some areas. The fierce gusts of the day before had ebbed, and the forest rimming the mountain's ridge slowly came into view. The fruit on the pear tree, the one he surmised he'd landed in, bobbed small curtsies.
Beneath his questing palms, Destiny's body grew limp, and she jerked and melted against his torso. As gently as he could, Linc picked her up and cradled her head close to his heart. Never in a million years would he ever have picked eyelashes as a memorable body part. They were eyelashes, for Christ's sake. Yet the way hers fluttered half closed, then dipped a bit more, proved fascinating.
You're getting under my skin, Destiny Driven, and it scares the shit right out of me.
The feel of her in his arms, all warm and soft and perfect, held some measure of comfort, though he ached to rail and shout at something, anything. From the minute he'd set eyes on her, she'd discombobulated him. Lincoln studied her features, his gaze touring her arched black eyebrows, the damned lashes that made his insides mush, her aquiline nose, lips that belonged on a porn magazine's cover, and that stubborn chin that tilted up even in slumber.
I'm a goner. I think her chin's cute. I love the way she cries, and I can't let her out of my arms.
She didn't stir when he walked them into the bedroom. Her skin smelled of the lavender bath salts he'd emptied into the tub earlier, but another aroma rode the fragrance, something fresh and clean and all Destiny.
She didn't budge when he undressed her; not so much as a whimper graced her luscious lips. He studied her form after laying her on the mattress.
Why the pseudonym? What secrets are you hiding? Why'd you clam up when I asked about your parents?
Linc remembered the broken glasses, returned to the kitchen, and cleaned up the mess. He made the rounds of the cabin, checking all the exits and windows, and when convinced all was secure, headed back to the bedroom.
He joined her on the bed, settling them under the covers, and snugging her head under his jaw. One arm tucked behind his neck, he stared at the pine-paneled ceiling. He knew it was useless trying to contact Satan aka Lorcan now. Too much time had elapsed. The squad had a predetermined schedule for family radio communication; Satan would try again in a couple of hours.
A breathy little sigh drew his gaze to her fluttering eyelids. Maybe she was his Destiny. He’d served his country for sixteen years, and this was his last mission.
Linc enlisted in the Navy a couple of years after graduating high school. He’d had no planned career in mind until serving with a buddy who was determined to be a SEAL. TEAM training had turned him into a disciplined and competitive warrior, but becoming a paratrooper, and serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, had straightened him out. He'd always been the black sheep of the family, the one who rebelled and cut off his nose to spite his face.
Afghanistan taught him to live for the moment. To reach for the joy, daily, not to count on a future, because you could die with each dawn, each sunset. He'd lived fast and hard, cramming everything into each waking moment, letting all hell loose every R&R.
A deep hunger drove him to volunteer for the most dangerous missions. The daredevil he'd always battled but never conquered took him to sex clubs and baby-oil orgies when he was on leave. A couple of years ago the desire for group sex had dissipated. He'd restricted his fucking to one woman at a time for the past twelve months. Okay, there'd been several women.
How the hell would she handle his sexual past?
Christ, when she found out the details about him and Nadine, the shit would hit the roof. And he hadn't even begun to initiate her into his bedroom habits. He wanted everything from her—sex in the dirtiest way, her lips swallowing his dick, his mouth making her cream and climax. An image of Destiny blindfolded and spread-eagled had his dick jumping and leaking precum on his belly.
No way would he let her out
Beneath his questing palms, Destiny's body grew limp, and she jerked and melted against his torso. As gently as he could, Linc picked her up and cradled her head close to his heart. Never in a million years would he ever have picked eyelashes as a memorable body part. They were eyelashes, for Christ's sake. Yet the way hers fluttered half closed, then dipped a bit more, proved fascinating.
You're getting under my skin, Destiny Driven, and it scares the shit right out of me.
The feel of her in his arms, all warm and soft and perfect, held some measure of comfort, though he ached to rail and shout at something, anything. From the minute he'd set eyes on her, she'd discombobulated him. Lincoln studied her features, his gaze touring her arched black eyebrows, the damned lashes that made his insides mush, her aquiline nose, lips that belonged on a porn magazine's cover, and that stubborn chin that tilted up even in slumber.
I'm a goner. I think her chin's cute. I love the way she cries, and I can't let her out of my arms.
She didn't stir when he walked them into the bedroom. Her skin smelled of the lavender bath salts he'd emptied into the tub earlier, but another aroma rode the fragrance, something fresh and clean and all Destiny.
She didn't budge when he undressed her; not so much as a whimper graced her luscious lips. He studied her form after laying her on the mattress.
Why the pseudonym? What secrets are you hiding? Why'd you clam up when I asked about your parents?
Linc remembered the broken glasses, returned to the kitchen, and cleaned up the mess. He made the rounds of the cabin, checking all the exits and windows, and when convinced all was secure, headed back to the bedroom.
He joined her on the bed, settling them under the covers, and snugging her head under his jaw. One arm tucked behind his neck, he stared at the pine-paneled ceiling. He knew it was useless trying to contact Satan aka Lorcan now. Too much time had elapsed. The squad had a predetermined schedule for family radio communication; Satan would try again in a couple of hours.
A breathy little sigh drew his gaze to her fluttering eyelids. Maybe she was his Destiny. He’d served his country for sixteen years, and this was his last mission.
Linc enlisted in the Navy a couple of years after graduating high school. He’d had no planned career in mind until serving with a buddy who was determined to be a SEAL. TEAM training had turned him into a disciplined and competitive warrior, but becoming a paratrooper, and serving in Afghanistan and Iraq, had straightened him out. He'd always been the black sheep of the family, the one who rebelled and cut off his nose to spite his face.
Afghanistan taught him to live for the moment. To reach for the joy, daily, not to count on a future, because you could die with each dawn, each sunset. He'd lived fast and hard, cramming everything into each waking moment, letting all hell loose every R&R.
A deep hunger drove him to volunteer for the most dangerous missions. The daredevil he'd always battled but never conquered took him to sex clubs and baby-oil orgies when he was on leave. A couple of years ago the desire for group sex had dissipated. He'd restricted his fucking to one woman at a time for the past twelve months. Okay, there'd been several women.
How the hell would she handle his sexual past?
Christ, when she found out the details about him and Nadine, the shit would hit the roof. And he hadn't even begun to initiate her into his bedroom habits. He wanted everything from her—sex in the dirtiest way, her lips swallowing his dick, his mouth making her cream and climax. An image of Destiny blindfolded and spread-eagled had his dick jumping and leaking precum on his belly.
No way would he let her out
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