Backblast by Candace Irving (miss read books TXT) 📕

fingers along with his hungry mouth to drive her to the point of insanity—or, at the very least, to the point of begging. It wasn't until she was balanced on the razor's edge, desperate for him to take her over, that she realized he was deliberately withholding what she really wanted. What they both wanted.

She was so ready for him, she caved in and pleaded.

His smile widened as that damned dent deepened.

She reached down between them and got even. His hoarse, needy groan reverberated through her as his control finally splintered. He pushed in, shuddering as he filled her to the brim for a brief, blinding moment, before he took up a relentless pace that had them clinging to each other as they climbed higher and higher. All too quickly, she reached the ascent. But he was right there with her, wrapped tightly around her as they tipped over together, sealing her to him as they tumbled through the abyss.

She had no idea how long she lay in his arms afterward.

Worried that he was crushing her, he ignored her protest and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She reached up, but that was all she could manage. The fingers of her right hand nestled in amid the cultivated thicket on his jaw, as boneless and placid as the rest of her. Worse, she could feel that ego of his swelling up, even before her fingers slipped into the dent already forming beneath them.

"You are such an arrogant ass."

The dent deepened as he laughed. "I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking it."

"How do you know? You're not even looking at my face."

"I would, but I still can't move, you jerk."

That colossal chest rumbled as he laughed harder. "Hey, I was just following orders. Military and medical. Fourche said you needed to de-stress." Those callused fingers left their home at the curve of her ass to come up and rasp lightly over hers.

Fingers that weren't trembling any more. At all.

She managed to move then. She lifted her head just far enough to take in what was fast becoming a permanent crease in his left cheek.

His twinkle joined in. "Mission accomplished."

She used those same fingertips to pinch the growth covering his jaw and tugged until he winced. "Like I said, you're an ass."

The twinkle faded. The crease disappeared as well. "Are you upset that I called him?"

Yes and no. Though right now, decidedly more no. But if John ever shared the details of this remedy with Gil, she'd kill him. Slowly.

"Rae?"

"At least the call was private…unlike this morning's display."

"Ah."

"Don't ah me. And, for the record, I can defend myself."

"Agreed."

"Then what the hell was that gorilla arm all about?"

The twinkle returned. "Gorilla arm?"

"The one that landed across the back of my chair and refused to move."

"Gorilla?" He appeared to be stuck on that word as he stared down at the limb in question as though offended—which they both knew full well he wasn't. He was too bloody arrogant. "You do know I can't help my size, right? It's mostly genetics."

"John—"

"Besides—" The twinkle took on a glow that put the north star to shame. "—a few minutes ago, I seem to remember you openly appreciating the size of a certain…appendage."

Okay, she had. And, yes, she planned on appreciating it again. Most likely before the night was out. But, "Not when that titanic ego of yours is in charge."

In front of a general, no less.

The twinkle evaporated, leaving that steady stare behind. His following nod was clipped. "It was necessary."

"Necessary?"

"Things were said."

She could just image what things were said, and by whom.

About whom.

John was clearly in no mood to repeat them. But he did offer up a shrug. "I was making sure he'd gotten my message."

Oh, they'd all gotten the message, including General Palisade. There'd been no missing it. But what had been the point? The things that were said were the same things John himself had said to her—or implied—in that parking lot in Hohenfels.

Whore.

Silence oozed in, saturating the air within the bed.

Suddenly, she wanted to escape his arms and slink off into the bathroom for that shower he'd suggested earlier. Scrub away the insecurity and ugliness that had begun to bubble up inside. If she could. But the second she started to move, his arms tightened.

His sigh was the only thing that slipped free. It filled the silence, easing it.

And her.

Still, she kept the left side of her face sealed to his chest, staring across the bed at the striped wallpaper, pretending a fascination she did not possess with those dark green lines.

"Love at first sight?" He shook his head. "As I'm sure you know, I'd hit thirty a few months before we met. I certainly didn't believe in fairy tales anymore, if I ever did. Not after the shit I've lived. Lust? Absolutely. But love?" Her cheek lifted along with the slab of muscle beneath as he shrugged. "And, yet, there it was. Though I freely admit, both those L's were there in equal parts, right from the start in that bar."

His fingers slid up her body and threaded themselves into her hair. He smoothed the strands past her shoulder and down her back, but he made no move to shift so that he could look into her eyes. Perhaps it was easier for him this way.

It was certainly easier for her. It allowed her to close her eyes and absorb his raw confession and just…listen.

"When you followed me into that parking lot, I was livid. I wanted you to hate me, so I could hate you. But it blew up in my face. I didn't hate you. I couldn't. Oh, I was still angry. And hurt. More than I've ever been in my life, before or since. And I've been in and out of combat for over a decade, so that's saying something. But I didn't stop caring. I couldn't."

She did move then. She raised her head just far enough to meet the stark truth in that gray, steady stare.

His firm nod