Until There Was You (Coming Home, #2) (25 page)

He made a low growl in his throat, his fingers gripping her wrist. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” She laughed but then he nipped her ear, his breath a rush against her skin. And suddenly, she didn’t feel like playing anymore. Serious now, she met his gaze. “Make me feel, Evan. Make me forget.”

Claire tugged her hands free and pulled her uniform T-shirt over her head. Evan’s mouth went dry.

“Mother of God.”

She wore a tiny black demi-bra. It cradled her breasts and looked like it was struggling just to stay in place. He could see the dark of her nipples behind the thin black lace. He framed her ribs with his palms, slipping them higher. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous wearing army uniform pants and a lacy bra.

“This isn’t very functional,” he murmured, dropping to his knees so that her breasts were at eye level. “But it’s sexy as hell.”

She threaded her fingers into his hair, smiling down at him. “Sometimes I like to wear something other than functional cotton. Not that cotton doesn’t have its own virtues as a fabric, but—”

She hissed sharply as he traced his tongue over her nipple, fabric and all. His fingers danced over her back, pressing her closer, and he felt her arch beneath his touch. He stifled a groan as her nails dug into his scalp. A dark desire shot through his blood and the lingering thrill built to a fierce inferno.

He suckled her, tugging her nipple between his teeth. She moaned low in her throat and slowly slid down the length of his body until she straddled his bent knees. She looked between their bodies and smiled.

She reached between them, tugging at his belt. She frowned when it didn’t slip free immediately. “It’s just an army belt.” He laughed and pulled it all the way off, leaving his pants gaping at the waist.

Claire didn’t waste a moment before she slipped her hand into that gap. She loved
the feeling of the crisp hair against her palm before she encircled him, squeezing gently. “I think this might be better than your magic fingers,” she whispered. “I see that you’re wearing panties today.”

“Underwear. Men don’t wear panties.”

He traced her ear with his tongue, and her breath hitched when he blew gently on the moist heat he’d created.

He pulled back suddenly, still cradling her neck in his palm.

She flicked open the buttons of his pants, freeing his erection. When she traced her thumb over its head, she felt him stiffen and swell beneath her touch.

Claire pushed to her knees and spanned the tiny space between them. A thrill of power shot through her when his gaze swept over her body, his jaw pulsing as he looked at her. She slid her palms up over the rough fabric of his uniform, then gripped the edge of his T-shirt as she continued her explorations.

She dragged the T-shirt off and kissed him. Her fingers traced the lines on his chest, sliding around his back to dig into the solid muscles clenching beneath her touch. The ragged scar on his deltoid was smooth and soft beneath her fingers, his muscles satin on steel. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and urged him onto his back.

“This is a much better position,” he said against her lips as he cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stiffened.

She shivered beneath his touch, closing her eyes and arching into his palms. He moved suddenly and stood, lifting her easily. She lowered her legs but he urged her to wrap them back around his hips. She was distracted enough by the pleasure of her heat rubbing against his erection that when he suddenly released her, she actually tumbled onto the bed without catching herself. “That was not cool.”

While she pulled off her pants and shoes, he stripped off the rest of his clothing, then knelt at the edge of the bed near her feet. He captured one of them, gently massaging the sole of her foot with his thumb.

“I’m really not interested in what you think of my feet,” she said, trying to tug her foot free.

He held her foot firmly, tracing his fingers up her calf, rubbing her skin in soft, easy circles. He followed his thumb with his tongue, leaving a trail of moist, warm heat on her skin. She trembled as he slipped farther up her body, a slight smile teasing her lips.

“What?” he asked.

She opened her eyes to see him looking up at her from the apex of her thighs.

“I’m glad I shaved my legs today.”

“Hmm.” He kissed her inner thigh, then bit down gently at the seam where cotton met flesh. “Shave anything else?”

She swallowed and shifted, relaxing her thighs a little more. “Only one way for you to find out.”

* * *

Claire’s body was tense as a det cord beneath his touch. She was beauty and sensual energy bound together in one woman who could send him into the darkest rage or draw him into the fiercest passion.

Her thighs clenched against his forearms but he kept stroking that impossibly soft skin between the edge of her thigh and her intimate heat. He’d dreamed of her like this.

He barely restrained the urge to tear her panties off, instead dragging them slowly down her thighs. “Oh my God.”

His mouth went dry. She was completely bare except for the tiniest stripe of the deepest copper red at the very center of her.

He looked up at her. She smiled sheepishly. “Surprise,” she said weakly.

“Oh, you’ve got to explain this,” he said when he could speak. He nuzzled the soft skin of her inner thigh, kissing her gently, then blowing on the moist skin. “Later.”

And when he tasted her, long and slow and smooth, Claire’s entire body tightened. He stroked her with his tongue, teasing her until her body was tight beneath him.

Her orgasm was beautiful against his lips. She trembled beneath his mouth, her cries pure balm to his ragged soul. He didn’t stop stroking her until she was tight and tense once more.

Only then did he crawl up her body, teasing her with his thumb. He was darkly aroused by the sight of his dog tags resting between her breasts.

She tried to turn like she always did. He gripped her hands, threading his fingers through hers and dragging her arms over her head. “Don’t.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Trust me, Claire?”

She turned her face away from his, closing her eyes. He released one hand to cradle her cheek in his palm.
Please don’t turn away
. But he didn’t say the words. Reality had crawled into bed with them and Evan wanted to kick the bastard out into the cold.

He kissed her sweetly, coaxing. Soothing. Doing everything in his power to relax her, to keep her from turning away and shutting him out. “Claire.”

He whispered her name, his lips near her ear. “Look at me.”

She didn’t open her eyes.

“Claire. Please look at me.” His words were ragged, his voice shredded, his control shattered.

Finally. Finally she met his gaze. Iridescent shards of emotion glinted back at him. Releasing her hands, he cradled her face in both palms. Her fingers clenched his as her thighs wrapped around his hips and urged him home.

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her gaze as he pushed deep inside her.

She tried to turn her face away. Closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. He gently urged her chin back.

He slid fully inside her again, a slow, deliberate stroke. “I love you.”

She gasped quietly as he sank fully inside her and she closed her eyes, arching and opening for him.

* * *

His breath was hot on her ear, his words a whisper against her skin. Everything rioted inside her, violent fear mixed with insecurity. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. She wasn’t supposed to care about this man. Not like this. She was a good friend. A good soldier. A terrible lover.

“Look at me,” he whispered again, not moving inside her, denying her the release she needed.

She rolled her hips, digging her fingers into his skin and urging him to move. He refused and she opened her eyes, looking into the depths of Evan’s own dark need. Her breath caught in her throat, desire welling up from deep, deep within her.

She met his gaze and he moved inside her, bringing her pleasure toward an intense, unreached peak.

“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth and she captured his words inside her.

“Evan—” Her breath caught as he gripped both her hands in his so he could cradle her cheek with his other hand.

He kissed her then, as he drove them both closer to the edge of no turning back. The abyss spiraled wide and inviting, urging her to take the leap, to embrace everything he offered.

She shattered, her name on his lips the last thing she heard as she tumbled into the chaos.

“I have to see Colonel Richter when we get back.”

Claire was nestled against him, his chest strong and hard against her back. His dog tags were warm beads of metal against her spine. Every inch of her body was surrounded by him and one arm had snaked around her waist to hold her hand.

He nuzzled her neck, placing a soft kiss over one of her scars. “You don’t have to say anything. Invoke your Article 31 right to remain silent.”

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, letting the weight of his words surround her. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” His words were rough against her neck.

She said nothing for a long time, searching for the right words to give voice to the chaos rumbling inside of her. It was time to let go of all of it. The fear of keeping the secret of Iaconelli’s drinking from everyone. Her constant conflict between loyalty and duty.

None of it was worth the price she’d paid.

It was time to face reality. Life wasn’t fair. She rolled over to face him, the quiet rustle of sheets the only sound besides their breathing. He sighed and pulled her to him, twining his legs with hers and wrapping his arms around her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and stroked the soft hair on his chest.

“My career is over, Evan.” Her voice broke but she continued. “You were right. Cutting corners is the wrong way to go. Good people got hurt along the way. People I care about,” she whispered. “I never wanted Engle to get hurt, either. Turns out, she’s not as bad as I thought she was.”

His arms tightened around her and he kissed her forehead. She pressed her lips
against his heart. “I want this over. I want Reza in rehab and I need to go to sleep knowing that you’re out there in the world, protecting us.”

Evan said nothing as he pulled her more tightly against him. He was no longer relaxed—his body had gone tense and stiff. His thumb idly stroked the scars on her shoulder and Claire wished he’d say something.

Anything at all to ease the fierce awkwardness between them. But when he spoke, he shattered any illusions that she’d been fooling anyone but herself.

* * *

“How far were you willing to let this go, Claire?”

“What are you talking about?”

He rolled her until she was flat on her back, her thighs spread out on either side of his hips. His body was hard and rough against hers. Her panic flared but the anger in his eyes was not, for once, directed at her.

“You had no idea what Reza was doing with Engle.” His words were harsh with the brutal truth. “You’re lying. You’re lying to Danvers and you’re lying to me. Why?”

She stilled, her words a crushed whisper. “Get off me.”

He let her go. But he followed her out of the bed they’d shared, refusing to back down. She pulled on a T-shirt, searching for sweat pants, needing something, anything, as a shield between them.

“Why are you willing to throw away your career for a worn-down soldier who’s going to drink himself into an early grave?”

His words were a slap, harsh and brutal. He stepped in front of her, his hands gentle on her shoulders. “Reza is not your father, Claire. And he needs to want to be saved,” he whispered.

Claire bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Anything to keep it from
trembling. “That’s really rich coming from you. How many years has it been since you called home? I would give anything to have my father back. And you’re wasting all these years because you think your parents blame you for your sister’s death.”

“That’s not fair. They do blame me.”

She shook her head. “It’s been almost two decades. Long enough for them to remember they still have a son.” Her voice broke. “A son they should be damn proud of.” She tried to pull away from his touch but he just tightened his grip. “I’m not doing this for Reza. I’m doing this for the kids he’s saved. For the soldiers he’ll still lead through combat. I’m just a renegade officer who can’t follow orders. Reza’s a warrior. A real-deal warrior. He needs to be in this fight.” She shook her head, unwilling to admit that she was doing this for him, too. “I want to be a good soldier, but all I ever do is break the rules.”

The tears that threatened to spill finally overflowed, soaking her cheeks. She swiped at them with the back of one hand. “I’ll take the fall for this because everyone expects it to be me who screwed it up anyway. Reza goes to rehab and stays in the fight.”

“And you lose the thing that’s defined you for your entire adult life,” Evan whispered.

“It’s worth it. If one life is saved because you or Reza is in the fight then it’s worth it.” She turned away before he could see the truth of her words in her eyes.

He stopped, his pants halfway up his thighs. “This isn’t about me, Claire. And it isn’t about Reza.” Hitching his pants over his hips, he crossed the space between them, kissing her fiercely until she leaned back against the table to stay upright. “This is about you trying to prove your worth.”

She shook her head, but he pressed his thumb against her lips. “I know what you’re doing,” he whispered harshly. “And I’m not going to let you.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

Early the next morning, Claire knocked on Reza’s hospital door, hoping she didn’t look as bad as she felt. She’d slept fitfully the night after her fight with Evan and this morning, he wasn’t answering his door. Which was just as well. She didn’t know how to handle the legion of dark emotions Evan dredged up.

He’d said he’d loved her right before he’d walked out on her. Even the memory of those whispered words was enough to send a shiver tracing across her skin.