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“Is that so?” She turned and his hands fell away. His hair was damp, and he had on nothing but a towel. It was a good look on him. When she saw his bruised and cut face, she cupped his jaw. “You ran in there without even a thought. You saved them, Dean. I was so scared but so proud.”
His shoulders moved uneasily, and Ophelia understood that he wasn’t comfortable with his own valor. “I’d rather talk about how good you smell and look.”
“This takes work,” she said, making a sweeping motion down her body.
“I’m eternally grateful for that hard work.” He lowered his gaze to her cleavage.
She tucked her finger under his chin and lifted his eyes back to her. “I think you might have lost your focus there for a moment.”
“I adore you, babe.”
“For what?”
“How you can shift gears and be at the top of your game.”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not. We’re not. Benny is dead. Logan’s home was destroyed, and he almost lost the rest of his family. We all almost died. We need to outsmart them because they’re sure doing it to us.” Her words snapped and Dean smoothed his hands over her arms. “The undercover idea is a good one.”
Ophelia felt the energy and anger simmering through him. “We’ll get to that, later…tomorrow.”
She floated her hands up his arms, clasped them behind his neck. He’d entered her life years ago and then disappeared, but at this moment, she felt as if they’d never parted. It had nothing to do with the lives they’d led between then and now, but somewhere else, in a place only her heart seemed to recognize. She could feel it quicken, skipping faster as he lowered his head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.
“Damn right,” she said, pulling him down to her. She kissed him, a mold of lips and tongue that sent desire pulling through her. It made her eager to be naked, and when his big hands swept her body in a wild ride, she wanted more, and nothing between them. She slid her hand between the terry and his hot skin and yanked. The towel dropped away from his thick erection. She loved the way his muscles contracted when she touched him.
She urged him back through the balcony door and into the light. Her eyes widened at the scars on his body. She’d felt them but hadn’t seen them in the light. “Dean, damn.” The recent wounds were red and raw, but the scar that ran down his side, from under his arm to almost his hip hurt her the worst. She ran her hand over it.
“The price of war, babe.”
Her heart broke and melted, fused with him. “Let’s stop talking,” she whispered.
“Sounds good to me.” He stripped her down to her skin, his hand smoothing over the bruise, cupping her breast.
“Actions speak louder than words,” she murmured. His tongue slid over the bruise from her shoulder to her nipple. She gasped and arched back as his warm mouth melted her even more. Pulling him nearer, she glided her hands over his muscled contours. God love the Navy.
“I’m very action-oriented. Some even call me an operator,” he growled, and she inhaled, trapped by his gorgeous eyes. Damn, she simultaneously wanted to turn and run away and run to him. He’d slipped under her skin, made her see life differently. Made her want the vibrancy, the joy. She’d been lost to her own self-isolation. Until she’d been shot. Until now. Until she understood and experienced the real thing, leaving her hungering for it.
Now her thinking had changed and would continue to change. Dean was hard to resist, especially when they meshed so well. Like now, his hand palming her rear end, and doing the slow upward glide that sent shivers of pleasure over her spine. She wiggled deeper into his arms as his mouth plied over her throat, her jaw, then her mouth. Oh man, she liked that best. Then changed her mind when he lifted her, pulling her legs around his hips, then walked to the bed and tumbled her onto the cool sheets. He was a wall of hard muscle looming over her, his chest wide, shoulders broad, the feel and movement of a man lost in passion.
“I think you operated like this before,” she whispered as his lips skated over her breast, warm tongue snaking around her nipple. His lips tugged, and heat spiraled under her skin. He was a charmer, and she experienced the reality of it in his expert touch. She was just damn glad it was all over her and gasped hard when he slid lower and nudged her thighs apart. His mouth found her center.
She let out a soft moan. His only answer was to do incredible, delicious things with his lips and tongue until she felt the burn of pleasure all the way up to her hair. He pushed her thigh over his shoulder and devoured her, sending her falling off the edge of the world. His two fingers sliding inside her made her bow off the bed with a guttural moan.
He rose up, smiling, and joined his body with hers, seating himself inside her with a hard, slow thrust. She gasped and arched, her body liquid beneath him. She pushed against him, drawing from him that harsh primal groan every woman wanted to hear. He was as helpless as she was, his trembling striking her almost like a blow. She’d never done that to a man and felt herself melting inside when he leaned down slowly, bracing himself. His gaze locked with hers and he tucked his hand under her hips, bringing her to him. His eyes bore into her as though he needed to see her reaction with each withdrawal and plunge. He toyed and stroked until she was hurting for air, and yet she reveled in the freedom she felt in his arms.
“I adore you,” he said, then kissed her, soothing away the ache rising in her.
She smiled against his lips and then shifted her weight, rolling him to his back with her astride, riding each wave of pleasure. He pushed deeper and she held his gaze, her hips undulating and taking him with her.
Ophelia had never seen a man more beautiful, so gorgeous and muscled, his hair mussed and tangled on his forehead. He sat up, pulling her closer.
She laughed. “You’re doing a good job of rocking my world.”
“It’s mutual,” he whispered and bucked, grinning when she matched his effort. His muscles were hard and firm beneath her hands as she rubbed them over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach, to where they were joined. The pulse burst through her, and he pushed her on her back, held her as the sensual eruption clawed through her. He pumped harder, a hand on the footboard, the other sliding beneath her hips again and pulling her up to greet him.
Pleasure and possession shone in his eyes as he thrust into her. She wanted, needed to be possessed by him, to be his, belong to him. She wanted him to claim her. She wanted him to be hers just as fully as what she saw in his eyes. Emotions rose with their desire, and she gave him everything she had, her heart and soul, her complete surrender. His possessiveness was the same as hers, knowing he was all about loving, cherishing her, keeping her safe intertwined with their shared need for each other. Each time he withdrew fully, the ache threatened to consume her, but then his guttural groans galvanized her as he plunged in again and again.
She met his thrusts, digging her fingers into his shoulders and back, using the pleasure to urge him to transcend the physical and meet her heart with his own. The fire of her need ignited his, a silent understanding as she returned his fierce gaze while they moved together, her heart bursting with the mutual surrender in his eyes.
