Page 52 of Hotter than Wildfire

He sent the hand not stroking a breast down over her side, following that incredible dip of her narrow waist, across that flat belly and ah…bliss. The lips of her little sex were soft and swollen, moist. He touched her at the opening, his finger and his mouth on hers making lush sucking sounds in the morning silence, then tested her inside.

Warm, soft, wet. But there’d been just a little hesitation there, the tiniest of flinches which she immediately stifled. Yeah, time for Plan B.

Harry kissed his way over that lovely belly, down to where his unshaven chin caught a little in the soft cloud of dark red hair between her thighs. And further down.

He settled between her thighs and lifted her legs and opened them, content for the moment to just to look.

Jesus, she was so fucking beautiful, even here. Soft and pink, small petals unfurled, tender flesh glistening. He looked up and met her eyes, those gorgeous green eyes. There was this moment of magnetic connection that frightened him, so he bent down, opened her with his fingers and kissed her, exactly as if he were kissing her mouth.

Her sex tasted even more delicious than her breasts. Sweet and salty, utterly intoxicating.

And oh, man, he could taste her arousal. He tilted his head for a better, deeper fit and she clenched, a hot warm pulse against his mouth, followed by the softest of sighs.

He urged her legs even further apart with his hands and she was fully open to him now, completely his.

Every stroke of his tongue was met by a pulse, a sigh then a moan. Deeper, deeper…her thighs started trembling and then suddenly she stiffened, gave a wild cry that echoed in the room and started coming against his mouth, her entire body tightening under his mouth and hands, soft moans rising higher when he licked her clitoris.

Oh God, there was nothing better than this, nothing. He forgot everything, even his own body, completely immersed in hers as she came and trembled against him.

The trembling slowed, stopped and she gave a big sigh. Her arms flopped to her side, exhausted. He was pretty wiped out himself. He opened his eyes and looked at her, suppressing a grin as he crawled back up to her.

She had her head back, staring at the ceiling, one arm off the mattress, breathing heavily.

“You okay?”

“Huh.” She wriggled fingers and toes. “Yeah. I think so. Everything seems to be working, though I think I either blacked out or had a religious experience there.”

The grin broke out. He was feeling pretty good himself. He could climb a mountain and wrestle lions and tigers to the ground if he could just get his muscles to work.

“You know what?” she asked the ceiling.

“No, what.”

“I’m hungry. Starving.” She slanted a glance at him without moving her head. “I could eat a horse and spit out the bones.”

“Uh huh.” Harry wriggled his own toes, or tried to. Nothing much was moving. “As soon as I get some motor control back, I’ll take care of that for you. Could do with some grub myself.”

God, it was true.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungry. When he first came back from Ramstein, eating had seemed impossible. It was as if his stomach were filled with sand. The very idea of food had nauseated him. It was only because Sam and Mike insisted, to the point of buying take out and standing over him until he choked down as much as he could without actually vomiting, that he had eaten at all. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be hungry.

Christ. Sex, hunger. All those forgotten things were roaring back, as if he’d been away for a long time and had just come back, stronger than before.

He was hungry and he wanted another round with Ellen as soon as she could manage it.

She turned her head, looked down. “Uh uh. Don’t even think about it. Not until you feed me first. There are, like, rules.”

“Oh yeah, I know.” Of course there were rules. Not letting your lover go hungry was right up there, almost rule number one. Actually, rule number one was not hurting any woman, followed by rule number two, don’t let her get close.

Harry was a big one for following that rule. Only not…right…now. He smiled at her, his head hitting the pillow, the edges of his field of vision going gray, black.

“Get food right away,” he mumbled. “Rest my eyes first.”

Ellen made a little clucking sound of exasperation. “Big bad warrior, can’t even stay awake. I think I’ll do a little foraging in your kitchen, see what’s there.”

“Do that,” he slurred sleepily. He tried to remember if there was any actual food in his kitchen, but couldn’t get his head to work that much. He could feel his extremities. That was more or less it as far as a functioning brain was concerned.

He heard rattling noises from the kitchen, the burble of the Mr. Coffee, the smell of it reaching into the bedroom. The ping of the microwave. She’d obviously found something to work with.