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“Do I?” she asked, figuring she could play at that dangerous game too. “This throne is so soft. I think I’d prefer something a little…harder.”
His voice was a sexy, teasing rumble, and he crooked a finger at her in a very tempting way. “Come over here, babe. I’ve got the exact throne you need.” His erection tented the towel he was wearing, and she smiled softly at him, enjoying the fact that she was turning him on, too.
She shook her head, seduction on her mind, with her ultimate goal to make Easy lose control. She lowered the blanket to the upper swells of her breasts and slipped one leg out, so she was bared to the curve of her hip. Lowering her lashes, she challenged with a sultry smile. “Make me,” she said. She looked at him and he was staring at her hard nipples.
Deciding to turn the heat up a notch, she rolled to her stomach and let the blanket slide down her back to the base of her spine, so that her butt was still covered, tantalizingly almost bared. Angling her knee so that her thighs were spread beneath the cover and using one arm to keep her upper body braced, she slid her flattened hand along her belly. She looked over her shoulder at Easy, wayward strands of hair in her face, and slowly glided her splayed palm downward until her fingers encountered the silky warmth of her arousal.
A low, breathy moan tumbled from her lips, and she tossed her head back, losing her focus as pleasure took over. Biting her lower lip, she stroked her aching, swollen flesh as an explosive orgasm threatened.
She heard a soft, explicit curse from somewhere behind her and gasped in startled surprise when the blanket was yanked away. Before she could react, Easy was covering her from behind, sans the towel, his skin searing hot, his body hard all over. Especially the erection nestling so insistently between her spread thighs.
“God, you smell so good,” he groaned and breathed in her scent. She attempted to pull her hand away so that he could take over, but he instead grasped her wrist and kept her fingers in place. “No, babe. That’s beautiful to watch,” he ordered gruffly in her ear. “Take me inside.”
She caressed the head of his shaft with her fingers, before positioning him at the core of her. His groan vibrated along her back as he slid in an excruciating inch. She arched her ass against his hips, seeking more, just as he surged forward and filled her.
His slow, gyrating thrusts gradually gave way to deeper, heavier lunges that possessed and claimed her in an inherently primitive way. Reaching up, he entwined their fingers of the hand she’d curled under her and slipped his other hand between her body and the lounge. He cupped her breast in his palm and squeezed and fondled her so exquisitely before skimming lower, along her belly and down to her aching sex. His fingers joined with hers, adding to the hot, wet sensation, causing her to moan and rock frantically against his thrusting hips.
“Come for me,” he rasped, and she felt his thighs tighten along the back of hers, felt his hot, damp, panting breaths rushing against the side of her neck, along with the arousing scrape of his unshaven jaw.
He growled and pushed both of their fingers against her, as deeply and rhythmically as his wild, untamed thrusts.
Her release crested right when he did, and they each rode out the exquisite pleasure of their bodies meshing, hips pushing and straining, inner muscles clenching, and an incendiary heat that consumed them both.
Moments after she caught her breath, she was unceremoniously picked up and pulled into his arms. He was holding on to her, his face buried in her hair, as if he wasn’t ready to let go, either. Tenderness filtered through her, lumping in her throat, and she pressed her lips against the damp, heated skin of his neck, the kiss so sweet and gentle. He kissed her hair, and she kissed him again, drawing her mouth closer to the hard edge of his jaw, before nuzzling his cheek, until he turned his face and met her lips with his own.
They kissed, softly, silently, reverently. Every moment of which quenched her thirst for him in a way that the fiercest, most intense orgasms could never hope to match. His expression when she met his eyes was as serious as could be, his gaze locked on hers so intently it was as physical a connection as the kisses they’d just shared. There was a stunned silence between them, the power and essence of which she saw reflected in his gaze as well.
She was struck with gratitude for how he was handling this. He didn’t ask her a million questions or push her. Perversely, it made her want to share everything with him all the more.
She rested against him, freaked out and so discombobulated, she didn’t know how to handle it. It was a relief, to know she wasn’t alone in reeling from the magnitude of what she’d felt had happened in the felon’s home, even if she didn’t want to define it right now. Something inside her felt new, forged from the ashes of her identity meltdown and his beautiful, sweet support. This man was invading her heart and breaking it at the same time.
* * *
Easy staredat Jeri’s body on the asphalt. The car had spun around on its roof, and she was sprawled not far from him. She was breathing hard, blood covering the side of her face. He crawled out of the vehicle, and stood, feeling a slight pain in his head, but that was it. His two friends in the back seat were still and everything was so silent except for the pop and pinging of engines. The truck that had hit them was on the torn-up lawn of the median, its front end smashed into a tree. He wasn’t even sure if they had even braked. He reached her and knelt, touching her face. Her eyes opened and she stared up at him.
“Matt,” she said, her breathing ragged. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t love you the way you needed me to love you. You are just too much. I was never the one for you.”
She was dying andthisis what she had to say to him. Her rejection burned inside him, right down to his bones, muscles, and sinew. He choked on his rage and impotent fear as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed until it stopped. Blinded by a pain so intense that it felt as if his chest was coming apart, he dropped his head.
He shifted in his sleep, as things changed from one dark night to another. Easy collapsed on the grinder at the BUD/S compound, his legs giving out from under him, the asphalt digging into his exhausted body. He lay there, still unable to believe Hell Week was over.
“Easy,” Hemingway’s voice floated to him through his fog. “Man, are you all right?” Easy couldn’t answer, and he heard Hemingway say, “I think he passed out.”
“I feel like I’m going to black out any moment.” That was Rock’s voice and shame filtered through Easy. Rock had it harder than any of them, and he would follow that man into another Hell Week in a heartbeat.
He tried to push up, but his arms were spent. “Hey, buddy,” Hemingway said. “It’s okay. We’ve got you.”
They helped him up and supported him, and he was so grateful for their strength, apologizing over and over again for being weak. Then, suddenly, his chest was jammed tight, feeling like he was coming apart seam by seam. It was as if his words, those words from his now brother, stabbed through him, releasing all the emotions damned up inside him, and everything came boiling out. Stumbling against their holds, he went down to his knees, covering his face with his hands. He shook with so many pent-up feelings that he couldn’t tell one from the other. To his utter humiliation, he broke like a damn and cried like a baby.
The scene changed into a deep blue as he floated in the dark and shadows. The beam of light from his camera bounced off the craggy rocks of Diepolder. He could barely catch his breath. It was so beautiful. The water temperature was perfect all year-round. Three hundred and sixty-five days holding between seventy-eight degrees and eighty-eight degrees. As he swam, he always kept track of where he was in the caves, as he’d dived it so many times, but suddenly it was like he was looking through static. He closed his eyes several times, and when he opened them, he saw his dad outside his facemask. He peered at Easy, then used his thumb in an upward motion, but Easy felt disoriented, grayness at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t breathe, and he started to thrash, fighting for air. Everything started going dark, and he panicked.
“Easy?” He jerked awake and stared up into Jack’s concerned eyes, trying to take a breath, but it was as if it was trapped in his lungs.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her hand soothing on his arm.
“Easy!” she said again, that concern growing to alarm. “Breathe.” She shook him.
For a few minutes he was back on board theSurvivor, drowning, everything flashing before his eyes.
