[When SEALs Come Home 04] - Heated (15 page)

Eventually, she stopped worrying and started enjoying herself. And freezing. The mountain air was more than just biting in February. Joey’s jacket wasn’t enough to cut the chill, not with her bare legs hanging out and the wind whipping past her. Riding was crazy. Pointless. And yet it was strangely exhilarating. Joey turned his head, checking on her periodically, but he didn’t slow down. Instead, he pushed the bikes more, pushed forward like the faster the better. She almost understood what he saw in his crazy-ass rides.

The motor whined, pulling hard as they turned and headed up the mountain. She figured he’d eventually turn around and head back to Strong because at some point they’d run out of gas. They couldn’t ride forever. A pullout emerged in front of them out of the growing twilight. The spot was one of a dozen scenic outlooks and, apparently, Joey’s destination for the evening. He signaled and pulled off. Night was coming fast now, the air turning gray and fuzzy around the edges as the sun sank lower. Stopping was prudent. She didn’t have too much experience on a bike at night.

Killing the motor, she coasted in behind him. He watched her, arms folded over his chest, legs braced on either side of his bike.

She kicked the bike’s stand down and swung off. “I’ve got a Robert Frost poem for you.”

He nodded, like he’d driven all the way up here for her poetry recital. That was one of the things she loved about him. He listened. Always, every time, he listened.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” she said, resting her palm against the front of his T-shirt where she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her skin. Through it. “And sorry I could not travel both, And be one traveler, long I stood 

And looked down one as far as I could, To where it bent in the undergrowth.”

“Is that what we are? Two roads diverging?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. We should be. I meant for us to be.”

He nodded. “We’re on the same road right now, if you’re enjoying the metaphor.”

“What are we doing out here?” She hoped he knew, because she didn’t have a clue.

His hands covered hers. “Enjoying each other.”

But for how long? Slipping her hands free, she wandered over to the stone wall that separated the scenic lookout from a painfully steep and wooded slope. The other side of the wall was pure danger, although from the parking lot she faced out onto a panoramic view of the mountains. The forest dropped away steeply beneath them. The tail end of the sunset streaked pink and red over the sky. It was gorgeous, although not as gorgeous as the man coming up behind her.

She looked around at him. “Are we friends now?”

In answer, his booted foot widened her stance.
Oh. My.

***

M
ercy’s eyes got real big as he turned and pinned her against the wall. Christ. Underneath the bossy, bold exterior she was sweet. Joey loved that about her, loved seeing the vulnerability and curiosity she hid from the rest of the world.

“We’re definitely friends.” He pressed his thigh between hers. “But we’re also something more.”

“We’re also outside.” She dug her fingers into the stone, anchoring herself.

Uh-huh. And from the pretty pink flush on her face, she didn’t mind so much. Sweet feminine heat met his thigh, so his day was turning out pretty good after all. She’d let him take her for a ride, which was the cherry on his sundae. He didn’t want to make assumptions though. This was too important to fuck up.

He cupped the side of her neck with his hand. “Why’d you come riding with me? Really?”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” she pointed out. She sounded like she knew precisely how bullshit her answer was though, and he’d bet she had an itemized list of her reasons for coming—and another list with her reasons for staying away.

“I wanted to ride with you. Last night wasn’t enough. I was thinking in terms of
start
and it turns out you were thinking in terms of
end
.” He pressed his thigh forward, her skirt fluttering on either side of the denim like a white flag of surrender. Or, more likely, a pirate flag, if he was getting all metaphorical.

“Oh.” She gave a greedy whimper, rocking on his thigh, and that one word sure didn’t sound like an objection to him.

Safety outside the bedroom—and sexy dangerous times inside the bedroom. His plan was simple. And Mercy... she was curious. She was a woman in charge of her life, her career, her body. He aimed to change that last bit, to feed her curiosity about the way he could make her feel if she handed over control to him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being the good girl, the law-abiding one? You don’t want to break the rules just once and see what it feels like?”

“That would be a career liability, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes slowly focused on a point somewhere over his shoulder, like she was considering his suggestion. While she thought, she ran a hand up his neck. He probably wasn’t supposed to get so horny from the simple touch—hell, he didn’t even know if she was really aware of how she was trailing her fingertips over the sensitive skin at the back of his neck—but he knew one thing for certain. He wanted all of her attention focused on him.

So he leaned in and kissed her. Wasting this opportunity would be stupid. He had her alone, her body pinned between his and the wall. And she felt soft and sweet, which drove him crazy. He moved his lips over hers, swallowing her small exclamation of pleasure. Needing to feel more of her, he cupped her face in his hands, angling her mouth so he could deepen their kiss. Hungrily, he threaded his fingers gently through her hair, tugging at the ponytail’s tight confines. She felt so warm, so goddamn perfect in his arms that he wanted to eat her right up. Kiss her mouth, her pretty breasts, and keep right on going lower. The way she tasted drove him crazy, and getting more of her was mission critical.

She moaned, the husky sound setting him on fire. Yeah. He had so many plans for her. He leaned in closer, her breasts a sweet cushion against him. They had too many clothes on. His T-shirt. Her shirt. And God... was she even wearing a bra? Her nipples were tight, hard nubs pressed against his chest. Finding out would be his pleasure.

He reached down and fisted the hem of her skirt. The floaty stuff obediently drew upward.

She stiffened, like kissing at the lookout was one thing, but naked was a whole world of off-limits.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He grinned at her. Shit. She made him happy. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. She was cute when she was flustered. She also had beautiful legs, the tops of her thighs soft and curvy in a way that just begged him to wrap his hands around the delicate skin and hold on. She squeaked when he trailed his fingers over her knee, tugging her skirt higher. She was ticklish.

“Hold your skirt up for me and I’ll show you.”

***

“W
hy?” She needed to stop talking. Joey had short-circuited her brain. That was the problem. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be asking stupid questions or letting him undress her outside where anyone could see them.

He didn’t stop his slow, inexorable, upward tug of her hemline. Cool air hit her thighs and then higher as her skirt brushed her panties. “I definitely like your dress.”

Oh. God. The slow smile was back on his face. That smile made her want to nod dumb agreement and give him whatever he wanted.

“You going to do what I ask you to do?”

Or
not
give him whatever he wanted.
She jerked back, head bumping against the wall as her eyes met his. God. He had gorgeous eyes. She liked the naughty gleam—okay, it made her wetter than she cared to admit—but was he truly going to insist on her obeying him? Because that would happen when hell froze over.

Joey didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he lifted her skirt higher, the fabric brushing teasingly against her skin. She looked up, and the first evening stars winked back at her. Okay. She wasn’t ready for Joey’s kinky repertoire.

“We’re outside.”
Hello, Captain Obvious
. She tugged her skirt back down.

Or tried to because, darn it, Joey wasn’t budging. He just threaded his fingers through hers and kept right on lifting. Worse, now he was
looking
at her and her bare thighs. At least she’d shaved, she reminded herself. And worn her favorite panties, although that wouldn’t hide the ten pounds she’d been meaning to lose.

“Uh-huh. I don’t hear you saying
no
, and you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“You work with smoke jumpers,” she protested.

“Look at yourself,” he said gently. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

She looked down, following his gaze. He had his fingers tangled with hers in the bunched-up skirt. Anticipation built in her. He was going to touch her now. They both knew she wasn’t going to say
no
. Her pink panties with the white polka dots and teeny-tiny bows on the side were the white flag of surrender. Or an opening shot over the bow because she definitely liked the way her skin gleamed through the lacy panels on the side, and his hoarse groan said he did too.

She squirmed. God. They were outside. In addition to wildlife and plants, there was no roof. Or walls. Or a
door
. A passing motorist could discover them. And then she’d really end up as a punch line on YouTube.

“Really? Right here?” Maybe that would hurry him up. Surely no one would drive by for at least another five minutes. She could do this.

“You need to stop worrying.” He brushed his mouth over her forehead.  Protesting the order-Mercedes-around part of the agenda seemed prudent but, for all of her protestations that she didn’t do orders, part of her apparently did. The part of her due north of his knuckle. Shoot. She was soaking wet for him.

“Step out of your panties.”  He drew a knuckle over her center to make his point and she forced herself not to move. To stay still instead of arching into his touch.

Did she really want to do that? Once she shucked her panties, there was no going back in more ways than one.

He repeated his caress and holding still got harder. “You even know why you came riding with me, honey?”

Not really. She could barely focus on anything but the exquisite pressure of his finger inching slowly toward her sweet spot. Plus, when she did think, she yo-yoed and she hated indecision.

“Do you think it was the sex?” He dragged his thumb back down over the crotch of her panties. He pressed. She moaned, and really, who wanted to talk?

“I don’t know.” She gasped the words out like she’d been running a race, and he rewarded—punished?—her with another long, slow stroke of his hand.

Being in held in place so effortlessly was strangely sexy. She could move left. Right. Either direction worked if she truly wanted to get away from Joey. So, of course, she arched into his touch, her dress crushed between her fingers. It should have been humiliating or awkward being naked and exposed when he was still fully dressed and they were by the side of the road where anyone could spot them, but it wasn’t. It was sexy as hell.

“I’m going to help you list all the reasons,” he growled. He lowered his head, one arm braced over her head and the other working the front of her panties. His mouth stopped inches from hers, almost kissing distance but not quite.
Kiss me.
When he kissed her, she stopped thinking, and she needed that release.

“Deal.” If he didn’t touch her more, deeper,
elsewhere
, she’d have to kill him.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t done talking.

“You wanted an adventure,” he said and drew her panties down to her knees. When she shifted, the soft restraint of the cotton around her knees allowed her to move her legs only a handful of inches. What would it be like to really be tied up and at Joey’s mercy?
Not going there.

He sank his fingers deep into her, and desire exploded through her.
This
was why she was here, this chemistry with this man. He set her on fire, made her want more. She didn’t know what that
more
was, but she wanted to find out, wanted to ride this desire train to the very last stop and see where they ended up.

He stroked, his fingers slick with her juices, and kept right on talking like now was the perfect time for a conversation. “Reason number two: you
like
going fast, even if you won’t admit. You like riding that edge of danger, the world flashing by.”

She didn’t. She liked things safe. She liked
rules
.

And yet here she was, riding Joey Carter’s fingers and
enjoying
it. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—to enjoy wild, kinky, monkey sex with him or possibly to discover that sex was nice but boring with him, like it had been with every other guy since her high school days, and that would make her realize once and for all that Joey was just a passing fancy and not a man she cared for.

Or possibly loved.

“Mercy?”  He growled her name.

Pleasure jolted through her as he twisted his fingers. How the hell was she supposed to talk?

“I’m getting my mouth on you next,” he muttered, the rough warning making her wetter. God, why was he so sexy?

He wasn’t done making her feel good either. His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her crazy, his tongue working its way past her lips, the fingers of his free hand fisting her ponytail. She kissed him back, desperate to get closer. She opened her mouth, trying to kiss him harder. Deeper. However she could. He groaned, pulling her against him and his wicked fingers. Each stroke of his tongue mirrored the slick glide of his rough fingertips lower.

She should stop him. Put the brakes on this and set some ground rules. Instead, she tore her mouth away from his with an embarrassing squeak.

“That’s not nice.”

He shrugged, like he didn’t care. “I’m going to do every dirty thing I’ve fantasized about.”

His mouth swept over her cheek, her neck, found her ear, and she shivered. He pushed his finger in, pulled back. Repeated the caress. It felt so good and all she wanted was more of him. They were outside, and he had her up against a wall and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the heated pleasure building between them. They could sort everything else out later.