Tipping her head back, Chry clutched his shoulders, her heart jumping when he dragged his hot, wet mouth across her belly. Then he was at the aching core of her.
She moaned as he licked her with a searing stroke for several moments, the sensation tightening her with spiraling pleasure. Seemingly ruthless in his quest to make her come, he closed his mouth over her and plunged his tongue deep. The pleasure was sharp and riveting and stole her breath. A low throbbing began in her belly, then spiraled down to her sex, and she grabbed handfuls of his hair wanting more, needing more…
The sleek, gliding pressure of his thumbs caressing her soft lips and stroking her rhythmically, combined with his wicked tongue working its own seductive magic, was the most erotic sensation she’d ever experienced. The man knew what he was doing. Unable to hold back, she let out a cry and arched sinuously against his mouth as she came in a burning wave that shook her entire body.
Feeling as if she was drowning in the thick, pulsating sensations, Chry shivered as he worked his way back up to her neck, his touch turning her boneless.
He took his time, savoring her neck, the hollow behind her ear, the sensitive part under her jaw. Then he returned to her mouth, kissing her with a thoroughness that went on and on and on. He shuddered and turned his head against hers, finally breaking the kiss, the muscles in his back bunching as he flexed his hips against her.
It was too much. Chry cried out his name and arched against him, her body tightening, tightening as she clutched at his back and lifted her hips. 2-Stroke snaked his arm under her hips and shifted, and then, with an agonized groan, he buried himself in her swollen, wet heat. His whole body went rigid, and he roughly adjusted his hold. Gathering his strength, he thrust into her again and again. Then his thumb was on her aching center, gliding over her with agonizing pleasure. She came apart in his arms, the tightness converging into one throbbing center. With one deep, urgent thrust and the perfect pressure against her center, her core exploded, and convulsions ripped through her again, making her arch and cry out. Clutching her head against him, 2-Stroke locked his arm around her hips once more, thrusting again and again. He made a ragged sound and shook violently in her arms, his release as powerful as hers.
Chry hung on to him and turned her face against his neck, crying—she felt raw and in a million pieces. 2-Stroke shifted gently, holding her with such tenderness that it made her throat close up all over again. He could turn her inside out, and God, how she loved him.
He held her for a long, long time, until his breathing leveled out and she stopped shaking, until the aftermath softened into something less intense.
He dragged his arms out from under her and braced his weight on his forearms. Cupping her face, he wiped away the traces of tears with his thumbs. Then, with a heavy sigh, he lowered his head and gave her the sweetest, softest kiss. Releasing another sigh, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, a glint of intimate amusement lighting his eyes. “Fuck me, flower girl, you are freaking awesome.”
Swallowing against the clog of emotion, she tried to blink away the tears and smoothed her hand up his long, muscled back. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you call me that nickname again.”
He smiled, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “Old habits do die hard it seems.” He was silent for a moment. “What were you rolling around in that sweet brain this morning?”
She gently caressed his mouth with her fingertips, her voice even more husky than his. “I was thinking how very much I love you, Neo.” He tensed and his expression went guarded as a muscle twitched in his jaw.
She pressed her fingers against his mouth before he had a chance to speak. “I know you didn’t want to hear that,” she whispered, “but I had to say it, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t change how I feel.”
He stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes and thrust his hand deep into her tousled hair. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but there’s so much crap going on and there’s so much we need to talk about.”
In spite of his words, his hold on her remained fierce and unrelenting, just like he was. Chry closed her eyes, trying not to give way to the suffocating tightness of suppressed tears. Long moments passed before 2-Stroke smoothed his hand across her hips, then whispered unsteadily into her hair, “It’s like ten years ago, how I feel about you.”
That brought a spark of humor to her, and she looked at him, her laugh husky. “Great. Ten years ago you were fourteen with a lot of raging hormones and a huge chip on your shoulder.”
Some of the seriousness left his face, and he gave her such a wry, boyish grin. “Nothing’s changed.”
She shifted position, setting her hand against the sleek muscles of his chest, and he turned to his side. “I knew exactly what you had in mind, Neo,” she said as she slanted an amused look down at him.
“Your granny would have cut off my balls, Chry.”
Laughing softly, she looped her arms around his neck. “I inherited her indomitable spirit.”
He winced. “That doesn’t scare me,” he said.
Her teasing tone turned wistful as she slowly stroked his bottom lip. “Sure. You got some land in Florida you want to sell me?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “No, just a bridge in Brooklyn.”
He reached up and brushed back her tousled hair, his touch light and lingering. There was something in his eyes that was open but uneasy, poignant.
With immeasurable gentleness, she caressed his taut face, trying to smooth away the worry. “I don’t expect anything you can’t give,” she whispered. “But I do love you, Neo, and nothing will change that.”
He finally met her gaze, his own contemplative. “There’s more to us than friendship, more than partners…more…” he whispered. “But we need to get out of all of this before we can talk about anything that includes the future.”
His gaze was unwavering, and her voice was steady as she answered softly, “That’s fair. I guess we better get going.”
He nodded. They dressed hurriedly and in silence, eating the last two sandwiches, washing them down with a cup of hot tea. Bless Alek with his little heart of gold. She gathered up their stuff as he left to tend to the horses.
He paused at the mouth of the cave on his way out, his tousled chestnut hair on fire, his dark stubble shadowing his strong jaw. His heavy-lidded eyes gave him a dark and dangerous look.
Then they were prepared to go, the overcast, drizzling day ugly. But they had no choice. They were halfway to their goal.
“You ready?” He pulled her close and held her for a moment.
She nodded and they separated, the cold wet of the day pressing in on them. He mounted as she struggled with a thickness in her chest, an overwhelming protectiveness rising up in her.
“Where to?” he asked.
“There are CIA stashes all over this area.” She grinned at him.
He laughed and it wasn’t a question. “You know where they are.”
“I do. I did my homework. But keep in mind that Zasha was once CIA. She might have checked. I doubt it, but we can’t know. It could be not as secure as we hope. But I think we have to take the risk. Once we get to Banja Luka, we’ll need a safe house.”
“Clever girl.” He reached out and tugged on her hair.