Page 41 of Breaking Danger (Ghost Ops #3)

Jon never felt weak. He’d once taken a bullet.

It had gone right through him without hitting major organs or a bone or an artery and he’d been patched up and he’d been mostly angry and a little sheepish because he hadn’t zagged fast enough.

But weak? Fuck no. He could run as long as he had to, he could march with a 100-lb pack for as long as he had to, but right now, carrying Sophie into Robb’s bedroom just seemed impossible.

He wanted to get there as fast as possible but someone had nailed his boots to the ground.

“Bed,” Sophie whispered against his mouth again and it was as if someone had released him from bonds. He took off at a sprint, carrying her.

Special Ops soldiers are taught to run in a special way so they can run and shoot straight at the same time.

It came in really useful right now because he wanted to run and carry and kiss Sophie at the same time.

It was a funny, short-stepped gait that looked weird to outsiders but it got the job done.

And Sophie wasn’t looking at his feet, her eyes were closed.

And damned if his eyes didn’t close too. Which was crazy, of course. He was running with a woman in his arms through unfamiliar territory with his eyes closed . Any drill instructor he’d ever come across would have screamed in his face and ordered him to drop and give him five hundred push-ups.

But Jon had really good spatial awareness and a really good memory. He knew where everything was. He wasn’t going to fall down with Sophie in his arms. Not now, not ever.

In seconds, they were in the master bedroom that looked east, the sun halfway up the sky and filling the room with light. It blossomed under his eyelids because his eyes were still closed, kissing Sophie. All he saw behind his closed eyes was gold.

She slid down his body to her feet. He was holding her still for his kiss with one hand behind her head, the other feverishly pulling down the sweat suit pants, unzipping the hoodie and then Sophie was naked in his arms. He held her so tightly she gasped and he loosened his hold a little. It was amazingly hard to do.

“You now.” Jon opened his eyes to see Sophie half smiling up at him. She was aroused. Her high cheekbones were flushed, her eyes wide and sparkling, her mouth full and red from his kisses, dark hair tousled from his hands.

She’d said something but he hadn’t understood.

He was beyond understanding words, all he understood now was body language and his body was telling him— get into Sophie as fast as you can.

And her body must have been telling her more or less the same thing.

Her nipples were hard, deep pink, the left breast trembling with her heart beat.

She was flushed down to her breasts as if she’d already had an orgasm.

Maybe she had? Maybe she’d climaxed while they were dancing.

Man, what a turn on that idea was. There was one way to find out.

His hand moved from her back down the delicate curve, over her luscious ass, all the way down.

He waggled his hand and her legs obediently opened and he touched her there, right there, where he wanted to put his dick.

Soon.

He ran his fingers down her slick opening from behind. He all but sighed. Her lips there were puffy and wet, like pouty lips waiting for his kiss.

“Take your clothes off, Jon.”

Sophie was talking. He heard the noise and could even feel the puff of her breath against his neck but the words made no sense.

No words made sense just now, the only thing that made any sense at all was the feel of Sophie against him, his fingers sliding in and out of her soft wetness.

He slid a finger in and she clenched around him, like the beginning of an orgasm. Oh yeah…

And then she was moving away from him, sliding out of his arms, his hand sliding out of her. He felt cold and bereft. Why was she moving?

“Jon!” She slapped his chest.

Jon rubbed it. Not because she’d hurt him—she couldn’t hurt him if she tried unless she had a firearm—but because something inside his chest felt inflamed, almost painful.

She’d called his name. He made a sound. If you were charitable it could be considered a huh? But really, it was a grunt.

Sophie rolled her eyes, then tugged on his shoulder, pulling him down. He went willingly. He was more than willing to do whatever Sophie wanted. She wanted him to bend over? Hell yeah! He bent over, waiting for whatever she wanted.

What she wanted was to pull off his long-sleeved tee.

And when he straightened, pull down his pants.

His dick sprang out. He toed off his boots, stepped away from his pants and they both looked down at his dick, flushed with eagerness, shiny with pre-come at the tip, so hard it was practically flat against his stomach.

She looked up at him. “That’s quite something.”

He had no air in his lungs to answer her and even if he did have some air, he had no words. He just looked at her dumbly, like an animal hoping for a treat.

Sophie smiled at him. Her face was beautiful in repose but when she smiled, it was like the sun coming out, brighter than what was shining down through the windows.

Her fingers curled up in a come to me gesture.

Oh, yeah.

For a second, it had been as if he were under a spell. Her looking at him, staring at his dick, had somehow paralysed him. He was waiting for whatever she wanted only she hadn’t let him know what it was. Now, with that curl of her long, slender fingers, she made it explicit. She wanted him.

Now he knew what to do.

He was nearly shaking with excitement, as if he’d never had sex before in his life. And really he hadn’t. Not like this, anyway.

If he’d had some blood in his head, he’d have been ashamed of himself.

He was super cool in bed. He had a strategic mind which extended itself to sex.

He could catch the smallest clue, like broken breathing, a slight flush.

Give him ten minutes and he’d become the world’s greatest expert on what kind of sex that woman wanted and he’d oblige.

Fast, slow, hard, soft. He could do it all.

His entire repertory had simply fled from him, now. There was only one kind of sex he was capable of with Sophie and that was the desperate kind. But she deserved better than that.

So he took a deep breath and with superhuman discipline he calmed himself down a little.

Tensed his muscles to make them go slow.

There wasn’t anything in the world he could do about his dick, though.

Nothing could make it go down just a little so it looked more like a human organ and less like a caveman’s club.

It felt like it would never go down again in his lifetime. Like an erection was a permanent state.

“Make me go slow,” he pleaded. He reached his hand out, slowly, pushing it through the air as if through a hard barrier.

He touched her shoulder, palm completely open.

He had strong hands and he was unsure he’d be able to regulate his strength if he cupped her shoulder.

“I don’t have too much control now, so make sure I don’t overdo it.

” He closed his eyes, swallowed. “Don’t…

hurt you.” That last came out of a scratchy throat.

He felt scratchy, all over, buzzed with anxiety.

Not a good feeling. Man, the idea of hurting Sophie…

He opened his eyes again. He’d half been expecting a look of triumph or at least pleasure, because he’d just put all the power in Sophie’s hands.

He’d told her how excited he was, that he didn’t have much control.

In any other woman he’d expect coy smugness.

But Sophie’s look was sober, tender. It was as if she could see that he was suffering and couldn’t bear it.

She touched his cheek and again there was that weird warmth, that feeling of well-being.

“I won’t let you hurt me, Jon. You think you might hurt me, but you couldn’t. Trust me on this.” Keeping her hand on his cheek, she lifted herself on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

A kiss on the cheek. Considering the image that had been buzzing around in his head—holding her still with his hands while he hammered into her—a kiss on the cheek was nothing. Not even scratching the itch.

But—it worked, somehow. The buzzing in his head and the almost violent sexual images floating around inside it slowed, disappeared. What was left was a soft humming and images of gentle kisses and slow, tender movements.

Yeah, that was it.

Before that nasty buzzing could get going again, Jon moved forward and she shuffled backward until her knees touched the edge of the bed. “Lie down, honey.”

She obeyed. Robb and his Anna hadn’t made the bed before fleeing, so Sophie settled down on rumpled sheets.

They were flowery and made a nest around her so she looked like a pearl on a bed of roses.

Her skin glowed, pale and perfect, her dark hair tousled around her head.

Long, slender, graceful limbs. Soft eyes looking at him, waiting for him.

His limbs moved jerkily as he lay down next to her. He wanted inside her like he wanted his next breath, but she was just too beautiful. He wanted to feast on her for just a little while more.

Stretched out at her side, Jon touched an eyebrow with the tip of his forefinger. Just the lightest touch. Everything about her sent him into sensory overload. Every inch of her body called out to be looked at, touched, kissed. He’d start slow, just like he promised.

He followed the dark graceful eyebrows. His finger traced the perfect oval of her face, lingering on the dimple in her slightly pointed chin.

Next, her lips, velvety soft. They opened at his touch and she breathed in deeply.

She followed his eyes as he looked at her, finger tracing her jawline, then down across the delicate collarbones. She was flushed, light rose over pearl.