Playing Dead

She kissed him. Those soulful blue eyes fluttered closed and he lost himself in her lips.

She pulled his polo shirt out of his jeans and ran her soft hands up his chest, her thumbs skimming his nipples, her fingernails digging lightly into his skin.

He pushed her up against the wall, pressed his body against hers, her hands trapped between them. He kissed her, over and over, hard then soft then hard again. His hands were flat against the wall on either side of her head, keeping her aligned where he wanted her.

Mitch tried to tell himself this was just about sex, but that was a lie. He needed Claire like a man needs sustenance. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to think about it. Deep down, under his protective shield, he realized that Claire was as important to him as breathing. He couldn’t not make love to her. Kissing her, holding her, listening to her pleasure as they made love would revitalize him. He’d been functioning on autopilot for so long. Until Tom O’Brien saved his life, Mitch had been on the fast track to burnout.

O’Brien had saved his life, and Claire was saving his soul.

“Claire,” he breathed into her lips. “I don’t know-”

“I want you, Mitch.”

Last time he’d had a battle within himself to stay out of Claire’s bed. He’d resisted, but tonight the battle was over before it had begun. His hand grabbed her hair and he devoured her lips, his teeth skimming along her jaw, his tongue tasting her flesh.

She gasped as his tongue dipped into the hollow of her neck. She wiggled her arms up and pulled off his shirt.

In the dim light of her entryway, she frowned. He tensed. He hadn’t thought about his scars. More lies on top of the ones he’d already told. He was drowning in his own deception.

She ran her finger over an old scar from a bank robbery gone bad ten years ago.

“This looks like it’s from a bullet.”

“It is,” he said. “Friendly fire during basic training.”

She kissed it warmly, then continued the kisses across his chest, her tongue moving in moist circles as she licked him from left to right. Her hands reached under his waistband and squeezed his ass, sending heat up his spine. He wanted her.

Claire was surprised when Mitch pivoted and picked her up as if she weighed next to nothing. His hard muscles pressed against her thin shirt. He had no fat on him, and while he didn’t seem unusually buff with his shirt on, when off? he was hot. She loved how physical he was, how he didn’t treat her like a delicate rosebud, but a desirable woman. She had never shied away from her sexuality, but she rarely found a partner who equaled her passion.

Maybe because she’d never cared about anyone as much as she’d come to care for Mitch.

He glanced around and she realized he had never been to her bedroom. She pointed him down the hallway, then to the right.

They turned the corner into her bedroom and she hit the wall with her hand a couple times until she found the light switch. The two bedside lamps came on, not bright, just enough light to cast shadows across the room, so she could see him and he her. Visual stimulation was almost as powerful as physical stimulation.

Mitch tossed her on the bed with a grin as he followed, holding his body over her as if he were about to do push-ups. He dipped his head toward hers and nipped her bottom lip. Shivers went up and down her nerves. One small bite on her well-kissed lips and she was at his mercy.

She reached down and unbuttoned his fly, pushing his jeans around his hips.

“This doesn’t seem fair,” he said. “I’m nearly naked and you’re fully clothed.”

“Life isn’t fair.” She pushed at him until she was on top. She pulled his jeans off, then ran her hands up hard, muscular legs. Mitch looked like some sort of Greek god. His skin was on the olive side, but not so dark that she thought Mediterranean. Whatever the combination of genes, they’d created a perfect specimen.

She ran her fingers up his thighs, skimming over his hard penis. Her heart was beating so fast-she wanted to jump all over him. But she also wanted to go slow, to savor this connection, a melding with Mitch that she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to overthink for fear of it disappearing in a puff of smoke.

She swallowed uneasily as her heart flipped. Her life was in total disarray and she was stepping over the line into an area of relationships that, for her, was still unexplored. Sex, yes, but this. . this sense of more scared her. Scared her but she wanted it nonetheless.

“Claire, sweetness, is something wrong?” Mitch touched her chin, pushed it up to look at him, his dark eyes concerned.

She shook her head. “You’re gorgeous.” Keep it light, keep it flirtatious.

Don’t fall too hard, Claire.

Too late.

“You’re rather gorgeous yourself.” He pulled her up until their lips met. He kissed her softly but consistently, not pushing but not shying away. Her brief melancholy passed and she nipped his lip, then skimmed her tongue along his strong, square jawline to his ear, then back again and up the other side.

Mitch sensed something had disturbed Claire, but then she flipped an internal switch and turned more passionate, heating up his easy kisses. Her hands didn’t stop moving, squeezing his biceps, his triceps, grasping his hands as her mouth moved from his mouth down his neck, down his chest, her tongue skimming his navel as Claire traveled further south.

“God, Claire.”

“Don’t you mean goddess?” she teased, then ran her tongue over his hard cock.

“You don’t play fair,” he said.

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“In that case. .” Mitch reached down and grabbed Claire under her arms and pulled her right up to him. He kissed her as if it were for the last time. He rolled her over, to give himself better leverage and more control. He pulled off her lacy black tank top and bright pink bra, then filled his hands with her breasts. They were perfect. He tasted one, then the other, then back again, until Claire squirmed beneath him.

Mitch loved that Claire wasn’t timid in her nakedness, nor did she play games with sex. She took what she wanted and gave back twice as much. He slid off her jeans, only marginally surprised to find a mischievous fairy tattoo-Tinkerbell? — high on her outer right thigh, right below a very sexy bikini line. He kissed it. First an Irish icon on her shoulder, then a fairy on her thigh. Mitch eagerly anticipated what else he would discover as he explored.

Claire’s defenses fell completely away as Mitch moved his mouth from her outer thigh to her inner thigh, his warm breath caressing her most sensitive spot. She gasped as he nibbled, his mouth moving closer and closer until he pushed his tongue into her and sucked.

Her hands grasped the down comforter as she moaned, “God, Mitch.”

He raised his head and in a husky voice said, “You called?”

“You tease.” She reached into her nightstand and felt around until she found a condom. She threw it at Mitch.

Claire wanted to keep it light, but she was spiraling further out of control. She wanted to keep sex with Mitch easy and fun, but it was dark and sexy and needy. She needed him as much as she wanted him.

Their hands and limbs moved constantly, touching, squeezing, caresses hard and soft, teasing and urgent, both fun and all business.

“Claire.”

As soon as she looked into Mitch’s eyes, he plunged into her. Her eyes closed and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. He didn’t move at first, just held himself deep inside her, while he kissed her. Warmly, with a deep affection Claire craved.

“Look at me,” Mitch said.

She did. Mitch’s chocolate brown eyes stared at her with such intensity, his face revealing a layer of emotion she hadn’t seen before.

He started moving inside her. Slowly. Exquisitely. Their hands clasped as they focused on watching the pleasure their bodies generated in each other’s eyes.

Claire gasped from the intensity of their coupling. Here and now wasn’t only about sex and mutual pleasure.