Hot SEALs: SEAL's Ultimate Challenge (8 page)

Something inside Reaper snapped. He closed the distance between them, tugged her hand, forcing her to fall against his chest. Then his hand dug into the hair at the back of her neck and he pulled, tipping back her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t stay with you because I’ll want to do this.” He claimed her mouth in a long, hard kiss, his lips moving over hers. His tongue lashed out, pushed past her teeth, and thrust against hers, twisting and tangling until he couldn’t remember when he breathed last.

When at last he came up for air, he stared down into her glazed blue eyes and knew he was lost. “Now do you understand?”

Nodding, she took his hand, led him into her building, slipped the key into the lock, and opened her door.

He dragged her against him, and shoved her against the doorframe, bent, and scooped her up by the back of her thigh.

Leigha wrapped her legs around his middle and twined her arms around his neck. She kissed him, pulled on his lip with her teeth, and then thrust her tongue into his mouth.

God, she was hot, with her breasts smashed up against his chest, smelling of cotton candy and fresh air. With her, he didn’t see or feel the heat of the desert, or smell the dust of a village so foreign to his home. That other hell, the one so hot it melted the soles of his boots, he only visited now in his nightmares.

LEIGHA KNEW WHAT she was doing was wrong in so many ways. Yes, she’d been shot, yes, her life as a D.C. cop had been dangerous—facing thugs, gang members and sociopaths on a daily basis. But she’d never had someone try to blow her away with explosives. If Reaper hadn’t asked her to help him…if he hadn’t taken her keys at the last minute…

She shivered and delved deeper into the kiss. It wasn’t enough. She needed to be closer, the kind of close that was skin-to-skin. Naked, bared to the touch, bared to the soul.

The explosion had shown her a vulnerable side to the big man. His anger she could take, the uncontrollable trembling brought on by the explosion had shaken her to the very core. PTSD was a frightening reality many soldiers lived with on a daily basis. His resistance to move past his disability and make it a capability had been her first hurdle with the man. She was afraid she couldn’t help him with the deeper damage done in the explosion that had taken his arm and destroyed his trust in the world around him.

Right at that moment, held in his arms, with her back against the wall, she knew bringing him to her apartment was the only way she could solve both of their needs. He needed someone to be with him as badly as she needed to be with someone. Tomorrow, they’d face the consequences. Tonight, they would celebrate escape from what could have been a terrible tragedy. She brought up her head. “Close the door.”

He lifted her with his single arm, stepped the rest of the way through the door, and kicked it closed behind him. Then he leaned her against the door, his mouth crashing down on hers.

Leigha welcomed him in, her tongue hungry for his, her body aching from the tips of her fingers to her core. By the swell of the ridge beneath his jeans, he was feeling it, too.

At the moment the kiss broke, she pushed against this chest. “Put me down.”

He lowered her legs to the ground and bent to nibble her ear, trailing a line of kisses down the length of her neck to the base of her throat where her pulse beat wildly.

She reached for the waistband of his jeans. “Tell me no and I’ll walk away,” she whispered against his chest, inhaling the scent of his sexy aftershave as she prayed he didn’t take her up on her offer.

He answered by twisting his fingers in the hem of her DCPD T-shirt and dragging it up her torso, her breasts, and over her head. He tossed it to the corner, reached behind her back, and fumbled with the clasp on her bra.

She didn’t help him, knowing this task was as important to him as loading rounds into his weapon. Perhaps he felt that if he couldn’t undress a woman, he wasn’t a man.

Eventually, he pulled the hooks free and slipped the straps off her arms.

She let it fall to the floor, her breasts unbound for him to see, touch and taste.

Leigha’s nipples tightened into hard little buds, as Reaper dipped his head and sucked one into his mouth. He flicked the tip with his tongue and rolled it between his teeth.

She arched her back, urging him to take more, to suck it deeper into his mouth. For each time he pulled, her core tightened in response until she ached for him to take all of her body.

Impatient for more sensation, she guided his head to her other breast. While he lavished his attention on it, she ran her hands down his back and dragged his T-shirt over his muscles. He raised his head and arm, and she tugged the garment over his head, dropping it to the floor.

With his torso bare, she could see all the muscles she rarely saw in his sessions. Tattoos covered much of his shoulders—bold dark lines and swirls in fantastical patterns, broken only by shrapnel scars incurred in the explosion that nearly took his life.

Leigha traced the patterns with her fingers, memorizing the images, the scars, and the hard planes of his toned muscles. He was beautiful from so many angles, and she wanted to explore them all.

With sharp moves, she kicked off her shoes and reached for the button on his jeans. The sooner they were naked, the better she’d feel. Slipping her hand inside the denim waistband, she flipped the button open and dragged down the zipper, careful not to catch his cock in the metal teeth. He swelled outward the farther down she went until his shaft burst free of the denim confines, the velvety smoothness resting in her palm.

He was long, thick, and firm. Leigha slipped her fingers along his length, marveling at the texture and firmness, ready to move to her bedroom and the next step in this seduction.

As if reading her mind, he took her hand and led her deeper into her apartment, moving with purpose toward the bedroom door. Once inside, he backed her up to the bed and eased her onto the mattress. Bending over her, he nibbled on a breast and tongued it thoroughly, then moved down her torso to the waistband of her jeans. He pushed the button through the hole and eased down her zipper.

He scooted her body farther up the bed and dragged her jeans down her legs, past her thighs, knees, and ankles. When he had her on the mattress in only her panties, he straightened and stared at her body from the tips of her breasts to the V of material covering her mons, to the ugly scar on her knee.

Although she knew her reaction was ridiculous, she wanted to hide her scar. But she lay still, letting him drink his fill.

He reached out and touched the scar, tracing it from her lower thigh across her knee to her shin. “Does it still hurt?”

She shrugged. “On rainy days.” Leigha reached out and took his hand, guiding it to her sex. “What aches now has nothing to do with gunshot wounds or knee replacements.” She slipped his hand into her panties and left him to figure it out on his own.

He did, slipping his fingers between her folds to flick the stretch of flesh packed tightly with nerves.

Gasping, Leigha arched her back, digging her heels into the mattress. She raised her hips. “Again,” she said. “Please.”

Again, he stroked her and tingles rippled through her body, spreading from her core outward, to the tips of her fingers and toes. Reaper dragged her panties down her legs and off, then dropped to his knees, scooted her bottom to the edge of the bed, and kissed along her inner thigh.

She moaned, her sex tingling in anticipation, quivering with excitement, because she was eager to feel the flick of his tongue on her most sensitive place.

And he delivered. Sliding his hand across the tuft of hair, he slipped inside, wet his finger, dragged it up to her clit, and swirled until she squirmed. Then he leaned closer and flicked her with his tongue, once.

She dug her fingers into his hair and urged him to do it again. “Please,” she begged, spreading her thighs, drawing her heels up his backside. “Please,” she repeated, her voice ragged, her body on fire, the need so great she would die if he didn’t take her soon.

His relentless tonguing sent her over the top. Leigha, used to calling the shots in bed, conceded victory to Reaper as he launched her to the heavens, giving her the most incredible release she’d ever experienced. She rode the pleasure for as long as she possibly could. When she peaked and started down the other side, she clutched his shoulders and dragged him up her body. Next, she scooted back on the bed and spread her legs, offering herself, praying he’d take her up on the offer.

He stood beside her bed, his eyelids drooped to half-mast, but his nostrils flared like a bull preparing for a charge. “Protection?”

“In the drawer, I think.” Dear Lord, she prayed her stash was still there from a time she’d almost brought one of her classmate’s home from school, desperate for company and sex. At the last minute, Leigha had changed her mind, realizing sex for the sake of sex was pretty pathetic. But a girl could never be too prepared.

He found a packet, tore it open, and worked the condom free.

Seeing him struggle, she reached for it.

But he held up his hand. “I have to be able to do everything myself, better than a man with two hands.”

She laid back and smiled, her body humming with the afterglow of her orgasm. “So far, I’d give you an A+. But don’t make me wait too long.”

“On it.” He slipped the condom over the head and down his incredibly long, thick shaft, in one fluid movement.

“Do you want me to be on top?” she offered.

“No. I have to do this right.” He climbed up between her legs on his knees and leaned over her, balancing on one arm. He nudged her entrance with his cock, sliding the tip in and out, coating it in her juices.

His actions teased her until she wanted to scream. “Now,” she whispered.

In one hard, swift thrust, he buried himself inside, driving deep all the way to his hilt.

He filled her channel, stretching her deliciously with his wide girth. For a long moment, he held himself inside, giving her body a chance to get used to him, to accommodate his size. Then he slid back out.

Leigha’s channel contracted, dragging at him, willing him to come back inside. Another slow, steady glide in and out, and she was ready to scream. “Faster.” She threw back her head, dug her heels into the mattress, and pushed up to meet him. “Sweet Jesus, faster.”

He complied, hammering into her again and again, the thrusts so hard and furious that the headboard banged into the wall. He backed off only a little to keep from disturbing the neighbors, but continued his campaign to make her come a second time.

As her body tensed, his did, too. One last thrust sent her over the edge, flying into the land of tingling nerves and quivering body parts.

He buried himself so deep he became one with her body, his cock throbbing against her inner walls. His face was tense, his jaw tight as he spent his release. Then he lowered himself onto his elbow, his body lying on hers, but not with all of his weight crushing her.

“That was…incredible.” Leigha sighed and snuggled closer.

“All I have to say is thank God for years of one-armed pushups.”

A chuckle bubbled up her throat and escaped from her mouth. Then another.

His brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”

She stared up at him. “Nothing. I just feel…more alive than I’ve felt in a long time.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “And it feels pretty damned good.” She tipped her head to the side. “Relax. You’ve already proved you can do better than any two-armed man.”

With a huff of expelled breath, he rolled onto his right side.

She rolled with him, retaining their connection, enjoying the feel of him still thick and hard inside her body. When he relaxed beside her, she traced a scar close to his nipple. “Was that the first time you’ve had sex since the explosion?”

He nodded, his fingers caressing the swell of her breast.

Tingles ran over her skin. Leigha snuggled against him, her cheek resting against his chest. She yawned and closed her eyes. “Thank you for staying with me tonight.”

“I couldn’t let you stay alone.” His voice grew distant.

Leigha knew what they’d done would have repercussions. He would have to deal with his conscience and his promise to marry another woman. She’d have to figure out how to manage his therapy without getting fired. But for tonight, she pushed all of those thoughts out of her mind and fell toward sleep, cradled in his arm. Tomorrow would come all too soon.

As she drifted, a cell phone rang in the other room.

Reaper slipped out of the bed and went to find it.

Leigha rolled into the spot where he’d been, enjoying the lingering warmth.

Then Reaper returned to the room, the phone in his hand, his magnificent body naked and ripped with muscles.

Leigha took a moment to see the pallor beneath the tanned skin of his face. “What’s wrong?” she sat upright, pulling the sheet up over her breasts.

“O’Connell’s been hit. They’re bringing her back to the states tomorrow.”

Chapter Seven

REAPER HOVERED BESIDE O’Connell’s bed, holding her hand in his. This was his close friend. He, Tuck, and O’Connell had been as tight as the Three Musketeers during training at Little Creek.

He barely recognized the woman covered in tubes and wires, her face pale against the hospital sheets. She didn’t resemble the tough, confident spitfire Black Hawk pilot from the 160
^th
Special Operations Aviation Regiment. She beat out five other male pilots to earn her spot on the Night Stalkers, ferrying navy SEALs and army Delta Force soldiers into harm’s way. The only female to enter the boys club who’d scorned women from the get-go.

While O’Connell had been flying for her country, he’d been wallowing in his self-pity and cheating with his therapist. Last night, he’d laid next to Leigha, holding her petite body until morning, guilt squeezing his chest so tightly he couldn’t breathe. He’d wanted to leave as soon as he’d gotten word about O’Connell. At the same time, he couldn’t walk away from Leigha when someone was trying to kill her.