His breath left him in a rush. He gently pulled down the tab to the base of her spine. He kissed the exposed skin, being sure to be gentle with the purple bruises that dotted her shoulders and back.
He pushed the wide shoulder straps down, and the dress fell to the floor. He pressed his forehead to the skin at the base of her neck and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
She shifted, and he stood straight. She turned to face him. She wore a white strapless bra and matching panties and a thousand bruises and scrapes. Her ribs were purple with red centers. And now he knew the last blows she’d received, the ones that had her making sharp pained sounds, had probably been kicks to her ribs.
He gently touched the purple skin. “I’m going to kill him.”
She stepped back. Out of his reach. “No. I will not lose you to a Maltese prison.” She nodded toward the head. “Now, I need to clean my wounds. Help me?”
She unhooked the bra on her way across the room. She dropped her panties on the threshold to the head. Rand followed, stripping along the way. He had more layers, so it took longer, especially since he had to sit to remove his boots.
At last, he stepped into the shower, where Kira stood with her face in the hot spray. Rand took a bar of soap and a soft cloth and set to work, gently cleaning her shoulders and back.
Before tackling the cuts coated with dried blood on her thighs, he filled his hands with shampoo and massaged her scalp, then worked the soap into a lather. She moaned softly with pleasure.
The shower head was a wand, and he used it to rinse her hair, then applied conditioner. While it soaked in, he lathered her breasts, belly, and bruised ribs. He had no intention of arousing her; he just wanted to wash away the pain.
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, then reached for the nozzle and rinsed the conditioner from her hair. She made another soft moan. He was getting harder by the moment, but that wasn’t what this was about.
“Ready for me to clean the cuts?” he asked.
She braced her hands against the shower wall and nodded.
He changed the setting on the nozzle to a gentle spray and dropped to his knees. There were at least six cuts that were long and deep, and another dozen that were small. Of the six, three were inflamed. He had oral antibiotics in his kit. He’d give them to her right after he applied ointment to the cleaned cuts.
He cleaned slowly and gently, washing away the crusted blood and dirt that had caked the wounds.
At last, she was cleaned of all dirt and blood, and he rose to his feet and replaced the showerhead. He reached to turn off the water, but she brushed his hand aside. “Please. Touch me.”
“You’re bruised—everywhere. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please. I’ll stop you if it hurts.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast. He cupped her, but then she pulled his hand lower.
His fingers touched her folds and he stroked her clit, then slid down and dipped inside her. She was swollen and ready.
He let out a soft groan.
She turned and faced him. He kissed her deeply, then dropped to his knees and put his mouth on her. This was the best way to give her pleasure without hurting her.
She groaned and ran her fingers through his wet hair as the water splashed on his face and he stroked her clit with his tongue.
How close had they come to not having this moment? What would have happened if he hadn’t followed her to Malta? If Freya hadn’t given him the spider drone?
The fingers in his hair curled tight and pulled. He stroked harder, determined to give her the best orgasm of her life.
But she pulled his mouth from her. “Rand. I need you inside me.”
“This way, I won’t hurt you—”
“I need to feel you inside me. Please. Love me, Rand. Please love me.”
He was helpless against that plea. He stood and lifted her, spreading her legs, his heavy erection nudging against her opening. “I do love you, Kira.” He slid deep.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the shower wall as he groaned. He wouldn’t last long, but that was probably good given that he worried that with each movement, he might hurt her.
Water sprayed on his shoulder as he thrust, holding her against the tile wall, hands on her butt, above the cuts he’d just carefully cleaned.
She clenched tight as they both climaxed. He covered her mouth with his, muffling the sound of their groans and kissing her deeply. The SEALs likely guessed what they were doing, but no point in making it obvious.
He held her there in the spray, his cock still deep inside her as he gazed into her eyes. She stroked his cheek. “I finally got my shower sex.”
He leaned his forehead to hers. “You can have me anywhere, any way you want. I’m yours as long as you want me.”
Her smile was beautiful and lit the shower stall with its own light. “I’m never going to stop wanting you. I love you, Rand.” She kissed him. “My one and only love.”
He grinned, his chest filling with a warmth that was somehow different from everything that had come before.
She kissed him softly. “I can’t wait to explore the future with you. But first, we need to face the past and pay a visit to my dear brother. And no, you aren’t allowed to kill him. I have a better idea.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
A cheer rang out in the office when one of the SEALs in Malta radioed that they’d found Dr. Hanson and she would be okay. Everyone had been on edge since watching and hearing her fight with her brother the day before, but Lieutenant Chris Flyte had been especially so. He was the only person in the room who had known Hanson personally before the shooting on Tuesday.
It was no surprise to Teague that Flyte slipped from the room to call his girlfriend, Diana, to give her the good news.
After that, they settled in to figure out their defensive strategy. It was 1100 in Malta and 0500 in Virginia. The clock continued to tick down to showtime at 2050.
