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“No, you didn’t.”

  “Then why are you crying?” he asked and wiped the tears from my face.

  How did I explain to him without making the situation worse? If he knew how scared I’d been, he’d be horrified.

  “You startled me is all. I didn’t expect you to react the way you did. But you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have come in here. It was an invasion of your privacy.”

  His thumb stilled on my cheek, and he gripped my face. Even in the screwed-up situation when he looked into my eyes while holding my cheek, sweaty for the horror he’d dreamt, I wanted to kiss him. This wasn’t anything new. I’d wanted to put my lips on his since the moment I’d seen him, but this was different. I wanted to comfort him, soothe his tortured soul, bring him back to the here and now. As odd as it was seeing Clark crumpled on the floor, vulnerable, it was… sexy. It made him seem more approachable, more human.

  “You shouldn’t be in here. I’m dangerous.”

  He was more correct than he knew. He was dangerous - to my health. My mental health to be exact. He was undoubtedly going to be my biggest regret. Clark had heartbreaker written all over him. No, scratch that, heartbreaker was a huge flashing neon sign above his head. I knew it, I saw it, and it was too late. It didn’t matter which way I went from here on out; I was screwed. And at the moment I was leaning towards taking the coward’s way and running.

  “Reagan?” he asked.

  “Huh? Sorry.”

  “I was saying, you shouldn’t be in here,” he repeated.

  “You didn’t hurt me.” I tried to reassure him, but he shook his head. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I didn’t ask that. I asked if you wanted to talk about it. Why don’t you let me worry about what I should and shouldn’t worry about?”

  Clark was quiet for a long time. Long enough for me to wiggle in his lap to try and get the blood flowing back to my tingling butt cheeks.

  My movement must’ve pulled him from his contemplation and, to my surprise, he began. “My team was on a low-risk reconnaissance mission. I knew the minute we hit the ground something was off. My gut was screaming at me to turn back and scrap the op. My second in command felt it too. I was getting ready to tell my men to fall back when the man we were sent in to get intel on suddenly appeared. We continued with the mission. By the time I saw that it was a setup, it was too late. My team was almost surrounded. I gave the order to scatter. All but one obeyed my call. My second stayed behind to provide the rest of the team cover as they fell back. He wouldn’t leave. He disobeyed a direct order. The more I argued with him to leave, the more resolute he was that he wouldn’t leave my six. We were captured.” Clark looked like he’d gone into a trance as he told me his story. His tone was flat and haunting. “We were held for five days before a CAG team could come in and rescue us. By then it was too late, Moses was already dead.”

  “I’m so sorry.” My words sounded lame even to my own ears, but there was nothing else I could say.

  “He had a baby back home he’d never met. All he had to do was follow my fucking orders.” I didn’t know what to say, so I remained quiet. “Fuck.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Ten years. Can you believe I still have nightmares ten years later?” Clark shook his head, then slammed it back against the side of the mattress. “Weak.”

  “You are not weak. Don’t ever say that,” I scolded. “What’s a CAG team?”

  “What?” Clark asked, his eyes widening.

  “You said a CAG team rescued you.” I reminded him, not understanding why his voice had hardened.

  “It’s a Combat Applications Group,” he answered.

  “Nope, still lost. I don’t know what that is.”

  On an exhale he shifted. “Let’s get off the floor.”

  We stood, and I noticed for the first time since we’d landed on the floor that Clark only wore a pair of tight boxer briefs.

  Holy shit. The outline of his dick was clearly visible under the white cotton. The light coming in from the windows was giving the room just enough illumination to appreciate the bulge, and as if on cue, his dick twitched, causing me to jerk my eyes away and straight into Clark’s hot gaze. Well shit, I’d been caught, so I might as well continue my perusal. His chest was bare, showcasing his tattoos. I wanted to see them up close, but I dared not move, afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist reaching out and tracing the lines. He had several marks on his lower abdomen; they were nearly camouflaged between the lines of his eight-pack - I counted the hard ridges. My eyes drifted further down glancing at the swelling between his legs. I wasn’t well-versed in male anatomy, but in my very limited experience, even I knew his package was abnormally large. I wanted to get a closer look at that, too.

  “Don’t lick your lips,” Clark groaned.

  “What?” I stepped back from him.

  “Don’t lick your lips while checking out my cock, Rea,” he semi repeated.

  “I…I hadn’t realized I did,” I stammered out. Crap, how embarrassing.

  “Well, you did.”

  I chanced a look at him, and the heat on my cheeks intensified. He’d crossed his arms over his chest (sadly covering his pectoral muscles from my view) and wore a smug look on his handsome face. He really was too good-looking for his own good. I wondered how many women had fallen for that sexy smirk and broad chest. Probably a lot. More than I cared to think about, but enough to know he was way-way - out of my league. I had seen exactly two men fully naked, well in person - I’d seen plenty of others on the internet. Neither of the men had the muscles that Clark had or the promise of what he was packing under those boxers of his. Christ almighty, I bet he’d never had issues making his women orgasm. Hell, just thinking about what he could do to me made my panties dampen and my girly parts clench. That was new. I’d been turned on before but never have I had an overwhelming urge to throw a man down and finally find out what all the fuss was about sex.

  Clark cleared his throat, pulling me (once again) from my thoughts. “Sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep, or whatever it is you do in the morning.” I had to get away from him before I said something I’d regret. “Sorry again for the intrusion.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You hungry?” I asked Reagan before she could flee.

  “What?” She turned back around, the blush that had graced her pretty face had now spread down to her neck, and I wanted to know if it also extended further down to her breasts.

  “Well, since you keep licking your sexy as fuck lips, I thought maybe you were hungry.”

  Her eyes narrowed on me, but she didn’t move - which was a pity. I’d hoped she’d cross her arms over her chest so the t-shirt she was wearing would ride up and I could ascertain if she had shorts on under the long hem or if she was only wearing panties. I was seriously hoping for just panties. Sometime between tossing and turning last night, thinking about Reagan, and her trying to comfort me after my nightmare about Moses (even though I knew she was scared as fuck) I’d decided I wasn’t going to fight the attraction between us. I was going to have to be very careful because of her friendship with Jasper, but we were both adults. There was no reason we shouldn’t explore each other for long hours in my bed - and on every available surface of my house. I’d have to fully explain that I wasn’t capable of giving her more than a few days and a shit ton of orgasms, not that she’d want more than that. She didn’t even live in Georgia and would be gone within two weeks, if not sooner from what she’d said last night.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

  Reagan wasn’t playing coy, that wasn’t her style. She normally blurted out whatever she was thinking. She really had no idea how sexy she was, or that her little pink tongue had brushed her bottom lip, leaving it wet and glistening in its wake. The sight conjured up thoughts of her pussy. Was it wet and as slippery as her lip looked? Fuck, I wanted, no, needed to know.

  She backed up as I
moved toward her, the annoyance turning into shock. I liked that look. It was refreshing having a woman react naturally. When her back hit the door, I placed my hands on the wood over her shoulders, caging her in, but careful not to touch her.

  “What part didn’t you mean to do?” I asked, trying my hardest to ignore my throbbing hard-on.

  “I don’t understand your question.” Her voice was soft and unsure. Her eyes darted around, not landing on any part of my body for too long.

  “What part, Reagan, did you not mean to do? Stare at my cock until it was hard enough to pound nails? Or draw my attention to your mouth, making me lose my mind wondering what it would be like to lick that lip for you? Or what it would feel like to have your tongue glide over my cock that way?”

  “You thought that?” she asked.

  If I had any other woman pressed up against my bedroom door, I would’ve rolled my eyes and known she was running a play – shy and innocent. But there was no hiding the disbelief in Reagan’s voice.

  Without being able to stop myself, I pressed my lower half against her stomach and flexed my hips. When her eyes snapped to mine, I was satisfied she knew I was telling the truth about my erection. I pulled back a fraction but still kept us touching.

  “Holy crap,” she mumbled.

  That was not the reaction I was expecting, though I should’ve with Reagan. Her lack of response made me second guess myself. Did I misread her interest? Most other women would’ve touched me by now, grabbed onto what I had offered.

  I eased back a little further when her words cut through my doubt and rocked my world.

  “I, um, don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I mean, I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never done this…”

  “Done what, sweets?” I asked.

  “Well… I’ve never been pressed up against a door - turned on - before. I’ve only seen two men naked in real life and I know I didn’t stare at their penises or want to touch them or lick my lips when I looked at them. I don’t know if I’m reading this right. I’m not trying to be dumb, I know it sounds stupid but does a man’s penis get hard like that because someone stares at it? It doesn’t, right? That’d be crazy, that would mean that every time a woman looks at your crotch in public you’d get a stiffy.”

  I regretted the bark of laughter as soon as it escaped. Reagan’s body locked tight, and she flinched. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispered.

  “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I’m laughing because you’re cute as hell. You don’t hold shit back, and I love that about you. There is no guessing what you are thinking or feeling, no hiding and playing games. What you see is what you get. And Rea, I have to tell you that is a huge turn-on for me. So, to answer your questions; no, my cock doesn’t get hard when someone looks at it. It gets hard when a sexy, beautiful woman is standing in front of me in nothing but a tee, and she is looking at my cock like she wants to devour it. My male ego likes that you’ve never been pressed up against a door. But I’ll be as honest with you as you were with me. I want you, Reagan. I want nothing more than to spread you out and feast on every inch of you. But I need you to know I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m not boyfriend material. I can offer you one thing, orgasms. Nothing more.”

  “I’ve never had one of those,” she blurted.

  “One of what?”

  “An orgasm.”

  It was my turn to stare at her in shock. “Never?”

  “Ohmygod I can’t believe I just said that to you.” She tried to bring her hands up, presumably to cover her face, but I intercepted them and held them between us.

  “So, you have?” I asked needing clarification.

  “No, I haven’t. I just can’t believe what an idiot I am saying that to you.”

  With the information Reagan had shared, we needed a new venue and a much-needed conversation. I couldn’t concentrate with my cock pressed against her belly and her fresh floral scent surrounding me.

  “Why don’t we go out into the kitchen and I’ll make us some coffee?” I asked, dropping her hands.

  “No, no, that’s okay. I’ll go into my room and let you start your day. I don’t want to be in your way.”

  Her head was bowed, shoulders slumped forward, and she’d closed down.

  “Look at me.” I lifted her chin, forcing her gaze up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Umm… nothing. I just don’t want to bother you. You’ve been really cool letting me stay here and not mad that I came into your room uninvited.”

  “Reagan, don’t do that. Don’t start hiding from me. And as far as the invitation, you’re invited into my room whenever you want.” I winked at her, hoping to assuage whatever was bothering her.

  “Listen, I get it. I ruined the moment announcing my sexual status or lack thereof. Whatever you want to call it. I told you, I’ve never done any of this, I don’t know how to be sexy and all that. You don’t have to feel obligated to make me coffee to make me feel better because I’m a complete jackass.”

  “Stop doing that. You’re not an idiot or a jackass. You don’t have to try and be sexy, you just are. I give zero fucks about your lack of sexual experience. Well, that’s a lie, I do care. The thought of being the man to give you your first orgasm makes me want to pound my chest and simultaneously lie you on my bed and get to work. But before that happens, I need to slow this down and talk. You are not some chick I just met. First, you are friends with Jasper, and he is one of my best friends. I won’t do anything that would jeopardize our friendship. Secondly, I have come to care about you as a friend, and I need to make sure before I take us there…” I stopped and gestured to the bed. “We’re on the same page. I can’t do that when my cock is so close to your pussy I can feel the heat radiating through your panties. Not to mention I’m dying to see for myself if you’re as wet as I think you are.”

  “So why don’t you check?” she shyly asked.

  “Because if my hand goes anywhere near you, I won’t be able to stop.” I leaned in and finally did what I’ve been dying to do since I’d first met her. The first brush of my tongue against her full bottom lip caused my cock to once again harden. Before she could open her mouth, I moved to her neck, noting the scent of lilac or lavender was stronger there. I placed a few light kisses there, and she tilted her head, giving me more room to explore her soft skin. When I got to the barely exposed flesh of her collarbone and licked the area above the neckline of her tee, she moaned and pressed into me.

  I was in trouble, in way too deep with this girl. I knew it and still couldn’t stop it. I was going to have her. I’d deal with the fallout when the time came. I knew I couldn’t keep her and as long as she walked away unhurt, I’d take the memory of her and tuck it away, secure in the knowledge I’d tasted heaven once in my lifetime.

  I sucked and kissed and nibbled around her neck, and when I knew that I was close to exploding in my boxers without her even touching me, I pulled back, happy when I saw her face relaxed and the ever-present blush on her cheeks still there.

  “You ready for some coffee so we can talk?” I asked, my lips still on her skin.

  “No. I don’t want coffee. I want you to touch me.”

  “We need to talk first,” I told her.

  “No, we don’t. I get it, you’re not looking for anything serious, and neither am I. I live in Florida, you live here. I’ll probably never see you again after I leave so you don’t have to worry about me thinking you’re offering me a white picket fence and all that. I just want you to touch me.”

  The thought of never seeing her again made my gut clench, and suddenly a white picket fence didn’t seem so bad.

  What in the actual fuck?

  Shaking the crazy, asinine image from my head, I reached for her hand without removing my mouth from the crook of her neck. Finding her hand flat against the door, I took it in mine and brought it to my chest, covering her small hand with mine.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, Rea. I need to know you are a hundred
percent on board with what is about to happen.”

  “I’m positive Clark.”

  “Nolan.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “My name is Nolan. My last name is Clark.”

  I don’t know why I told her my first name. No one ever called me Nolan. I haven’t introduced myself or given my first name to a woman in ten years. I hated to be called Nolan. The only person that calls me that is Moses’ wife when I make my monthly calls to check on her and Nathan. Other than that, I hear it in my nightmares enough as Moses is bleeding out, pleading with me to take care of his family for him. Nolan, they’re everything to me. Tell Mari I love her. I loved her and our baby to my dying breath just like I promised her I would. Nolan, please don’t forget, promise me you’ll tell her.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Reagan asked, pulling me from my memory. Her small, soft hand flexing under mine.

  “Nowhere, sorry.”

  “So, your name is Nolan, huh.” She smiled and with more force moved her hand from under mine, gently using her thumb to graze my skin.

  Fuck, her hand felt so good on me. I wanted more.

  “I want you to touch me. Above the waist.” I quickly added. There was no chance I’d be able to control myself if her hand wrapped around my cock.

  “I want to touch you lower,” she told me as her hands traveled up and down my abdomen, her fingers stopping just above the waistband of my boxers.

  “No. If you touch me, my thinly leashed control will snap, and you’ll be bent over my bed in two point five seconds.”

  “Maybe I want to be bent over your bed.”

  She was killing me, absolutely killing me. I grabbed her hand just as the tips of her fingers made their way under the elastic band.

  “No, Reagan. I’m not going to fuck you, but I’m going to make you come on my fingers. Then we are going to go in the living room, have a conversation, and if you still want to proceed, I’m going to bring you back in here and eat you until you come in my mouth. After that, we’ll shower, and you can use the rest of the day to decide how far you want to take this.”