Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) (26 page)

“Dinner.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Not sushi.”

He looked toward the oven in confusion. “In there?”

“Yes, Beck. That’s an oven. Used for cooking food before we consume it.”

“I’m familiar with the concept,” he said wryly, banding an arm around her waist. “Nolan cooked a frozen pizza in it when we built the deck. Burned it all to hell. The smell didn’t go away for days, but it tasted okay.”

She cuddled into his big body, inhaling his musky, utterly masculine scent for the first time in days, absorbing his strength. Admitting just how deeply she’d missed him, and how happy she was to have him back, was for another day.

“I’d like to meet Nolan.” And maybe he can tell me the key to your heart. Wait, she didn’t want Beck’s heart. She wanted what was in his pants.

He grunted an unintelligible response against her hair and she didn’t push.

“So, you brought home two pet goldfish, huh? And named them cat and dog?” Nuzzling his throat, she licked the hot skin. “You’re certifiable.”

“No shit.” His mouth covered hers, pressing and clinging.

“You’re sexy, too,” she mumbled between kisses, running her flat hands up his rigid forearms. Then slowly over his broad, cotton covered shoulders and wide chest. Across his ribcage and down his lean torso. Slowly, so he wouldn’t notice. “And warm. And hard. And—”

“Hope?” He leaned back, a sweetly tolerant look on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” A dark brow lifted and his knowing smile broke her. “Okay, fine,” she said. “I’m checking you for injuries, all right? Satisfied? All your appendages seem to be intact.” Stepping back, she twirled her index finger. “Now turn around and let me see the backside.”

“If you want to inspect me, all you have to do is ask.”

She pursed her lips, as if considering his offer. “I’ll need to see the merchandise bare, if you know what I mean.” Her eyes traced his body. “And I mean, naked.”

“A strip search? In the kitchen?” He pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.

She shrugged. “It’s not getting used for much else.”

He tipped his head, conceding her point, and stripped in record time. Skin pulled tight and muscles lined with strength, she couldn’t stop staring. Sweet mama, he would bring in the dough at Club Catnip. Especially in his current... locked and loaded condition. But luckily for her, she didn’t have to pull any hair or gauge any eyes out tonight. She had him all to herself. And damn it, as she ran her palms over his warm body, she spotted a large bruise on the outside of his left thigh, about the size of a dessert plate.

Huffing her displeasure, she tapped her fingertips lightly around the area, colored in various shades of purple. “Ouch. How did this happen?”

Bunching the hem of her shirt in his fists, he tugged. “It’s nothing. Didn’t notice it until this morning. Lift your arms.”

She did and her shirt landed on the floor next to his, her flimsy bra following. Rough hands slid into the back of her shorts, cupping her ass and lifting her up into him.

“It’s nothing to you, Beck, but it’s something to me.” His mouth covered hers before she could say more, his talented tongue making her knees go weak.

Long seconds later, when she was steamed up and slick, rubbing herself against him like he’d been gone a decade, he slid his mouth to her sensitive earlobe. “Got tangled in a helo drop. High winds. Grady got the worst of it, though. Walked with a limp for a day.”

Her legs like jelly, she processed that information as he ventured south. “Who’s Grady? And by helo, do you mean helicopter?” She felt him nod, his dark hair brushing her chin. “And by drop, do you mean jump? Like you jumped out of a freaking helicopter? On purpose?”

His tongue swirled around her hardened nipple. “I had a rope.”

She choked out a laugh. “Oh, of course, then. By all means, jump out of a perfectly good aircraft. If you have a rope and everything, why the hell not, right?”

Lifting his head to look at her, his hair mussed from her hands, he winked. “Right.”

She gushed. Literally. Her body’s reaction to his testosterone fueled wink was swift and she pushed her shorts and soaked panties down with the speed of a girl on the clock. “Well, now I want you to jump
me
. And by jump, I mean fuck. Right now.”

He had her on her back in five seconds flat, the rug on the living room floor providing little cushion from the hardwood underneath. Hope didn’t care. She’d lie naked on a bed of hot embers if Beck was next to her. Kneeling between her thighs, he hooked her legs in his elbows, tested her readiness with his knuckle, and surged powerfully into her, hard and without pretense.

Moaning loudly, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

“God, you’re soft,” he gasped, his lips brushing her temple as he pounded into her with deep, strong strokes. “Soft and warm, wet and perfect.”

Perfect. He was right about that. A simple word with a wealth of meaning, because nothing had ever been as perfect as this felt. His body surrounding her, inside her. His clear, unmasked eyes on hers, seeing behind the blue surface and into her soul. “Beck—oh, my God, why does this feel so good?”

“I know, honey.” Rearing back, he slid a hand across her aching breasts, tweaking the tender tips before trailing callused fingers down her stomach, toward her center. His hips pumped in a steady rhythm, proving he had the one-handed push up mastered, as well. “I know. I feel it, too.”

She whimpered when he slid a finger over her clit, circling softly, sending shock waves outward. “I don’t want it to end.”

Groaning, his pace quickened. “It’s going to. Sooner than I want, but it’s been too long. Six days apart is too long.”

No, that’s not what I mean, she wanted to say. I don’t want it to end, ever.

Heat enveloped her nipple when he licked the tip, then sucked it into his mouth, the precise pressure of his fingers not letting up. “Good thing we have all night,” he said, lavishing attention on each breast.

All night would never sustain her, never give her everything she needed from him. But it would have to do. Denver was calling.

“And next time, it won’t be on the fucking floor.” His voice was muffled. “Jesus, you’re gonna need a chiropractor after this. It’s not my intention to break your spine, but at this point, I can’t make any promises.”

She tightened her inner muscles, eliciting a growl from above. “Are you kidding? Sex on the floor is awesome. It’s basically like yoga. Super sexy, naked yoga. Good for your chakra and your posture.”

His grin was wolfish and she smiled back, impressed not only by his amazing technique, but the sheer amount of words he was speaking. It was so unlike Beck. Cupping his cheek, she kissed him with everything she had, letting the pleasure only he could provide wash over her. His hard length filled her, his fingers tracing her ample wetness, and his incoherent whispers dancing across her sizzling nerve endings.

“Christ, Hope, look at you. You take my breath away. You make me feel like superman. Like I could jump out of a thousand planes unscathed.”

She groaned, shocked her brain was still firing. “Don’t do that. Don’t jump out of a thousand planes. Don’t jump out of any planes, at all. Okay?”

“I’ll compromise and keep it under a hundred.” Breathing raggedly, he increased his pace, his magical fingers following along.

Heat raced over her and she closed her eyes, darts of white lighting exploding behind her eyelids. Streaks of pleasure shot through her body and she came in a heavy, shuddering rush. Silencing the roar of her moans, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, adding another bruise to his beautiful, capable body, and the bite seemed to inflame him.

As he pounded into her impossibly faster, she clamped down on him with still convulsing muscles and nibbled his earlobe, the gift of giving pleasure as good as getting. She felt him suddenly stiffen, his breath hissing out on a harshly whispered, “Fuck—”

He pulled out of her body abruptly and before she could protest the emptiness, he groaned long and low into the curve of her neck, coming on her stomach, just below her belly button.

No condom. Holy shit.

Running her fingers along his damp spine, she cradled him to her body, comforting him as his breathing relaxed and they gathered their bearings.

“That was close,” she finally said, because it was starting to get awkward.

“Too close,” he agreed, lifting his dark head just enough to look at her. His eyes were tired, but the gaunt weariness he’d come home with was gone. “Sorry, honey. I stopped thinking around the time you told me to fuck you. Give me a few minutes, okay. Can’t feel my legs.”

But, it was barely a dozen Mississippi’s later when he peeled himself off her with the groan of a man who’d put his body through a punishing week of God only knew what. She thought of that oppressive beige country and what he might have done there. She thought of the distance between the ground and the sky, connected by a rope dangling from a helicopter. And she quickly decided she hated all beige countries.

Eyes shut and muscles protesting the slightest move, she heard Beck rustling as he pulled his jeans on. Heard him turn the kitchen faucet on and off, his footsteps soft as he walked back toward her. Then, nothing. Cracking an eye open, she saw him standing at the edge of the rug, looking her over with something close to pride.

Propping herself up, she glanced down her body and saw what he was seeing. And felt the instinctual, animal satisfaction of being marked by her mate.

“Gotta say, I’m liking this look on you, honey.” Kneeling down, he ran the warm washcloth across her stomach gently. “But I won’t forget again.”

Hope grinned mischievously, finding she liked the excitement of this option on occasion. To know she could make him so crazed with lust that he forgot a condom was powerful information. As long as he mastered the pull out and remained vigilant to it, that was.

Standing with difficulty, she grabbed the panties he held out to her. “That’s one form of birth control I could get used to. It’s thrilling.”

“It’s dangerous,” he corrected, firmly. “And I won’t forget again.”

“Well, if it does happen...” Her voice trailed off, giving him permission to repeat the mistake on purpose as she wiggled into her panties. “Just know that I’m okay with it, because faced with a possible pregnancy,” she raised her left hand, flat palm up, then did the same with the right hand, weighing her options, “or a little jizz on my tummy—”

“A little?” he interrupted, sounding bruised.

She rolled her eyes. The delicate nature of a man’s ego encompassed many things and never ceased to amaze her. “Okay, faced with a possible pregnancy,” she amended, emphasizing one hand again, then the other, “or an enormous man load of jizz on my tummy?” Pausing for effect, and to ensure he was happy with her revised quantity, she finally said, “I’m taking the jizz for sure.”

He grinned, hooking his finger into the band of her thong. “Can you stop staying the word jizz? It’s making me want to... well, jizz.” Pulling her into him, he kissed her lightly. “On other parts of your body. Like here,” he suggested, trailing his fingers over her beaded nipples. Then he surprised her with a playful slap on her bare butt cheek. “Or here.”

Hope laughed in delight. “Okay. But first, let me feed you.”

She finished dressing while he watched openly, but when she turned toward the kitchen, he grabbed her hand, tugging her back to him. Seriousness masked his face.

“I can’t believe you made me dinner.” He looked stunned. And pleased. Tapping her bottom lip with the pad of his index finger, he whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

His reaction to the simple gesture of a home cooked meal was one of amazement. As if he wasn’t worthy. And she felt the unreasonable urge to cry. The shoulder wracking, go-long-seconds-without-taking-a-breath, kind of crying that left you with puffy eyes and a migraine. And for the first time, Hope realized what a truly solitary life this man led. Nobody cooked for him. Nobody cleaned or cared for him. Nobody waited anxiously for him to return from a dangerous assignment, their nerves frayed and nails bitten to the quick. Nobody left a light on for this man.

Nobody loved this man. Until now.

Oh, shit.

This wasn’t good. This was bad. In fact, this was just about the worse thing that could happen to her. Denver was her future. San Diego wasn’t. Beckett Smith wasn’t. Looking down at herself, she expected to see something. A dropped bomb at her feet. A poisonous arrow through her heart. A sign hanging from her neck that pointed back to her and read,
I’m with stupid.

Maybe it was just orgasm afterglow. Intense sexual encounters had driven many a person to do irrational things. She’d once seen a story about a woman who’d gotten stuck halfway down a man’s chimney when he wouldn’t return her phone calls. The fire department had to chisel her out brick by brick, and once they did, the soot covered woman had granted an immediate interview to the rabid on-site reporter. She’d looked pointedly into the camera and cited her two pieces of evidence with careful enunciation, saying, “I took him into my body. And he can’t call me the next day? Then I’m gonna be in his chimney.”

The Chief of Police just happened to be female. No charges were filed.

Yep, Hope told herself, with a decent amount of surety. That’s what her mental outburst was all about. Temporary insanity. This crazy love vibe was simply the result of a satisfying sexual encounter. Beck’s absence had sent her into withdrawal and she’d binged on Mr. Man Candy, causing an epic sugar high that would eventually fade.

The oven timer beeped and Hope breathed easier, glad she’d dodged that bullet.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

One... Two...

The sharp, echoing ping of the ball, bouncing off his painstakingly plastered wall, was nothing compared to the voice in his head. Drink, it said. You know you want to.

You know it will lessen the pain of that meniscus tear in your bum knee. Loosen up the pulled muscle in your shoulder. You know it will erase the sight of abused and misled children, carrying fully automatic weapons nearly as tall as they were. Snuff the acrid, nauseating smell of dead bodies melted to the seats of burned out, still smoking Humvee’s.