Текст книги "Hard Beat"

Автор книги: K. Bromberg

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

I crash over the edge, muscles tensing, dick pulsing, thoughts annihilated by the white-hot heat streaking through me and exploding in bursts of warmth. I can’t weather the pleasure with my mouth to hers, can’t handle the rush of fiery heat followed by drowsy bliss that courses on a pumped-up kick in my veins, so I rear up on my knees, eyes closed tight, and her name a broken cry in the air as I empty myself.

Our labored breathing is all I can hear when I look down at her, a half smirk on my lips at the satisfaction on her face – flushed cheeks, lips swollen from mine, eyes hazy – before pulling ever so slowly out of her, immediately wanting to do it all over again.

Well, after I recover some, because damn… all guys might need a recovery time but this, her, what just happened, have drained me in every sense of the word. And it’s a new feeling, to be drained emotionally, physically, sexually, and not want to lie back and close my eyes and succumb to the exhaustion like usual. I don’t want to at all. I want to lie down next to her, prop my head in my hand, and admire her, talk to her, and just breathe her in.

Shit. I think the paradox this time around is that, rather than my slipping down the slippery slope from lust to love, Beaux and I just experienced something unique to us. We bonded during the adrenaline-fueled action of the raid, the worrisome fear over each other’s safety, and then the agonizing wait to see each other face-to-face. Hell yeah, we bonded, so I’m allowed to be a little in awe of her right now.

Then again, I also try to justify that it’s just being with someone almost every waking hour that has me concerned with her safety, but I’m not real big on lying, so why lie to myself? That lightness in my head could be because of more than just great sex. It could be because Beaux’s starting to mean something to me despite the mere month or so we’ve known each other.

But the time isn’t right, so I push the thoughts away, shove the little pinpricks warning me to slow the fuck down away, and tell myself to enjoy the moment and the warm skin of the gorgeous woman in front of me. I settle down beside her, head propped on my hand, quiet my thoughts, and enjoy the moment.

Her hair is all over the place in stark contrast to the white sheets, but at the same time the fact that it’s falling out of her ponytail softens the sharp lines of her face. She meets my eyes, and I love that even though she’s so goddamn confident everywhere else in whatever this is between us, she appears shy right now. Her cheeks flush even more, and she averts her eyes before scooting into me so that the curves of our bodies fit perfectly into each other’s.

It’s a reflex that my arm wraps around her and pulls her tighter, our lips meeting in a soft sigh of a kiss that says the moment was so much more than solely physical, and yet neither of us wants to address it yet. Because physical attraction is acceptable, but feeling like this, the intensity with which I feel it, is extraordinary.

At least that’s what I hope she’s saying when her tongue meets mine in a soft dance of tenderness and acceptance. We cement our connection this way for a few moments, all hushed words and soft laughter. Hands smoothing over heated skin and heartbeats slowing down.

We settle into such a relaxed silence in the comfort of each other’s arms – so very different than what happened after the last time we had sex – that it kills me when I have to bring up the inevitable.

“We need to work,” I remind her softly, speaking of turning in the written reports that back up my live broadcast from earlier as well as the feeling I have that once I check my phone, there will be messages from Rafe about another live spot.

“I believe you just worked me perfectly fine.” Her laugh is muffled, and I can feel the heat of it from where her lips are pressed against my sternum. The sensation sends a pulse of desire straight to my lower belly.

“And I have no problem working you again.”

“Oh you better plan on it. Again and again,” she says, and the suggestiveness that laces her tone is such a damn turn-on because it gives me that little ego boost to know she enjoyed what just happened as much as I did.

“I do like the again part… but this squeaky bed poses a problem.”

“Squeaky wheel gets the oil.”

“Squeak all you want, because I have no problem oiling you up.” My mind goes in pure male fashion from oil to dipstick to lube jobs and the correlation to sex.

“Hmm,” she murmurs as she leans her head back to look into my eyes. “Maybe we need to change up the location. Does the bed in your room squeak?”

“I’m not sure. We can try it out… but uh, I don’t need a bed to have my way with you. There’s lots of viable real estate: shower, wall, dresser, stairwell, rooftop.” I love that damn hitch in her breath from the dark promise of my words. “I’m not picky so long as it’s with you.”

A part of me quickly realizes what I just said to her, the admission that I want there to be a with you when it comes to her, but I know she took it for what it’s worth in the moment when she says, “You know what they say… It’s all about location, location, location.”

“As long as the location is between your thighs, I’ll take it.”

Chapter 14

“Good night. This is Tanner Thomas, reporting live for Worldwide News.”

As I wait for the connection to break, my body still rides the high from the raid today and the incredible sex with Beaux. I’m antsy and invigorated for the first time in what feels like forever here, and I sigh out in relief when the feed goes black so I can close down the Skype window on my laptop. Immediately my eyes focus on the iPhoto window open to the most recent downloads page, and I’m once again transfixed by the images Beaux took today that I had asked her to download on my laptop too.

And yes she got the action shots – great panoramas of knock and talks happening at the same time on three different residences, soldiers’ backs with the muzzles of the M4 carbines visible over their shoulders – but she also got those kinds of pictures that make me stop and stare and read what’s beneath the surface. A platoon of soldiers looking weary, the lines on their faces and looks in their eyes depicting both the fear and monotony of their tasks. Villagers peeking out from windows, kids fascinated to see soldiers, and adults leery of their presence. Sergeant Jones giving instructions, the line of his posture and angle of the shot reflecting his authority without a single patch on his uniform in the image.

Then there’s me. The few shots she snuck when I wasn’t looking where the rush I feel from being part of the mission practically leaps off the page. She captured the perfect image of what that buzz Rafe and I talk about looks like, and it’s hard to look away.

Beaux’s muffled voice through the hotel room door pulls me from my fixation on the computer, and I shut it down, my thoughts now focused on her. The sex we had earlier was mind-blowing, but I’m nowhere near satisfied. When it comes to Beaux Croslyn, I have a feeling that no matter how many times she rocks my world, it’s not going to be enough.

So I close the laptop, scoot the chair back, and chuckle at my on-air attire of button-up dress shirt and the khaki shorts and bare feet that the computer camera couldn’t catch. One thing about fieldwork is I don’t have to abide by attire restrictions and wear stuffy suits like the desk anchors. Well that and I get unpredictability and sunshine on a daily basis. Can’t complain about that regardless of where that sunshine is located.

“How could this happen?” Her voice rises in a way that causes me to go and make sure she’s okay, because it doesn’t sound like she is.

The hotel room door is just barely ajar, and I can see her through the crack in the doorjamb. She paces back and forth as she listens to someone, hands gesturing, head shaking, and words being cut off every time she starts to speak by whoever is on the other end of the line. I’m intrigued and don’t mean to snoop, but the only other time I’ve seen her this agitated is with me, so I stand just inside the door and observe, curiosity getting the better of me.

“I told you… I can’t. This is… ugh… Just know I’ll take care of it somehow, okay… but please, no one else can find out…” Her voice drifts off as she turns her back from me, something else being mumbled into the phone that I can’t quite catch. Now I’m definitely all ears. “I know. I know. I call when I can – you can’t be mad at that. It’s not my fault and… Jesus!” She blows out a breath in frustration as she leans against the wall and puts her head back against it with her eyes closed. “He’s going to kick my ass.”

I can feel the tension radiating off her and am incredibly curious about what exactly is going on.

“We’ll deal with it if it becomes an issue. Regardless I’m the one who’s gonna get the blame. He’ll come after me… That’s what —” Her voice cuts off when she opens her eyes and sees me standing in the doorway, shoulder against the doorjamb and hands shoved in my pockets. “I’m sure we’ll get everything worked out,” she says, her demeanor changing, voice softening, and I’m not sure if it’s because she has an audience now or because she’s trying to soothe whoever is on the other end of the line. Regardless, something is going on – that much is evident when she hangs up the phone without breaking eye contact with me or without saying another word.

“Nice broadcast attire,” she says with a smile as she motions to my shorts and bare feet.

And I may be enthralled with the woman in so many ways I can’t enumerate them all, but I know a change of topic when I hear one. At first I thought she’d just gone into the hallway to give me privacy during my broadcast – but now I’m beginning to think there was more to it than that.

“Thanks.” I give her a nod of my head, trying to feel out where to go with this. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” she says as she brushes past me into the hotel room.

“Yep? Because it didn’t sound like it. What’s going on, Beaux?”

“Nothing.”

I snort, can’t help it because I wasn’t born yesterday. “Uh-huh. He’s gonna kick your ass over it? That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” I challenge her to answer the question and dare her to meet my eyes because I hate the feeling I have deep down that something is off when things between us have just started to feel so damn right on.

When she finally looks at me, I witness her green irises swimming with conflicted emotion and her lips opening and closing without saying a word. I decide to let her have the moment, allow her to keep whatever cards she’s playing close to her vest.

“Don’t ruin this, Tanner. Please don’t ruin this incredible night.” She takes a step toward me and stops. “Today, tonight, has meant more to me than any day in a long time, and I can’t argue with you over this right now. Please trust me when I tell you that things aren’t always what they seem. That conversation, please just forget about it. I’m fine. Nothing is wrong. Just shit at home…” Her voice fades off, and I eye her warily, not believing a word she says. “Please don’t make it something it’s not and tarnish what happened tonight.”

She steps into me as soon as she finishes speaking, both of us proceeding cautiously, as I start to process what she’s said and she waits to see if I’ll accept her request. Her eyes plead with me, reinforcing her words, and as much as I want to shake some answers out of her, I also want to fold her in my arms and erase the look in them.

The fact that I don’t like the words I overheard or the fear I somehow feel emanating off her means I clench my jaw to prevent any questions from tumbling out, keeping them churning just beneath the surface. I don’t deserve to know all of her deep dark secrets yet because we’re still getting to know each other and still I feel the inherent need to protect her from whatever is haunting her eyes.

She must feel my turmoil because she reaches up on her tiptoes to brush her lips to mine in an attempt to ease the sting of the secrets she’s keeping from me. And call me a sucker, but it does help a little bit. Well, until my phone rings – Rafe’s distinct ringtone interrupting us.

Duty calls. Too bad everything within me wants to be focused elsewhere at the moment.

Like on her.

I know I’m dreaming, know this can’t be real, but it feels so good to see Stella and the familiar smile on her face again, that I welcome the memory. I glance over at her and just shake my head. There’s nothing else I can really do because she’s just that damn funny.

“What? It’s true.” She shrugs, blond hair falling over her shoulders and a bottle of beer in her hand.

“It is not!” But I can’t keep from laughing because she knows me too well.

“That’s such crap. I’ve seen you do it. The minute a woman tells you she loves you, you get that knee-jerk reaction and say it right back.”

“I do not.” I feign ignorance when I know she’s one hundred percent spot-on.

“Dude, she’s right,” Pauly interjects with the tip of his bottle before meeting Stella’s hand in a high five. “You get pussywhipped and cave in to saying it back.”

“It just comes out. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Just ignore that the chick’s said it and hurt her feelings because I don’t respond?”

“Jesus,” both of them say in unison as Stella slumps back in her seat and slides me a sidelong glance. “It’s gonna hurt her feelings a helluva lot more when you say it and don’t mean it, Romeo.”

I blow out a long breath and swallow the smart-ass comment on my tongue with a sip of beer.

“You guys are too funny,” Pauly says as he rises. “’Nother round?”

We nod and watch him walk off, and now that he’s gone, I look over to Stella who’s eyeing me once again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Silence falls between us for a moment before she continues. “I think it’s cute, you know. Most guys are scared of saying those three words.”

“Well, according to you and Pauly, I say them too much.”

“I’m just giving you shit,” she muses, head on the back of the chair, eyes tilted up to the ceiling. “I like that it’s easy for you.”

“I guess the real question, though, is if I can say it so easily, how will I know when it’s really real?” It’s amazing the things you’ll think to talk about when you’re bored out of your mind.

“You’ll know it’s real when you hesitate.”

I angle my head and meet her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If the words are so easy for you to say when it’s in reflex, then the first time you ever hesitate, when you don’t say ‘I love you’ back immediately because you’ll be so overwhelmed that she said it to you … well, I guess then you’ll know it’s real.”

I stare at her, not sure if I believe her or not, but since I have nothing else to think about, the notion settles in as I lift the beer to my lips and rest my head on the back of the chair. “Food for thought,” I murmur.

A noise in the hallway pulls me from my dream and the moment I’d completely forgotten. My dreamlike state lasts momentarily, and I hold on to the recollection of Stella since the memories are coming less and less frequently now.

Rolling onto my side to avoid the bright light that floods the room, I’m struck by how perfectly it frames Beaux’s body in a halo as she sleeps. I visually trace the lines of her face and the sheet covering her body and take her all in. She’s so feisty when she’s awake that it’s interesting to have a moment to watch her in sleep. And it’s not like we haven’t woken up beside each other before, but this time just seems so very different.

Good different.

The first time you hesitate …

I push the train of thought aside – how both Stella’s wisdom and now Beaux lying beside me make me hesitate in so many ways – and try to redirect my mind to where I want my thoughts to wander: my family. I wonder how my sister, Rylee, is doing with her new husband and her band of motley boys that she loves more than life. I find myself guessing at how many times my mom has gone to pick up the phone to call me, only to hang it back up because she doesn’t want to annoy me even though I tell her to call anytime and that I’ll answer when I can. And then I get that little pang deep down as I wonder if my dad has found a new buddy to join him in sitting on the rocks of the jetty to fish since he’d gotten a little too used to my being home over the four months. We both found it therapeutic sitting there with fishing poles in our hands, him in having his only son home again for the longest bout in a decade and me in having his company. With my father, I didn’t have to say a word, and yet he knew exactly what to do to help me deal with Stella’s death.

Then Beaux makes this soft moan deep in her throat that tugs on every ounce of testosterone in my body. And it’s not like I’m not sitting here with morning wood; I’d be more than willing to relieve the pressure and feed the ache, but at the same time there is something so perfect about just being lazy with her. Like we’re lying together after an incredible first date instead of in the Middle East in some crappy hotel with squeaky bedsprings, waiting for the next story to hit.

Shit, even after leading into another morning broadcast in the States and not another mention of what happened in the hallway, we fell into bed exhausted but not too tired to go another round, a little slower, a little softer than the first time. And then complete and utter exhaustion took over, but damn, I’ll take exhaustion when it comes at the hands and thighs of a beautiful woman.

She shifts in bed, my eyes taking in the span of golden skin that calls for me to touch it, and when I look back up, I meet her sleepy eyes and shy smile. “Mmm, good morning,” she murmurs, shifting her pillow some so that she can lie on her side and look eye to eye with me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

She closes her eyes drowsily for a slow blink and yawns. I laugh at how tired she seems when I feel so invigorated after a killer story, great pickups by other networks, and, more important, the incredible night we spent together.

“Can we just stay here all day?”

“We could.” I shrug, shifting the pillow partially covering my cheek. “I’m sure I could find some ways to entertain us.”

“Ah yes. I forgot. Floors and doors and stand or sit —”

“You sound like a Dr. Seuss poem,” I tease as I reach out and lift a strand of hair off her cheek. And damn. I don’t know why I expected that zap of current I feel whenever I touch her to have dissipated since we’ve had sex, but actually it feels ten times stronger.

When she turns her cheek ever so slightly into the touch of my hand, the simple gesture speaks louder than the warning bells going off in my head telling me that slippery slope just became a full-on landslide.

“Nah, I’m just thinking of location, location, location,” she says, making us both laugh before we fall quiet.

“Speaking of location…” I hesitate, not wanting to kill the moment but at the same time needing to address something while her tough-girl facade is gone, shed on the floor with her clothes. Because I don’t have any doubts that the minute we leave this bed, her back will be up and she’ll close down to what I want to say. “Yesterday. On scene. Can we not do that again?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Sure. I’ll make a point to tell the terrorists to stop shooting. I’m sure they’ll listen to me. Not a problem.” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I can hear her irritation in her tone and know I need to smooth the feathers I’ve just ruffled.

“I meant, can we keep the picture taking of local interest things to a minimum, please? And at the least, can you warn me if you ask Sarge or Rosco for permission on an embed so that I can go with you?”

“Seriously? Now you’re going to tell me how to do my job?” She starts to sit up, but I reach out and put my arm on her biceps to prevent her from pulling away.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, nor do I think I’m being unreasonable… I just…” My voice trails off as I attempt to figure out how to say what I need to say without implying anything else. She’s a woman, and women infer things, and not always the right things, so I take a moment to choose my words correctly. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. If I can at least be with you when you wander, then I’ll feel better about it, I guess.” And it’s stupid really, like I’d be able to protect her from the shit that’s out there, but it’s a guy thing. Protect at all costs.

She just stares long and hard at me before finally speaking. “I’m not going to promise anything other than I’ll try to keep you informed.”

It’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for, but at least it’s better than her telling me to go to hell, which was what I expected. I nod in cautious acceptance because I don’t have a leg to stand on after witnessing how incredible the shots she got yesterday were. “What exactly is it that you’re looking for when you take the pictures? What is it that calls to you?” She leaves in the middle of the night to take photos, she braves a war zone to get shots, and I want to understand why so that maybe I’ll get to know her better.

“Life.” She answers in such a matter-of-fact way, but her eyes have a daydream quality to them that reminds me of when I first started this career and felt the same exact way. And I still love my job, still am consumed by it, but it’s that fresh-faced wonderment that I see in her eyes that makes me hold off on telling her it’s going to change. I should let her enjoy this period.

So long as it doesn’t get her killed.

“What about life in particular?”

“I enjoy watching people, documenting their lives, seeing the things that others don’t see in the looks in their eyes and lines of their faces.”

“And you’re good at it – your eye is exceptional, but let’s try to keep it to a minimum, please,” I tell her. “Life is harsh here and dangerous, and you never know who is or isn’t your friend, so I’d prefer —”

She stops my brotherly speech by pressing her lips to mine. I resist at first, try to talk through her sensory onslaught, but after she keeps at it, her lips vibrating against mine from her laughter, I allow myself to slip into the kiss. And it’s the farthest thing from a hardship, to let her pull me so handily from everything outside of these hotel walls with a single kiss. Damn does it feel good.

There were so many other things I wanted to say to her, so many questions I wanted answered about where she goes at night and how in the hell she plans on defending herself if she’s scared at the sight of a gun. So how does this singular woman make me lose my need-to-know attitude that I’ve built a career and a reputation on? It’s almost as if I’m blinded by her – and that’s never a comfortable place to be when you’ve lived your life trying to see for everyone else.

And yet, I’m completely content with it.

Our kiss softens to brushes of lips while her fingers weave into the hair on the nape of my neck where her fingernails scratch gently, and my body wants so much more than what she’s offering. I start to deepen the kiss, my hand finding her breast beneath the sheet so that my thumb rubs back and forth over the peak of her nipple.

She slides her hands down to my chest and hot damn, just when I think she’s gonna have her way with me, she pushes against me and tears her lips from mine.

“While we’re making requests…” She raises her eyebrows, and I love that her breathing is labored because it means she’s just as affected as I am.

“Mmm?”

“I’m really enjoying whatever this is between us… but in order to keep up my credibility, that I got this job on my own merit, can we please keep this on the down low?” She averts her eyes, cheeks flushing with embarrassment over a request that’s completely valid. And she’s so damn adorable, giving me a glimpse of vulnerability in her otherwise badass facade.

“Never mind.” She shakes her head, and I realize that I’m so mesmerized seeing her like this that I didn’t respond. “Forget that I —”

“No. I’m okay —”

“Just drop it —”

She’s so damn flustered that I can’t get a word in edgewise, so I do to her exactly what she did to me. I grab the back of her neck and bring her mouth to mine to shut her up. She resists at first, but I love how it’s only fleeting. And just when we fall so deep into the kiss that we’re almost to the point of no return, all greedy hands and needy sighs, I pull back from her and look her in the eye.

“I’m okay with down low,” I murmur, and brush a gentle kiss against her lips. A soft laugh turned moan falls from her mouth as my hands find the wetness between her thighs. The arch of her hips calls to me, and I’m more than willing to be pulled under her hold. “I especially like your down low.”