She closed her eyes, feeling the fabric warm around her.
As her muscles relaxed, she realized she wasn’t aching with unfulfilled arousal. Because she hadn’t wanted sex for her own pleasure, but because she felt as if she needed to thank him.
Old patterns of behavior could sneak right up on a girl, couldn’t they? She let out a sigh. “You’re right. Thank you, Hawk.”
“Never thought I’d be up for sainthood.” He huffed a laugh.
The man had no idea. Because he really was a saint.
And, huh, wasn’t it funny that now…now, she wanted him. That laugh, his scent, the way he’d tucked her in, his powerful hands so very gentle. Arousal simmered low in her belly.
No sex right now, but oh, she might see what happened when the moon rose.
A faint sound woke Hawk. Kit was sliding out of her sleeping bag. A latrine run, maybe? He waited, unmoving, eyes closed. Rather than unzipping the tent, she moved closer.
Her lips brushed his cheek. Tiny kisses covered his cheek, his jaw, then his mouth. Nibbles on his lips. A kiss—a serious fucking kiss that demanded participation—had his dick springing from a semi-chubby to a cat-couldn’t-scratch-it erection.
The light from the full moon lit the tent with a soft glow. Out of her sleeping bag, Kit knelt beside him with her hands on his shoulders.
Threading his fingers into her hair, he kept her still long enough to thoroughly plunder her mouth and—
What the fuck was he thinking? This was Kit.
He released her immediately.
She gave a husky laugh. “It’s okay. I thought you might react that way.” She kissed him again.
Mmm, he could do this all fucking night.
Although, yeah, one hand had already slid under her oversized T-shirt bunched up around her waist. Her skin was so damned smooth. Her breast fit in his hand just right—high and soft. The velvety nipple jutted into a hard peak under his fingers.
He’d learned how she liked to be touched. She wasn’t into pain, but firmness—definitely. When he found the right notes in the song of sex, he’d feel the tiny wiggle of her hips, hear how her breathing would pause.
She didn’t want to lead in bed, but she’d panic if he took over completely. That was fine. They’d find a good harmony.
He kissed and teased, feeding the flames, and grinned when she unzipped his sleeping bag, then pulled his shirt up and over his head.
Sliding a hand downward, he discovered her sweatpants were gone. He stroked over the warm curve of her hip. “Jesus, I like your ass.”
She gave a huff of a laugh and nipped his earlobe before removing her t-shirt. Her next kiss had the interesting side effect of rubbing her breasts over his chest and putting her ass up in the air.
Massaging one sweet butt cheek with his right hand, he ran his left down her belly to between her legs.
Very nicely wet. His cock gave an interested jerk.
He slid a slickened finger up and over her clit, very lightly, like the first soft notes of a song. Getting the audience’s attention, giving them a hint of what was to come.
She was in charge of the kissing part—and he cooperated fully, even as he slowly woke her down below. No hurry. Good music took time to build.
With every sense, he absorbed the clues she sent. The way her breathing stuttered as he stroked the perfect spot at the edge of the hood and clit. How her kisses grew deeper, hotter, and her fingers clenched his shoulders.
He squeezed the soft roundness of her ass, enjoyed the rub of her breasts over his chest.
There was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
He was driving her mad. She didn’t want to come, not without him inside her, but when she tried to move away, his hand held her bottom in place…and his finger never stopped rubbing her clit.
Low in her pelvis, she felt the pressure building with every slow stroke of his finger.
His right hand massaged her ass, even as his left hand moved to slide a finger inside her.
She moaned and shivered at the penetration. Then froze as memories of other hands slid into her head.
“Kit, look at me.” The rumbled low command was in the voice that surrounded her in safety.
Her panic receded, and she pushed up far enough to look down at him.
In the moonlit tent, his gaze met hers. Held hers, even as his finger stroked in and out, so very slowly, rousing every nerve down there to a searing need.
Feeling his hand on her ass, holding her, she felt the slice of panic again, and he stilled. Waited. His gaze never wavered, because he’d pause if she was scared. He had before, each and every time she’d grown afraid—and then would re-start everything.
She didn’t want to pause again. Heat vied with fear—and heat won out.
The sunlines beside his eyes crinkled. Ever so gently, his right hand caressed her bottom, moved down to tease the crease between the cheek and the back of her thigh. With his left hand, he slowly drew a finger over her clit, making it throb and burn, before thrusting inside her again, stronger this time. He set up a pattern, first rubbing her clit, then sliding inside. In and out, over and over, as everything inside her tightened, tightened…
His finger on her clit swept over, paused, and wiggled there, right on top, just enough to—
“Oh God!” Pleasure exploded through her in vast sweeps of sensation, roaring through her veins until she surely must glow brighter than the moon.
A minute…or many…later, she realized she was draped over him like a blanket. His right hand was still on her bottom, the left stroked slowly up and down her back.
“You’re mean.” She pouted. “I wanted to come with you inside me.”
“Then get off again.” His laugh was a raspy growl, so very sexy. “It’s a female perk.”
Oh. She’d managed two orgasms in the past. Before Obadiah. Rarely, but hmm. Anyway, even if she didn’t come again, she wanted him to get off.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he made a noise. “We go on only if you’re into it. If not, I won’t break.”
The man didn’t expect enough out of life. Not for sex, not for himself.
As tenderness washed over her, she kissed him, tracing the scar on his upper lip with her tongue.
When she lifted her head, his expression was unreadable. Like he’d pulled a plastic mask over his face.
“Hawk, what?”
“You don’t seem the type to hanker after a scarred-up merc. A sneering one.”
“I don’t think about you being a mercenary. Not when we’re like this.” She ran her hands over his chest and could feel the scars there too. Dear heavens, what he must have lived through.
But he’d lived.
However, the scars were not only on his skin, but in his soul as well. So she used the same words she might have for Aric. “It makes my heart sad to know you’ve been hurt.”
Shock filled his eyes.
She touched the scar at the corner of his mouth. “Just so you know, this only makes you look like you’re sneering when you’re not smiling. With even a tiny smile, it disappears.”
He stared at her as if he didn’t know what to say.
That made two of them.
Her lips curved. “I guess I’ll just have to get you smiling more, hmm?” To get a good start on that, she dragged his sweatpants down his ridged belly and off completely.