Page 7 of Breaking Danger (Ghost Ops #3)

His hold spoke of comfort. What was between his thighs spoke of desire.

Desire.

Desire. Heat. Life.

Heat was bubbling under her skin. She’d spent the past 24 hours encased in ice, cold down to her bones. Scared and huddled in on herself to give herself warmth and comfort because no one else could.

Now there was someone who could. Not a girlfriend, not even someone she knew. A complete stranger, handsome and focused on her with an icy blue laserlike gaze.

Nothing could stop me.

He’d battled his way to her. “How did you—” she began and he kissed her.

And kissed her and kissed her.

Not a tentative first kiss, no. His big hands held her head still as his eyes dropped to her mouth.

It was instinctive, she could feel it. That intense blue gaze turned sharply heated as he looked at her mouth, then his gaze rose.

Not tender, not the look of a lover. More the look of a conqueror.

The look of someone who’d travelled a long, hard road for something, and now here it was.

Yes. Here she was. She’d spent the day preparing for death and inevitably she’d looked back on her life.

A life well spent, oh yes. She’d studied hard, loved her parents, gone into science wanting to do good.

She’d been a good girl every step of the way.

Even her few lovers had been good guys. Boys, really, even when they’d been technically men.

Other scientists like herself, of good families, like herself.

She’d kept her healing abilities from them, out of self defense. It was hard to keep a big chunk out of a relationship. You ended up handing over a truncated version of yourself, almost a cardboard version, everything external. Never letting anyone get too close. And no one ever had.

Jon lifted his head, eyes blazing, face drawn.

Certainly no man had ever looked at her like this—intently, as if that ice blue gaze could read inside her head. He closed his eyes as if the intensity were too much and so did she, because it was.

And then his mouth was on hers once more.

Soft. Hard. Soft. Hard.

Soft touches, fingertips callused but gentle as he touched her face, her neck.

Hard muscles, immensely strong. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and felt no give whatsoever.

Soft. His lips were so soft on hers.

Hard. His erection was like a steel cylinder between them.

Wild screams erupted outside her window. Someone dying, badly. As so many had done today. So much pain, so much death.

And yet she had life itself under the palms of her hands. Life. Such a precious thing, so taken for granted.

Another scream and she held him more tightly, pushing up against him. Immediately, his huge hard penis somehow lengthened even more. From her movement against him. She’d done that to him, to this hard and powerful man.

The change wasn’t only in him, though. When she felt his penis move in a surge of blood, it was echoed inside her.

He couldn’t feel it, of course. But Sophie felt it.

A bolt of heat in her groin so strong she turned liquid, so strong she undulated against him and immediately felt again how that affected him.

He lifted his head for just a second and she missed his mouth against hers.

Every time his tongue touched hers a line of heat went straight to her womb.

Such heat, such life. The world was drowning in blood and pain and here was this magical man, come to save her, giving her such pleasure she nearly sighed with it.

“Sophie,” he whispered. There was a question in there somewhere. She was shaking with emotion, with relief and joy. She had no idea what that question might be, but the answer was clear.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

His big hands moved down to where her robe crossed her breasts.

She was naked under the robe; he must be able to feel that.

He lifted slightly on his elbows to untie her robe and open it, slowly.

Like a kid opens a present he’s been waiting for.

His hands covered her breasts, hands hard, callused. Strong.

He wasn’t using his strength, oh no. Every movement was careful.

He didn’t talk to her—how could he, he was kissing her senseless.

But his body did. His hands were gentle, cupping her sides, thumbs stroking her nipples.

Each touch of his thumbs sent blinding pleasure to her groin and her vagina contracted.

Oh God! An orgasm! She huffed out a breath and shuddered.

It was like she’d lit a fuse under him. The movements that had been so controlled before, so slow and tender, speeded up.

His hands became harder, everything became harder, including his penis.

She could feel it moving against her mound, lengthening even more as he slid up and down along the lips of her sex.

She moved under him and her sex opened up.

She arched against him, as if she could somehow be even closer to him.

In a world gone mad and dark and cold, he was life and heat. Such strength, transferring from him to her. She felt strong, her whole body working to envelop him. Arms tightly linked around his neck, torso pressing upward, legs opening to twine around his.

A strange ripping sound that she only deciphered later as the Velcro of his flight suit opening, a shrug and it was off.

Sophie desperately wanted him naked, wanted to touch that hard warm flesh she’d only felt beneath his clothes.

He lifted slightly, holding his arms out, and she pulled a light cotton tee over his head, long, dark-blond hair lifting around that perfect face and oh God!

He looked like Thor, like a Nordic god, larger than life, shoulders so broad they shut out the world, encasing her in a world that had contracted to her and Jon.

He eased her back down with a hand to the back of her head and caught her mouth again. Now. Now she could touch him, touch his naked flesh. She hooked her hands around his back, all that golden skin like steel, only warm.

She dug her nails into his back and it was like she’d kicked him into another gear. His thighs opened hers, he positioned himself at the opening of her sex and she hesitated. He was enormous and it had been a long time for her.

It was like he could read her, read her body. Instead of entering, he shifted so one hand could drift down her chest, over her belly, down to cup her mound. He was kissing her hard, tongue deep in her mouth, stroking.

Her sex contracted again. He felt that. He must have felt it against his hand, against his loins as her hips moved. He could feel how wet she was, how ready.

He didn’t have to ask because her body was talking to him. He knew.

When he slid into her, hot and hard and deep, they both moaned.

She lifted her thighs, opened herself up to him even more, and he began moving. Long, deep, slow thrusts. She was holding him so tightly she felt all his muscles in motion as he moved in her. Lean, incredibly strong muscles, with no give.

She’d taken an anatomy class once and could identify each muscle in his back by touch. Trapezii, deltoids, lats. She moved her hands down lower. Glutei. Mmm. All those muscles shifting and bunching and moving like a well-oiled machine, only warm. And alive.

God, he was alive, down to his fingertips and he infused her with life. He was strong enough for the two of them, such incredible power under her hands. He surrounded her completely, on her, in her. So close she could see only him, smell only him, feel only him.

Nothing bad could happen to her while he was making love to her. The world outside—that terrible world of death and destruction—receded with every stroke. Nothing else existed, only this powerful man moving in her. He was incredibly heavy but she liked that. Proof of how powerful he was.

He pressed into her deeply, holding her head between his two large hands, kissing her as if someone was about to come and separate them.

No, nothing could separate them. She wouldn’t let it.

Her hands moved slowly up his back, up over those strong, slick muscles, until she curled her arms around his neck, holding tightly.

Never let me go , she thought. The very notion of him leaving her body, of not feeling that heavy weight on her acting as a wall between her and the rest of the world, made her panicky. She tightened her arms around him.

He pulled out of her slowly, so slowly she thought she could feel the emptiness in her womb that he left behind. He held himself at her opening, the big head of his penis stretching her, but if he pulled back even a touch more, he’d leave her body.

No!

She instinctively rebelled at the thought.

She freed her mouth, placed her lips against his ear. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered and felt him jolt, as if in shock.

“God, no,” he muttered, lifting his head. His eyes were slitted, only a shard of ice blue showing. They were both trembling, panting. He moved back into her, just a little. God, he’d somehow become even larger. “Does that feel like I can leave you?”

She stared into his eyes, aware of him over every inch of her body.

Cheeks flushed, face grim, he looked as if he were almost in pain.

She felt the same way. They were barely making love and it was the most intense experience of her life.

He pressed forward just a little and her vagina clenched hard.

She shook, on the very edge of orgasm.

“Jesus.” Jon closed his eyes then opened them again, staring into hers. His jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grinding. “I need to move fast now,” he panted. “Is that okay?”

Those words, and the image they evoked, set her off. She clenched around him, arching her neck back, breath leaving her lungs in a burst.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, moving hard and fast inside her.