Her muscles relaxed. She slid her hands up Mitch’s arms and pressed her head against his chest again. A fine tremor shivered through her body. Mitch kept his hands on her shoulders, fighting the urge to wrap her in his arms.
“God, I’ve never been so scared,” she whispered. “Not since—”
Mitch waited, anticipating the unveiling of another secret, but she didn’t go on. “Not since when?”
“I just remember Dex’s weight falling against my leg. Looking down and seeing him collapsed on the ground. Then looking up and seeing you . . . I heard you yell to me, but I was so distracted by Dex. I was slow. I didn’t get his hand before he . . .”
She held him tighter.
Her account brought on the same memories, which flooded into Mitch. Into his chest. He gave in to the need to feel her in his arms, and encircled her, holding her tight. He’d already almost lost her—permanently—three times, and after all he’d been through with the team, he’d learned to value every moment in life.
The sight of Abernathy tossing Halina over his shoulder like a doll, that sensation of coming up short when he’d raced for the car even when he’d pushed his body past its limits, had been as terrifying as being trapped in a dream.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “It’s over. You’re both okay.”
She nodded and turned her face into his neck. She breathed long and deep, the action instantly bringing back memories that flooded his groin with blood. She’d always loved to breathe him in, especially before and after sex. Before, it excited her; after, it soothed her.
And he so didn’t need to be thinking about that with her naked beneath the robe, her hands stroking his back, her face warm against his throat. In fact, he didn’t need to be holding her like this.
He put his hands on her upper arms, but before he pushed back, Halina kissed his throat. Her nails scored lightly across his back. Desire skittered over his skin in gooseflesh. Then her mouth started moving. Became more insistent and erotic with the stroke of her tongue, up his neck, across his jaw. Her hot breath caressed his skin. One of her hands lifted to his hair, and, God help him, the only thing that filled his mind was taking her horizontal.
“Hali,” he said, his voice husky, eyes closed as he soaked in the sensations he hadn’t felt for so long, but that came back with searing clarity, along with the passion that had always accompanied them. “Jesus Christ, Hali, sto—”
She pressed a hand to his cheek and turned his face toward hers. Then her lips were on his. Soft and warm and full and . . . oh-hell-I’m-fucked delicious.
A sound came from his throat as her mouth slid against his and her eyes closed. Why did he even try to resist her? Why had he ever thought he wouldn’t want her now?
Lord, yes, he remembered the feel of these lips. And he had one of those surreal this-can’t-be-happening moments. Kissing Halina. Never in his most twisted fantasies had he ever believed he would ever feel her mouth again.
Which reminded him he shouldn’t be feeling her mouth again.
He pulled back just enough to whisper, “Ah, fuck,” against her lips before her hand tightened on his face and her mouth opened. Mitch didn’t respond, but didn’t pull away. Just groaned in tortured indecision.
Her tongue pushed between his lips, the feel of her penetrating his mouth to seek out pleasure so unspeakably erotic. He gripped her face and opened. Let her stroke his mouth. Oh, she tasted so good. Rich. Sweet. Hot. So hot. And he was so hungry.
Halina’s tongue made a hard, savage roll against his, demanding the same in return. And that’s when he finally lost it.
The instant he responded Halina was there, giving back as she always had, with double the passion and three times the heat. She pushed up on her knees and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. Her chest pressed against his as she grabbed his hair. The way she moved against him, the way she kissed him, the way she felt in his arms, it was all delectably familiar, tantalizingly unique. She was everything exciting, magical, sensual, and comforting all wrapped into one gorgeous human being.
One gorgeous human being who’d damaged him so deeply, he still hadn’t recovered.
Halina sighed into his mouth, the sound so filled with desire and pleasure it pushed his panic button. He pulled away abruptly, fighting for focus.
“Halina, you’re . . . you’re not thinking straight.”
He moved his hands to her arms and pushed her away. Instead of fighting him, she sat back and pulled the tie on her robe. The outside panel fell loose and the panic alarm inside Mitch’s head screeched louder.
“You’ve had a really rough night,” he said. “A horrible night.”
She reached inside and tugged at the inner tie until the robe fell loose.
Mitch willed himself to keep his eyes on her face. “You almost died and your emotions are all—”
“Shh.” She put her fingers to his lips, the touch gentle, but her eyes remained fiery.
When she leaned in and kissed him again, her mouth was insistent. This time, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close, skin met skin. The sensation wiped Mitch’s mind completely clean. He couldn’t form any thought but the way her nipples puckered against his chest or the way gooseflesh rose on her skin wherever he touched. And he thrived on affecting her, while knowing he shouldn’t be close enough to affect her at all.
She pushed him back on the bed and sank onto him until their bellies pressed, her thighs spread across his hips, her sex separated from his only by a thin layer of cotton.
Nothing had ever felt so perfect.
His hands found their way under her robe and caressed the length of her body, shoulders to hips and back. She was slim, strong, soft. He wanted to feel her body moving, rocking and shuddering against his. Wanted to be inside her, claiming her. Owning her.
“So good,” she whispered against his mouth, then kissed his jaw, his throat, his chest.
Desire burned hotter. It took on a razor-sharp edge. He couldn’t think. With every other woman, Mitch had enough presence of mind during sex to recite the Declaration of Independence. Halina made it impossible for Mitch to even contemplate one immediate problem.
Her hands slid down his sides, tucked into the waistband of his briefs—
“Wait, Hali.” He grabbed her wrists. His rib cage rocked with each beat of his heart. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed, his cock engorged and shooting lust through his body. “What . . . why . . . ?”
He was so gone, he couldn’t even form a question. Stellar defense attorney material right here. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. Swallowed. He couldn’t do this. She wasn’t a woman who would play by his rules. Hell, he couldn’t even stick to his own damn rules with her.
He pulled her hands to his chest and sat up, carrying her with him. She straddled his lap, white robe parted to show creamy curves he wanted to sink into. Deep into.
He dragged in a breath through a throat so tight with regret, the air rasped. “We can’t.”
He started to push her off his lap, but she pulled her hands from his grasp, linking them around his neck again. The movement rocked her soft sex against his erection. He groaned, closed his eyes, and dropped his head back, gripping her arms hard. Damn, he wanted her so bad. So bad. Worse than any woman in so damn long.
“I know what I’m doing,” she whispered. “I’m making a conscious choice.” She framed his face with her hands. Mitch cracked his lids. She stared directly into his eyes and the heat there matched the hot pump of blood through his veins. “And I want you.”
Jesus, she’d always been impossible to resist. And seven years later, he was still completely helpless against her will. The thought turned something inside him, giving him the strength to grip her arms and push her away.