Page 74 of Armed ’N’ Ready

Don’t do it. Be strong. Think about how much he hurt you.

“Let me go, you lying bastard.” She pushed at him, struggling to free herself, but he pressed her gently back against the tree, pinning her against the rough bark.

“I don’t want to. I can’t, and I don’t think you really want me to, either.” His gaze flicked to her lips, and her mouth instantly went dry. When she parted her lips to lick them, he kissed her. With a half-hearted effort, she tried tearing away from him. But it was useless. The moment his lips touched hers and his tongue pushed into her mouth, her body betrayed her.

Desperate need, the likes of which she’d never known, assailed her, taking control of her body until she was clutching his shoulders. She moaned, opening her mouth to his, all the while thinking—no, knowing—this was a huge mistake. As much as her brain warned her to stop this madness, something else was in control. Her heart was making her do things in total opposition to every vestige of common sense she knew she ought to have. And didn’t.

Of their own volition, her hands slid over the rock-solid curves of his muscled shoulders, down his arms, then to his back. His skin was hot beneath her touch, his muscles tight with restraint as he angled his mouth over hers, kissing her deeper.

She was about to hand over a piece of her soul to a man who didn’t love her. A man who wasn’t capable of loving her. He’d used her and was still doing it. Worse, she was letting him.

Weakness made her slide her hands beneath the waistband of his shorts, clutch his muscular buttocks, and pull his erection against her lower abdomen.

He groaned, throaty and deep, then skimmed his hands along the sides of her breasts before tugging her tank top up and over her head. Next came her bra, followed by her running shorts and panties, and she found herself toeing off her sneakers until she was standing against the tree totally naked beneath his roving hands and mouth.

If only it didn’t feel so good, so right. But it did.

Large, warm hands cupped her breasts while he leaned over, flicking her nipples with his tongue until they jutted proudly into his mouth. He straightened and kissed her, surging his hips against hers.

“Andi,” he whispered as he kissed her again and again. His warm breath and the heat from his body washed over her. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me inside you.”

She moaned, letting her head fall back against the tree as he pressed hot kisses to her neck. No. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

He scooped her up, carrying her to a clearing a few feet away before kneeling and gently laying her down on a bed of soft moss. All the while, his eyes never left hers.

A moment later, he kicked off his sneakers and peeled off his shorts. He was long, and hard, and thick. And without a condom.

He rested his forearms on the moss on either side of her head, holding his lower body inches above hers, his erection barely touching her belly. His nostrils flared. His breath came in deep, raspy inhalations, as did hers. Though he said nothing, she understood what he was asking. To make love to her. Without a condom and without commitment.

There was no chance of her getting pregnant, but in that moment, she wouldn’t have cared if there was. She wanted him that badly.

Answering his silent question, she parted her legs and tugged his head down for a long, slow kiss. One he’ll never forget. Our last.

In one smooth motion, he entered her. Her body bowed, her back arching to receive him fully as she hooked her legs over the backs of his thighs.

His motions intensified, his body pushing deeper inside her. For a fleeting instant, her heart and head began rebelling. No, don’t let them. Don’t feel anything. Except how exquisite his body felt sliding in and out of hers.

He raised his head and gazed down at her from beneath hooded lids. His nostrils flared wider, his teeth clenching as he breathed harder.

The first wave of her orgasm washed over her with the strength and speed of a late summer storm. She threw back her head, squeezing her eyes so tightly shut she saw stars.

His body convulsed as he came inside her. Wrapping her arms around his back, she held him to her while their breathing slowed. Part of her—the weak, self-destructive part—didn’t want this moment to end but knew it would, and that it would be the last time they would ever hold each other this way.

He lowered his forehead to hers. “I love you,” he whispered harshly, his warm breath washing over her face. “I love you.”

She stiffened. I must have misheard him. Then her heart grew cold. She hadn’t misheard him. This was merely another facet of his master plan to keep her close until he no longer had any use for her.

The need to get away from him overrode everything, and she pushed frantically at his shoulders and chest, forcing him to withdraw from where he was buried so deeply inside her. For one long heartbeat they lay on their sides, facing each other. Pain bubbled up at the pathetic realization that those three words—words that should have been beautiful and meaningful—had the power to hurt her like nothing else could.

Because they aren’t true.

“I don’t believe you.” Ignoring the flash of misery in his eyes, she scrambled away and retrieved her clothes and sneakers from the base of the tree and quickly began dressing. Her head throbbed with anger. After everything that happened, how could he even think of saying that?

There’d been a time—a brief, stupid time—when she’d yearned to hear him say those words. Now they were just that. Words. Sgt. Nick Houston was good at using words to get whatever he needed.

Nick grabbed his shorts and shoved his legs into them. Next, he grabbed his sneakers and shoved his feet into them without even bothering to untie the laces.

A sickening awareness pervaded her senses, followed by numbness. That numbness would keep her going after tomorrow. After he was gone from her life, and she was left to deal with the fact that she’d allowed yet another man to use her. Knowingly, this time.