Текст книги "Hard Beat"

Автор книги: K. Bromberg

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 13

We’re jostled closer together as the windowless Stryker we can’t see out of bumps down the road. I watch Beaux as she takes in everything about the confined space: the soldiers’ faces, the gear they’re weighted down with, their fingers resting loosely on their weapons.

I try to put myself in her shoes, remember how I felt the first time I did this, and yet all I can think of is the look on her face and the hitch in her breath in the stairwell. Hell yes, I’m pumped to be on this mission, but I use the image of her to settle the antsy feeling causing my knee to jog up and down and fingers to fidget with my gear.

When I glance over at Beaux, I take in the way her hair is braided under the advanced combat helmet, and visually check to make sure her modular body armor vest is on properly – items required by Sarge, but I would have made her put them on if he hadn’t.

A harsh bump jostles us so that my elbow raps smartly off the metal behind me, and I know that if I’ve been thrown around, her small frame has to have experienced worse. Our eyes meet as the thought crosses through my mind, and although I see the grimace on her face, I also see the thrill in her eyes. And that thrill mixed with her flushed cheeks and devilish smirk tells me she gets this, gets me, in a way that so many others can’t.

She feels this same buzz in her body right now, that razor edge of not knowing what’s going to happen next, of the possible danger that lies just around the corner and rather than run from it, we’re heading straight into it. It heightens everything – your senses, your instinct, your emotions – to the point where you’re practically high on it like a narcotic. And hell no, we’re nowhere near as brave as the soldiers who surround us because they are the ones going face-to-face with this beast, whoever it may be, head-on, while we are on the sidelines reporting. But at the same time, this is as close as any civilians can get.

“You ready?” I mouth the words to her since my voice would be drowned out by the sounds of this mass of metal surrounding us moving at high speeds.

A slight smile – part nerves, part excitement – spreads over her lips and her hands grip tighter to her camera bag, and it’s a silly thought but I love that I get to share her first embed mission with her. I’m about to say something else to her when Sarge’s voice from the right of me, loud and booming above the other sounds, fills my ears.

“So we have five units moving in. Different approaches. We’re hitting a small town where we believe one of the couriers lives. He’s delivering messages between the top officials to the midlevel. We find him, we get one step closer to knowing when and where the big meet is going to happen,” he says, confirming my hunch as to why the mission is occurring.

“When we get there, you two will stay with Rosco over there,” he says, pointing to the guy next to Beaux. “He’ll be your babysitter.” He chuckles before carrying on about what is to be expected when we reach our destination.

“The military officials aren’t really saying, Bob. The only information we are allowed to report at this time is that the mission was considered successful. What exactly we’re looking at for measure of success is currently unknown, but they do believe the commanders have acquired the information they were looking for. Beyond that, details are slim,” I report to the lead anchor as I juggle my notes since we finished in perfect timing to hit the tail end of the evening news.

The rush from being part of the military raid only intensifies since I know that my report is not only live on Worldwide News right now but since I’m the only journalist here, it’s probably going to be picked up by other stations. Take that, I say silently to Rafe and the higher-ups questioning whether I could still do my job properly.

“Tanner, do we know if there were any casualties on the ground? Were any soldiers hurt?”

My eyes flicker ever so briefly over the top of my laptop screen from my Skype feed to where Beaux stands beside Sarge. They’re both watching me, and it’s ironic that millions of people could possibly be tuning in to my live feed and yet her eyes on me cause my stomach to somersault.

Rein it in, Thomas. Start showing that shit and the brass will definitely know your head’s messed up.

The funny thing is, it would be over someone completely different than they think.

“Not that we’ve learned at this time, but as I said in my initial report, there appear to be a lot of moving parts to this mission, so that’s not to say there aren’t any injured at another location.”

“Thank you. Tanner Thomas reporting live tonight. We’ll have more on this exclusive story plus pictures on the late-night broadcast…,” the news anchor drones on, segueing into the next story before the Skype connection cuts off. My posture relaxes immediately as I disconnect my Globalstar satellite wireless Internet feed from my laptop and begin to pack it all up, making mental notes as I go about what I need to include in my written story that I’ll turn in when we get back to the hotel.

“Great report.” Beaux stands before me, camera held close to her face as she scans through the images on her Canon’s LCD monitor. “I got some good shots to go with your filed report.”

“Can’t wait to see them,” I say as I glance up toward her. All I can see is my own reflection in her aviator sunglasses, but the way her body is moving tells me she has as much nervous energy as I do right now after being bystander to that action-packed raid. It was most definitely the most intense embed mission I’d been on, but everything was so scheduled out, a testament to the military’s skill level, that at no point did I have that uneasy feeling. I found myself more in awe of the sheer bravery of the soldiers kicking down doors and clearing houses in rapid speed, having to make judgment calls on the fly, so that adrenaline was my ruling emotion. “For your first embed, that was a pretty incredible one to be a part of.”

“You’re telling me. I’m still shaking from the rush,” she says, holding her hands out so that I can see them.

While we talk, I watch a few soldiers speaking to a local across the street from us before I turn my attention back to her. “I call it the buzz. That rush is what keeps us coming back time and again.” She snaps a quick picture of me before I can turn away. I give her a look behind my shades that I know she can’t see but can feel.

“BJ?” Rosco interrupts. “I might be able to sneak you over to get the pictures you asked for. The area appears secure, but let’s get in and get out.”

At hearing his words, I’m feeling the same shock that flickers over Beaux’s features, but she hikes her camera bag over her shoulder. “You’re on!”

“Beaux.” Her name comes out in a warning tone so that she has to know I’m not thrilled with the idea, especially considering our discussion on the way to the base when I informed her I didn’t want her out of my sight once we were beyond the city’s limits. That rule fell right after the one telling her she must remain in arm’s reach by my side.

“C’mon, Pulitzer. Share the glory with someone else, will ya?”

I know she’s joking, but I also think a little part of her means it. All I know is that I want to tell her to wait up, to not go without me.

“If we’re going to do it, it’s got to be now before we move out,” Rosco reiterates over her shoulder.

She flashes me a huge grin, excitement lighting up her face before she shrugs in my direction in an insincere apology and hustles after him while I’m left to finish packing up my equipment.

Sarge never willingly offers a chance to get pictures of a scene, so I know his bosses want this successful mission documented for propaganda. And shit, whatever the purpose, Worldwide News is the only news outlet here, so that’s a huge positive.

It still doesn’t mean I like having her out of my sight.

A few minutes pass as I finish packing my stuff up before a flurry of gunfire rings out through the silence of the village. Shots volley back from our position as soldiers scramble for cover.

For a split second I freeze. Memories collide with the present, and I swear to God I’m taken back to the frenzy of trying to find Stella. Sounds and smells and sights that don’t exist fill my head, fuck me up, until another spurt of gunfire followed by men shouting breaks through the hold the memories have over me.

Instinct takes over immediately. The need to survive, overcome, and live fuels my movements. I duck down and run for cover on the other side of the Stryker parked behind me, while thoughts of Beaux commingled with frantic panic fill my head.

The need to find her consumes me. An eerie silence falls over the village, dust particles dancing in the air, and my ears ring. My heart pounds in my ears and my blood feels like it’s mixed with jet fuel as it races through my body, causing my hands to shake, muscles to vibrate with fear-laced adrenaline.

Beaux.

I need to get to her.

She’s my only thought, my only motivation. It feels like minutes, but it’s probably only a few seconds of silence before I start to leave the cover of the vehicle to go and find her. As I step around the rear of the personnel carrier, I’m yanked backward by my vest and pushed through the open back doors of the Stryker at the same time the air around us erupts with more gunfire.

I scramble to get up and scurry back off, but Sarge is in my face, guys piling in around us. “Rosco’s got her,” he shouts, pushing me farther into the transport to make room.

And yeah, I believe him, but at the same time it’s pure chaos out there. How do I know that Rosco really has her? How do I know she’s not hurt and injured? My mind screams at me to shove the soldiers out of the way, get to her somehow, whatever it takes to make sure that she’s okay. Before the doors are even shut, though, the Stryker is on the move, and my chance is gone.

I strain to hear Sarge on the radio. The words unstable, insurgents, too open, are being shouted, and with each bump over the rough terrain, the doubt lodges further into my psyche about whether Beaux is really okay. But I’ve got no way to interrupt him, to ask him to call Rosco and make sure he has her. Sarge is in charge of getting his unit of men to safety, and right now he’s got no spare attention to pay to a reporter who signed on for the risk.

Each jar, each bump, and each mile stretches into what feels like an eternity as my mind races and my cell phone shows no signal, its eerie silence making me want to stomp it beneath my boots in frustration. My watch is not my friend either because each minute that ticks past, each mile that we put between us and the village, is more time and space from wherever the fuck Beaux is with her curiosity to take more damn pictures.

When my phone alerts a text, all of my panic and worry reach a boiling point as I glance down to see who’s sent it. I sag against the side of the carrier in momentary relief before all of the tumultuous emotions inside me morph into anger.

Are you okay? I’m worried. I’m with Rosco. We were under heavy fire.

Yes. I’m okay.

I hit Send on my reply, but my signal fails again and I have no way of knowing whether it was delivered.

“She good?” Sarge shouts in my ear when he sees me looking at my phone. I nod, before resting my head back in exhaustion, the adrenaline still coursing through me, but at least I know she’s safe.

For now.

I swear I’m going to wear a hole in the goddamn floor as I pace back and forth waiting for Beaux to get back. Not only were we separated during the flare up at the village, but then the convoy she was riding in had some mechanical issues. So now we’re going on over an hour that I’ve been back safe and sound while she’s out there. Alone. Without me being able to protect her.

And I’m not stupid enough to think that I could save her from all of the shit that can happen out there, but at the same time, the not knowing is killing me.

Pauly watches me from afar. Poor bastard was the first to greet me and congratulate me for the exclusive on the big mission. It also meant he was the first in line for me to rip into since I had no one else to take out my worry and frustration on. And thank fuck we’ve been friends so long he knows something’s wrong, can assume what’s bothering me given my history and that I came back without Beaux, and won’t hold it against me. Shit. I know I’ll feel bad later and I’ll buy him a few rounds to apologize, but right now it’s the farthest thing from my mind. Beaux is front and center.

Every time the doors to the lobby open, I look up, then curse when it’s not her. I’ve been running the gamut of emotions, hating this feeling of unease that riots within me, knowing I won’t settle down internally until I set eyes on her.

And then there’s the anger I hold out like a shield around me. Of course she doesn’t deserve it; deep down I know that, but I can’t bring myself to care because if she hadn’t asked to take more pictures, she would have been with me when shit went south, and she’d be beside me right now.

“Tanner.”

I whip around at the sound of Beaux’s voice saying my name. And of course she’s standing there in the lobby, looking no worse for wear, with her camera bag strap slung from one shoulder to opposite hip with her hair disheveled. In fact her cheeks are flushed with color and her eyes alive from the adrenaline rush. Even I can see it across the distance of fake marble floors between us.

Still, my feet are rooted in place as relief floods me, and the proverbial breath I never realized I was holding whooshes out. Neither one of us moves; our eyes lock and say so many things and nothing all at the same time. We’re both guarded because there’s no denying that what just happened made whatever that fucking stirring is deep down I have for her ten times stronger. And I think she feels it too.

“Knee-deep in chaos!” Pauly says, his enthusiastic voice booming through the room so that all of the other journalists take notice of Beaux standing there looking exhilarated and beguiling all at once. “Are you hooked now, BJ?” he asks as he approaches her and pats her on the back in welcome. “A goddamn rush, isn’t it?”

Beaux smiles warmly, but all the while her eyes keep flickering to mine, and yet all I can see is Pauly touching her when I want it to be me. I let her have her few moments of rookie glory: being in the thick of an engagement, learning firsthand the rush that some of these journalists can only dream of experiencing. And I’m happy for her, but I experience the next moments as if I were an alcoholic in a liquor store; the craving to take what I can’t have so bad it rules your every thought, your every breath, your everything.

I want to be the good guy, to let her taste the glory of being admired, but at some point soon, I want to be the one who has her attention. And enough’s enough. I close the distance between us, working my way through the crowd.

“C’mon, guys, she needs to get upstairs and file her pictures along with my report ASAP. Worldwide is asking and wants it while the story’s hot.”

The group groans but backs off because they know I’m right. Within seconds, Beaux is following me across the lobby without a single word exchanged between us besides my name. The elevator opens as we near it, and although I usually prefer the stairs, I walk into the empty car, knowing that my body is so pent-up with need right now that I won’t be able to make it more than a few flights up without giving in to the pull of desire on me.

“Whose room?” It’s the only thing I say, my voice strained, my body vibrating from her proximity.

“Mine,” she says cautiously. “All of my equipment is there so I can upload and —”

“Fine.” I push the button just as the doors to the car shut, and I brace my hands on the wall in front of me, eyes closed as I concentrate on controlling everything that I can because I know the minute I have her alone, that restraint will snap.

The tension in the car between us thickens. The current of desire is so palpable, I feel like it kick-starts my heart every other beat. I blow out a breath as the elevator ascends, Beaux shifting her feet beside me.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I snort. Fuck yes. But where do I even begin to explain? You made me want you? You made me worry when I told myself I wasn’t going to put myself in that situation ever again? You fucking don’t ever listen about not going off on your own? I want you so goddamn bad right now that the desire is so sharp, it’s painful.

The elevator dings, and I stride off the car to her door without looking back to see if she’s following. My body just knows she is.

It takes her a moment to fumble with her bag, get her room key out, and open her door, all the while casting curious glances my way.

“Put the camera down,” I order the minute we’re inside the door and it’s shut.

“What is your problem —?” she asks, but the question is cut off the second the camera strap leaves her hand, my body crashing into hers and pushing her up against the wall behind her. My lips find hers instantly.

It takes her a millisecond for the shock to fade and for her to respond, but once she does, we meet in a savage union of frenzied hands gripping, mouths taking, bodies begging to join in every way possible.

Beaux weaves her fingers in my hair and holds tight as she tears her mouth momentarily from mine. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

I kiss her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and possession, before I respond. “I’m furious. But I want you more.” It’s as true a statement as I’ve ever given, the moment stripping away any superfluous words. “You came back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” she says, her voice breathless but resolute. And a part of me feels a tiny iota of relief from her words before my senses are shaken and upended when a moan falls from her mouth as my hand finds its way down her pants and I use my one foot to knock her legs wider so that I can have better access. I may be completely consumed with her kiss and taken with the possession of her touch, but there is no mistaking her desire as my fingers run over the tight strip of curls. Her gasp fills the space between us as I part her cleft to find her heated and wet for me.

Jesus Christ. If I didn’t want her enough already, feeling her push her hips into my hands makes that want turn into a need that somehow I feared wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon. We’ve built up to this moment for so long that I know as hard as I try to hold on to control, as much as I try to slow down, every nerve in my body is at such a riotous fever pitch that it’s going to be impossible not to succumb to the urgency.

Then Beaux shocks me back to reality by saying, “I need you in me right now.”

And that’s what I want more than anything, to be buried in her. Yes, my hand is already between the lips of her pussy, but I need more of her, want all of her, naked and accessible.

“Tanner.” My name leaves her lips as a plea, a moan, and everything in between when she releases her hold on me and moves to help tug her shorts down. But just her shorts aren’t enough. I want all of her clothes off. She must feel the same way because, without a word, we begin an awkward dance toward the bed, an unspoken race to see which of us can get undressed quicker as we cover the few feet of distance. And just as she has her bra off so that we are both completely naked, I grab her from behind and pull her back against my chest.

As desperate as I am to bury myself in her, I also need to slow this down just a bit. Last time she came hard and quick, and as desperate as I am to do the same, I know that this will be our first second time that now holds meaning, and so I don’t want to make it any less than it could be by making it quick. Our labored breathing fills the air as my hands cup her breasts and I scrape the stubble on my chin across the curve of her shoulder and up to her ear. The sound of her sighing out my name is so fucking hot, it’s an aphrodisiac all in itself.

“Beaux.” Her name is all I say before I lace openmouthed kisses down the line of her neck, tasting salt on my tongue, while her perfume and the smell of her arousal assault my senses in an oddly arousing combination as I work my way to the other side of her neck. “I’ve had so many thoughts about what I was going to do with you once we had sex again. How I was going to slide between your thighs, tease you with my tongue until you were breathless and spent. Make you beg for more… but that game’s on me, isn’t it? Because right now I’m so goddamn primed, I’d beg, borrow, and steal to take you, and I think that’s just what you want. For me to take without asking, because that’s what you’re used to. Well, think again…,” I murmur in her ear, and leave the last word hanging as my hands slide down her abdomen once again to the pleasure between her thighs.

The hitch in her breath and the voluntary lift of one foot onto the bed so that I have better access tell me she feels this too, wants this too. “How do you like it, Beaux? Do you like when I slide my fingers right here, rub a little harder… faster… or do you like when I bury my fingers in your pussy and stroke right here?”

And I do just that, dip my two fingers inside her so that she tightens around me at the same time as her hands dig into my forearms when the sensations swamp her.

And I love feeling the intense reaction, take pride in knowing I can make her stop everything, and break her concentration with just my touch. Then I curl my fingers and rake them over the interior patch of nerves again as my other hand slides around her waist just in time for her knees to weaken. There is something so intimate about the moment, so real, that it throws me momentarily and causes her to lean back so that my cheek rests against hers.

“More,” she moans, and I begin to manipulate her sex again, fingers on the inside, thumb on her clit. Her head lolls back on my shoulder and her hips jut forward, a physical command telling me to give her more. I work my fingers in and out of her, desire growing, my thumb adding friction on her clit, her own writhing motion showing me just how she wants me to bring her to the cusp. With each thrust of her pelvis, she’s rubbing her ass against my rock-hard dick in the ultimate temptation I’m sure as hell going to take advantage of.

Her fingernails dig deeper into my skin, an indication that she’s almost there, so I keep manipulating her sex. “Argh. God,” she cries, hips bucking against my hand, hands trying to push and pull my forearms all at the same time as the pleasurable pain overwhelms her body and annihilates her senses. The sound of her coming undone is enough to make every part of me ache like a man on fire walking knowingly into the flames.

And I was so wrong, it’s comical. I thought I could take this slow, calm this ravenous hunger inside me, but the minute she comes, hips writhing, lips calling my name like a plea and a curse all at the same time, I lose it. Fuck slowing down. We can do slow all damn day later… but right now? Right now I’m a man desperate and ready to give in to the desire owning his every nerve.

She rides out her orgasm with my teeth nipping her shoulder and hands holding her hips tight so that she’s forced to feel everything pulsing through her. But the minute I feel her body sag, muscles start to relax, I spin Beaux around in my arms and push her down onto the bed. She scoots back up the mattress, eyes wild with desire under heavy lust-laden lids that call to me, tempt me, dare me to come and take what she’s offering. And there’s no question, I’m definitely ready to take.

Lust and greed hit me in a potent combination as I stand at the foot of the bed and take her in. As much as I could stand here all day long and drink in the lines of her body, the dark pink of her nipples against her bronze skin, I’ll savor it later. Much later. I’m already way past the point of no return.

So I kneel on the bed, which causes the mattress springs to squeak beneath my weight, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip in anticipation. As I crawl between her parted thighs, the urge to slide my tongue along her sex and taste her is so all-consuming, but at the same time, all I can think about is what she’s going to feel like wrapped around me.

But what man can resist a pussy when it’s framed by legs like hers?

On my hands and knees I give in to what I want and dip my head down so that my tongue slides just along the seam of her lips. There is nothing that turns me on more than the scent and taste of a woman aroused, and Beaux is… holy shit between her taste on my tongue and her moan filling my ears, I can’t hold back anymore.

I lick my way up and down one more time with my hands holding her inner thighs apart as she squirms at the sensation of me dipping my tongue into her. And I’d stay here all night if I could, but as my rock-hard cock rubs against the mattress beneath me, my body reminds me how much it’s being neglected in the moment. Giving in to my own needs, I rise up on my knees with my hands still on her thighs and meet her eyes.

And I know we’ve had sex before, but there is something that feels very different this time around. There is no alcohol, no ignorance over who the other is, no feigning that this is a one-night stand I will never see again. No. This time as I press her thighs forward so I can slide painstakingly slowly into her, I don’t notice her lips part or her chest hitch from her slow breaths. Instead, I watch the pleasure wash over her as her eyes roll partially back in rapture before returning to mine with emotions swimming in them I’m not sure I want to process.

So I don’t.

Instead, I bury myself all the way to the hilt, all trains of thought overwhelmed by the physical sensations, and all sense of self lost because there is no me and no her; no, there’s just us. A feral groan fills the room; even though it’s my voice, I don’t even realize I’ve emitted it when I start that slow, slick slide out so that just the tip of my dick is allowed the pleasure of her. Talk about torturing myself, but the little sound she makes begging for me not to stop is worth it. So I give her what she wants. I use my hand to hold my dick still, rub the ridge of my crest up with an added pressure over that sweet spot I can feel just inside her. I tease and taunt her like she’s been doing to me since we started this way back on night one, but this… This is just so much more.

Once she starts lifting her hips and squeezing tightly around me, I have to hope my willpower will hold long enough so that I can give her what she needs. Because I know once I bury myself in her, I won’t be able to stop the freight train of desire bearing down on me.

When I look into her eyes again, there is no mistaking it as she nears her orgasm. I watch her come undone – bit by bit, moan after moan, muscle by muscle. And I know she hasn’t finished coming yet, but fucking hell, I feel like a vise is wrapped around my balls, that deep, sweet ache so damn intense, my fingers begin to dig into the toned flesh of her thighs to try and ward off the carnal need to plunder.

But it’s futile.

Because the first time I look down and watch her pussy lips stretch around the thickness of my shaft as I slide out, the most delicate of flesh bringing me the most intense of pleasure, my control snaps. I press harder on her thighs to give me an unhindered view and the access to take as I please as I rear back and thrust into her until I bottom out. Then I groan out in ecstasy, balls buried so damn deep that I can feel her warm wetness coating me and turning me on something fierce. I grind against her, my dick as deep as it can possibly be, and it feels so good, I let my head loll back as I begin to really move.

The room fills with the sound of sex and pleasure, pleas and moans, passion unleashed and needs unfurled. And my God… talk about drugging a man into a coma. Everything about her forces me to concentrate so fucking hard on the moment that I’m losing so much more than a physical release to her.

Her muscles begin to pulse around me as the sounds of skin against skin heightens everything about the moment. I’m fixated on getting us both there, hips thrusting, fingers gripping her, and neck taut with my impending release.

And then the bed frame starts squeaking with each and every drive in to the point that even though I’m so pent up, so addled with need for release, it’s so damn loud that when I look down and meet Beaux’s eyes, I can see her laughing.

“We’re breaking the bed,” she pants out with a soft laugh that ends on a sharp mewl as I grind my hips into her again, sparks gathering at the base of my spine and readying for the onslaught of sensation just beyond the horizon.

But the bed’s not the only thing that seems to be breaking; I think a tiny little piece of my heart just did too. There’s no way in hell I’m telling her that, though. I hide behind the thought by flashing a devil-may-care smirk that lasts long enough to catch her eyes lighting up before I return to concentrating on getting us back in the moment, squeaky spring and all.

It doesn’t take long to propel us onto that edge where lust and desire reign, want and need merge as one. With our bodies still connected in the most primal of ways, I lean down and slant my mouth over hers, the action driving me farther into her addictive pussy when I thought I couldn’t go any deeper. And with my mouth on hers, her every breath mingling with my own exhalations, both my tongue and cock savoring and demanding all at the same time, I coax her over the precipice, swallow her moans as she falls, and enjoy the rhythm of her muscles as she contracts around me.

And then she does this little thing, this lift of her hips in a motion chock-full of greed that tells me she wants more to prolong her release as long as she can, and the action, the motion, of her gripping me in intervals pulls me into the vortex of ecstasy.