Page 39 of Dangerous Secrets

Tough shit. It wasn’t easy for him, either. Besides being hard as a pike, his skin felt way too tight for his body, his blood felt hot and thick in his veins. It was a pity he knew a lot about hypothermia, because every instinct he had was telling him to pull over, stop the car, pull Charity’s pants down, drag her into the back seat and mount her.

Pick up where they left off.

Oh, yeah. A second after entering her, he’d be fucking her like a wild man. Nick was really good at visualizing. All soldiers were. You went through the steps of a mission, one by one, visualizing success like crazy. It was the only way to deal with walking into danger. So he could see in his mind’s eye exactly how it would be. Charity, lying in the back seat, long slender legs wrapped around him and him on top of her, fucking away so hard even the heavy Lexus would rock with his thrusts.

Unfortunately, he could also see how dangerous it would be. Once he was in her, he’d be oblivious to everything else. If another dense snow flurry came and buried the car, he might find it hard to get it going. If they were stuck, he’d have to turn the engine on to keep the heater going. He was a little low on gas and once the gas ran out, they could be stuck in a freezing car, waiting for the snow to die down.

Charity could die.

The thought kept him from pulling over, but it didn’t cool his blood.

He’d been a good boy. He’d let her pull away while they were fucking, he’d come to the rescue and he’d saved the aunt.

It was payback time.

“We were what?” he prodded.

“We were in the middle of . . . making love.” Her voice was small.

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “That’s right. We were right in the middle of making love. We were getting it on just fine, until we were interrupted. And that’s about all I can think about right now. Picking up where we left off. I’d give my right nut to pull over and get back in you, but the weather’s too severe for that. So I’ll have to wait. But the instant we walk through your door, I’m going to be inside you one second later. And I want you ready.”

A little indrawn breath. “Ready how?”

His jaws clenched. “I think you know. But if not, let me spell it out for you. I want you all wet for me. I want you all soft and warm and wet for me.” His voice was harsh, hoarse. Something of his desire had communicated itself to her because he could hear her breathing speed up in the quiet darkness of the car. “I want all that before we arrive. Because I’m sure as hell not going to have time for foreplay once we get there.”

“O-okay,” she breathed.

Nick shifted in his seat, eyes resolutely ahead. On the way over, he’d been in total control of himself and the car. Short of an RPG hitting the Lexus, they wouldn’t have had an accident. Right now, he didn’t feel in control of anything, least of all his dick. An accident was perfectly possible, except it really wasn’t.

Even far gone in the throes of red-hot lust, he was master of the car. He was always master of the car. It was such a deeply inbred skill, it was as if it were in his bones, as if he’d been born with it. He’d once driven from Kandahar to Kabul after catching the tail end of an IED that had blown up the car in front of him. He’d been concussed, had lost his hearing in one ear, and was bleeding like a stuck pig over his left eye from a piece ofshrapnel that had sliced across his forehead like a scalpel. The road was pockmarked with big holes left by previous IEDs, they came under fire twice, and through all that he’d driven his team to safety as if they’d been on the German Autobahn.

So, yes, he had a blue steeler and it almost fucking hurt when he moved to shift gears, most of his mind was taken up with the beautiful woman in the seat next to him, but it didn’t make any difference. Even if he had only two neurons left in his head, they were enough to drive with. His muscles could manage alone, without guidance from his head.

“Take your pants off. And then your panties.”

The swish of her hair on her shoulders as her head swivelled towards him was audible. “What?” she breathed.

“You heard me.” Jesus, even his throat muscles were tight. He could barely get the words out. His voice came out harsh and guttural. “I want your pants and panties off. And while we’re at it, take off your bra under your sweater. You can keep the sweater on.” It was a tough concession, but having her pretty white breasts bared might just be too much for him. He had a lot of self-control, it was true. But shit, there was a limit to everything. “Pants, panties off. Bra. Off.”

He reached down and turned her heater on high. He wanted her turned on, warm and receptive. He didn’t want her blue with cold and goosebumps.

It was silent in the car for long moments. Nick flexed his fingers on the wheel and kept his gaze resolutely on the road.

“I—I’ll need to take my seat belt off.”

His jaws clenched as he slowed the car down to a crawl. “Do it.”

She unbuckled the seat belt, holding it over her body, hesitating.

Finally, she moved and ah, yes. The lovely little sounds of a woman disrobing, so different from men. A woman taking her clothes off was a miracle of nature.

Nick remembered all too well what it was like living in barracks. He and his teammates would come in from a fifteen mile run, sweaty and smelling like goats. They’d strip down, swearing a blue streak, weapons and flak jackets and combat boots clunking heavily to the floor. Followed by the sound of twelve hairy paws scratching twenty four hairy balls.

How did women do it? How did they make such cute, soft sounds? Everything so delicate and tender.

Nick could follow what was going on by sound alone. The little rip of the pants zipper going down. The seat creaking slightly as she lifted to slide her pants down to her thighs. The silky sound of her pants sliding off. Neat as always, she folded her pants carefully along the seam and put them down in the footwell.

“Socks.” The word came out through what felt like a boulder in his throat. “Panties.”

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