The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (14 page)

He lifted her up to the cold surface. Her breathing was fast and shallow, matching his. Her eyes were wide and dark, like a forest beckoning with its hidden paths and secret treasures. He spread her legs and stepped between them. When she lifted her hands to his shoulders, he pulled them down and set them flat against the counter, giving her a slow shake of his head.

He bent slightly, nearly touching the curve of her neck as he stroked her calves. Christ Almighty, she was luscious. He knew his hands were rough, calloused from his work. He should worry that it offended her, but he didn’t care. He stroked slowly, slowly upward. She was the only one he could touch. He’d missed having physical contact with a woman. His mind was fucked, but he trusted hers—if the phantom flesh showed up for real, she would tell him. And unless she said it was there, he was safe. He could trust. Could indulge.

He drew his hands up and over her tiny knees, so little they fit in his palms, so different from his bulky joints. He spread her legs a little farther, watching as his hands smoothed up over her thighs. His skin was dark against her pale skin. He pushed the edge of her skirt higher, up to her hips, revealing the delicate white panties she wore, more lace than garment.

He dragged his gaze up to meet hers, watching her face as he stroked his hands slowly back down to her knees, letting his thumbs drag against the soft inside of her thighs. Her lips parted. She arched toward him. He leaned in, feeling her rise to meet him like a magnet connecting with its other half. He did not let their mouths touch. Instead, he dipped his mouth down to the corner of her jaw, almost close enough to touch her. He drew a deep breath, scenting the perfume of her skin, sweetened by nothing other than her natural scent and the barest hint of jasmine. He knew she felt the draw of air against her cheek, for she sucked in a sharp breath and pushed against him, nuzzling him, aching, as he did, to consummate their kiss.

He lifted a hand to stroke her core, touching her only through her panties, teasing her with what they both wanted. The fabric was damp with her desire, her clitoris swollen. He stroked and rubbed, playing her body. She pressed against his hand.

“Rocco, please—”

“No. You get no say in this. It is my time, my joy to give. You just have to take it.” His nose was against hers, his lips hovering above hers, their words a fevered breath shared between their mouths.

She grabbed hold of his face, her fingers splayed against his cheeks. “I want you. Now. All of you! Please!”

He smiled as he deepened the pressure against her. “Later. This is only an appetizer. Come. Come for me. Let go.” And she did. Crying out. Aching for more.

When Mandy’s screaming nerves slowly settled down, she was still starved for him. And judging from the size of the bulge in his jeans, he was in a similar condition. She stroked him. A muscle bunched in his jaw. “I want you. Now. I want to finish this.”

He took her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Soon. We’ve dinner to eat.”

“I don’t care about dinner.”

“I do. You worked hard on it.”

Mandy looked at the table, feeling absolutely no appetite for the meal. “Please, Rocco.”

“The best things in life should be savored, slowly.” He stepped back and lifted her off the counter. She stood before him, completely at his beck and call. “Take your panties off.”

“But we’re going to eat—”

He arched a brow at her. He had something delicious in mind—she could see it in his face. Unable to resist him, she drew the lacy underwear down her legs, kicking off her boots to step out of them.

“Put your boots back on.” Again, she complied, leaving her panties on the floor. He smiled at her, then led her to the table.

“Oh! The iced tea!” She grabbed the pitcher from the fridge. He sat while she poured his glass. He stroked her thigh, moving his hand up to cup her bare buttock, watching her with eyes that had gone dark with hunger.

She sat at the table and helped herself to a portion of Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. He did the same, and for a moment, neither spoke. She felt naked sitting at the table without underwear. She ventured a look at him, only to see that he was observing her chest. She watched him until he raised his eyes to hers. He took another bite of his food, chewing it slowly. When he swallowed, he didn’t take another.

“Unbutton your shirt and push it to your waist.”

A heated blush stole up her neck. “We’re at the dinner table.” If she did what he asked, she knew she would never think about a meal at this table the same way again.

“We’re alone. Do it.”

Her fingers shook as she unfastened the first button. This was cruel and unusual punishment. He continued to eat while she undressed, watching, savoring the skin she revealed. She pulled her arms free of the sleeves and pushed it down, sitting before him in her lacy bra. She ventured a look at him. His eyes lifted to meet hers. He smiled.

“You are an amazing cook.”

“I learned from my grandmother. She was definitely old fashioned in her ideas. She felt there was nothing more important than a family meal at the end of each day. Except, maybe, for breakfast and starting each day with a full stomach.” She was rambling now, chattering to keep herself from attacking him. Mandy cut a piece of meat and shoved it into her mouth.

“Kit told me you lost your parents before high school. I’m sorry about that. You were lucky to have such wonderful people to take you in. They would be proud of you now.”

She nodded. “My grandfather was a foreman on Ty’s father’s spread. He always wanted to make a living off this ranch, but he was never able to. He and I had the same dream.”

“What was Blade like in those days? And don’t tell me ‘hot.’”

Mandy looked at her plate as she dipped back into her memories. “He was a lot older than me. I didn’t really know him as a kid. I saw more of him once I met Kit. Truthfully, he always made me nervous. His father was a cruel man who delighted in tormenting anyone and everyone. I do remember one story my grandparents told me. Ty had broken his leg while his father was in one of his frequent, drunken stupors. He beat Ty up for crying. Nearly a week later, when he sobered up, Ty’s leg was still untreated and had become infected. He spent a month in the hospital and had to have several surgeries. My grandmother visited him every day. When he got the cast off, my grandfather worked with him to help him regain his mobility. He had Ty doing certain chores around the ranch here to build his strength, then got him riding again.

“When Mr. Bladen learned that his son was working on his foreman’s ranch, he became unhinged. He fired my grandfather. But Mr. Bladen’s other hired hands had had it with him by then. They threatened to quit if he didn’t hire him back. My grandmother cried for a week. They all could have lost their jobs. But there was more work available in the area in those days, so they were bold. Every one of them told my grandparents they would rather work in the coalfields than for Mr. Bladen. He took my grandfather back, but was worse than ever to him. And Ty didn’t come over anymore after that.”

“I knew his dad had been a son-of-a-bitch, but I didn’t know how bad he was. Blade thrived in the Army. I hope he’ll adjust easily to being a civilian again.”

“Has it been an easy adjustment for you?”

Rocco met her glance. “No.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

Rocco looked at his plate as he considered his words. “I knew what I was in the Army. I knew my mission. My life, even as an irregular, was structured. I had a purpose. I have none of that now.”

Except, he did have one last mission. He’d made progress here. He was eating regularly and sleeping more. Soon, he’d be ready. Soon.

When they were both finished eating, Rocco stood and started to clear. “Leave these.” Mandy stopped him. “I’ll do them.”

“Nope. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

Mandy stood up and started to pull her shirt back on. He stilled her hands and shook his head. “We’ll have dessert as soon as I finish the dishes.” He led her to the counter beside the sink and lifted her up. “Keep me company.” He leaned forward and kissed the soft skin beneath her collarbone, ran his lips over her collarbone and up her neck. Nibbling on her jaw, he grinned as he looked up into her eyes.

He made short work of putting the food away and washing up. When he was finished, he turned to her, looking her over from head to toe as if trying to determine where to start his dessert feast.

He touched the back of his knuckles over the curves of her breasts, tracing the soft skin above her bra.

“Want coffee?” she offered a little breathlessly.

“No. I want you.” He drew her hips closer to the edge of the counter, kissing her throat, her jaw, making his way over her chin to her lips. His tongue swept inside her mouth.

“Am I allowed to touch you?” she whispered.

“You can do anything you feel moved to do. Or sit back and let me do you.” He kissed her again, his mouth feasting on hers, forcing her surrender, melting her bones. When she was breathless and clutching at him, he dropped to his knees and mouthed her core.

Shoving his hands up her thighs to cup her buttocks, he pressed her soft folds to his mouth. His tongue stroked, wandering where it wanted, tasting her desire. She cried out when he entered her with two fingers, and again when he sucked her clitoris. He looked up at her as his fingers stroked inside her, his mouth wet with her dew. He pulled one side of her bra down, exposing her breast.

Gently, he took her nipple and rolled it back and forth, watching as it tightened into a hard nub. And then, still holding her nipple, he mouthed her again. Mandy nearly arched off the counter. When he sucked her, spasms started. She bucked against his face, helpless to do anything but surrender.

When her body grew still, he rose and kissed her, letting her taste her own passion on his lips. He pushed her bra down, freeing her other breast. Mandy reached to his sides and drew his T-shirt up over his head. He’d run things the entire evening. Now it was her turn. She wanted to see him lose his control, wanted to drive him as mindless with passion as he’d made her.

She pushed him back away from the counter and slipped to her feet, then her knees. Unbuckling his belt, she opened his fly and spread the sides of his jeans against his lean hips. He wore no underwear. His rigid cock stood at the ready for her, deeply veined and heavy.

Mandy smiled up at him as she drew him toward her mouth. His eyes became hooded as he watched her mouth cover him. He was big. It was hard to fit her lips around him. He let her take him at her own pace, watching her intently, the tension deepening on his face. As she eased him deeper into her mouth, her tongue stroked the sensitive underside of him. His cock jumped involuntarily. She sucked and licked at him. Her hand reached into his jeans and cupped his balls. She massaged him, licking and squeezing until his hips were pushing him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

“Yeah. Like that. Like that.” He threw his head back and cursed. Then suddenly he pulled free. Bending, he scooped her up and set her up on the counter again, then shoved inside her, sheathing himself to his balls. He began to pump inside of her. God, she’d never felt anything so wonderful.

“Wait—a rubber!”

Rocco paused, shuddering against the control he imposed on himself. “Right, a rubber.” He dug around in his back pocket and pulled one out. Before he could open it, she put her hands on his and held him still.

“Or not. I’m on birth control. And I don’t have any STDs. I haven’t been with anyone since my physical, except you, last night.”

Rocco hissed, drawing a long breath into his lungs. He took her hips and started pumping again. “The Army gave me a clean bill of health, too. I haven’t been with anyone since my wife.” And no one for years before that.

“Your wife?” Mandy pushed on his shoulders. “You’re married?”

Ah, Christ. Not this discussion. Not now. “No.” Shit, he was going to come trying to hold himself back.

“You’re divorced?”

“No.”

“Who is she?”

“She was part of my cover in Afghanistan.”

“Was? Is she dead? Was she undercover like you?”

His ardor cooled in an instant.
“You did this. You killed us.”

Rocco withdrew from Mandy. He pulled her skirt down and buttoned his fly, then picked up his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. There was no way he could answer her questions. He wanted no secrets between them, but there were big chunks of his memory missing. And his mission wasn’t something he was willing to talk about. There were no answers he could give her.

What the hell had he been thinking to pursue this with her? He was too messed up for a relationship. Nor did he plan to stick around. And if she had such a visceral reaction to the fact that he’d been married, what would she say when she learned of his son?

He crossed his arms and leaned against the opposite counter. “I completed my mission. That’s all I can tell you.”

Tears filled her eyes. She righted her bra and pulled her shirt up, slipping her arms into the sleeves with jerky, angry movements. “You completed your mission,” she ground out. Reality hit her like a bucketful of ice water. What did she really know about Rocco, besides the fact that he was a passionate and generous lover?

He’d been in Afghanistan, undercover. He’d been in an explosion of some sort. And he’d been a prisoner of war. Those were all random facts. She didn’t know him at all. What was she thinking leaping into a sexual relationship with him? If she let it happen now, it would be the Bobby situation all over again.

Granted, she’d never come close to letting Bobby break her heart. But Rocco could. She cared for him enough to want to go slowly, let their relationship build from the ground up.

Her gaze crossed the chasm that had opened between them. “I’m sorry, Rocco. I can’t do this. I can’t do this now.”

Chapter 11

Static ripped into the silence of the bunkhouse. Rocco jerked awake, his heart slamming. He looked around the room, not recognizing where he was. “Rocco? Rocco, can you hear me?”