Page 26 of Broken Trust
“Sleep.” His voice came out rough.
“I’m not a child. I’m here to do a job. I may have found one bomb handler, but eleven are still out there.”
“You need rest to be on top of your game.”
“You’re not my boss. Con—”
He swooped in and slammed his mouth over hers.
The kiss wasn’t polite.
She swore at him, and he caught it with his mouth and unraveled it, pressing heat into her lips until her curse dissolved on his tongue. She stiffened for just a breath, then melted.
He felt the moment she chose to surrender—the line of her body softening into his, her fingers twisting into his shirt again as if her body wanted what her mind refused to admit.
When he lifted his head, her pupils were blown wide. A flush climbed her throat.
“We’re not doing this.” Her rasp was breathless.
“Definitely not.” He kissed her again—slower,deeper, until she made a sound low in her throat.
That noise jump-started his heart.
A growl rumbled in his chest, and her fingers curled tighter, either to drag him closer or shove him away. But he tasted her want, her salt, herneed.
When he tore away the second time he let his mouth hover a whisper from hers.
The glare returned—god, he’d missed her glare—before she surged up and kissed him. The angle of her head and the sweep of her tongue against his were fierce with hunger.
His body got the memo loud and clear, and he guided her backward on the bed, their bodies never losing contact, as if they couldn’t bear to separate now that they’d found each other again.
He skidded a hand up her ribs, inches from her breasts. He already knew she wasn’t wearing a bra. That was Elin. Unrestricted in a carefree way that American women didn’t operate.
She didn’t wear makeup because her natural beauty was enough. Her dark blonde hair fell loose and waving around her face without the restriction of stiff hairspray.
He slid his hand down her torso and found the dip at her waist where his palm had always fit like a matched piece.
Then lower to the curve of her hip, where he felt the barest tremble.
“This is such a bad idea,” she murmured at the same time she tipped her chin to invite his mouth to explore along her jawline. That small movement made him forget how to slow down.
“Terrible.” He sucked on her throat, feeling the throb of her pulse under his tongue.
She arched, any words of protest replaced by a gasp. She was going to let him take her, and the extreme pleasure would mixwith the sharp pain they both endured after he walked out of her life.
Still, his hands worked her hip bone, kneading, coaxing her to rock her hips in the sensual way that stripped all of his control.
He ripped his mouth free again, stroking his thumb over her fuller lower lip. She nipped at the pad, and he took her lips again with a growl.
The kiss grew from heated flames to a raging inferno. She hooked her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him like she needed to drown out the world.
And he answered with the hunger he kept buried deep for two years. Delving his tongue between her lips, he gave and gave until she was writhing into each caress. Each molten flip of her tongue against his came with a little moan that told him she was close to losing it too.
He found the hem of her top and skimmed his hand over her stomach, not flat but sexy in that way that made a man dream about more with a woman.
“Liam!” His name was only a quivering breath.
He drew back far enough to search her eyes. All trace of her tears had faded, leaving behind the steel of the woman that his leaving had somehow tempered instead of made brittle.
