Page 70 of Rescue Me (Tempting SEALs 6.10)

He nipped her chin. Kissed her cheeks. Her brow. “No, darlin’. I’m whistle clean.”

She splayed her fingers over the tightly bunched muscle of his hips, pressed his huge erection against her pubis. “Well, then?”

The rough growth of his beard felt erotically arousing and abrasive when he smiled against her temple. “Are you always this trusting?”

She froze, self-conscious suddenly. “You think I’m naive.”

“No. I think you’re amazing.” He bussed her nose with his. “And I think—despite the current fix we’re in—that I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“It’s probably the concussion,” she said, sinking back into his kisses. “It’s clouding your perspective.”

His mouth spread into a smile against hers. “Or maybe,” he whispered, reaching between them to guide himself to her opening and push inside, “maybe …” he repeated through clenched teeth as he drove all the way home, “my perspective is finally crystal clear.

“My God, Elena. You … feel … so … good.”

She took him in on a gasp, on a sensual rush of blinding pleasure as he filled her, thick and hard and deep. Rocked with him as he pumped and teased and slid in and out of her slick, wet heat.

Lingering thrusts.

Lazy strokes.

Penetrating plunges.

Heat …

Weight …

Pressure …

When she lifted her hips to his, begged and enticed him to quicken the pace, lazy transitioned to hard, grinding plunges. She wrapped her ankles around his hips, held on for her life and plummeted over the edge on a wild and reckless free-fall of acute sensation and desperate, clawing desire.

He moved one final time above her, seated himself deep and took the plunge with her on a panting groan, stiffening, shuddering, spilling hot and thick inside of her.

SEVEN

THE SUN WAS STILL low on the horizon, its slanting rays barely spearing into the canyon when Seth o

pened his eyes to a pounding head and little needles of pain tingling through his left hand. The warm weight of the naked woman who had caused his arm to go to sleep more than made up for the discomfort.

The clearing of the cobwebs from a dismal attempt at sound sleep told him they had to get up and get moving.

“Elena,” he whispered, caressing her bare hip. “Sorry, darlin’. Time to run and gun.”

She buried her face deeper into his shoulder and made a soft sound of protest.

God, what he wouldn’t give for twenty-four hours of uninterrupted time locked in a room with her. A room with a bed. And a shower. And a chair where he could visualize her riding him until he couldn’t see straight.

Today, he had to settle for a head start from the bad guys. Very bad guys who would happily shoot them on sight now and damn Clyde Devine’s wrath. Their pride had been bruised when Seth and Elena had given them the slip last night. So the boys were pissed. With pissed came double mean.

Very carefully, Seth slipped his arm out from beneath Elena’s head. With even more care, he sat up beside her. Immediately lowered his head between his up-drawn knees when a wave of dizziness slammed him.

“Shit.” He hoped to hell this was just a temporary bout of weakness, a drop in his BP after being horizontal for so long.

After a few deep breaths, he lifted his head but still didn’t do any celebrating when he found he felt steadier. Standing up and moving around would tell the tale.

Finally, he trusted himself enough to stand. Fought off another, weaker wave of light-headedness and decided he might be able to function after all. He worked the needles out of his hand, ignored the raging headache and walked slowly to gather their clothes.

He wasn’t surprised to find them dry. The humidity at the bottom of the canyon was minus zilch. The thirsty night air had sucked the moisture out of everything. Only their hiking boots were still damp inside.

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