Karen Foley - Coming Up for Air

Jenna really had gone too long without sex. What other reason could there be for the way her blood hummed through her veins, or the way his touch did crazy things to her already heightened senses? She was acutely conscious of how warm and solid he felt against her body. He tasted faintly of wine, and she breathed in the intoxicating blend of his aftershave, the warm, fusty odor of the woolen blanket and the crisp scent of the crushed grass beneath them. She wanted to devour him, but he kept his kisses frustratingly sweet, teasing her, but not giving her what she craved.

“Open your mouth,” she breathed against his lips, desperate to taste him.

He made a noise, something between a groan and sigh, and then his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers and ratcheting up her need. The hot, moist kiss triggered an answering rush of dampness between her thighs. She wanted to throw a leg across his hips and press herself against him. Instead, she squeezed her knees together and told herself to slow down. But when he deepened the kiss, Jenna couldn’t prevent sliding her arms around his broad shoulders and arching against him, telling him without words that she wanted more.

He grunted softly in approval, and before she knew what he intended, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she lay sprawled across his chest, her legs tangled with his. Gasping, she eased away enough to look down into his face. In the indistinct light, his eyes seemed to glow in his tanned face, and his breathing came in hard pants.

“I’m too heavy for you,” Jenna protested. But when she would have pushed away, he restrained her.

“Are you kidding?” He sounded astonished. “You feel great.”

As if to emphasize his words, he thrust his fingers into her hair where it hung loose around her face and drew her back down, covering her mouth with his own. Jenna resisted for about a fraction of a second before the heat of his kiss caused her to melt against him. When he wedged a hard thigh between her legs, she instinctively rode it, savoring the friction against her center, where she pulsed hotly. He speared her tongue with his, in concert with the rocking of her hips against his leg. The sensation was amazing, but she wanted more.

Pulling back, Jenna straddled him. He shifted beneath her, until she was pressed fully against the hard ridge of his arousal.

“Oh, man, you feel good,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and moving reflexively back and forth. The intimate contact created a fresh flood of moisture to saturate her panties, and her nipples felt tight and achy.

As if he knew what she needed, he reached up and covered her breasts with his hands. All the air escaped from her lungs in a soft rush of pleasure. Her back arched as his thumbs stroked across the distended nipples.

She was glad now that while he’d been in the store buying the wine, she’d slipped her dog tags off and pushed them into the pocket of her jeans. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to get very intimate, very quickly. She could almost guess how he might respond if he saw the telltale evidence of her military service, and she didn’t need to have him ruin the moment by asking questions. She’d learned from experience that most men found her job as threatening as her height, so she avoided talking about it whenever possible.

Only her father seemed less than impressed with her chosen career. Part of the reason she’d opted to become an army helicopter pilot was to make him proud, although she’d never admit to him how much his opinion mattered, or how everything she did and even how she felt about other pilots could be traced right back to him. She could barely admit it to herself. She was a more than competent pilot, she knew that, yet she couldn’t seem to shake the sense that, no matter how good she was, she’d never be quite good enough. She’d worked twice as hard as any of the guys in her unit, and had achieved just as much, so why did she feel as if she was a disappointment to her father? And why did it matter so much? Aside from teaching her how to fly helicopters, he’d hardly taken any notice of her. She didn’t owe him anything.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped. His face was taut as he watched her. “What you like.”

The small part of Jenna’s brain that still functioned knew she should stop, but the sensations coursing through her body were too intense. She needed more of the delicious contact. Covering his hands with her own, she encouraged his caresses even as she angled her hips for optimum friction.

“I like this,” she assured him. Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar, even to herself. “But I want more.”

When her hands moved to the buckle of his belt, he made a sound like a helpless groan and caught her wrists.

“Wait.”

Jenna’s hands stilled. His features were all hard angles in the dim light and she silently berated herself for having moved too fast. When would she learn that not all men appreciated women who took the initiative? “What is it?”

“I want you to know that I didn’t bring you out here for this. I mean, I’d hoped, of course—” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But it wasn’t something I’d planned on. I just wanted you to know.”

Jenna felt a smile tug at her mouth. She hadn’t expected him to be so considerate, although she should have guessed. After all, she’d seen him dance. “Okay … so does this mean you want me to stop?”

“Hell, no!” He released her wrists. “But it’s only fair I tell you that we might not see each other again after tonight. So if that bothers you …”

“It doesn’t,” she assured him. “Like I said before, I’m only here for a few days, and then I’ll be gone.” She paused meaningfully. “So, unless you’re married or something …”

He laughed softly and raised his ringless hands for her inspection. “No wife. No fiancée. No girlfriend.”

“Then no worries, because I’m not looking for any promises. Your job is dangerous, and you can never be sure where you’re going to be from one day to the next. Trust me, I get it. Not exactly conducive to a relationship, right?”

“Right …”

She heard the cautious agreement in his voice, and wondered if she’d made another faux pas. Maybe he didn’t want her to know that he was with special ops. Some of those guys were funny about revealing their connection to the black world of covert operations. But she really did get it, because her own career made it difficult for her to establish any romantic ties.

“All I’m trying to say is that I’m okay with keeping this casual,” she clarified. “No strings. No commitments.

“ Leaning down, she put her mouth next to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “No problem.”

CHANCE COULDN’T THINK of one damn reason to argue with her, not when her heat scorched him through his jeans and her hands were at his belt, finishing the task he’d interrupted just moments earlier. He’d been honest with her. He’d told her that whatever they shared wouldn’t extend beyond tonight, and she’d been okay with it. More than okay, really. He should feel a little insulted that she was so okay with not seeing him again, but suddenly he couldn’t think about much beyond the feel of her fingers unzipping his jeans and tentatively stroking him beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“You’re so hard,” she breathed.

Oh, yeah.

“You’re sure—”

“Shh.” She lay her fingers over his mouth. “You talk too much.”

As if to emphasize her point, she leaned down and covered his lips with her own, sliding her tongue against his. Chance wanted to groan with pleasure. He buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face for better access, luxuriating in the damp silk of her mouth. She made a small noise in her throat and shifted so that she could reach between their bodies and cover his straining erection with her hand. The heat of her palm through the thin cotton had him pushing upward, instinctively seeking more of the erotic contact.