Skin Deep (3 page)

Hotch moaned softly. His hands cupped her ass and he tucked her hips into his groin. She gasped at the intimacy of his rigid cock lining her pussy. Already her body quickened. She hadn’t seen him in eighteen months, hadn’t been with anyone since him at the funeral, and still her body remembered him intimately.

“Hotch,” she murmured against his lips. She pulled back, trying to clear her mind and say what needed saying.

“Erin.” He grinned, mimicking her. His smile faded. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. How’d you find me?”

For a moment, she was confused, then she remembered that Troy hadn’t told anyone about her. Not even his best friend, Hotch. But that wasn’t information she wanted to lead with.

“You were stationed here with Troy.”

“Yeah, but we just got back from our deployment. How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I asked,” she stated simply. “That’s not important.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, walking her backward until she hit the wall of the bar. “This is. I missed you, and I probably shouldn’t admit that considering how we know each other in the first place. That’s why I wanted to talk at the memorial.”

His pressed soft kisses to her lips, jaw and neck.

“Then I’d be reminded of all the reasons I’m supposed to keep my hands off you,” he whispered.

Her insides melted at his husky confession. Now that she was pinned to the wall by his hips, he had free use of his hands and they cupped her breasts through the thin white Tee she wore. Her breath caught as every nerve in her body insisted she pay attention to what he was doing and shut up.

“You have no idea how badly I want to get you naked,” he said. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He stepped back. She instantly felt cold, bereft. They were both breathing heavily. Hotch dropped his hands on his hips. Erin folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall for support.

“So what’d you want to talk about?” he asked. “You
did
want to talk, right? That wasn’t girl-code for let’s go somewhere to fuck like bunnies, was it?”

“Rough, but charming.” She laughed.

“Charming’s good,” he said, taking a step toward her again.

Erin licked her lips and tasted traces of whiskey. She didn’t like the stuff, but she might amend that determination if it tasted like him. The truth was, she had half-hoped to lose herself in Hotch again. Although considering how well that went last time, maybe that wasn’t her wisest choice.

“There must be something really wrong with me,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“My buddy’s funeral the first time, and next to a mariner’s memorial the second time. I have to be the most disrespectful shit in the Navy, to make two attempts to seduce Nebraska’s girl.”

“Considering the circumstances, I don’t think he’d mind,” she offered.

Hotch took another step toward her. She could circle her arms around him again if she wanted to.

“I know he wouldn’t. He was that kind of guy. I can hear him in my head laughing and saying that if he can’t have you, one of us should.”

His brow pulled together, and she wished there was enough light to really see his eyes. But there wasn’t, so she went with body language. He radiated guilt.

“I feel like shit for even thinking about you like that,” he added.

So did she. She also felt pretty shitty for not blurting out the reason for finding him. She should put an end to it and start talking. It was sure to kill any romantic inclinations lingering in the air. On the other hand, talking would kill any romantic inclinations lingering in the air. She smirked at herself. God, she was weak.

“Yeah, me too.”

Dating a Navy man, any military man for that matter, wasn’t the plan. They went off to war, and saw things in black and white. They were rigid, and it showed in their divorce rates. She knew firsthand the kind of pressure it put on a marriage. She saw her parents split up and had no interest in repeating their mistakes, despite the fact that the uniform drew her.

Hotch lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His finger grazed her cheek as it came back down again.

Hotch crowded her space, dominant and unafraid to admit he wanted her. He approached obstacles head on, just like Troy had said he did. That’s why she trusted she could come to Hotch with her current dilemma. It was just sticky, that’s all.

“Hotch, I—”

“Are you sticking around?” he asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It depends.”

He moved half a step closer until their bodies touched. She unfolded her arms and hooked her fingers in his belt loops.

“Can I convince you to stay?”

Her head dropped back. Was a man supposed to have this much power over her? “Probably,” she admitted.

He laughed. “Good. I’ll take that as a personal challenge.”

“Of course you will.”

He bent to kiss her neck. She made an embarrassingly needy sound she hoped he hadn’t heard. If his rumbling chuckle meant anything, he had.

Hotch’s hand swept beneath her shirt to cup her breast again. She really liked it when he did that. Maybe she could enjoy this for a few minutes, and then they’d talk. Without all the sexual tension, she’d be able to talk to him without wanting all hands on her deck.

They’d barely touched at the funeral. They hadn’t undressed and there’d been no foreplay, just grief sex. It was a breed of its own and nothing like what he was doing to her now.

His thumb rubbed her nipple through her bra, the nail scraping deliciously until she couldn’t stand not having his hands on her skin. She knew it was a bad idea, but right then, she didn’t care. She knew Hotch better than any other man, and she knew, from Troy, that he wouldn’t treat her like crap.

Erin let go of his belt loops to pull her Tee over her head. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her bra and let it drop. Hotch immediately covered her breasts with his large warm hands.

“One day I want there to be enough light to see these,” he murmured huskily.

“It’s a progression, Hotch. Fully clothed sex, to dark outdoor sex, to whatever comes next.”

“To lights on and no stitch of clothing sex,” he finished firmly.

She laughed breathlessly. “We’ll see.”

Hotch got on his knees, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. She hadn’t expected it and gasped as raw sensation and salt air bathed her naked breasts. Hotch unbelted her jeans and pushed them down her legs, helping her slip off her sandals and step out of them.

Completely naked, she felt powerful, sexy, shameless as his hands explored every inch of her body and his mouth alternated between her nipples with equal torment. He eased his hand between her thighs and lightly scraped his nails back and forth on her pussy lips. Shivers tore through her ruthlessly, and she opened her stance to give him better access.

He took advantage. His fingers traced her folds as though he tried to memorize her feel. He moaned when he dipped a finger inside her. She felt every callused inch and squeezed around it. She was so wet for him he couldn’t miss her body’s reaction.

He popped off her nipple. “Damn, that’s fast.”

Her cheeks heated, and she bit her bottom lip, until suddenly his mouth was on her. His tongue lapped at her pussy while his fingers plunged inside, curling inward. Her hips jerked when those fingers found her g-spot.

Erin lost her mind. Vaguely she became aware that she was sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed the internal bundle of nerves and sucked her clit. The hard edge of his teeth on the sensitive nub drove her wild with need.

She buried her hands in his hair and lifted her hips to him as wood scraped her shoulder blades. Bliss chased her down and rushed through her veins as orgasm took her over the edge, screaming his name.

Hotch stood and pulled the recently airborne condom package from his pocket. She took it from him as he undid his pants and yanked off his shirt. They came together in a mad rush of straining bodies. Erin hiked her leg over his hips. He lifted her easily, helping her as she settled on his shaft.

“I forgot how good you feel,” she rasped.

“I didn’t forget a second of how you feel. Fuck, I missed this.”

Erin locked her ankles around him, using her thighs to hold her body weight up and then lower onto his cock again. His hands on her ass and hips made it a joint effort. She arched her back, finding her rhythm. Hotch grunted, turning her so that her back bumped the ice maker instead of bar wall.

He ground into her, pounding her cunt. Heat prickled her nerve endings all the way to the top of her head as the sound of his body working inside of hers married with the crashing waves of the nearby ocean.

This was what sex was supposed to be. Mindless fucking, body tightening, the flicker of something deeply personal on the horizon as an out of reach possibility. God, she lived for that promise even though she never pursued the possibility of a relationship beyond what their bodies delivered.

His thrusts came harder. Her body stretched over each shivering friction-filled inch. He shifted again, and unhooked her legs forcing one to drop as he held the other in place, stabilizing them and narrowing her channel. Then his reached between them, trapping her clit under his thumb.

Her world exploded as she came a second time. Erin held on, digging her nails into his shoulders. Another shout joined hers as Hotch rocked hard and held. Three smaller grinds followed as she finally came back to herself.

Gasping for breath, she dropped her forehead on his shoulder. “Yeah, there could maybe be a next time,” she said.

Hotch laughed, his body shaking against hers. She stood and awkwardly pulled on her pants and shoes. He handed her the bra and she noticed that he’d tucked himself away. They smiled at each other.

“So you had something you wanted to talk about?” he reminded.

He still held his shirt in his hand. Moonlight glinted mutely off his sculpted upper body and she wondered what she looked like to him. Erin retrieved her shirt from on top of the icemaker.

“Erin,” a dark, angry voice snapped her name.

She jerked her head around in alarm as her dad stormed toward them.

“Commander Hawking?” Hotch asked.

“Dad, wait,” Erin rushed to stop him before he spoke.

“Dad?” Hotch growled, facing her again. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. “Dad, I’m handling this.”

“Again, Erin? Fucking my men when you were barely out of high school was something I thought you’d grown out of. Put your clothes back on, immediately,” her dad barked at her.

Erin held her ground. “You walked in on
me
. If seeing me in my bra is an issue, then turn around.”

He faced Hotch. “You’ll be in my office at oh-six-hundred, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No! Not, yes sir. Dad, I’m having a private discussion. You can go all SEAL commanding officer on him tomorrow. Right now, this is my time,” she argued.

“SEAL, when is a CO not a CO?” her father demanded.

“Never, Commander Hawking, sir!”

“Really? You’re going to pull rank on me, Dad?” This night was going to hell faster than her usual interactions with her dad. She pulled her shirt on.

The full force of Commander Hawking’s glare turned on her. Even though it was too dark to see the glint in his eyes, she knew it was there, and that was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“Young lady. You play loose with my men. You are insubordinate, and you are a fool. I blame your mother. But there is one thing you shouldn’t mess with, and that’s the fatherless baby boy you have waiting for you at home, while you’re at Hell’s Dune whoring around.”

“
Dad
!” The verbal slap nearly knocked the starch from her knees. Goddamn him! Just when she thought he couldn’t hurt her any more, he found a way.

Commander Hawking pivoted on his heel and walked away. “Lieutenant! You have two minutes to tie up your conversation and hit the rack, then stay away from my daughter.”

“Yes, sir, Commander Hawking, sir.” Hotch wheeled on her. “How many?” he barked.

“What?” Her mind still reeled from her father’s attack.

“How many men, under your dad’s command, have you slept with?” His angry tone wrapped around them like a menacing fist.

“That’s out of context.”

“How many, Erin?”

“Two. A long time ago.”

“What about Nebraska?” he pressed.

“That’s different.”

“So, three then. I must be lucky number four.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is the kid Nebraska’s?”

This wasn’t how she’d wanted to tell him. She shook her head.

“Some other lucky sonofabitch? Jesus, Erin, how many guys have you slept with since he died?”

“Just one,” she choked. “Stupidly, I just did it again.”

The information must have sunken in. His hand dropped leadenly. “He’s mine?”

“He’s yours. That night in the car with you, neither one of us used protection. By the time I found out and decided to tell you, you’d been deployed. That’s why I’m here—what I wanted to talk to you about.”