Page 26 of Cyn
He’d never imagined himself the growly kind of guy, but sure enough, one emerged. Her eyes jerked to his. For a beat, they stayed locked in that position. His chest tightened, and he fought the urge to reach for her. Forcing a deep breath, he acknowledged that his options were to either grab her and ignore his previous decision to take things slow or grab his shorts and get out into public as soon as possible. He snagged his shorts off the back of the chair and tugged them on. He was actually surprised he didn’t catch a seam or rip them as he dressed. Then he pulled on his T-shirt.
“Out,” he said, jerking his head to the door as he reached for his wallet and room key. He’d already locked his passport in the safe, so at least he didn’t have that to slow him down.
“What?” Cyn asked, still sitting on his bed.
“Out,” he repeated. “The door, Cyn. Use it. We’re leaving. We’re going to get a beer and a burger, and we’re each going to flirt with other people.”
Her brows dipped at that, and he fought a smile. She didn’t appear to like the idea of him flirting any more than he liked the idea of her doing the same.
“That was your plan, right?” he clarified. “Flirt a little, see if anyone had anything to say about the tragic death of the young private.”
She nodded but still didn’t rise. It didn’t help matters that her eyes kept dropping to his zipper.
“Cyn,” he all but barked. Her eyes jerked up again. “Either we go out and run with your plan or we stay here, and I will fuck you seven ways to Sunday. But you have precisely four seconds to decide.”
She frowned. “Four? Why not three. Or five?”
“Four…three…two…”
She sprang from the bed and darted to the door. “Good lord, you are bossy,” she muttered as she scuttled by him. He caught her by the waist as she passed, pulling her back against his front.
“I can be,” he said, tracing a finger under her breast. Her breathing quickened, but she said nothing. “You seem a little tense, Cyn. You want a little something to help you relax?”
“Oh god, please, yes,” she said, letting her head fall back against his chest.
Never one to deny a lady, Joe slid his hand down between her legs to below the hem of her cutoffs. Wrapping his hand around her inner thigh, he stretched his thumb up under the fabric and traced a line over the top of her underwear.
“More, please,” she said, trying to widen her stance.
The heat from her body scorched his fingers, and he moved his hand higher, hooking his fingers under her underwear and pulling them to the side. As he traced around the edges of her clit, he slid his other hand under her shirt and cupped her breast. Her nipple pressed into the palm of his hand, and a small sound escaped her throat.
“More?” he asked.
She gave a jerky nod.
“Words, Cyn.”
She took a few breaths, as if she needed to find the strength to pull the words together, then spoke. “I swear to god, if you don’t finger fuck me right now, I will make you regret it.”
No sooner had she spoken the words than he slid three fingers inside her. Caught by surprise, she stiffened in his arms, but he gave her no surcease and kept giving her what she’d asked for. After a beat, her arms came up overhead and wrapped around him, arching her back.
His arousal pressed into her, relieving some, but not all, of the pressure, and little breathy gasps started coming from her mouth.
“Oh god, more, Joe,” she said, pressing harder against him and giving him more leverage. He was more than happy to oblige, and he could tell from her breathing and the way she fluttered over his fingers that she was close.
When her legs started to shake, he rolled her nipple then, and as he drove into her, he pinched it hard. Cyn went rigid in his arms as her body clamped down on his fingers. A strangled but muted moan slid from her throat as he released his hold on her nipple and gently began to roll it even as her body continued to spasm around his fingers.
When the last quiver finally came, he withdrew his hand, adjusted her underwear, then wrapped both hands around her. Her eyes were still closed, and her head was still resting against his chest, but she dropped her arms from around his neck and rested them on his forearms. Despite what had just happened—or maybe because of it—the moment was oddly peaceful. Content.
He lowered his lips and dropped a kiss on her neck.
“You ready to go flirt with other guys?” he asked.
She smiled. “Not really, but needs must. You?”
He chuckled and stepped away, leaving a steadying hand on her waist in case she needed it. “Not really. But I have the smell of you on my body to get me through the night.” Then he leaned down and whispered, “And I can tell you which hand I’ll be using when I’m alone in bed tonight and thinking of you.”
Chapter Nine
