Cover Me - By Catherine Mann Page 0,87
nipples pulling painfully tight from the cold and desire. She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come.
Increasing the pressure ever so precisely, his fingers circled, plucked, teased. “All this heat with no electric bill.” He stroked along her cleft, already moist from increasing arousal. “As long as the thing doesn’t erupt underneath us.”
She laughed softly, then gasped as his mouth closed over her, lapping, laving, until the aurora borealis wasn’t just behind her eyes, it was exploding inside her. Wade braced her back and urged her farther, higher, milking every last sensation from her completion. Finally, seconds—minutes, hours, she lost track of time—later, her legs slid down him and she slowly righted again.
Looping her arms around his neck, she sagged against his chest and let him hold her, support her weight, as her legs probably wouldn’t work yet anyway. “I think… I’m having… a heart attack.”
“And living so deep on a mountain? That would make access to a major medical facility tough.” He grazed her cheek with a kiss. “Lucky for you I’m proficient in CPR.”
His words chilled her from the inside as she thought of her sister and wondered not for the first time if things could have been different for her if she’d gotten sick somewhere else. How could Wade help but think of his mother, cut off from help? No ambulance and ER right around the corner to care for her horrific injuries.
Sunny eased from him, her toes touching rocks along the bottom until she was grounded again, the fantasy dimming. She struggled to think of a way to get it back, her eyes lingering on her lover. Moonlight glinted off his short dark hair, slick with a mix of water and hints of ice, while his chest was flushed from the heated water and great sex. She knew his body so well in some ways, and in others not as much.
Desperate to chase away negative thoughts that threatened to steal this fantasy moment from her, she stroked his shoulder blade. “You have green footprints tattooed here.” A strange color that seemed as out of place on his skin as the lights misting overhead. “What’s the reason behind it? Because if it’s a bar story, I’m betting it’s a good one.”
Laughing, he kissed the inside of her elbow, their legs brushing underwater. “It’s a pararescue thing. Most of us have them somewhere on our body. It dates back to the Vietnam War, when the H-3 Sea King was the helicopter used most often to drop PJs in and pull us back out. The chopper was big and green—thus its nickname, the Jolly Green Giant. PJs started getting green footprint tattoos.”
Her fingertips sketched along the rougher patches of inked flesh, her nerves still on heightened alert from the power of her orgasm… orgasms actually, as he’d brought her to completion three times since they’d entered the pool. “Any other tattoos I should know about ahead of time?”
“That’s it. But you’re welcome to look again.” He kissed up her arm. “And again.”
He pulled her closer until she pressed flush against him. The gush of water from the geyser echoed her speeding pulse in her ears. Her nipples skimmed his chest, his swirls of hair a gentle abrasion. She was definitely too spent to have sex again so soon, and even if she weren’t she knew he was talking about the future. Which wasn’t unreasonable, given the tenuous connection forming in spite of roadblock after roadblock.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, the longer ends floating out around her. “What am I going to do with you, Sunny Foster?”
“Could we just have sex twenty-four/seven?” she whispered against his mouth. “Seems like we communicate best that way.”
He nipped her bottom lip. “Believe me, I would if I could.”
“You mean you’re not a superhero?” She stared at him in mock surprise.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, not meeting her eyes.
Her hands grazed down his back until she cupped his tight, amazing butt. “No comeback, for once? That’s a shocker.”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know how to joke about it. I’ve spent a lot of my life training for this.”
“How long? Spell it out,” she asked, hungry for everything she could learn about him. They had so little time left together, with his impending deployment, her own uncertainty about her future. “I can’t know what you don’t tell me.”
“PJs spend nearly two years training overall. Indoctrination course at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, then on to Airborne School at Fort Benning.