By Honor Bound (16 page)

Fire raced along her veins as she responded with full abandon. He might be a fierce, deadly warrior, but the way his mouth treasured hers and the way he stroked her hair, spelled nothing but gentle lover. As he tangled his hands in her hair, he tilted her head back a little, as if wanting more access to her secrets. Caught up in sensations, she drifted into excitement as he caressed her back with slow deliberation. His big hands cradled and cherished while his strength empowered her desire. With subtle movements his hips nudged hers, and as his erection pressed against her belly, she gasped into his mouth.

God, it felt out of this world. She almost reached down to test him, to measure his length and width. Imagining his strength sliding in and out of her wet, swollen depths made Jemma whimper with longing. All around her the world faded to touch and maddening desire.

His body moved against her with the subtle pressure of seduction, his chest rubbing against her breasts, his hips brushing against hers. She clasped his shoulders as an anchor, her world tumbling into wild abandon. She palmed his hard pecs, delighting in the evidence of his strength. Hard, pillar strength bunched and flexed under her fingers. She couldn’t stop touching, exploring, opening her heart and mind to sexual feelings more wonderful than she’d fantasized.

As his touch became bolder, she released the last of her inhibitions. She moaned softly when his hands traveled down to her ass and squeezed. Massaging, he cupped and caressed with steady kneading.

Seconds blended as her body responded to his call. Shivers of delight heated her skin. Her nipples tightened, begging to be touched and sucked. Aroused didn’t begin to describe the need building within her core.

And he kissed her with the veneration reserved for a princess. Kiss after small kiss, he explored, a traveler over her senses. He savored and cherished until she couldn’t stand the dizzying excitement and her body responded in a way that held no doubts. Between her legs a hot yearning pulsed hard and demanded. Blayne’s cock strained big and hard against her stomach. She was falling over the edge of no return.

Blayne thought his head would explode. He had to get inside Jemma before he burst like a fucking schoolboy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much, when he’d ached with a frenzy that resembled the need to fuck after a long, hard battle. This yearning was far worse.

Why had he waited so long to kiss her? His body ached with the need to take her places neither of them had ventured, to brand her with every hammer and thrust of his cock deep inside her. And he knew she
would
be wet for him. The rhythm of her breathing, quick and excited, the way her hands stroked over his biceps, his chest, and plunged into his hair said one thing.

She wanted him.

Fuck, yes.

She felt so wicked in his arms, his little bundle of mind-blowing sin. He wanted to show her with his tongue and his lips that he could bring her to ecstasy. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm, his body screaming for completion. She moved in his arms sinuously, a desirable, incredible woman he’d wanted to nail since the first day he’d seen her.

And he did want to nail her. Hard, fast, and furiously. Denying anything less would be pure lie.

But he couldn’t take her hard the first time they had sex. He would frighten her with his strong need and overt desperation. No matter how much he wanted her, he’d take this slow and bring her to orgasm after orgasm until she ached to be filled with his cock and begged for it. He wanted to hear her liquid, tantalizing voice screaming his name.

The way he felt now, he could fuck her all night.

Blayne’s tired bones should have warned him off, but he knew he’d feel one hundred times better if he could slide deep into Jemma’s hot, wet center and find oblivion from intrusive thoughts and dreams.

He must have her.

Deep in Jemma’s belly, a new pulse began, demanded they finish what they’d started. His tongue parted and plunged, thrusting deep into her mouth. She moaned as he invaded with the demanding rasp of his tongue against hers. Each blatantly sexual movement drove her higher, her craving for him growing by the second. She responded, tangling her tongue with his until he groaned against her lips. She gasped as he started a dance, a rhythm sweeping her into fairytale lands and silk-spun visions of naked bodies writhing on satin sheets. Her fingers plunged into his hair to feel the silken strands, and he groaned against her lips as she caressed him. No, no doubt about it now. He wanted her with a passion asking for nothing less than total surrender.

In a sensual haze, she barely felt his hands under her sweater and opening her bra. Then he cupped her, testing her small rib cage. She writhed against him a little, but he was unrelenting. His tongue tortured as he pumped and stroked in her mouth, the rhythm so much like sex. She clenched her vaginal muscles as the pleasure gathered strength.

He broke the kiss and worked his way to her ear, his tiny nips along her jaw making her shiver with delight. She caressed his shoulders, wanting more. Seconds expanded into infinite minutes as his tongue stroked over her sensitive earlobe and she gasped in pleasure.

Tears of total happiness burned her eyes as he nibbled on her ear, then stuck his tongue inside.

Oh, God. I can’t stand this. It’s too good.

Her hips undulated, demanding he give her what she needed. His lips brushed down her throat, bathing her skin with licks and kisses. When he found her lips again she kissed him with voracious hunger. Taking the initiative, she swept her tongue over his lips and he opened to her hungrily. A soft growl left his throat and he twisted his mouth over hers, taking her tongue deep into his mouth.

With gentle, loving caresses he touched the sides of her breasts and she gasped in delight. He broke their kiss, and when she dared look into his eyes, she saw everything she wanted and more.

Blazing with sexual need, his dark gaze devoured her. He slid her sweater upward. Almost as if he feared hurting her, he cupped each breast and molded her in the hot embrace of his palms. She shivered as pleasure shot through her nipples, hardening them into almost painfully aroused beads.

“Please,” she whispered.

He backed her toward the couch, then with a swoop of his arms, he picked her up. Startled but pleased, she waited to see what he’d do. She smiled in delight and his sensual grin sparkled in his eyes. He sat down on the couch with her in his arms, then tipped her onto her back. Leaning over her, he pushed up her sweater and his fingers rasped gently over one nipple. She moaned as the feather light caress drove her into mindlessness. She closed her eyes, little moans of startled pleasure leaving her throat.

His mouth came down on hers and Blayne kissed her deeply. He clasped her nipples and plucked them, a steady tempo matching the stroke of his tongue in her mouth. Shivering in startled amazement, she enjoyed his seduction. Soon the pace overtook any thoughts but his fingers tormenting her breasts and his mouth weaving a heady desire she could never escape.

Jemma tore her mouth from his and gasped. “Blayne.”

As he plucked and stroked one nipple, he tortured the other with long licks and gentle sucks. She writhed under his ministrations. He cupped both breasts in his big hands and held them prisoner as he tweaked and stroked, suckled and laved with hot attention.

She groaned, the dampness and heat deep inside her growing too desperate craving. She dared look down at his dark head. Shoving her fingers into his hair, she kneaded his scalp as he treated each nipple to relentless attention.

Surely they’d reached the point of no return.

The phone rang.

Instantly he released her, his breath heaving in and out of his lungs as he stared at her. “Damn.”

Whether he cursed because they’d been interrupted or cursed because they’d been making out, she didn’t know.

Again the phone rang. Twice. Three times. The answering machine started to pick it up. He disentangled himself and lunged for the cordless phone on the breakfast bar. Halfway mortified that she’d been lying on his couch, she stood and walked to the breakfast bar, too.

Blayne barked a reply into the phone, his clipped voice sounded mighty pissed at the interruption.

Weak-kneed, she sank down on a stool and stared at him. Then she clipped her bra back together and pulled down her sweater. Her fingers trembled.

He jammed his fingers through his short hair, scrubbing as if the motion might wake him from a daze.

Oh, my God. I’ve just made out with Major Forbes. I was ready to strip off my panties, part my legs and let him have me right here. Right now.

A smile parted her lips.

Oh, yeah.

“Graham.” Blayne’s voice sounded rough-edged and deep, and Jemma liked the idea she’d created that rich note in his tone. “Yeah, how’s it goin’? I stopped by your office around lunch. How did you know I was back in town?”

The pause as he listened gave her a chance to think. Did she want overprotective big brother Graham to know she was here?

Get a hold of yourself. You’re a grown woman, for pity’s sake. If you want to screw the entire United States Army that’s your business, not your big brother’s.

She winced at the thought. She wasn’t a slut puppy, although part of her felt wanton beyond control. The burning attraction she felt for Blayne didn’t consist of only lust, but feelings she couldn’t comprehend. In any case, the situation propelled her into dangerous waters. If she touched him again she knew she wouldn’t turn back.

Seconds later Blayne glanced at her, and the way his gaze surveyed her body said the desire hadn’t worn off. “Don’t worry about her Graham. She’s safe.” A shit-eating grin covered his mouth as he laughed. “Because she’s right here with me. Look, I’ll talk to you later. Maybe in a couple of days we could get together for that beer. Yeah, there’s something I need to tell you. Here’s your little sister.”

She shook her head, panic taking hold. Her hand automatically took the phone and she was forced to talk to her brother. “Hey, Graham.”

“Is there something
you
should be telling me?” Graham asked, his voice tight.

Oh, great. Is this where he starts twenty-questioning me?

“Nice to speak with you, too.” She looked around the room. No sign of Blayne. “How’s the snow at Fort Carson?”

“Piling up. What about at Blayne’s apartment?”

She glanced outside. “Snowing harder than it was an hour ago.”

A sigh echoed from him. “You shouldn’t go out in this. Then again I’m not sure it’s safe for you there either.”

“What? Why isn’t it safe?” The line clicked off. “Hello? Hello?”

The phone was dead, no dial tone. She hung up, then lifted the receiver again. Nothing. Great.

“That would be my question.” She jumped at the sound of Blayne’s deep voice. “What’s not safe?”

Did she really want the truth? “Well, I suppose he could be talking about the weather, but I got the impression that isn’t what he meant.”

With a wry grin he moved closer to her. “What do you think he meant?”

“Maybe he sees me as the little sister who needs protecting. Big brother instinct, you know.”

His grin made her heartbeat accelerate. “Did he hang up on you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. The line is dead.”

“Damn. Well, I guess even if he wanted to scold you about being stuck here with me, he can’t now. At least not for a little while.”

He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. She almost whimpered. Then he leaned in and captured her lips quickly. He didn’t linger, but did a hit and run. Her heartbeat increased, excitement at having him near driving her toward something she didn’t know if she wanted.

He turned away and headed down the hall to his bedroom. “Make yourself at home while I take a short nap. See ya in about twenty minutes.”

* * * * *

While Blayne slept, Jemma took time to check out his bachelor quarters. She realized she’d received the wrong impression when she’d first walked inside. She strolled to the fireplace mantel and looked at framed photographs that sat there.

One of the five-by-seven photographs showed a night she remembered well. Blayne wore military dress blues and stood next to her and Graham.

The Christmas military ball from a year ago.

She smiled at the fond memories resurrecting in her mind. The party had almost turned into a bust for her; her date decided he’d rather dance with other women. Infuriated, she’d almost left. Blayne, who had arrived at the ball without a date, had graciously danced with her. She closed her eyes and recalled the two fast dances they’d shared. Free and happy, she’d experienced the exhilaration.

Now she knew the attraction she’d felt for him all this time wasn’t one-sided. She touched her lips and sighed. She played it over again; his warm lips teasing, coaxing, seducing reactions from her she’d never imagined resided deep within her. Hunger. Need. Incredible passion.

She perused other photos. A large eight-by-ten featured his mother and father.

A fantasy played in her mind as she imagined standing beside him in a family portrait, a new addition to his photos.

God, I need to take a step back. A few minutes to remember why I’m here.

One kiss didn’t make a lifetime. It didn’t make one night.

Of course, she’d done far more than kiss him. At the memory of his hands and mouth on her breasts, she quivered in renewed excitement. Nothing had prepared her for the desire, the craving to know him inside and out.

Feeling a little nervous, she looked at the
Life
magazine on his coffee table, then she wandered to his bookshelves. Eclectic was his middle name. He owned copies of Shakespeare, Twain, and other classics. Alongside more conventional fare were mysteries, suspense and adventure novels. Michael Crichton looked like one of his favorites based on the number of titles on his shelf.

Feeling thoroughly snoopy, she examined his DVD collection. Damned if he didn’t have quite a few of the same movies she did. After that she noted his music selections ranged from smooth jazz, hard rock and classical.