Page 39 of Crocodile Tears
“We should go,” I whisper, but my body isn’t making any effort to create distance.
“We should,” she agrees as she rests her hands against my chest.
Instead of moving toward the door, I lower my head and capture her mouth with mine.The kiss is hungry and desperate, fueled by relief, adrenaline, and the electrical charge that’s been building between us since our first date.
Becci responds with equal intensity, winding her arms around my neck as she pulls me closer.When her tongue meets mine, a low growl escapes my throat.The primal sound has nothing to do with tactical operations and everything to do with the way she tastes.
“This is insane,” she whispers against my lips.
“Completely insane,” I say, kissing her again.
She moves her hands to the fastenings of my tactical vest, working with the kind of focused precision she probably applies to complex laboratory procedures.When she encounters the various pouches and attachment points, she pauses.
“How many weapons are you carrying?”
“Several.”
“That’s very attractive.”She resumes working on the vest with obvious enthusiasm.“I wasn’t expecting to find tactical competence quite this arousing.”
I let out a choked laugh.“I wasn’t expecting to conduct a rescue operation quite this arousing.”
The vest hits the floor with a soft thud, followed by my shirt as Becci explores the planes of my chest with obvious appreciation.When her fingertips trace the scars from various operational hazards, she looks up at me with a mixture of concern and fascination.“Your security consulting job involves getting shot at.Doesn’t it?”
“Occasionally.”
“Only occasionally?”
I half-shrug.“I get shot at a lot, but I’m better at evading the bullets than letting them hit me.”
She laughs softly and then gasps as I lift her against the wall, wrapping her legs around my waist with athletic grace.The position brings us into perfect alignment, and the friction makes us both moan with desire.
“We’re in a storage closet in a hostile facility,” I point out while trailing kisses down her neck.
“I’m aware.”She works on my belt with the same systematic approach she uses for everything else.“Are you having second thoughts about the timing?”
“I’m having thoughts about the complete lack of appropriate timing, location, and security protocols.”I groan as she presses her hand against my cock as though testing the length and girth.
“Yet you’re not stopping.”She strokes me through my pants.
“Yet I’m not stopping.”I lift a hand to knead her breast until she moans.When I stroke her nipple, she lets her head rest against the wall, though she’s still working my pants, finally having removed the belt and moved on to the snap and zipper.
When she succeeds in unfastening my pants, she slides her hand inside to wrap around my cock with confident pressure that makes my vision blur momentarily.I bite down gently on the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, and she arches against me with a soft cry.
“Cal… ” Her voice is breathless and urgent.“I need you.”
I reach between us to work on her clothing, grateful that her captors provided practical pants rather than complicated garments.I unfasten them slowly, trailing my fingers along her skin as I ease them down her hips.She shivers at the contact, catching her breath when I trace the edge of her underwear.
“Cal… ” she whispers, moving her hips restlessly against me.
I kiss her deeply while sliding my hand lower and stroking her through the thin fabric of her panties.She’s already wet, and the heat of her pussy makes me groan against her mouth.
“I want to touch you properly,” I whisper, and she nods eagerly.
I slip my hand inside her underwear, finding her slick and ready.When I stroke her folds gently, exploring her, she arches into my touch with a soft cry.I circle her clit with careful pressure, watching her face as pleasure builds in her expression.I vary the speed and pressure until her hips are jerking rhythmically as she loses all concept of pace.
“You’re so wet for me,” I whisper, sliding one finger inside her.She gasps, clenching her internal muscles around me.
“More,” she whispers, and I comply, adding another finger and establishing a rhythm that has her trembling against me.
