Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (Wingmen Warriors #6)

Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (Wingmen Warriors #6) Page 25

Although she'd made it clear not too long ago with her supple body draping all over him in a kiss that seared from the inside out. Even remembering brought heat, desire, darker feelings from a side of him far from sensitive. Shit, yeah, he was weak right now. One nudge and he'd fall over the edge.

She stepped closer, bringing all that smoky sensuality with her. "No games. And believe me, Drew, I know exactly what I want from you."

Her fingers went to the top button of her dress. Ah, hell. He knew he should stop her, but his battered brain went on stun. She couldn't actually be about to...

Black linen slid from her shoulders, hooked on pert breasts, before gliding free to pool around her ankles in a dark cloud. And she wasn't wearing a damned stitch of clothing underneath.

More than a nudge, she'd packed a full-out shove to a man already standing on the edge.

Chapter 15

Yasmine willed herself to stand still as Drew's shocked gaze locked on her na*ed body. If he laughed at her, she would die. Or kill him.

She hoped she had not misjudged. She was so certain he desired her and would welcome comfort. Her comfort.

Stay resolved. She wanted this and perhaps she was selfishly taking advantage of a weak moment, but then, ultimately they would both be glad. Yes, she was being greedy, but she also saw the pain of loss in a man who looked out for everyone and had no one to look after him. For tonight at least, that would change.

Drew scrubbed a hand over his face. "Please tell me you haven't been like that under your clothes all the time."

She shook her head. "Only at night. Only for you."

His blue eyes flecked with molten steel. There was something a little ferocious about him tonight in his grief, but she kept focused on his eyes. She knew he would never hurt her.

Then he exploded into action. She forced herself not to flinch.

"Shit." He yanked his sleeping bag off his cot and threw it around her shoulders. "You don't know what the hell you're doing."

"You are wrong." She stepped closer, kicking her clothes aside.

"Wouldn't be the first time, and I'm not going to let it happen again. Not tonight." He scooped her dress off the floor and thrust it toward her. "Now get dressed. And for God's sake, find some underwear."

Embarrassment burned her chilled skin but she was not the type to quit. She released the sleeping bag.

"Damnation, woman!" Her dress fluttered to the floor again as he grabbed the quilted blanket and folded it around her.

Which brought them chest to chest, his fists between them securing the sleeping bag. The heat of the backs of his hands branded the sides of her breasts. Immobilizing her.

Him as well.

Yasmine peered silently up into eyes muting from flecks in the deep blue to that total silvery gray of arousal. His chest expanded and she knew he was catching her scent. Emboldened, she sidled nearer, flush against him. The rigid heat of his erection pressed against her stomach even through the fabric between them.

She smiled, slow, sure.

"Shit." Drew cursed low.

Yasmine clasped her hands over his. "You really need to quit saying that every time we are together."

"Then maybe you need to quit driving me insane."

Any fears of being rejected melted to warm butter in her veins. "I do that?''

"You know damned well you do."

Yasmine wiggled against him, longed to toss aside the blanket to feel the undiluted sensation of his hands on her flesh. Her skin cried out for his touch, for contact. For so long she had gone without the most basic of physical affection from even family. Her half sisters from her father's side resented her because of her mother. Her sisters from her mother resented her because of her father.

She was lonely and aching and so very alone. She'd been denied freedom and choices for too long. This moment was hers. Theirs. "Is it so wrong for me to want to comfort you right now?"

To steal some comfort for herself?

"Do you make it a practice to dole out comfort this way to any man?"

His harsh words sliced her. But then she had brought this on herself with her behavior. Even if he had guessed at her limited experience, he might not know just how limited.

Intuition whispered through her. Was he trying to push her away? "Take me and you will have your answer as to whether I have 'comforted' anyone before."

"All right, Yasmine, you can cut the crap. I've had worse days than this. I can assure you I'll survive without your virgin sacrifice."

A smile welled inside her but she stifled it for fear of angering him more. Of course he knew how innocent she was. He had kissed her and would undoubtedly have recognized her inexperience. "Before you can roll out any more excuses..." She paused, snaking a hand loose to reach down to fish in her dress pocket, tugging free a small packet to press into his palm. "I brought protection."

He stared down at the condom nestled in his hand with more shock than when he had found her note in the same place. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"From my sister."

He choked on a cough. "You talked to your sister about us?"

She couldn't help but laugh as she slid back against him. "No, although now I wonder if I should have sought advice from her after all. Apparently the fact that I am standing na*ed in your arms and you are doing nothing must mean either I am not attractive to you or I am too inexperienced to do this right."

"You're doing damned fine." His eyes strayed down to the hint of cl**vage showing above the clasped material. His throat moved with a long swallow before he forced his eyes back up. "I just can't figure out why the hell you're doing this. How does a woman who's held out for twenty-three years make the decision to lose it with a guy she's known about a week?"

"Would you like to hear the whole list?"

"Yeah, I think I need to."

If he wanted to hear her list, then he wanted to be convinced. Yes.

"Number one, the opportunities were rare before." She counted down on her fingers. "Two, I am finally free to make my own decisions and three, I like you. Four, you are a sexy, fascinating man. And why am I so quick to decide? Well, women in my culture often end up married to men they've met only a few times after always being chaperoned prior. We've spent more time together than that, and this certainly is not about marriage. Which gives you five solid arguments right there."

All of which did not appear to be swaying him.

She would have to bare a little piece of her soul, far more daunting than baring her body.

"But the real reason?" She stopped her countdown and tapped his temple. "Your eyes. I trust from your eyes that you are the man who will treat my first time with care. So much of my life has been chosen for me. Right now, I choose. I want you. And as long as you want me, too, then as two consenting adults we have every right to this."

His stance adjusted, a slight shuffle of his boots that brought him even closer, his legs bracketing hers. She was not even sure he consciously realized his action of his body beginning to accept the feel of her against him.

"Are you a lawyer? Because you sure do argue like one."

With his warm thighs pressing against hers for encouragement, she allowed herself a laugh, surprising even herself with the low, husky sound that came from her throat. "No, I am just a woman very determined to have exactly what she wants, and more than anything, I want to make more memories of you to think about once we leave this place."

She left unspoken her desire to erase the torment in his eyes and repeated, "I want you, Drew."

The instant his name caressed the air between them, she saw his resistance evaporate. With deliberate hands, he eased the sleeping bag from her shoulders. The nip in the night air warmed under the heat of appreciation in his eyes.

Her hand glided to cup his face as she arched on her toes to press her lips to his. The freedom of touching him loosened threads within her tangled so tight from years of restraint she unraveled against the hard-muscled strength of him.

"Touch me," she whispered against his mouth.

His growl of surrender vibrated through his chest, against her skin, the coarse fabric of his uniform rasping an arousing abrasion against her nipples. His arms rose from his sides, his hands falling to rest against her back and stirring a low moan deep inside her. Her eyes slid closed at the strong warmth of his arms along her skin.

If his muted heat through his clothes felt this exciting...

He kissed her thoughts silent. How could she do anything but feel with his intensity poured on her, her mouth? Sensuality long denied flooded her. Too many emotions, sensations, jumbled through the waves sweeping away control.

She fumbled with the top button of his uniform, but her fingers shook. His hands fell over hers, brushed them aside, and just as she began to protest, he started down the row of fastenings.

The long overjacket went first, leaving him in just a brown T-shirt stretched taut across his broad chest, tapering down to trim h*ps encased in camouflage pants. Her hand itched to press against the flat expanse of his stomach, but she feared slowing him.

Or worse yet, doing something to jar him into turning away.

So she watched and soon realized that her undisguised appreciation apparently pleased him. And oh, but she was mesmerized by the honed cut of him as his T-shirt swept up and off to reveal an expanse of tanned muscle, defined pectorals.

And a toned stomach she vowed she would explore soon.

Some vaguely rational part of her brain also realized he was using this time to give her a chance to adjust to the newness of this moment. To the newness of a na*ed man's body in front of her.

His boots settled beside the chair next, followed by his pants until he stood only in his military-brown boxers. Impatience jabbed like hundreds of tiny needles against her skin. No more of his slow adjustment time. She wanted to see all of him. Now.

His thumbs hooked in the waistband. "Last chance to walk away, Yasmine."

Instead she walked toward him, clasped her hands over his to urge his shorts down and off. Then she really looked, followed the broad bare chest down to where his skin lightened with a tan line. Lower.

Her breath hitched in her chest. Nerves increased the pin-prickly sensation. Okay, apparently there would be some serious adjusting going on for her soon.

He flung his shorts and uniform pants over a chair. A flash of color snagged her eye. She used the distraction to steal a moment to steady herself.

Rose silk? She reached past him, hooked her finger on the hint of pink fabric peeking from his pocket and trailed it free, inch-by-inch, like the magic show on the cruise she'd taken with her parents...

Her scarf.

Her mind raced back to the last time she'd worn it, how she'd linked their hands while they'd kissed. He'd kept it.

A heady rush pulsed through her, something alien, exciting. Powerful. Her insecurities vanished. "You kept my scarf?"

"I guess it's a good thing this attraction is two-sided." He echoed an altered version of her words from before.

"That it is, Colonel." She draped the length around his neck, tugged his head down to hers. "That it most definitely is."

He did not speak, but the presence of her scarf secreted away in his pocket was reassurance enough. Interesting how being desired heightened her own desire all the more.

Drew stared down at the unmistakable passion smudging Yasmine's near-opaque eyes and knew he was being a selfish bastard to allow her to give up her first time in the crap confines of cramped military quarters with a guy old enough to be— Hell, he didn't want to think about that.

And damned if he could walk away from her now.

All the rage and loss from a hellish day demanded release. Hard. Fast. In a warrior's roaring need to conquer. Win.

He might be selfish, but he wasn't an animal. He could, would, rein himself in enough to make sure she received the gentle treatment she deserved. He might be taking, but he would damn well make sure he gave her something in return.

Backing her toward the cot without breaking the warm drugging draw of sweeping her mouth with his tongue, he reached behind her to snag the pillow, fling it to the floor on top of the discarded sleeping bag. He cradled her to him, lowered her, dropping to one knee, his hand extended past to slow their fall until he guided her to rest in the fabric folds.

Never had an Army-issue bedroll looked so damned good. As a backdrop for Yasmine's dusky-naked beauty it was goddamned masterful.

Control inched further away with a painful throb.

She stared back up at him with trusting eyes, her fingers twisted tight in the splash of pink from her scarf. Her hair pooled around her, glossy dark on the white pillow.

Kneeling over her, he worked the silken length free from her grasp. He might not be much with pretty words, but he sure as shit understood a thing or two about the subtle nuances of pleasure he would like to teach this woman.

He hooked her scarf on one finger, the two tails trailing. Slowly he grazed the edges over her shoulder, along her collarbone in a gentle never-ending swipe that raised goose bumps on her skin while she watched him. No objection came from her mouth, just the soft rush of a contented sigh that rippled silk.

His path continued, lower to skim the tip of one hardened nipple the exact same deep rose color of the fabric between his fingers. He repeated the scarf's trail further, over her belly, down one leg and up the inside again until he stroked to the vee of her legs. Even as the all-over blush spread across her, she didn't tell him to stop.

Then he retraced his course with the scarf, followed by the caresses of his free hand. And once more. This time with his mouth skimming, nipping just after the gentle swish of silk against silkier skin until he found his way back up to her lips again.

One elegant arm stretched up around his neck, languid, her fingers gliding along his shoulder, tracing every muscle, following down his arm...

To steal the scarf from him.

Her Eve-smile gave him all of three second's warning before she stroked down his chest, her hand covered in the scarf. Down. Down. Until...oh, yeah... damned if she didn't drape the scarf over his erection, deliberately, wrapping the silky length around and around.

She folded her fingers over it, encircling him, stroked. "Am I doing this right?"

His head fell to rest on her shoulder, his breath ragged. "Yeah, I think you've got the right... Yeah."

A woman with intuition and imagination like this could rob a man of his will to breathe. The combination of her hands on him and the smoky, exotic scent all around him stirred him too much, too fast, for a man his age, damn it.

Scooping the scarf from her along with control, he rolled onto his back and positioned Yasmine over him.