Page 23 of Deep Cover

“I see that.”

“You can leave.”

“I can.” His cock pulsed against his fly.

“Or…” The moment stretched on. “You could stay.” Her voice was husky with an emotion that wasn’t quite anger anymore.

He didn’t hesitate a beat. He stepped into the room and twisted the lock behind him.

He stripped fast, holding her gaze the whole time. When he tossed his shirt aside, she raked her gaze over his chest and abs and her eyes flared with an appreciation that made his blood heat.

He toed off his socks and worked open his fly, driven faster by the flood of need in his veins. As soon as he shoved his cargo pants and boxer briefs down his hips, his cock sprang free, stiff and flushed with desire.

Caryssa’s lips parted in a silent gasp, and a flush climbed over her cheeks. As he crossed the tile to her with no words left worth saying, she turned to fully face him.

She trembled under the spray, water running in rivulets over her creamy skin he’d dreamed about touching more nights than he’d ever admit out loud. Her nipples were drawn into tight peaks, pink with wanting him as much as he wanted her.

He strode right up to her and framed her face in both hands. Sliding his fingers into her soaked hair, he slammed his mouth over hers.

She moaned against his lips, the noise an electric current to his senses.

He kissed her deep, years of wanting this moment breaking loose at once. Christ, he was beginning to wonder if he really was alive, or whether this was all a dream.

Drawing on her lips and tongue, he threw himself into showing her that he never, ever, in a million years, could have forgotten her. If there was a way to prove he wouldn’t rather be dead than married to her, he would show her now.

Into every stroke of his tongue, he poured out his grief. Into every brush of his lips, he told her that his dream about a house and a yard and her laugh trickling from the kitchen still left him aching.

He hadn’t touched another woman since he lost her. And he didn’t know—didn’t want to know—whether she’d been touched by another man.

Right now, with her wet and shaking, kissing him back and meaning every soft moan she made, nothing else mattered.

He tugged gently at her hair, angling her head back, and she gasped.

Barely gripping his control, he followed the arch of her throat with his mouth, tasting water and pure Caryssa. He nipped and sucked his way down to her collarbone, and lower. He let his eyes slip closed, reveling in the moment and holding it tight in his mind so he’d never forget a single kiss he spattered over her skin.

He cupped her breast and lifted the tip to his mouth. Without hesitation, he drew it between his lips and sucked the hard peak.

“Ohh.” She planted a hand against the back of his head, holding him there, breath coming fast as water showered over both of them.

He slid one hand down the slick line of her body, relearning her shape. Her body was tighter from running but soft in all the right places, just as he remembered. He molded his hand to the natural curve of her stomach and spread his fingers across her hip, curling around it for a heartbeat.

But he craved so much more and slid his hand between her thighs to cup her pussy.

She was ready for him, slippery and hot, want written plainly across every inch of her beautiful face and thrumming in the pulse going crazy at her throat.

He held her gaze for long seconds as the water rushed over them, wanting her to see exactly how much he’d needed this—needed her—before he gave her what they’d been circling since the moment she stepped onto this base.

With a twist of his lips, he held her steady.

And thrust two fingers inside her clenching heat.

* * * * *

At the familiar callused feel of Reid’s fingers stretching her, a hot gasp escaped her. Her mind swam with the insanely tight tug of her insides, and she dropped her forehead against his chest, panting.

Her inner walls pulsated as he began to finger her in a slow rhythm that burned away any inhibitions she may have left about sleeping with her ex.

Was he really her ex if they never broke up? The thought splintered into fragments and scattered as he fingered her faster, in hard pulses. Over and over again, he reminded her that she was a woman.