Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [91]
A long time ago.
His hands skimmed back down along her sides and over her hips, feeling the last of the airsoft welts. She was strong and fit, and she’d been loved by other men—she’d gone on with her life as he had with his.
He’d left her no other choice.
He felt the tremble in her fingers as she eased them down his arms and over the tops of his hands and held on, raising herself up just a little from the bed. “Elijah. I can’t…wait.” Her turquoise eyes held his with an intensity, a fire he’d long thought he’d never see again. “I’ve been hiking up and down these damn hills for two days. I can’t—Can you please take your clothes off? And get this nightshirt off me while you’re at it?”
He laughed. “With pleasure.”
“Good, because I…” She gave a sexy little shudder. “I need to conserve my energy.”
“I’ll get your nightshirt off first,” he said with a wicked smile.
“I thought you might.”
It was only a matter of whisking the nightshirt over her head and casting it onto the floor. But he couldn’t jump right into disrobing himself. He gazed at her, his throat tight with want and emotion and a need that reached right to his soul.
“Jo,” he whispered, kissing her, soaking in the taste and the feel of her. “You’re beautiful.”
She slid her arms around his neck and drew him onto her, deepening their kiss, writhing erotically under him. But she wouldn’t be distracted. “You’re still clothed,” she said, her voice ragged, her body hot and soft.
“So I am.”
He dealt with that problem in seconds, flinging his clothes onto the floor, floor lamps—wherever—he didn’t care. When he rejoined her, she was breathless, eyes wide open as she took in the sight of him.
“Your scar,” she said. “Are you okay now? A femoral artery injury is dangerous.”
“It didn’t affect anything vital.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Just your blood supply.”
“There was that. But I lived,” he said, pushing back a sudden image of that night. He paused, staring at her, and repeated himself. “I lived.”
He settled himself on top of her, figuring the feel of what mattered would distract her from his scars, and she responded with a small cry of surprise, delight—memory.
“I’m glad you lived,” she said. “Elijah, I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost you. You’ve always been out there, indestructible…”
“No one’s indestructible.”
“I love you.” She parted her legs, settled down into the soft bed. “I always have.”
“I know.”
“The rest—”
“Shh.”
“Love me now, Elijah. No more waiting.” She lifted herself up and clutched his shoulders. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Good,” he said, “because…damn, Jo…”
He entered her, slowly at first, trying to savor the feel of being inside her again, but she fell back and wrapped her thighs around him, and pulled him in hard and fast and deep. He responded, driving himself into the depths of her. She cried out and threw her hands behind her head, giving herself up to her own heat and need. He could see the desire in her eyes, and it fueled him. He didn’t relent and let the sweet ache he’d known only with her take him to the edge.
All this time—all these years. There’d only been one Jo.
She clasped his hips and held him inside her, caught her breath as their bodies fused even more tightly together, until finally she wriggled her hips and that was it. He peeled her hands off him and pinned them to her sides as he thrust into her over and over, faster and faster, until he felt her release—and then his own.
When he collapsed next to her, she drew the covers up over them. “The heat here’s better than in my cabin, but it’s not great.” Her voice was ragged, her body still slick and hot from their lovemaking. “I don’t want you to get chilled after you cool off.”
He propped his head up on one arm. “Who says I’ll have a chance to cool off?”
She smiled. “There’s that,” she said, easing in close to him, lifting his arm over her shoulders.