gleam in his platinum eyes. There were equal parts masculine appreciation and arousal stamped across his face. Her face burned even hotter as she turned away; more flustered by the fact he wasn’t trying to hide the emotions than by the hunger itself.

As she took a step down the rock-strewn slope that led to the pristine valley below, she skidded. Quick as a dragonfly, his hand flashed out, caught her elbow, and steadied her. Only he didn’t let go. Instead, he slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her against him.

Their T-shirts were damp from the hike, but she melted into his embrace anyway. As his arm tightened around her waist, anchoring her against him, she skimmed her palms up his back beneath the clinging cotton of his shirt until his day pack stopped her. He felt so good against her palms, wet sleek skin stretched over a pad of solid muscle.

Without hesitation, she lifted her face to his, watching through the fringe of her lashes as his lips came closer, watching the passion in his eyes burn brighter. It still amazed her how easy he was with his kisses now. How open with his need.

His lips, when they brushed hers, were gentle rather than urgent, soft rather than hard, teasing rather than driven. Her eyes drifted shut and her mouth stretched into a dreamy smile beneath the lazy, sweet pressure.

When those lovely little caresses ceased, she opened her eyes in disappointment and discovered the face staring down at her was anything but lazy. No, sir. It was tight with hunger. Red flags rode his cheekbones.

“A dip in ice-cold water sounds damn good right now,” he said tightly, pressing his hips against her belly until she cradled the hard ridge of his penis.

Kait blushed at the evidence of his desire, but didn’t pull away. She’d known from the moment she’d suggested this hike that she was suggesting more than an afternoon in his company—that at some point they’d be naked on that blanket, entwined in each other’s arms.

Anticipation stirred as he caught her hand, and side-by-side they carefully picked their way down the rocky slope toward the mountain pool below. She’d been ready to accept him back into her heart as well as her body for days now, maybe even since they’d fled Wolf’s burning cabin.

He felt something for her, that became more apparent each day.

She wasn’t sure what he felt, but it was strong—so strong he’d chosen her safety over his naval career when he’d refused to let her heal the fake Pachico. For a man obsessed with rejoining his team, that instant, furious refusal said a lot.

And then there were the smaller clues. The way he worried that the healings on his leg would drain her. The way he’d reluctantly eased up on his suspicions about Wolf for her sake, the way he instantly found her with his gaze when he entered a room, and the way he’d squeeze in beside her at the table or wrap an arm around her while sitting beside her on the couch.

The way he’d left his team planning their next moves so he could spend the day with her.

But mostly it was in his eyes when he looked at her—the gleam of tenderness and passion.

Oh yeah, he felt something for her—something strong enough to build on.

A mixture of anticipation and nervousness gripped her as they spread the blanket out on the lush grass and emptied his day pack.

“Do you think Rawls is doing any better?” she babbled in an effort to fill the silence as she unpacked sandwiches, oranges, banana bread, and several thick, gooey chocolate-chip cookies.

Cosky frowned, worry dimming the passionate glitter in his eyes. “He’s still damn jumpy and closemouthed about it.”

Kait’s hands slowed as a heavy weight settled over her.

“I think…I think he’s having hallucinations.”

“Yeah.” Cosky didn’t look surprised. Instead, the worry crept from his eyes across his face.

“What if my healing damaged his brain?” She forced the question out her tight, guilt-stricken throat.

“Hey.” Cosky drew her into his arms and ran his palms up and down her back. “He’s alive because of you. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with him. But he’s alive. He’ll work through this. He just needs time, which you gave him.”

His assurance would have been more comforting if he’d looked like he believed it himself. Instead, the worry dug deep creases into his forehead.

She thought she was imagining it when the rhythm of his hands shifted from soothing to caressing until she caught the hungry glitter in his silver eyes. He didn’t give her nervousness time to roost. Instead he bent his head, his lips seizing hers, and swept her straight into a storm of sensation.

His mouth wasn’t soft this time. Or teasing. Rather it was urgent. Insistent. His lips hard, almost bruising, as they forced her mouth open so his tongue could surge inside. She met the symbolic thrusting of his tongue with flirty little rubs of her own, which sent a current of white-hot electricity through her.

Her breasts swelled. Her scalp tingled. The flesh between her legs throbbed.

“Christ,” he said on a groan as he wrenched her T-shirt over her head and flung it aside. “I wanted to go slow. Give you the loving you deserve this time.” He unhooked her bra and shoved it down her arms, his face tense, urgent with lust. “But I touch you and I’m fifteen again—no fucking control.”

“Slow’s overrated,” Kait managed on a gasp as his mouth found her right nipple, and he started to suckle.

He abandoned her breast long enough to jerk his shirt over his head, and then dragged her down to the blanket, his mouth returning to her breast and that strong, urgent suckling.

“I didn’t think you could taste any better, feel any better than the first time,” he whispered, his voice smoky with arousal. “I was wrong.”

Liquid fire raced through her. Kait wasn’t sure whether the source was his admission or the tug of his lips against her nipple. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she ground the aching cleft between her legs against the bulge of his penis.

He groaned and jackknifed up to unzip her jeans and strip them, along with her panties, down her legs. His own jeans followed. He paused long enough to yank a condom out of his pocket and tossed the pants aside.

Quickly sheathing himself, he bore her down to the blanket, his shoulders blocking the sun, his body hot and heavy and hard on top of her. His mouth found her breast again and drew her nipple into
his mouth. As he started back in on that urgent, erotic suckling, he slid a hand up her thigh and into the damp nest between her legs. A quiver raked her as he parted the wet folds and rubbed a finger back and forth along the slit.

Her legs rose and twined around his hips, and her hips lifted in silent entreaty.

“Jesus.” His voice was so hoarse it was all but unintelligible.

Her mind went dark and dizzy as he thrust a finger inside her. He pumped her once, twice, and tension drew her muscles tight. He pushed his finger in her a third time and lightning streaked from her throbbing core up her spine. She stiffened, the tension drawing her tight, a choked scream breaking from her tight throat.

“Fuck.” His voice was strangled, his breathing hard and fast. “Not yet.”

He jerked his hand away, his knees pushing her legs wide, and settled between her thighs, nudging his swollen penis into place. Guiding it forward, he pressed against her throbbing opening.

Kait whimpered, every cell inside her focused on the thick, hot pressure probing at her core. Her legs lifted, wrapping around his waist, and her hips arched.

He pulled back, wrenching a protest from her, and then drove forward, seating himself to the hilt with one long, hard thrust.

The hard, hot pressure of him inside her sizzled through every nerve, every cell, every muscle. She arched beneath him, her legs cinched around his waist, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

As he settled into a hard, driving rhythm, her body clenched, drew tight, and hung there for one long, agonizing moment before rupturing beneath an explosion of sensation. She screamed as pleasure splintered through her, her muscles clenching and quivering, clenching and quivering.

The sight of his tight face, the red staining his cheeks as his rigid body arched above her, launched her into another orgasm. She could feel her sheath clamp around the hard length invading her.

His thrusts faltered, lost their rhythmic grace. His body arched almost painfully above her as her muscles clamped down and released, clamped down and released, milking him.

With a hoarse shout, his neck corded with effort, he thrust once more, burying himself to the hilt, and froze, straining as he poured himself into her.

Her heart so full it almost hurt, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight as his release rocked them both.

His mind a white haze, Cosky’s muscles slowly loosened, and he collapsed, his sweaty face pressed against Kait’s neck. Her own orgasm still pulsed through her—delicate quivers that caressed his twitching cock, hardening it again.

Christ. He wanted her again. He hadn’t even recovered from their first bout and he wanted her again. Even worse than before.

He tensed as a shadow of fear brushed his mind, the realization that he’d never get enough of her. Every touch, every thrust, every second he was with her would fuel the obsession. He faced the fear, the knowledge he’d never be completely whole without her, and let it go.

Because the alternative was much worse, unimaginably worse: to never hold her again, her heart beating against his; to never feel her come apart in his arms, or come apart in hers; to spend the rest of his life wondering who was sharing her bed and building a life with her.

Without question, this loss of control, this constant need was better than losing her.

Suddenly he was aware that the slim, silky body beneath him had tensed. Her breathing was tight. He raised his head, focusing on her cautious, questioning eyes, and his heart clenched. He could almost see her brace herself, waiting for him to pull away.

He caught her hand, his fingers shaking, and lifted it to his chest, pressing it against the heavy beat of his heart.

“I love you.” The words were thick and rusty. He pressed her fingers harder against his chest and tried again. “I love you.”

This time they flowed a little better. Smoother.

Her solemn brown eyes searched his face and the caution faded. “You’re sure?”

“Forever.” It was a pledge.

He brushed back a tangle of golden hair, his chest so tight it hurt. She hadn’t said the words back.

Hell, who could blame her after his asinine behavior their first time together. He could be patient. Wait for that memory to fade. Wait for the trust to rebuild.

Sighing, he rolled, dragging her with him so she was on top and he wasn’t crushing her. Loosening her braid, he combed his fingers through her hair, until the silky golden mass trailed down his shoulders and caressed his chest.

“I dreamed about you for years, about this,” he admitted. “Your hands on me, your hair a curtain of gold, your body moving under mine. I’d wake up so damn hard an ice pack couldn’t calm me down.”

“You must have known I was attracted to you too,” she said hesitantly, a frown wrinkling the smooth skin of her forehead.

He smoothed the creases with his fingertips and forced himself to answer the question in her eyes. Trust began with honesty. No matter how much he wanted to avoid the revelations.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly and saw a swift slash of pain cross her face. “But you scared me shitless.” He smiled wryly as her eyes widened. “Hell, I hadn’t touched you, hadn’t tasted you, hadn’t even talked to you and I was already obsessed, barely clinging to my control.” He paused to stroke her cheek and his cock, still firmly lodged inside her, twitched. “All I could think was how much worse it would be if I did get a taste of you and had to walk away.”

Her brow knitted. Huge, serious amber eyes searched his face. “Why would you have to walk away?”

Yeah, he was pretty sure she wasn’t going to find his explanation heroic. “Because of my job. The danger involved. The fact I might never make it home.”