Always a Warrior(60)

Reality faded until she was aware only of Damien. He found her mouth again as he teased her nipples with agile fingers. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and she sucked on it, dragging a harsh groan from him.



His fingers tangled in her hair, he held her still and ravished with lips, teeth, and tongue.

His thigh rubbed her already moist center until she quivered in need. Lips and tongue slid over ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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her skin, blazing a hot moist path to her breast. She arched involuntarily, offering herself to his raging hunger.



“Now, Damien. Please,” she begged her voice raw with her violent needs.



“Oh no. Not yet,” he replied, his voice rough with the effort of control. “My turn.”



Fast and lethal, his hands streaked over her. Lips and tongue followed, searing her senses, until his mouth closed over her turgid nipple. An answering tug of pure heat flashed into her. He drove her to the edge and held her there. She’d die if he didn’t take her now.



Tears of frustrated raw need spilled over her lashes. She writhed mindlessly in the storm he created. His mouth raced over her until she felt his breath on her inner thighs. Her neck arched. Her hips lifted in acute demand. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as his tongue slid over her. He grunted but only teased and tormented her. He gave her everything but what she so desperately needed.



Leaving her hanging on the sharp edge of ecstasy, he slid up and over her, his mouth covering hers with devastating carnality. Desperate, she slipped her hand between their sweat slick bodies and stroked him. He groaned into her mouth. She swallowed the sound, the very breath that uttered it, and sensed the thin thread of his control snap. He thrust, hard and deep, into her, filling her completely. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. Caught up in a savage rhythm of razor sharp need, they climbed the peak and tumbled over it together.



Laurie blinked and struggled to drag air into her lungs. Damien lay beside her, his chest heaving with every harsh breath. Lost in the afterglow of love, she snuggled close to him, her head on his shoulder. Drowsy and sated, content, she glided her fingers through the sprinkle of hair on his chest. His arm curved around her, his fingers tracing idle circles on her arm. With a contented sigh, she slid her leg over his.



“I love you,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.



He froze. His hand stilled its gentle caress. Laurie abruptly realized she had said the words aloud. With a ragged groan at her stupidity, she jerked away from him. For whatever reason, he didn’t want love. At least, he didn’t want to hear the word. She bolted off the bed and, keeping her eyes averted, gathered up her clothes. Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked furiously to hold them back. Oh, it hurt—not just that he obviously did not return her love but that he did not even want it.



Damien did not move an inch. He merely watched her through narrowed eyes as she hastily yanked her clothes on and fled. She loved him! His heart swelled but his mind panicked.

But it should not have been such a shock. He had suspected—no, he had known she loved him.

But he never expected to hear the words. He did not want to hear the words.



Staring through the open bedroom door, he mulled over the situation. He did not dare give the words back. It changed everything. He could not remember the last time he had heard those three words. Why did it shake him up so much? Was it because she loved him or because he loved her? He didn’t want changes. He liked his life the way it was. Being a Navy SEAL

suited him perfectly.



“Shit.” He grimaced in self-disgust and confusion. He sat up and rubbed a weary hand over his face. Standing, directing mental curses at himself, he pulled on his underwear and trousers.



Bare-chested, he roamed the house until he found her in her office. He glanced over the computer system and inexpensive but comfortable furniture. Bookshelves, filled with a variety of fiction and on-fiction books, covered two inner walls. Framed book covers lined the wall above ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening

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her desk. He noted all the details of the room in a single lightening glance but his gaze riveted on her.



She leaned a shoulder on the window frame and stared into the back yard. Sunlight streamed through the window, framing her in a golden glow. She moved and the image faded but remained imprinted on his brain. He blinked and focused on her again as she crossed the room and sat at her desk.



“Sorry,” she said, a trace of self-deprecation in her tone. “Got caught up in the moment, I guess.” She smiled brightly.



Too brightly, he thought, watching her intently. He stared at her for so long she looked away. Her smile faltered slightly and didn’t reach her eyes.