The Virginity Mission (10 page)

I don't know what I do that stops men wanting to have sex with me. I thought I was right this time. I thought once his cock was hard, it was a certainty. I guess the blue balls tale is a fallacy. I can't believe I've gotten so far only to fail.

Standing beneath the shower, with water and tears mixing, the door opens behind me. I drop the cake of soap and have my hand ready to grab my towel when Jason's shadow falls across me. He's in the ladies shower block? He's broken into my shower cubicle?

Moving close, he wraps me against him and holds me close. “I'm sorry,” he murmurs over the shower spray.

“It's not your fault.” I'm trying for pragmatic, not too sure it's working. I hope the spray masks tears.

Jason steps back a pace and holds my chin in his grasp. “It is my fault. I slowed things down without explaining.” He hesitates, his gaze boring into mine making me nod. “Your first time should be special, not some rough grab in an outdoors spa where I'm looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“I don't mind. It isn't a problem.”

“It is for me. I know you deserve better.” He lays his forehead against mine, our noses touch. It's soothing and intimate, better than a hug, though it doesn't make up for not having sex. We stand beneath the pummelling spray until the water turns cold.

Feeling somewhat better but not sure where we're going next, I opt to run. Needing to keep it light, I swat his shorts-covered backside. “It's late and I need to sleep. I can't think straight when I'm tired.” I'm trying to be grown up about this. To stay grown up I have to get away, quickly and painlessly. I rub myself with the wet towel but before I can wrap it around myself as my shield, he reaches his hand towards it.

“May I?”

Since he doesn't have a towel, I have to share even though mine's soaked. So much for my quick exit. He rubs himself quickly before wrapping me in it, pulling me against him in the process. The raspy stubble along his jaw tickles the side of my face while he holds me tight. I slide my cheek back and forth, enjoying the sensation of prickles. I follow my cheek with my bottom lip, drawing it across his jaw, feeling more intense prickling bites.

“Keep doing that and everyone'll know what you did all night.”

I stop quickly. “Does it matter if anyone knows?”

“I'll lose my stripes again.”

I frown before the meaning sinks in. “They'll demote you for sleeping with me? Even if I don't object?”

“No fraternisation.”

“It's that serious?”

He nods.

“Why did you come on the expedition if you knew you could get demoted again?”

His forehead creases and tiny, sexy lines fan his eyes. “This was assigned to my team. You don't get to pick and choose your assignments. It's the army.”

I scrunch my lips inside my mouth biting back words because I'm not sure I want the answer. I have to ask. I have to know. “And me?” It's not all the questions I want to ask but all I can manage.

“I had no intention of speaking to any of you.” He shrugs, gives a smile that's more a grimace and he releases me from his hold. “You'd better go, much as I hate to let you leave.”

“I didn't know it was that serious. I don't want you to lose your rank because of me.” So that's why he doesn't want to get caught. It's starting to make sense now.

“I should have been more careful.”

“Why'd you start?” It came out a little snappier than I wanted but I had to ask.

He grins. “I couldn't resist.” His grin fades and the intensity is back in his gaze. His eyes are feasting on me like I'm his last meal. It's unnerving and amazing at the same time. A muscle bunches at the back of his cheek against his ear. His eyes are the darkest chocolate. “Things got out of hand too quickly.” I almost don't hear his words over the low and intense rumble that comes with them. Is he mad at me or himself? Did I do something wrong, even though I thought it was right? I can't tell.

I have enough problems worrying about me and my reaction. I can't worry about him too. I have to get out of here before we end up in another steamy kiss that will fry my brain—and probably his too.

“Yep, well, I've gotta go.” I sweep my swimmers up, clutching them to me like they'll give me comfort. I step away from him and he lets me go. I fill my memory up with the sight of him. Dark eyes, slight smile, wide shoulders. Blue shorts, tanned skin, loads of muscle. Hard-on.

He has a hard-on and he's sending me away?

I turn on my heels and flee back to my tent, as fast as I can, as silently as I can. I do arouse him. I'm not repellent. Maybe there is hope, even if I have to wait for the trip to end.

Some days when we were walking, I thought they'd last forever but today leaves them for dead. It's the longest day of my life. I managed to snatch a few seconds of sleep whenever the turmoil slowed in my mind. I make it through breakfast, even though I'm not hungry. Jason drives us to the boats. How he manages to drive, I have no idea. His eyes are on me all the time, intense burning eyes. Sometimes I think they hold an apology, sometimes a promise, other times they are just too intense for me to hold his gaze. At the boats I have to leave but his smile is full of promise and has my legs going wobbly. Thankfully the mangrove work calls to me. Leaving him today is only temporary. Tomorrow I don't want to think about. I wave as we take off in the boats and I'm sure he grins.

The mangrove work is still enjoyable even when my mind's screwed up. The mangrove team are great to work with. While I'm working with the boss, on my own for a change, I ask him about the possibility of working with them in the future. It's our last day here and my last chance to chat about the future. His response is reassuring. “I can't make promises but I've no objection to you applying. A few jobs should come up soon.” I'll have to keep a lookout for them. I'd love a career in mangrove research.

The drive back to the campsite is little different to the morning trip. Jason's gaze doesn't leave me. I should bask when someone pays me that much attention except I'm drowning in emotion. I know he likes me. I know we both want to have sex, hell, we almost did last night. I don't know if I can handle the stomach churning, the lack of hunger, the burning in my throat, the sweating of my palms and the constant state of arousal and wetness down below.

Thank goodness Ed asks me to call Jason to dinner. I get a few seconds alone with him. Before I can say anything, he captures my hand and pulls me up against him so I can feel every inch of his delicious body. Chills slide down my spine as his breath tickles the shell of my ear. Then he whispers against my ear, “Mac, after dinner, without anyone knowing or seeing you, will you come to me?”

Is he insane? He has to ask me? “Of course.” My grin is instantaneous. I was going to visit anyway. I don't need the frustration but his kisses are something I can't live without. I haven't had one today. Not since daylight anyway.

There's no time for more, we're needed at dinner.

At dinner we sit apart but our eyes keep finding each other's. I hope no one notices his heated glances that lock on to me like heat-seeker missiles. Sometimes he smiles or winks and my face burns up. Usually I blush when I'm embarrassed but this is different. There's no embarrassment, it's pure lust.

I want to flirt back but I don't know what I can do. Winking is his thing. I could blow a kiss but not in a crowd. Without consciously thinking of what I'm doing, I run my tongue along my lips and his eyes widen before closing for a few seconds too long. I wait a few more minutes and when I'm sure no one except Jason is watching I part my lips and run my tongue across my bottom lip in a slow drawn out manner. His eyes darken, his lips part and my heart soars. His mouth breaks into that sexy, devilish grin I adore. Tonight the grin holds a wickedness that has me wet with anticipation. I've hardly eaten my dinner because I'm so keyed up.

Jason leaves, and after what seems like hours of torture, everyone eventually goes to bed. Tip-toeing to his campsite, toiletries and towel under my arm as my disguise, I find him pacing in front of the vehicle like a caged panther. I grin, glad I'm not the only one who's eager.

He sees me when he turns and in a few strides our bodies meet, lips catch together and he devours me like I'm dessert. It's like the start of last night—hot and heady. I revel in it. He tastes of decadent male and the rich dark coffee he recently finished. His lips are soft and hard at once. His tongue tantalises my mouth. I want every bit of him. I need him like I need air.

While we kiss, he walks me backwards. I move with him, unquestioning. We break apart for air and we're at the rear of the vehicle which he's parked so the back faces the trees and beach. No one can see us. My heart races. He's planned this. Privacy.

My hands slip beneath his shirt, skimming across his chest. The pads of my fingertips graze his nipples again and again, making not only his but my nipples squeeze tight. I'm too timid to stroke towards his shorts, so I sweep my hand across his stomach, muscles rippling beneath my touch. I'm dying to wrap my hand around his cock but after last night I think it can wait, just in case I cause it all to stop. Again.

Through the dazed fog of lust, I realise his hands aren't that busy on me. His lips haven't stopped but his hands aren't moving from my back. Maybe his plan isn't for privacy and sex. My hands still and our kiss tapers off. My heartbeat grinds to a halt. It's not going to happen.

“I need to explain before we go any further.” He laces his fingers through mine as we sit on the tailgate. We sit close, our legs hanging off the edge rubbing against each other. There's comfort in his closeness. I need explanations but I can't remember the questions.

All I can think about is the rougher texture of his leg against the silken smoothness of mine. My skin is hyper-sensitive to his. Thank goodness I shaved them again this morning and doused them in moisturiser not long ago. The wonder of showers and caravan parks! I didn't have that luxury walking.

Jason speaks, looking straight ahead into the scrubby bushes. “I didn't want this duty. I lost trust in women after the last trip. But Mac, you're different. There isn't anyone here who interests me, except you. I like you. You think about people, like with the water bottle. I don't pick up women easily but I've had women before. I'm eight years older than you.” He sucks in a big breath. “If any of that bothers you, please tell me.” He stops but doesn't look at me.

He likes me. He likes me. He likes me.
I can't get past that.
He likes me!
He's waiting for an answer and I need to work through the rest of his words. As if he wouldn't have had women before, they probably fall at his feet. Sure I've noticed we have an age gap but it's not just years. If he was my age, I'd still feel naïve near him. Surrounding him is a strong commanding presence. He turns my brain to mush, my blood to boiling, and my muscles to liquid. It has nothing to do with his age.

“None of it bothers me.” It comes out more intense than the flippant words imply. And I am tense, this conversation is important to whatever happens next and I so want it to be better than last night.

He continues with the same seriousness. “If you're sure you want to have sex, it would be my pleasure to be your first. I made a camp for us so we shouldn't get caught and I have condoms.” The whole speech is quick, matter-of-fact and sounds like he's been rehearsing all day. I know I should respond with equal dignity but I don't. I can't. I laugh. Not completely hysterically, but not just for fun either. It's the laugh I use when I don't know what to do, except it's a little closer to hysteria.

“You really want to have sex? With me?” Every question I had has gone except this two-parter. Every question I had boils down to this anyway.

“If you'd like to. No pressure.”

He wants to have sex! I'm giddy. At no point did I imagine having a conversation like this before losing my virginity. I truly thought it would be some mad scramble after drinking when a guy forgot it was me. And here I am with a man who cares that it is me and wants my first time to be special. My heart's thumping so loud, it's a wonder he can't hear it. “I'd like that more than anything in the world.”

“Me too.” He turns his head and his gaze meets mine. His eyes are full of sincerity—clear, brown and honest. Mine are probably spinning from the giddiness in my head.

I grin like a Cheshire cat. Then I ask in the most off-hand voice I can muster, “Will you hate me if you lose your stripes?” I'm asking if taking the risk is worth it, whether I'm worth it. I don't really want to hear the answer. I don't want to know I'm not but there's a chance I am, a chance the elation I'm feeling could double. I'm a sucker for elation.

It takes forever before he answers. He's still grinning, no doubt taking my question with a grain of salt. “Probably. But I know it'll be worth it.”

I soar on wings of elation. He did know I meant it. Nothing is this good. He tweaks my nose with his free hand before cupping my jaw and leading my lips to his. I need no encouragement. I've waited a long time to find someone willing to break my curse.

His lips are feather soft for only a second before we both move into the kiss and feather soft becomes burning need. I can't get enough of his taste. The movement of his lips against mine is like rubbing against a silk shirt over and over. And his tongue—it's totally and completely wicked. It slips against my lips, inciting cells to riot. When it plunders my mouth, it's like I'm filled by him. His taste is as familiar and welcome as my own. Our tongues slip together, like we do; perfectly aligned, battling for control, giving and receiving in turn.

When our kiss softens, he pulls away before nipping at my bottom lip. His teeth snag the flesh and drag across so lightly but incredibly powerfully. It sends a huge shudder through me. I'm left gripping his forearms until my body recovers.