Hot for His Hostage (34 page)

She tried to shrug that one off. Shay forced her gaze back to his with a thumb beneath
her chin. She flipped his move on him, dipping her head to tenderly kiss the pad of
his thumb. “I’d lost hope of being special to someone. Of being…good enough.”

“Christ.” He silenced whatever the hell else she had to say by sealing his mouth over
hers again. After releasing her from the kiss, he didn’t let her go from his grip—or
his stare. “You’re not ‘good’, tiny dancer. You’re fucking perfect.”

More mush. A lot more. Shay didn’t care. Maybe he did have the power of reading her
soul, but maybe that was because his already knew it…recognized it as the universe’s
answer to his own. But how much of that soul was still his own? How much of him was
him
, and how much the beast that had been roaming through his blood for twenty years?
How much of himself would be left once he found out? And how free would he be to express
it? The government was surely hunting for him now. Cameron, missing after the raid,
was probably seeking out his ass, too—and more than that, if he’d started connecting
the dots and figuring shit out.

A lot of questions. A lot of answers he didn’t have. He only had the fulfillment to
one unknown, and that was the certainty of here and now. In this incredible moment
with this pure gift of a woman, the man in his heart and the human in his soul would
give her everything they could, for as long as they could.

That deliverance began with the very next kiss he lowered to her, plunging into her
with all the desire in his body, the spiraling need in his blood. He could be the
embodiment of perfect for her, too—at least in assuaging the sexual fever that stormed
between them. He groaned as Zoe met him for the quest, surging her breasts into his
chest, roping her arms around his neck, and tangling her hands through his hair. As
their kiss ended she added a sweet vibration in her throat, erupting off her lips
into a whimper that jolted down his body, into his ass then straight up his cock.

“Ohhhh, Sergeant Bommer…”

Her breath was half plea and half query. It was fucking adorable—and turned his shaft
into a goddamn missile, ready to be fired.

“You rang, ma’am?” he teased in a sultry drawl.

“No ringing,” she panted. “Just need. Need.
Need
.”

“Need what, baby girl?”

“Fuck me, Shay. Please. Now.”

By now, he’d guided the tip of his sex to the waiting tunnel of hers—and could even
feel the lips of her pussy, eager and hungry, struggling to draw him in. But he held
his position, gazing down at her upturned face, and softly told her, “No.”

Zoe’s brows lowered. Her lips pursed. “Huh?”

Even as she snapped it, he nudged his cock another inch into her. Her confusion was
pretty damn cute.

“I said no,” he repeated—while stuffing into her by another hard inch. “No fucking,
Zoe.” He rolled his hips now, surging into her with sensuality instead of sexuality,
letting her feel every last sensation of his bare skin against hers. “Entering. Merging.
Joining. Uniting.” He smiled a little, exulting in the effect of each word on her
lips, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, even the gorgeous sweep of her neck, moving
with her heavy swallow.

“And feeling.”

Her whisper fanned his lips. He answered her with a soft smile.

“Yeah. And feeling.”

“And how does it feel?”

His lips dropped as his jaw clenched. “Like perfection.”

Like home
.

He kept the addendum to himself. He had no right to fill her head with fantasies like
that. If things weren’t complicated enough before the little come-to-Jesus gig with
Ghid last night, they sure as hell were now.

For now, this was what he could give her. Not just his body, but his passion. Not
just his kisses, but his adoration. Not just a fuck, but a union.

Everything except the seed that pummeled at his balls now, ready for its rocketing
release. Still, he held back. Her skin was so slick and wet and tight around his,
as if her body were made to cushion and welcome him. He tried rocking a little slower,
focusing on the pleasure that gleamed all over her soaked, flawless body. For a few
seconds here and a few seconds there, it worked. He was able to forget about the pressure
that built like a goddamn bullet train, preparing to shoot from the station as soon
as he punched the green light.

By now, Zoe rolled her hips in time with his, meeting every thrust with a mewling
grind of her own. “Shay,” she cried out, plowing her nails across his shoulders, locking
her legs around his waist. “Oh Shay…
mas duro
…
sí
!”

He was pretty damn sure what that meant, and it made him grimace. “Baby girl, if I
don’t pull out now—”

“I know,” she countered. “I know, and I don’t care.”

Fuck.

He scraped both her hands off his shoulders. Used his grip on them to force her attention.
And
that
was such a swift move, because looking that direction ensured he’d get a great view
of his dick disappearing into her body. “You
have
to care. We’re not sixteen. We’re not
married
.”

She flung him a look he’d never seen on her face before. One brow arched along with
a sexier-than-shit wiggle of her head. “So if I find you in a month and tell you I’m
knocked-up, you’ll do…what?”

He actually came to a full stop. The woman was either the smartest bird he’d ever
met, or the biggest brat. Or maybe both.

Probably both.

“Throw a fucking party. Then make sure I never let you out of my sight.”

Her expression changed by one more element. The luscious little grin that spread across
her lips, sparking the most breathtaking blend of blue and purple he’d ever seen in
her eyes. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He grabbed her by the neck, kissing her harder than ever. He’d always avoided talk
of babies, even when they happened to other people. In his life, “family” wasn’t a
word that brought fond memories of Scrabble around the fire, themed birthday parties,
and vacations at the lake. The species could propagate without his help. But now,
thinking of Zoe with a little basketball belly, growing with
his
child…

He plunged his tongue even deeper into her mouth. Claiming her had never felt more
important.

“Are you sure?” he murmured when they finally dragged apart.

The woman had the gumption to roll her eyes at him. “You going to keep yakking at
me, Sergeant, or are you going to do something better with that steel between my legs?”

Goddamn
. Her naughty mouth made his shaft feel like real steel. As he lunged up into her,
reveling in her stunned gasp and arched neck, he snarled, “Like make you ride it,
baby girl? Like this?”

She cried out as he drove into her even deeper. “
Sí
, my Sir. Just—like—ohhhh!”

Forget the pretty adjectives. It was time to fuck his gorgeous little subbie. To drive
her high and hard into the stratosphere of her pleasure until her walls converged
on his cock and milked his seed deep into her body.

Like so many other things in this unexpected explosion of their relationship, it was
a bungee jump of faith. A wild belief in what could be. Another careen into crazy.

In all the most perfect ways.

* * * * *

Where the hell had forty-eight hours gone?

For the first time since he was a kid on summer break, time had been pressed into
a strange mix of both the meaningless and monumental. The little things just didn’t
seem to matter anymore, while the big stuff, like spending as much time as possible
with his brother and Zoe, were now Shay’s hugest priorities.

Because in every damn minute of those precious hours, he never forgot the price he
paid for them.

Conveniently, the monsters had left the tags on the merchandise. Every row of stitches
was a fresh reminder that this respite wasn’t going to last forever…that the boys
in the land of the thick black thread were hunting for him even now.

He’d only go back to that hell in a body bag.

Put the morbidity away, shithead. Enjoy the moment, remember? The sun is shining.
The sky is blue. Your subbie is smiling and you should be, too.

Dr. Suess had to take a back burner, too. Shay looked up to endure a skewering from
his brother’s sarcastic stare. He wasn’t sure if the reason for the eyeballing was
good or bad so he waited for Tait to wrap his call to Kauaˈi and walk back over to
the pool cabana that Dan and Oz had secured for their use during the afternoon.

A victorious shriek from the plunge pool grabbed his attention. Ryder and Zoe were
Ellie and Brynn’s opponents in a water volleyball game, and it looked like Zoe was
ruling the action. Shay smiled at the joy on his subbie’s face. Though Dan and Ghid
had decreed it was best for Zoe’s friends to stay here since their homes were likely
still being watched, the edict had valuable residual benefits. Seeing her rested and
content provided a glimpse into a future he was determined to fight for. To live for.

Zoe spiked the ball over the net for another team point. Ryder whooped and high-fived
her. As Zoe jumped to meet the move, sunshine and water gleamed across her body, clad
in a pink bikini he loved and hated for all the same reasons. The thing was only held
on her body by little string ties…

Time to adjust the towel in his lap.

As he slid the cover higher, he mandated himself to focus on something else. It was
a damn good thing the Vdara had all these pools. Another that they were the only crowd
at this one. The first time some douche ogled Zoe with the same intent that burned
his mind right now, the guy would probably be without a dick.

Sprawled on the cabana’s second lounger, Dan glanced at him and chuffed. “Fuck, man.
Put us all out of your misery and make her throw on a T-shirt.”

“Sure,” he sneered. “And that’ll make a difference…how?”

Colton frowned, genuinely confused. Shay would’ve laughed if his imagination weren’t
on fire with the answer to that. Getting to the bikini top would be just as much a
no-brainer for him if Zoe wore a T-shirt. As soon as he had her pretty tits free of
the little pink triangles, he’d enjoy hardening her nipples right through the shirt’s
fabric—with his tongue. Wouldn’t be long before he pulled the strings off the bottom
of the suit, too. Then he’d slip inside her wet tightness, taking her in a long, luxurious
fuck that would give her at least three orgasms before he started pounding harder,
and—

“Well, Kell got home from training,” his brother announced, “and took a break from
screwing our subbie in the rain in order to relay his asshat hello to everyone.”

“Awww.” Dan smirked. Thanks to polishing off a bottle of Glenlivet with Tait the other
night after Shay had disappeared into the bedroom with Zoe, the agent was fully updated
about Tait’s unique relationship status back on the island—and enjoyed ribbing T about
it whenever the chance arose. “Is somebody’s dunking his head in a big ol’ barrel
of oh-poor-me?”

“Bite me,” Tait drawled.

“No, thank you,” Dan quipped. “But maybe your brother’ll be up for the task.” He whacked
a hand to his thigh. “Oh, damn. Wait. The only person he’s ‘up for’ these days is
currently leading the spike count in the volleyball game.”

Shay snorted. “And boy, do I have a celebration trophy for her.”

Dan snickered. “Make sure she kisses it after she holds it up.”

“She always does.”

“Then you gonna show it off to T?”

Tait glared while dropping into a chair then adjusting the discomfort of his junk.
“You done with your fun yet, teabaggin’ Tex?”

“Gah.” Shay threw the orange peel from his drink, hitting the center of T’s chest.
“Dude, I can’t believe you reached for that one.”

Tait laughed and tossed the fruit back. “I’ve had to step up my game. I think the
SHRCs are going to petition for shit-slinging as an Olympic event.”

Dan’s brows hunkered. “For the winter or summer games?”

“Probably winter.” T took a sip of his own drink. His had a pineapple instead of an
orange. “They could stick it in during lulls in the curling matches.”

Shay rolled his eyes. “Isn’t curling one giant lull?”

“You have a problem with curling?” The charge came from the cabana’s newest guest,
a scowling Ghid. As usual, the man wore a dark T-shirt to completely shield his back,
joined by black nylon shorts and a pair of flip-flops. “You know what kind of skills
are required for that sport?”

While Ghid grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge, Shay kicked his chortling
brother in the shin. Hell. T of all people should be sympathizing with Ghid’s tension,
misplaced this time to a rant about big stones, little brooms, and a lot of ice. Personally,
Shay shared Tait’s point of view—a real sport usually involved protective gear and
blood—but if Ghid wanted to bluster again about the guy he caught counting cards last
night, he not only understood, but supported it.