HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10 Page 12

  “Are you okay?” she asked, and it kinda stunned him that she was thinking of him when she had so much to think about.

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

  “I’m sorry I threw all that at you. I’ve only ever told Molly.”

  He closed his eyes. They were still wet, but he’d managed to stop the tears from turning into a flood. Thank God. Last fucking thing he needed was to sob like a drunk at a funeral.

  “Belle,” he said, and his throat tightened. He forced the words out anyway. “Don’t apologize. I needed to know.”

  “I know you don’t love me anymore. I know too much has happened to change that. I just… I’d like it if we could be friends again. Is that possible?”

  He rubbed his cheek against her hair. She smelled like his shampoo, and a flood of warmth washed over him.

  “Yeah, I think we can.”

  *

  Annabelle needed more, but she couldn’t ask Dex for what she really wanted. Not yet. Maybe never. And really, was it possible to get back what they’d had?

  Her heart said it was. Her heart said that she’d never stopped loving him, that being in his arms right now, even if it was just for comfort, made her realize how much she still wanted him in her life.

  What she really wanted was to rewind the clock and go back five years. She wanted to make a different choice. She wanted to drive up to the church, even if it was all by herself, and walk down that aisle where he was waiting for her.

  But what about Charlotte? What if that choice meant she wouldn’t have her daughter?

  Annabelle closed her eyes. She knew what she would do—she would make the same choice she’d made the first time. She’d leave Dex and go to Eric if it meant she got her baby girl.

  A wave of despair hit her. Despair for her daughter and for the man she still loved. At the same time, a fierce voice blossomed to life inside her.

  You know the truth deep down, Annabelle. You’ve just never wanted to admit it. Charlotte is Dex’s daughter. No way could she be Eric’s. Because you never got pregnant again.

  She shook that voice away. She didn’t know it was true. She only wanted it to be true. Wanted it so badly that she was trying to rationalize it in her mind. There were a lot of reasons a woman could get pregnant one time only. Just because Eric never managed to make her pregnant again didn’t mean Charlotte wasn’t his.

  She couldn’t go there right now, and she couldn’t take Dex there either. It wasn’t fair to him, not when her baby girl was in danger and he needed to have his head on straight in order to get Charlotte back.

  She believed him when he said he would. She had to believe him or she would go mad.

  Dex ran a hand over her hair, and her skin tingled in response. The hair on the back of her neck stood up in a good way. She liked him touching her. Liked it so much. She’d thought she’d never want a man to touch her again. Eric had only ever touched her for selfish reasons. Yes, he’d raped her the first time—and maybe the next three or four times. But eventually she’d accepted his advances because there was no other choice. Was it still rape if she opened her legs and pretended to get off so he’d get it over with?

  She didn’t know and she didn’t have time to obsess about it. That was past. This was now. She turned her face into Dex’s chest and sighed. His shirt was still wet, but she didn’t want to let him go.

  Desire began to buzz in her veins again. Her nipples tightened and her body grew languid as syrupy heat sank into her bones.

  “You should sleep, Annabelle,” Dex said. “We’ll know where Lyon is soon and we’ll have to be on our way. Can’t promise you’ll get any rest on the trip.”

  “I can’t sleep, Dex. Not now.”

  Not as hot as she was. Not as needy. How was it possible to be so damned horny when her life was falling apart around her ears? She ran a hand up his chest, cupped his jaw. He turned his face into her hand, and she felt something wet. For a second she thought maybe it was water from her shower, but he’d dried her off. Her hair was damp but not drenched. He shouldn’t have moisture on his cheek and yet he did.

  “Are you crying?” she whispered, her heart in her throat. It beat so hard it hurt. “For me?”

  “I’m pissed,” he said roughly. “Pissed and so fucking sorry I can’t choke the life from Eric’s worthless body. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

  She pushed herself upright with a cry, kneeling beside him. Then she took his face in both her hands and kissed the salty wetness from his cheeks. He wasn’t sobbing, wasn’t leaking tears like she did when she was particularly hormonal, but he’d shed a tear or two—and they were for her. It made her ache and made the love in her heart swell until she thought it would burst through her chest.

  It was dangerous to love Dex Davidson, to go out on that limb that could collapse beneath her at any moment, but she didn’t much care.

  “Dex. Oh, Dex.”

  The covers slipped off her again, exposing her naked skin to the air. And to his gaze. The room was dim since the only light came from the living room, but it was enough to illuminate her body.

  His eyes dipped to her chest, to her breasts that sat up all perky-like and practically begged him to touch. He made the visual journey down her torso, down to the apex of her thighs. The sheet still covered her there, but barely. She was wet and hot and achy—and she wanted him to touch her. Right there.

  Right. Damn. There.

  “Belle,” he said softly, his gaze rising to hers again. “What are you doing to me?”

  “I hope the same thing you’re doing to me.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast. Fire flowed beneath her skin, lighting up her nerve endings with sizzle and flash. He didn’t pull away.

  Instead, he tested the weight of her flesh—and then his thumb ghosted over her nipple and she gasped.

  “I have to be honest,” he told her, and she shuddered as his thumb kept up a light teasing rhythm. “We’re different people now—and I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. With you, I mean.”

  She knew what he was saying. “We used to run the gamut, didn’t we? From tender and sweet to hard and fast and rough. You’re wondering which of those is off-limits.”

  “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t possibly love him more for caring. For thinking about it.

  “I think, with you, anything is possible,” she said truthfully. “But it’s been a long time, so maybe not rough in this instance.”

  He put both broad hands around her waist and brought her body closer, her nipple to his mouth. She braced her hands against his shoulders and whimpered as the fire engulfed her. It felt so good. So right. She’d thought she was dead inside—but she wasn’t. Not with Dex.

  She was alive and vibrant. Filled with emotion and a desperate kind of need.

  He licked her nipple thoroughly, then sucked it between his lips, nibbling the tight flesh as goose bumps rolled down her spine like a shock wave. She wanted to scream and beg. He popped the tight flesh from his mouth and blew cool air over its glistening tip. She didn’t think it was possible for her nipple to bead any tighter, but it did. There was an answering ache in her pussy, a flood of wetness and heat and urgent yearning.

  “How long?”

  She had trouble focusing her thoughts. “What?”

  “How long has it been?”

  She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he dropped a finger down the center of her body. He skimmed through her curls, but he didn’t touch her where she most wanted.

  “How long, Belle?”

  “Two years.”

  He stilled. “Two years? Seriously?”

  She nodded. It hadn’t been long enough for her. “Eric’s interests moved on. He had an affair with his secretary for a while. I don’t know who he was with for the past several months. I didn’t care.”

  “Jesus.”

  “It was about ownership, Dex. It was never about me.”

  He gathered her to him and pressed openmouthed kisses to he
r shoulders, the curve of her breasts, before sucking the nipple he’d neglected into his mouth.

  Annabelle arched her back. The ends of her hair tickled the curve of her buttocks, and she suddenly felt something she’d not felt in years.

  Sensual. Desired. Wanted.

  Dex pushed her back on the bed until she was beneath him, her head at the foot of the bed. He lifted himself on strong arms above her, then reached over his head with one hand and dragged his shirt off. It disappeared onto the floor, and then he glided down her body, licking and kissing a path toward the place that burned for him.

  When he knelt between her legs, her heart lodged in her throat. His eyes burned as he met her gaze. His expression was filled with pain and determination at the same time.

  “He wasn’t fit to lick your boots, baby. The man was evil, and a fool. I’m sorry for what you went through.”

  “I know you are.”

  He lifted one of her legs into the air, kissed her ankle. She closed her eyes and gathered fistfuls of covers in preparation. Because when he touched her, when Dex finally sank his tongue into the heart of her, she was going to explode.

  He took his time getting there. He worked his way down her calf, up her inner thigh as he pushed her open. Then he curled her leg around his neck and settled above her, sliding his fingers into her slick folds.

  “I’ve dreamed of this,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her with that hot, hungry gaze. “Of you.”

  Her heart felt as if he’d ripped it from her chest with those words. “Dex,” she choked out, because it was all she could say.

  He lowered his head and swiped his tongue along her wet seam. Annabelle cried out as if she’d been touched with a hot brand. Every nerve ending she had was concentrated right there in the center of her. Her clitoris swelled almost painfully, her juices ran, and her breath came out in pants as she waited.

  And then, mercifully, he licked her where she wanted him. Her body came alive with sensation. It was as if she’d only been existing in black and white but now the world was in color. Full, beautiful color that almost hurt to look at because it was so bright and perfect.

  “Belle,” he said against her hot flesh, “you still taste as sweet as I remember.”

  “Dex—oh my god, Dex.” She lifted herself and grabbed his head, held him to her as he lashed her with his tongue again and again.

  Pleasure built to a crest inside her, rising higher and higher until she thought it couldn’t get any better. Until she thought surely she would crash over the edge and splinter apart.

  But Dex knew how to work her body. He’d always known. He let her go higher, and then he backed off just enough to stop the headlong rush into oblivion. He slipped a finger into her body, worked her just enough to distract her from the main event.

  “Dex!”

  “Patience, Belle,” he growled—and then he attacked again, taking her so high she could see the stars.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please.”

  This time, he let her fall. Annabelle couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from her throat. It had been so long, so damn long, and she’d never expected to feel this way again. Never expected to be with Dex, with the man she loved, as she tumbled over the edge and came apart.

  Her orgasm was long and perfect and shattering. Her toes tingled. Her legs trembled. And Dex didn’t stop making her come until she was completely wrung out.

  She was still panting when he lifted himself off her and stood. She looked at him through a haze of pleasure, reached for him, tangled her fingers with his.

  “Don’t go,” she said.

  His fingers flicked open the button on his jeans. “Go? Baby, I’m just getting started.”

  18

  Maybe it was selfish of him, maybe he should back off and let her rest now that he’d made her come. Because he didn’t doubt she’d be able to fall asleep after an orgasm like that.

  But holy shit, he was so fucking hard he might explode if he didn’t do something about it. And jerking off in the shower did not appeal.

  He wanted to slide into her body and take them both to the edge. Repeatedly. He craved it in a way he hadn’t craved anything in years. He’d been with other women, and it had been exciting and passionate and hot.

  But he’d never felt this deep drumbeat of need in his soul, this driving, all-consuming desire to possess another woman’s body and make a mark on her soul.

  He felt that with Annabelle. And he shouldn’t. Too much time had passed, too many hurts had happened—but here he was, needing her so much that the pain was physical as well as mental. The only cure was to fuck her hard and deep and long.

  Annabelle came to him on her knees, reaching for his zipper. He let her slide it down, let her push his jeans over his hips until he could kick them off. His cock rose up tall and proud, and she made a noise he took to be appreciation.

  Then her hands closed around him, and he hissed in a breath as the nerves in his body flared to painful life. Not that they hadn’t already been alive, but there was something about her touch that made it that much more intense.

  She gripped him in both hands and tilted her gaze up to his. He knew what she wanted to do. He shouldn’t let it happen, and yet when she bent and swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, he didn’t stop her.

  He speared his fingers into her lush blond hair and held on. “Belle,” he grated. “Jesus.”

  She moaned as she opened her mouth. Her fingers dug into his hips as she pulled him into her. She took more of him than he thought she would, and his dick jerked in response. The pleasure, the insane heat, the liquid fire rolling through his veins—it was almost too much.

  When she cupped his balls, a chain reaction lit up the circuits in his body. It was all hands on deck in two seconds if he didn’t put a stop to it. He stiffened, marshaling his iron strength to stay in control. When he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to blow, he eased her away.

  “I wasn’t finished,” she said breathlessly.

  “I almost was, baby.”

  She giggled, and the sound curled around his heart. Happiness fizzed in his veins like champagne bubbles. Not what he needed right now.

  “Well, we can’t have that,” she said. “Not yet anyway.”

  “No, not yet.” He jerked open the bedside table and found a pack of condoms. He tore one off and sheathed himself. “You sure about this, Belle?”

  She’d propped herself on her elbows. Her legs dropped open. Her pussy was pink and slick, and he nearly groaned at the delights waiting for him within those magic walls.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  He thought about tugging her to the edge of the bed, pushing her legs together and back until her ass was in the air. She’d be tight and the pressure would be exquisite. But it was also rougher than she needed right now.

  He put a knee on the bed and sank between her legs, rolling his hand from her knee up to her wet center. When he touched her clit, she gasped.

  He took his time sliding into her because it had been two years and she needed the consideration, but the urge to go faster drummed in his blood. Somehow he managed to ease into her until they were joined completely.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes,” she gasped out. Her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging in as she arched her hips up to meet him. Her fingers pressed into his back, her nails biting sharply and sweetly at the same time.

  “I never thought—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d never thought he’d be with her like this again. Never thought he wanted to. And he couldn’t say the words because he was realizing how untrue they were—he did want to. He had wanted to.

  “Me either.”

  He dropped his mouth to hers, tried to kiss her lightly and softly, but he should have known better. It was like setting a match to gasoline. Passion and lust ignited as their mouths met. Tongues tangled together frantically—and his body began to move.

  He pulled his hips b
ack, withdrawing almost to the tip, and then slammed deep inside her. She raked her nails down his back, her legs tightening around him, her body rising up to meet his.

  It was every bit as good as it had ever been. Sex with Annabelle was different than sex with any other woman. They’d always had an explosive chemistry. From the first moment they’d touched, all the way up to the last, the passion had been off the charts. He’d thought that was because they were in love. He’d been wrong. He didn’t love her anymore, and it was still radioactive between them.

  He desired her. Obviously. Felt more for her than he liked, but that was to be expected since they’d known each other most of their lives and shared a tangled history.

  His body was on fire in a way it hadn’t been in years. Fire rolled and flared and rolled again. His brain beat with the command to take her, take her, take her. He pushed his hips into the cleft of her body again and again, the tempo rising as they strained toward the peak.

  Her head dropped back, her body stiffening. The walls of her sex gripped him hard, pulsing as he thrust into her tight, wet heat.

  His body was primed to explode, stars beginning to burst behind his eyelids—and then he let go, thrusting deep one last time. His climax slammed into his balls and splintered him apart at the same time.

  Oblivion.

  *

  It took time to come back from that kind of sensual detonation. Annabelle’s limbs were foreign objects she couldn’t control no matter how many times she sent the signal for them to move.

  Limp, languid, satisfied.

  Dex pressed her into the mattress, his body quivering deep inside hers, his neck taut, the muscles corded as he poured himself into her with a groan. When he finally stirred, it was to move off her. He levered up out of the bed.

  Cool air caressed her body. She hadn’t realized they’d gotten so hot, or that the moisture on her skin was sweat. Just a few minutes ago, it had been dampness from the shower.

  She heard him moving in the bathroom. Removing the condom, disposing of it. Like so many times before. Until she’d gotten onto the pill and they’d finally been able to make love with nothing between them. She’d been on the pill when she’d gotten pregnant. She’d had a course of antibiotics for a sinus infection a couple of weeks before Dex returned home for the wedding. She hadn’t known that antibiotics could affect the pill, though it had probably been in the literature she’d gotten from the pharmacist.