He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes finding hers and holding them as he closed his teeth on the wrapper and ripped it open. He pushed himself up a bit more, but she barely had a chance to appreciate the defining effect of that half sit-up on his abs before she was distracted by the lazy, indulgent way he stroked himself before rolling down the condom.
He flopped back down wearing a teasing smile. “All yours.”
His trousers were bunched up around his calves, his cocky grin was nowhere near tamed, and there were still so many places on his body she wanted to touch, taste, lick until he squirmed. But the throbbing between her legs was reaching a fever pitch and she didn’t want to wait another second. There’d be plenty of time for long, lingering sex later.
Well, for the next week and a half before he left, anyway.
Shoving that horrible thought firmly to the side, Tara positioned herself above Chance’s jutting erection, then lowered her pelvis so slowly her quads ached. That first brush of his tip was ecstasy, that initial stretch of entry almost maddening. Strain replaced the mirth in his face as he watched her, clearly tormented by her unhurried descent but enjoying it all the same.
She was halfway down when she stopped, closing her eyes against her burning leg muscles to focus entirely on the agonizingly sweet fullness at the apex of her thighs. How many nights in the last ten months had she fantasized about this moment? How many times had she brought herself to completion, her fingers and memories poor substitutes for this man’s body? How many tears had she shed in the secretive darkness of her bedroom, convinced her one shot at happiness was already over?
When she opened her eyes Chance was staring at her, his expression a mix of incredulity and apology and promised devotion that softened her heart until she worried it might dissolve altogether. She smiled at him, braced her hands on his thighs and slid home.
Given his natural impatience with drawn-out foreplay and post-coital pillow talk, Chance had never considered himself a particularly selfless lover. But as he watched Tara move above him, rocking her pelvis and digging her fingers into his hips, he couldn’t have cared less how good it felt or whether he came at all. She was so powerfully, ethereally beautiful that he would’ve done anything in the world to keep her so happy.
He touched her reverently, tracing the curve of her abdomen, cupping her breasts. He brought his thumb to her mouth and she sucked it hard, then he planted it between her legs. The faintest pressure transformed her rhythm and soon she bucked above him, moaning, her head thrown back in such delirious ecstasy that the sight nearly ended him.
By the time her internal muscles ceased their clamping spasm and she rolled her head back to look at him with a drowsy smile, he was so close he thought he might go insane. He wrapped his arm around her waist and flopped her onto her back, gritting his teeth as she stretched her arms over her head languorously, thrusting her taut nipples into his chest.
The pressure was building within him now. His thrusts were frenzied, sloppy, desperate. This was adolescent backseat fucking, but Tara’s grin only encouraged him, the fingertips digging into his back urging him to go harder and faster. It had never been like this before—an acquiescence instead of a conquest, a subjugation of reason to need, a wholeness so complete he wasn’t sure he’d survive the withdrawal from her body.
Wait—yes it had. In Kansas City, in December. It had been exactly like this.
As he neared the edge something in her expression changed. Her eyes softened, her lips parted. She trailed her finger over his cheek, and he knew exactly what she meant.
“Say it,” he gasped, lowering his face to hers.
Fear flashed in her eyes. She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
“Don’t be scared,” he ground out through a clenched jaw. “Say it. I want to hear it.”
“I can’t.” There were tears in her voice.
“Please, Tara.”
“Chance…”
He came with a bone-clattering shudder and an almighty groan, his heart pounding and his vision blurring. His whole body sagged from the force of release, his energy completely spent, the muscles in his arms trembling as he heaved himself off her and onto his side.
When the silence stretched so long it was clear she wasn’t going to speak, he pulled her stiff form into his chest. She pressed her face into the base of his throat and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. She nodded against his skin.
But it wasn’t okay, not really. It was a nagging hole in his contentment that grew larger with every minute, as he realized more and more how badly he wanted to hear those three words.
The hole widened while they sat at the table eating a thrown-together pasta dinner. She was dressed only in his ACU jacket and although just the thought of her bare breasts filling the front of it was enough to harden him, it couldn’t banish his burgeoning uneasiness.
After they ate he carried the rest of the boxes out to her car while she stood on the doorstep, arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the cold autumn air. When he was done he pushed her against the wall of the house, reached under the jacket to caress the exposed place between her legs, knelt and finished her off with his tongue right there on the porch. As she limped back inside she commented that it was a good thing the nearest neighbors were so far away, but the smile he offered in answer was hollow. The hole was getting bigger.
When they finally made it to bed she drew him toward her, kissed him deeply and lingeringly, guided him into her body with a tenderness that made his heart ache. He stroked slowly, studied every minute change in her expression, watched her face crumple and tighten as she cried out, arching beneath him and squeezing his shoulders. As the tide of his own climax swept over him he worried it might wash out his whole being, his thoughts, his breath, that there may be nothing left when this passion receded.
The hole was bigger than ever when his vision came back into focus, but he realized that it was up to him to start pulling it closed. Tara was nestled in his embrace, her cheek on his shoulder, and he brought his lips to her forehead.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered.
She shifted in his grip. He felt her draw breath to speak, then stop, then exhale in indecision.
“You know what? Forget what I just said. I love you, Tara. I’m there. It’s done. And the weird thing is, I think I’ve loved you since I met you. Right from that moment you smiled at me in the bar. I knew even then, I’m gonna love this girl.”
“So why did you leave me?”
Her voice was choked with emotion, and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by regret. He clutched her more tightly, pinning her against his side.
“Because I’m an idiot, okay? You were sleeping, looking so peaceful and pretty, and I panicked. You barely knew me, you couldn’t know what army life was like, and I’d gone and tied you to it. I thought you deserved better than an unstable grunt like me and I took off. It was cowardly, and it was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
She propped herself up on his chest, big eyes boring into him. “You were wrong, you know. If one of us has lucked out in all this, it’s me.”
“I don’t know about that. But for some reason you seem intent on sticking with my crazy ass.”
She grinned, lifting a shoulder. “I like crazy.”
“And I love you.”
Her face darkened, and he put a finger on her lips. “I know it’s hard. Say it when you’re ready. I’ll wait.”
Her smile was relieved. She dropped back into his arms, folding her hands under her cheek. “Thanks, Chance.”
“No problem, sugar.” He closed his eyes and settled back on the pillows, trying to still his whirring thoughts and enjoy the warm pressure of her body on his.
