Striker had been quiet in return – like a spell. Striker turned, scooped his arm under my knees, and laid me out on the bed.
His lips brushed over mine. Feather light. Warm. “I love you,” he breathed into my ear. His lips trailed over my cheeks to the other ear. “You are so beautiful.” He moved to lay his body over mine. My legs bent and shifted to accommodate him. His weight rested on his elbows. He stared down at me. “You have no idea. You couldn’t possibly have any idea.” He shook his head.
He looked like a lost boy. I reached up and stroked his silky hair, and ran my thumb over his lids when he closed his moss green eyes. Today, there were no laughing golden flecks; his irises were shadowed and dark.
“When we were in the cave, you were my oxygen.” He took my hand and kissed my pulse point, then lay my hand against his cheek, and held it there. “The gas couldn’t affect me. I pictured you, and I could breathe.” He bent and whispered a kiss over my lips and pushed back onto his heels. Slowly, he worked my nightgown up my body and over my head, tossing it to the side. He gazed down at me, brushing my skin with his calloused palms. “So beautiful. So insanely beautiful.” His lips were on my neck and breasts. He took a deep breath and laid his cheek against my belly. “Sometimes I feel like we spend all of our lives fighting to be together. You told me that I rode out of an Arthurian legend – that’s exactly how it feels. Like the dragons keep snatching us apart. And I won’t let them, Lexi.” He planted his hands on either side of me and pushed up to lock his eyes on mine. “I will never ever let them win. We belong to each other, goddamn it.” The ferocity of his voice was conviction itself.
My lips parted as I panted for air. Striker lowered his forehead to mine. “You are my everything, my raspberry girl. You are my springtime. You are hope and strength. You hold my soul in your hands,” he whispered against my cheek. God. His sincerity was so powerful that I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and rolled my lips in to brace against the pain I felt at my near-loss.
Just as I had needed to touch every inch of his body to reassure myself, Striker seemed to need the same. But he used his lips and tongue along with his fingertips. When he slid into me, filling and stretching me, it pushed my suppressed fears to the surface. Still, I couldn’t speak. Tears dripped down my cheeks. Striker caught each one with his fingers and tongue as he rocked slowly in and out of me. Gently he moved, until my body gave itself over to the sensations and all I felt was love, and lust, and the perfection of us being together.
“I wish you had called me when they decided to release you from the hospital,” I said, resting my cheek on his chest, and drawing circles through the scattering of hair. We had fallen asleep tangled together and my joints demanded I move, even though I didn’t want to.
“You’re talking to me again?”
I peeked up to find Striker smiling at me. That smile told me everything was okay, that he understood me and loved me. I kissed his chest, then lay back down.
He combed his fingers through my hair. “I wanted to find you in my bed. This turned out exactly as I planned.”
I rolled over and lifted onto my elbow. “At least sometimes plans work out.”
His face changed subtly, hardening into his soldier veneer. “I’ve been thinking about what you said back in planning. Two things, actually. The first one you said in my office after you looked like you were going to pass out on the floor, and I had to drag you in there. You were having one of your knowings , and said, ‘ We’re under attack.’ Then later in the Puzzle Room, you were antsy and fidgety. We were finalizing the plans and you said, ‘We’re missing something. Something in this report is flat-out wrong. But I can’t pin it down.’ Do you remember that?”
Fair question. Since my favorite pastime seemed
His lips brushed over mine. Feather light. Warm. “I love you,” he breathed into my ear. His lips trailed over my cheeks to the other ear. “You are so beautiful.” He moved to lay his body over mine. My legs bent and shifted to accommodate him. His weight rested on his elbows. He stared down at me. “You have no idea. You couldn’t possibly have any idea.” He shook his head.
He looked like a lost boy. I reached up and stroked his silky hair, and ran my thumb over his lids when he closed his moss green eyes. Today, there were no laughing golden flecks; his irises were shadowed and dark.
“When we were in the cave, you were my oxygen.” He took my hand and kissed my pulse point, then lay my hand against his cheek, and held it there. “The gas couldn’t affect me. I pictured you, and I could breathe.” He bent and whispered a kiss over my lips and pushed back onto his heels. Slowly, he worked my nightgown up my body and over my head, tossing it to the side. He gazed down at me, brushing my skin with his calloused palms. “So beautiful. So insanely beautiful.” His lips were on my neck and breasts. He took a deep breath and laid his cheek against my belly. “Sometimes I feel like we spend all of our lives fighting to be together. You told me that I rode out of an Arthurian legend – that’s exactly how it feels. Like the dragons keep snatching us apart. And I won’t let them, Lexi.” He planted his hands on either side of me and pushed up to lock his eyes on mine. “I will never ever let them win. We belong to each other, goddamn it.” The ferocity of his voice was conviction itself.
My lips parted as I panted for air. Striker lowered his forehead to mine. “You are my everything, my raspberry girl. You are my springtime. You are hope and strength. You hold my soul in your hands,” he whispered against my cheek. God. His sincerity was so powerful that I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and rolled my lips in to brace against the pain I felt at my near-loss.
Just as I had needed to touch every inch of his body to reassure myself, Striker seemed to need the same. But he used his lips and tongue along with his fingertips. When he slid into me, filling and stretching me, it pushed my suppressed fears to the surface. Still, I couldn’t speak. Tears dripped down my cheeks. Striker caught each one with his fingers and tongue as he rocked slowly in and out of me. Gently he moved, until my body gave itself over to the sensations and all I felt was love, and lust, and the perfection of us being together.
“I wish you had called me when they decided to release you from the hospital,” I said, resting my cheek on his chest, and drawing circles through the scattering of hair. We had fallen asleep tangled together and my joints demanded I move, even though I didn’t want to.
“You’re talking to me again?”
I peeked up to find Striker smiling at me. That smile told me everything was okay, that he understood me and loved me. I kissed his chest, then lay back down.
He combed his fingers through my hair. “I wanted to find you in my bed. This turned out exactly as I planned.”
I rolled over and lifted onto my elbow. “At least sometimes plans work out.”
His face changed subtly, hardening into his soldier veneer. “I’ve been thinking about what you said back in planning. Two things, actually. The first one you said in my office after you looked like you were going to pass out on the floor, and I had to drag you in there. You were having one of your knowings , and said, ‘ We’re under attack.’ Then later in the Puzzle Room, you were antsy and fidgety. We were finalizing the plans and you said, ‘We’re missing something. Something in this report is flat-out wrong. But I can’t pin it down.’ Do you remember that?”
Fair question. Since my favorite pastime seemed
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