Page 33 of A SEAL's Protection
I slide my hands down her sides and over her hips. She moves against me, a soft moan escaping as her body presses into mine. I can’t hide the hardness pressing against her, but she doesn’t draw back. Instead, she tilts her hips, creating friction that sparks between us.
My mouth trails down her neck to the delicate hollow of her throat. Suddenly I want to feel more of her. I slide my hands up, hooking her shirt, tugging it over her head. She gasps at the cool air on her skin. I cup her breasts, fingers brushing her nipples until she moans.
I should stop. I should pull back. But the sounds coming from her mouth leave me powerless. She clings to me, seeking reassurance.
My hand slides between her legs, and she gasps as I find her secret warmth. The dark heightens every sense. I can’t see her, but I imagine her eyes flickering shut.
“Tell me to stop,” I breathe against her ear.
“I don’t want you to,” she whispers. “Please. I need this.”
The truth in her voice is raw. Whatever she’s been holding on to—months of stress, the weight of her research—she needs this release.
My hand slides inside her leggings, seeking out her wet heat. Her back arches, and her hips grind into my palm.
“Marcus.”
Her fingers dig into my biceps, clutching tight. I kiss her lips, her neck, her breasts. Her moans rise in the dark as she grinds against me. She buries her face in my shoulder, muffling her cries.
Every touch is instinct and surrender, her body giving in against my palm. Her shudders build, and her grip on me tightens until finally she breaks, moaning into my shoulder as release rips through her.
Her nails dig so tight into my arm there’ll be marks tomorrow.
Her body trembles, her breath ragged. I move my hand again, teasing her until another climax shatters her.
Every instinct inside me screams to go further, to take her completely. But I stop myself. I’ve already crossed a line. Allegra is my mission, and as much as I want her, I can’t press for more.
So instead, I bring her over the edge again and again, until her body collapses against mine. She nestles into me, her breathing unsteady, her soft body pressed tight against me.
I ache with the strain of holding back, but I don’t push for more. Instead, I tug her clothing gently back into place.
She trembles less now, her breathing steadying, and soon she drifts into sleep.
I lie awake in the dark, listening to the sounds of the night, with my heart still pounding.
15
ALLEGRA
We fall into a steady rhythm the next morning. I worry things might be awkward between us, but it’s the opposite. I feel relaxed, like I’ve let my guard down.
We pick up the trail, and after a few hours we scramble over rocks, climbing toward the glacial point. My body aches, adrenaline spiking. This is what I came here for—one sample away from proving the existence of mining runoff. Despite the sabotage, the fear, and the setbacks, I made it.
The higher we climb, the slipperier the rocks get. My boots skid on a patch of ice, and Marcus steadies me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
His hand lingers on my hip, and a memory of last night floods my brain, sending heat to my cheeks—the way he strummed my body, knowing what I needed. The release that let it all out with someone I trust. I slept like a baby all night, the best sleep I’ve had on the trail. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion, the adrenaline from the day, or the way it ended with me coming apart. Either way, today my senses feel heightened.
Marcus keeps scanning the trail, never relaxing. We climb for another half hour until the rocks level out to a ridge. Ice lies deep and packed here. I bend to examine it, then straighten.
“Here.”
Marcus nods once and takes up position facing outwards, toward the path we just traveled. His seriousness is a reminder of the heaviness of the situation. I pushed to get this final sample, and I didn’t even think about his safety. The best I can do now is get the sample quickly and get out of here.
I slide my pack off, and it crunches against the ice. Blowing on my hands to keep them warm, I pull out my sample bag. I use an ice corer to dig into the ice. I need to go deep to show how long this has been going on—embedded in the very ice itself.
My boot slips on a rock, and Marcus’s arm is there to steady me. He doesn’t say anything, just holds out his other hand. I pass him the sample case, freeing mine to take the vial. I slide the sample in and label it up. Marcus holds the container steady.
