Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,69

groan at the way her tongue tastes. The mixture of my salt and her sweetness is a drug. I’m addicted to her.

I know that I’ll never be able to kick the habit.

Turning with her in my arms, I lay her down on my bed. For a second, I just stare down at the beauty she creates just by being there. Her hair fans out around her, a mess of wild, tangled curls against my sheets. As I watch, she grabs the sides of her panties and wiggles out of them. I can’t take my eyes off of her, even after she tosses them to the floor. She does the same with her bra, and she’s completely bared to me.

Her eyes take on a vulnerable sheen. Pulling the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, she worries it while she stares up at me.

I go to her like I’m caught on a line, sliding toward her on the bed. When I’m hovering above her, I hold my weight and stroke her face with one hand. My hand nearly engulfs her.

“You are so beautiful.” My whisper is ragged, raw. She brings something out of me that I never knew existed. It’s a primal need to show her how important she is…how she’s turned my world into something I barely recognize anymore.

If it weren’t for her, I might still be allowing alcohol to dull my pain. She gives me purpose.

“Baby.” Her arms go around me, pulling me tighter to her warmth. “Is this okay? With me on top?”

When her eyes fly up to meet mine, I know she hadn’t noticed our position, the relevance of it. She stares up at me with something like devotion in her eyes.

Devoted? To me? It’s a foreign concept. No one has ever been devoted to me. My mother sure wasn’t. The bottle, her next score, was always way more important than raising a young son. My brothers in arms…they respected me, they appreciated me for the fact that I’d die for them and they’d do the same for me. When I rose in rank, they even respected me. But devotion? That’s totally new, and I’m humbled enough by the emotion in her eyes that a lump forms deep in my throat. I dip my head down until my forehead meets hers. Our breaths mingle; we share the same air.

Her whisper breaks me. It puts me back together again.

“I trust you.”

It’s different this time. When I enter her, my entire heart feels the aftermath. Her storm eats me up, it swallows me whole. This woman who has turned my life upside down twice now is undoing me bit by bit, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it if I wanted to.

I don’t want to.

Her body folds around me, her slick heat wrapping me up in comfort and heat and wild, wild energy. She arches, a gasp leaving her lips as I find a rhythm. And then I can’t help but take her hard and fast, because that’s the way we relate to each other best.

“Oh, God. Drake.” Her voice rises, and it’s a sweet, sweet sound.

Her fingernails scrape my flesh, and I plant my head in the soft place between her neck and her shoulder. Nipping at her skin, she moans, and the vibration of it resonates in my cock. I let my lips rest against her throat, and it moves as she swallows hard. The pulse racing just beneath the surface of her skin makes the frantic pace of our bodies that much more intense.

“Mea.” Her name is a prayer.

Her walls start to clench and tighten around me, her inner muscles in furious turmoil. Lifting my head so I can see her like this, like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her, I reach between us and pinch her clit between my fingers.

“Drake!” she screams.

My breath catches in my throat as she comes apart, holding her tighter against me as she shakes and writhes underneath me.

“Always so beautiful, baby. Every fucking time.” With a growl, I pump into her until my seed is spreading warm and free out of me and into her.

My seed.

My body goes rigid; every muscle clamping down in an effort to deny what I just did.

Mea’s quiet gasps blow heat against my shoulder, and I let my head fall against her chest. Pulling out of her slowly, I lay hold of myself above her so I don’t crush her with my weight. She strokes me so softly,