"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, baby, oh yeah, oh God, yes, oh ... yeah, I think we're both clean enough."
* * *
he used a crystal rocks glass from the suite's bar to pour the milky white bath through her hair. Mesmerized by her long, blue-black ropes and how the opaque water drizzled through it, it was all he could do to not touch her flawless ivory skin. But having been strongly rebuffed in front of the team by his brand-new wife, the last thing he wanted to do was add in sult to injury. He'd followed Marlene's rules to the letter, as hard as that was to do while watching Jasmine's petite nude body move like a water nymph in the shower. However, the last thing he wanted to do was mess up some ritual as the youngest guy on the team - or be the loose link that allowed terror into the family.
So, he was gonna do the right thing, stay on his knees and wash her hair like she had so lovingly washed his first, even though he'd been in the wrong. And if he stayed on his knees and kept his body pressed close to the edge of the huge tub, then maybe the hard-on would die down before she got an gry again. If he could just get his hand not to tremble as he poured the milky water over her gorgeous hair... and if he could stop staring at her cinnamon-brown ni**les that played a bobbing game of hide-and-seek in the water with him ... he had to also ignore the peaceful expression on her beautiful face and the way her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes almost hunted him as he worked. Her small, heart-shaped mouth was nearly his undoing as her pink lips parted and she took in a sip of air. Her eyes slid shut as he massaged her scalp. Yeah, on his knees was just where he should be - in the right position to beg her not to be angry anymore. Bobby swallowed hard and touched Jasmine's face. "You still mad at me?" he asked, hearing the toiletries on the bathroom counter begin to rattle.
"No," she said, without opening her eyes as she relaxed in the tub.
"You sure?" he murmured, noticing towels begin to slip from the racks on their own.
"I was just afraid," she murmured. "I never want to lose you. I've lost all my family in the Philippines ... those that I knew, and then we lost Gabrielle - who was your aunt, but like a mother to me. But, Robert, I've never known love like this." Jasmine sat up slowly and opened her eyes. His voice caught in his throat as she took his mouth. She'd used his formal name ... the name that made him sound more like a man than the team kid the old dudes treated him as. He pulled her to her knees with only a short rise of porcelain between them as his hands caressed her hair to slide down to her shoulders and arms, then glide over her br**sts.
"Say it again," he whispered against her neck, kinetic en ergy flowing through him so hard that her hair was beginning to levitate off her shoulders. He hoped she knew what he was asking as his grip tightened around her.
"Robert," she said in a low, sultry rush of breath into his ear. It happened so naturally, the sliding fall where she slipped over the edge of the tub into his arms and his back hit the floor... just as naturally as she fit against him and he fit into her and the water droplets in the tub rose and fell in kinetic ecstasy, dancing to the rhythm that naturally oc curred in the middle of the floor.
* * *
she yanked off his vest and ripped his T-shirt over his head. He bent quickly to unlace his combat boots and drop his pants. Her nightgown was gone in one deft move. They worked in tandem to get everything into the plastic bag and said a quick Hail Mary over it, then embraced.
His tongue was down her throat before she could gasp his name. Her hands raced up his back and then caressed his bald head. He began to walk her backward, and she almost fell.
"What about the shower and whole thing?" she said, barely able to catch her breath.
"Later. In about twenty minutes," he gasped.
"But," she said on a hard pant, breaking away from an other ardent kiss. "Marlene said -
"
"After being married for twenty plus years, Marj, raising kids, and being through all we've been through together - can anything come between me and you?" He pulled back and looked at her hard, gulping air.
"No," she said, the response almost a broken shout. She covered his face with kisses, dragging him toward the bedroom. "But Richard Berkfield, if you die on me, ever, I will never forgive you."
He guided her to the edge of the huge king-sized bed in their suite and then pushed her hand down his stomach while looking into her eyes breathing hard. "Does that feel like a dead man, Mrs. Berkfield?"
She slowly closed her eyes and stroked him. "Oh, no, Mr. Berkfield, no, no it most certainly does not. Sit down."
* * *
"you have every right to be pissed off, darlin'," Rider said, yanking off his favorite silvertoe, hand-tooled, demon-hunting cowboy boots and tossing them into the plastic bag. He kept a steady eye on Tara as he opened his belt and stripped down his black jeans and Fruit of the Loom boxers. "So, I'm not gonna try and make any excuses. Tem porary insanity was the cause. Yep "
He watched her watching him with a smoldering hurt in her eyes. Even while furious she was gorgeous, perhaps even more so then. Low room light lit her Native American features within African-American parentage, making her smoky dark eyes darker, and her sculptured cheekbones create a breath-stopping profile. Then her mouth, good Lord... full and lush, a mouth to drown in, and her hair was like a heavy black, velvet drape down to her shoulders. His gaze swept over her scantily clad body, causing her arms to fold tighter.
"Aw, c'mon and get na**d with me." He wiggled his eye brows. "Might relieve some stress, who knows?"
"You, Jack Rider, are incorrigible," she said, pointing at him as she untied the sash of her silk robe and discarded the item in the plastic bag. But she slowed her movements down as she peeled off her long, flowing nightgown, seeming somewhat uncomfortable, or at the very least, unsure about stripping in front of him while still so thoroughly annoyed.
"Damn . .." he murmured, allowing his gaze to pour liq uid heat over her as it slid down her throat and over her br**sts, following a trail down her belly before it slid over her mound and her long, to-die-for legs. "I am thoroughly in corrigible ... no lie."
"And you haven't heard a word I've said," she fussed, covering her br**sts by folding her
arms over them to block his view. "In fact, I think you're crazy, is what it is - that's the root of it. Insanity."
"Wanna know what else makes me crazy?" he asked with a wry chuckle. He looked down, making her smile. "Guilty as charged. You make me crazy."
"Get in the shower, Jack Rider," she said, trying to stay in character and pretend to be piqued.