The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (12 page)

She needed more of this—this
acceptance that she hadn’t felt from a man since her surgery—this worship
of all her flaws as though they were the best part of her.

 The air was still as she
tentatively reached behind her to unsnap her bra. His hands were swift, yet
achingly sweet, as he lifted the material from her body, never letting his lips
leave her skin. She could feel his tongue tracing along her reconstructed
nipple. How could she feel that? How could she feel the moisture he left behind
as he moved his mouth toward the valley between her breasts and climbing again
to her next peak? It was as though her nerves had been reawakened, not the same
as before her surgery, but alive in a new way, a fascinating way that she
wanted to explore more.

Lifting his head from her chest now, he kissed
her lips and she leaned into him tentatively, almost fearfully, not wanting
their flesh to part, not wanting this to end. Glancing at the lamp momentarily,
her hand unconsciously reached for it, wishing she could flick it off and let
him imagine her as she once was.

His hand caught hers as he stopped her. “You’re
more beautiful today than the day I first met you. Everything that you’ve been
through has made you into what you are. And what you are is beautiful.”

Blinking back tears, she leaned into him,
needing to close the gap between them. His hands held her face as he angled his
own toward her, and kissed her in a way that filled in every empty crevasse
that had been etched in her soul the past years. He pulled her closer, till her
body was on his lap and she could feel the pressure of his erection. Her bare
breasts pressed against his chest and she felt a primitive surge from deep
within her core.

Oh God, I need this.

He lifted her chin up with his finger, so
that their eyes could meet. “What is it you want from me, Maeve? Whatever it
is, you have it. My friendship. It’s yours. My admiration. Yours. Do you want
more?”

Her head swam in emotions, struggling to
recall all the reasons she had pushed him away for so long. Yet somehow, now,
feeling so gloriously exposed as his tongue traced a path down her neck to her
breast, she knew nothing. Nothing except raw need. “I don’t know what I want
anymore. But I know what I
don’t
want.”

He lifted his head from breast only a
moment. “What’s that?”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

His lips met hers again as he slid his
arms beneath her legs and lifted her, carrying her to his bedroom. She felt
herself sink into his unmade bed, the coolness of the sheets making her shiver.
The small lamp alongside his bed was on, and she reached to turn it off, but he
grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. Then he took both her wrists and pinned
them in his grasp above her head.

She whimpered helplessly as his free hand
slid over her breasts and down to her belly, then beneath her half-removed
dress with its silk gathered at her waist. He found the thin fabric of her
panties and toyed with the brown curls until he found the tiny nub that, when
touched, caused her to arch her body, pressing his hand even closer. His thumb
circled as he watched her, seeming to savor the sight of her eyes half shut,
her breath quickening.

She struggled to bring her hands to his
body, aching to feel him full against her, but his left arm kept her immobile,
blessedly trapped.

“Not yet. I want to make you feel just as
beautiful as you are,” he said, his voice soft, yet demanding. His thumb played
and stroked, and his fingers moved between her legs so that he could now feel
just how desperately she wanted him. He slipped a finger into her, then another,
all the while his thumb still made its circles around her clit.

He let go of her wrists now and moved
lower, slipping her dress the rest of the way off her body, along with her
panties, in one decisive movement. He kissed her deeply, and Maeve could feel
the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her from beneath his pants. She
reached down, longing to have nothing between them, and feel only his skin on
hers. “Not yet,” he repeated as he moved low on her body again.

“Open for me,” he said, his hands lifting
her knees upward and splaying her, the cool air meeting her wetness, making her
feel even more exposed. His breath met the moisture first, then his fingers,
separating her curls and finding the tiny center of her arousal. His lips
touched it, then his tongue, so gently, as though she might shatter if he
pressed too hard.

And shatter she did. Too soon, too soon,
she thought, as her body writhed and bucked beneath his touch. She ached to
draw it out as her body climbed further into ecstasy, till she cried out his
name, and her body was reduced to complete pliancy.

He grinned up to her. Don’t stop, she
silently willed him, and he must have read her mind, touching his tongue to
her, seeming to delight in the feel of the aftershocks still reverberating
inside of her. He slipped his finger inside her as he tasted her—in and
out, in and out—the same ancient rhythm her body knew instinctively. She
felt sensation build again, slower now, more deliberate, less desperate for
climax. In and out, and faster now, the rhythm matched her breathing as it accelerated,
her heart pounding beneath her breasts. His one hand slid beneath her butt,
pulling her closer, opening her more, making her more and more his with every
stroke of his fingers inside her.

“So close, Jack. Please, please, I want
you inside of me.” Nearly weeping from need, she ached to feel his hardness
inside her, deep, as deep as she remembered from eight years ago.

He let her win this time, pulling off his
pants and boxers and letting her hand reach out for his hard length. At her
slightest touch, his eyes slammed shut and he almost pulled away, as though he
had been touched by fire. She reached again, bolder now, gripping him, feeling
the blood flow beneath the thin skin that surrounded all that solidity.

He sucked in a breath. “Hold on,” he
said, reaching for the drawer on his nightstand. He fumbled with the foil
wrapper momentarily and slipped on the condom. Within moments, he was on top of
her again, skin against skin, their fast breathing in sync as his chest rose
and fell against her, pressing her deeper against the sheets. He reached down and
pulled one of her knees along side him.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he said
and his hand traced up her inner thigh, into her wet opening that longed to be
filled.

“Then let’s not wait any longer,” she
murmured against his cheek as he brought his lips to hers, sliding his tongue
inside her just as his cock nudged at her entrance. She took in a breath as he
slid inside, stretching her slowly. Controlled. Cautious as he pushed deeper
inside her, as though to take great care not to hurt her.

Deeper. His groin brushed against her
clit with each thrust, making her long for the next touch. Again. She lifted
her hips upward trying to speed up his movements.

“Slowly, beautiful.” He said, kissing her
gently. “We don’t have anyplace to go tonight.” He thrust even slower, as
though to make his point, and shifted slightly. And as he did, she felt his
cock pressing up against her G-spot mercilessly.

“Oh, God.” She inhaled as a wave of
spasms shot through her body. He thrust again, shifting, and she would swear nearly
killing her. But what a way to go. Heat surged out of her, searing her, sending
shockwaves from her core, up her spine, across her chest, and outward so that
even her fingertips were alive with sensation.

Wow.
The man had obviously learned a few things about female anatomy
while they’d been apart.

Her wet folds of skin seized up around him,
pulling him inward, wanting more, even though her mind told her she couldn’t
take it. Couldn’t take another thrust. Yet he did, and she came so hard she
cried out, muffling her scream by pressing her mouth against his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly, and
he only smiled knowingly in response. He pulled her onto her side, propping her
knee up above his hip, and resumed the slow, seductive rhythm. As he moved
inside of her, his hands ventured along her body, so warm against her skin, yet
leaving a path of goose bumps in their wake.

Looking gentler now, less primal, his
eyes never left hers. He looked as though he wanted to say something, yet
didn’t want to let any words threaten the perfection of this moment. Words were
overrated, Maeve decided, seeing everything she needed to know in his eyes. He
looked at her like she was beautiful. Like she was perfect. Like she was
everything she was years ago and somehow even better.

She loved him for that. “I love you,
Jack.” Lulled by the gentle, rocking motion of his body inside of her, the
words slipped from her mouth so naturally. She was only momentarily struck by
the terror of regret, till he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

“I love you, too, Maeve. I always have.” He
said it almost casually, despite the feel of their bodies entwined, as though the
three words had never been a question to him. Like she’d never again have to
wonder how he felt.

She pulled him closer, and he rolled her
onto her back again. Her legs wrapped around him, she locked her ankles, taking
him in deeper again and he thrust, fast and hard this time, as though to
possess her for eternity. Fastening her arms around his neck as he moved, she
urged him to continue, to go harder, deeper, until she could finally feel him
climax inside of her the way he had already felt from her.

“Faster,” she said. It was only one word,
and all she could manage to say feeling so breathless, so lightheaded. It felt
as though that one word had cost her last ounce of breath. And he gave her what
she wanted, gripping the back of her head and slamming into her till she was
slick with sweat and her hair was tangled around his fingertips.

She was soaring up on a wave again,
gasping for air, till finally she came just as he did, and they both cried out,
until the final aftershock sank them deep into the damp sheets on his bed.

His voice was ragged as he lay on top of
her. “That… was amazing.”

She could barely breathe with his massive
chest pinning her against the mattress. Yet she didn’t want to move. “Amazing,”
she repeated his word, simply because her brain lacked enough oxygen to think
up another.

Tracing the outline of one of his arms,
her finger rose and fell among the ripples of muscle.
Perfection.

Suddenly, nearly devoid of air, reality
struck. “Can’t breath, Jack. You’re too big.”

He swiftly moved to her side. “Sorry
about that,” he said with a grin. “You okay now?”

“Never better,” she said, still encased
in his arms. And it was every bit the truth.

Eight years ago

“Call me,” he said, slipping a piece of
paper into her hand.

He reached for her, gripping her hips, the
feel of her curves in his hands arousing him as he pulled her seamlessly
against him. He loved the way her body fit against his, snug and tight as she
responded to his touch, urging him even closer, just as she had all weekend.

She was still in her nightgown, a simple
cotton sheath with thin straps that told him she hadn’t planned on inviting a
man to her bed this weekend while she house-sat for her grandparents. That
shouldn’t have mattered to him, yet somehow it did.

Her nipples were erect against the white
fabric, and he could almost make out the tempting cherry color of the buds. If only
he could have another hour with her, he’d lower his mouth to them again and
carry her back to bed. If only…

But it was time to go.

His number was in her hand, and even
though she had told him she wouldn’t call, he knew she would. There was no
tossing away a connection like this. Her words about him “not fitting into her
plan” would seem feeble after he walked out the door, when she remembered the
moments they had shared this weekend.

He kissed her one last time—slowly
at first, which took every ounce of control he had in his body. Soaking in the
warmth of her breasts and belly held tight against him, he parted her lips,
nearly coming undone when her tongue slipped into his mouth.

Wanting her again, right now, standing in
that foyer, he realized he’d want her every day of his life.

Maeve Fischer was the real deal—something
not to be taken for granted. Forever wouldn’t be long enough to hold her, to
talk to her, to watch her eyes light up in laughter.

He’d been around the block with plenty of
women in his time at the Academy. There was something about a uniform that
always kept his social calendar filled, both the days and the nights.

But this was different. This was worth
exploring.

She’d call. He had no doubt about that,
even as he stepped over her threshold and saw the lost look in her eyes as he
shut the door behind him.

Sitting in his car, he pulled his cell
phone from his pocket and set it on the seat next to him. It was a long drive
to Rhode Island for Surface Warfare Officers School. She’d call before he even
made it halfway there.

Turning his key in the ignition, he
smiled at the little Cape Cod, blanketed in morning sunshine. Even as his body
ached to hold Maeve beneath him again, he didn’t feel the slightest hint of
sadness as he pulled out of the driveway.

His time with Maeve Fischer wasn’t over. Not
by a long shot.