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Authors: Claire Ashgrove
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Aimee had provoked him. She refused to listen to what he tried to tell her—her fault if he spent himself before she was ready. Though, strangely, she didn’t seem at all offended by his callous quest for release. She met his hard thrusts with her own insistent counter rhythm. Angled her hips so each deep plunge stroked the sensitive nub between her legs.
He pulled in a short breath and drove in deep, until he touched the mouth of her womb. Her inner muscles contracted around his throbbing erection, and she let out a low, guttural moan. Ecstasy pounded at his senses. She surrounded him, dominated his awareness. The sweet fragrance of her perfume carried him to a place of innocence, a place where Afghanistan and Denton couldn’t touch him.
Aimee offered him forgiveness he didn’t deserve yet he desperately needed.
Lost to a tidal wave of indescribable pleasure, he shifted his weight to his good arm and glanced down to where they joined. The sight of his hard flesh, slick with her arousal, slipping in and out of her was like an electric current to his already overcharged body. He ground his teeth together against a surge of sweet pain and thrust into her feminine depths once more.
Aimee keened. Her nails bit into his shoulders, the painful pinch erasing the last of his awareness. Release rocketed through his body, and on a hoarse groan, he pumped once more, then spilled himself inside her. She held on tight, her feminine flesh pulsing in time with his cock, milking him dry. His body slowly stilled, and Kyle lowered himself into Aimee’s sated embrace.
How she could have possibly found pleasure, he couldn’t explain. Yet, she had, and the part of him that couldn’t carve her out of his heart took a modicum of relief in the fact he hadn’t completely failed her.
He glanced down at her swollen mouth and heavy eyelids, and that same part of his soul kicked him in the chest. Christ, what had he done? He’d let her push him where he didn’t want to go. Where he couldn’t go again—right back into her arms.
Disgusted with himself, Kyle pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his cropped hair. He snatched his pants off the floor, stepped over her as she panted for air, and locked himself in the bathroom. Both hands braced on the countertop, he stared at his reflection. He didn’t recognize the insensitive bastard looking back at him. That man had turned into a savage animal. One who sensed willing woman, and without a single thought to consequence or how Aimee might interpret sex, he’d selfishly gone after his own pleasure.
Only a monster could treat a woman who’d never been anything but tender with that kind of disregard. He’d fucked her for Christ’s sake. Aimee deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.
Chapter Seven
Aimee slowly dragged herself to a sitting position then eased to her feet. Muscles she hadn’t used in over a year twitched with exhaustion and strain. But making love to Kyle was worth every moment of the dull aches that would come later. Sure, he’d used her body as an outlet, she didn’t try to fool herself into believing what just happened in her hallway was anything less. Beyond that obvious truth, however, lay something deeper—she’d connected with Kyle on a level they both understood. A plateau no one else could infringe upon or influence.
She glanced at the locked bathroom door as she pulled on her pajama bottoms. Kyle needed that connection. She couldn’t count the number of times he’d returned home from a mission and dragged her into bed the minute he walked in the door. Not just because he missed her, but because something he couldn’t talk about drove him to seek out the living, the reality of life, not the horrors of war.
The same underlying need filtered through moments ago, despite his rough hands and even rougher body.
Pipes shuddered as Kyle turned on the bathroom sink, and Aimee retreated into the privacy of their bedroom
He pulled in a short breath and drove in deep, until he touched the mouth of her womb. Her inner muscles contracted around his throbbing erection, and she let out a low, guttural moan. Ecstasy pounded at his senses. She surrounded him, dominated his awareness. The sweet fragrance of her perfume carried him to a place of innocence, a place where Afghanistan and Denton couldn’t touch him.
Aimee offered him forgiveness he didn’t deserve yet he desperately needed.
Lost to a tidal wave of indescribable pleasure, he shifted his weight to his good arm and glanced down to where they joined. The sight of his hard flesh, slick with her arousal, slipping in and out of her was like an electric current to his already overcharged body. He ground his teeth together against a surge of sweet pain and thrust into her feminine depths once more.
Aimee keened. Her nails bit into his shoulders, the painful pinch erasing the last of his awareness. Release rocketed through his body, and on a hoarse groan, he pumped once more, then spilled himself inside her. She held on tight, her feminine flesh pulsing in time with his cock, milking him dry. His body slowly stilled, and Kyle lowered himself into Aimee’s sated embrace.
How she could have possibly found pleasure, he couldn’t explain. Yet, she had, and the part of him that couldn’t carve her out of his heart took a modicum of relief in the fact he hadn’t completely failed her.
He glanced down at her swollen mouth and heavy eyelids, and that same part of his soul kicked him in the chest. Christ, what had he done? He’d let her push him where he didn’t want to go. Where he couldn’t go again—right back into her arms.
Disgusted with himself, Kyle pushed to his feet and ran a hand through his cropped hair. He snatched his pants off the floor, stepped over her as she panted for air, and locked himself in the bathroom. Both hands braced on the countertop, he stared at his reflection. He didn’t recognize the insensitive bastard looking back at him. That man had turned into a savage animal. One who sensed willing woman, and without a single thought to consequence or how Aimee might interpret sex, he’d selfishly gone after his own pleasure.
Only a monster could treat a woman who’d never been anything but tender with that kind of disregard. He’d fucked her for Christ’s sake. Aimee deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.
Chapter Seven
Aimee slowly dragged herself to a sitting position then eased to her feet. Muscles she hadn’t used in over a year twitched with exhaustion and strain. But making love to Kyle was worth every moment of the dull aches that would come later. Sure, he’d used her body as an outlet, she didn’t try to fool herself into believing what just happened in her hallway was anything less. Beyond that obvious truth, however, lay something deeper—she’d connected with Kyle on a level they both understood. A plateau no one else could infringe upon or influence.
She glanced at the locked bathroom door as she pulled on her pajama bottoms. Kyle needed that connection. She couldn’t count the number of times he’d returned home from a mission and dragged her into bed the minute he walked in the door. Not just because he missed her, but because something he couldn’t talk about drove him to seek out the living, the reality of life, not the horrors of war.
The same underlying need filtered through moments ago, despite his rough hands and even rougher body.
Pipes shuddered as Kyle turned on the bathroom sink, and Aimee retreated into the privacy of their bedroom
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