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“I love the way you fuck me,” she said.
The heat and friction between them caught him on fire again, taking whatever small amount of control he’d found. Fucking Navy SEALs loved like they fought, relentless, commanding, and with a kind of sexual fierceness she wanted over and over again. He was changing her in a way she wasn’t sure she could even understand. But she still wanted him, wanted so much more it hurt.
His pace quickened, his breathing more ragged, and he pumped harder, faster, toward his own completion. She dug her fingers into the rippling muscles of his damp back, arched high and hard into his thrusts, and felt him stiffen as his climax peaked. He surged into her a final time, and on a ragged, primitive growl he spilled himself into her.
Her awareness floated for a bit on sheer bliss as she hung on to him, his heavy weight the only thing that was real and solid in her shattered universe. Her whole body trembling from the aftermath, she buried her face against his neck, struggling with the mind-blowing emotions that filled her—that came from experiencing an absolute and total joining with him. This was what it was all about, not that terrible experience she wanted to forget at the hands of Savic. But this beautiful, fragile thing with Preacher…Boyce.
She had never felt this close to a person before, more a part of him.
Lifting himself up, he groaned softly as he slipped from inside her, and she too clenched at the sensual overload. He pulled her against him, the labored pounding vibrating through her. He inhaled raggedly, then brushed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder, his hold on her tightening.
Karasu flattened her hand against the back of his neck, turning into his warmth and the comfort of his big body, feeling as if she would disappear if he let her go. Suddenly, the world intruded. They still had problems with NSH…she did anyway. Volk and Zorra had to be rescued. Karasu had to take care of that…without him.
“That take care of what happened in Geneva? Can we get past that now, babe?”
Too emotionally raw to make a response, she nodded, and he sighed, satisfied.
Inhaling unevenly, he drew her deeper into his embrace, his touch meant to comfort as he massaged the base of her spine. Pressing his head closer, Karasu turned her face against the curve of his neck, a wave of fresh guilt washing through her. Closing her eyes in shame, she hugged him against her.I’m sorry.
And she was for what she was about to do to him. He wouldn’t understand. It would hurt him immeasurably—it was already tearing her apart—but she had her reasons.
He smoothed his hand up her back, resting his jaw against her temple. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You are a tormenting witch,” he murmured.
She lifted her head and looked up at him. “What goes around comes around, Preacher. You tormented me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
He gave her that slow, sensual smile that turned her insides to honey, an unmistakable twinkle in his gray eyes. “Ah, this is payback, huh?”
She loved his smile, and she loved his amusement, but she couldn’t shake the guilt, something that would have been so easy before…him. Her throat tight, she softly caressed his cheek, unable to hold his gaze.
He slipped his finger under her chin. “Hey, what’s going on up there?”
“This is all so…temporary,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “We live such isolating lives.” She looked up at him solemnly, hating her job more than she had ever hated it in the past.
He stared at her for a moment, then became intent on her mouth, as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. “Don’t drive yourself crazy about logistics,” he said, his tone gruff. “We’ll work it out sooner or later.”
Taking his face between her hands, she stretched up and kissed him softly on the mouth, her breath catching as he pulled her hips closer and took control of the kiss. It was long and lingering and oh, so sweet, and by the time he let her go, she was melting into him. Releasing his breath in a long, shaky sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on top of her head. She enjoyed every moment cuddled up to him, waiting for him to fall asleep.
“Part of the reason I took an oath of celibacy was to try to find my center,” he said suddenly.
She pushed up on her elbow so she could look down into his face. “Did it work?”
She slipped her hand around his, lacing her fingers with his. “Whenever you weren’t around,” he said. “I thought I was making progress, but I wasn’t.” As if he was shutting out a grim recollection, he closed his eyes, his grasp on her hand becoming almost painful. “I felt numb.”
“I know that feeling,” she said, her voice taut.
Heaving a heavy sigh, he looked up at her, a desolate look in his eyes. His voice was quiet, almost devoid of emotion when he started to speak. “Then I started to realize, I resented the Navy for what happened.” He exhaled sharply and began to absently caress the back of her hand with his thumb, his face looking more haggard with each passing moment.
“What did happen?”
He sighed again and continued. “I fucked up and one of my teammates paid for it. He was expelled from the SEALs, discharged from the Navy. We ran into him at Banja Luka. That’s where it all happened when we were trying to save 2-Stroke, Chry, and Alek.” He rubbed at his scar. “I got stabbed and almost died. Striker had a great plan that would save all our asses from the brass even knowing we disobeyed orders, but I screwed it up. Me and Ice slipped the noose and Striker took the fall.”
She smoothed her hand up his arm in a comforting caress, a quiet urgency in her voice. “It’s hard to find your balance in that kind of situation, especially when someone you care about is hurt by your actions.” She was aching for him, thoroughly wanting to soothe his pain, so frustrated that she had to do anything to disrupt what they had together. “Did you talk to him when you saw him recently?”
He stared at her rigidly for a moment then looked away, the muscles of his jaw tight. “Yes. He told me it wasn’t my fault, that shit happens outside the wire, and I should stop beating myself up.”
“He’s right,” she said softly.
“Part of me knows that, but he’s struggling, Luna.” His voice broke and he clenched his jaw and looked away, barely hanging onto his composure. “He’s drinking, living in a dump far from home. That hurts. It hurts badly. He was my leader, and he’s still my brother.”
