Melting Ice(13)

The fact she’d be leaving him in the morning to go take pictures of the dumbass models chapped his ass. Wasn’t as if she needed the money. She came from a well-off family and had a freakin’ trust fund she refused to touch. He grudgingly understood wanting to prove herself and make her own way in the world, but that didn’t mean he had to like the way she went about it.

Yeah and unless he found some guts and asked her to marry him, he didn’t have a say in a damn thing she did. Not that he’d dictate how she utilized her creative talent once they were married. He didn’t operate that way. He trusted her without exception. But not the puffed up models. He didn’t trust those horn dogs not to make moves on his woman. Hell, what red-blooded man—other than his team—would resist the temptation that was Syndra Banks?

With some luck and a prayer, soon to be Syndra Westervelt. Oh, he loved the idea of that.

No more wasting time. He dropped his trunks, sat down on the bimbo pad, pulled the shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. “C’mere, Syn.”

She lifted her head and swiveled the captain chair around, her gaze skating over his bare torso before stopping at the hard length of his cock jutting out over his abdomen.

“Mmm,” she purred. “Impressive weapon. Is it loaded, Master Chief?”

“Cocked and loaded for ya, ma’am.”

“Well, now.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

As she walked toward him, she fisted her hands in the loose dress, pulled it over her head, and dropped it along the way. Stopping with their toes touching, she planted her feet and stared into his eyes while untying the strings holding flimsy triangles of material in place.

Each movement slow and deliberate, she placed a knee next to his hip, grasped his shoulders and brought the other knee up, straddling his thighs.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.”

He placed a finger over her lips. “No apologies. You’re here with me now. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

She nodded, twined her fingers in his hair, and brushed her lips over his. Holding his aggressive side in check, he allowed her to play. Syn sipped at his lips, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his in a sultry, irresistible dance. Sweet, tempered passion. He took everything she gave, savored the tender femininity and silken desire. And all for him.

He held onto her hips, a gentle grasp, anchoring him to her as she played. Slender fingers skated over his shoulders, traced the line of his spine and one of his scars, slid between their bodies to tangle in the sparse mat of hair on his chest. Light butterfly touches that somehow reached deep inside, rocking him down to his soul.

She rubbed all those glorious curves against him, dragged distended nipples over his chest, rocked her mound against his painful erection. Ice didn’t know what he’d done to have such an amazing woman in his life, but he would never take a single moment with Syn for granted. She was his reason for waking up each day, the force that drove him to fight in an attempt to make the world a better place. For her.

His career hadn’t started out that way. Over the years that had changed. She had changed him, made him want to be a better man. All for her.

He’d lay down his life for hers without a moment of hesitation or regret. So surely, he had the strength to give her this, allow her to take control and make love to him. He struggled to remain still.

“Ice.”

Her hand wrapped around his shaft, and she lifted her hips, fighting for the right position that would permit taking him into her body. Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on her and lifted Syn over his cock. She shifted her hold, notching his crown at her entrance, green gaze meeting his.

“Take what you want, what you need, babe. I’m all yours.”

“Only…need…you!” She panted the words and started a protracted, torturous slide, engulfing him in the hot, tight clasp of her pussy a fraction of an inch at a time.

Christ, she was killing him. But he’d go with a huge smile on his face.

She shifted, and her walls spasmed, the gentle ripple of her flesh around his drawing a groan from his throat. He sought a distraction, mentally running through the various components of his rifle, the detailed process of disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling the weapon that was an extension of him.

Another inch, she’d taken only one more inch. He dropped onto his back and crossed his arms over his eyes to block out the provocative vision. It didn’t work, the image of Syn’s absorption in pleasure, white teeth biting her lower lip, the slight sway of her full breasts as she ruthlessly controlled her descent was still there, burned into his brain.