Code of Honor (HORNET) Page 7

  He backed her up until her legs touched the couch. She lowered herself to the cushions and dragged him down with her by the collar of his shirt, knocking his Stetson off his head. Kissing his way down her body, he untied the string holding her top on and found her nipple. Groaning, she arched toward him, pushing more of her breast into his mouth. He used his teeth, again dragging her toward pain, then soothed with his tongue and lips. She’d always known sex with Jesse would walk the line somewhere between gentleness and agony. He was a gentle soul, a healer who cared too much about everyone, but there was also no denying the darkness that plagued his every move. The contrast excited her.

  He levered himself up on one arm and reached down to upzip his fly. She batted his hand away and undid the snap herself, sliding down the zipper. He was commando underneath. Like the rest of him, his cock was long, and he was definitely a grower. She wrapped her fingers around him and thrilled as he filled her hand. She squeezed, and watched dribbles of pre-cum leak from his tip.

  And she crashed back to reality. The sight of the white stuff was enough to put the brakes on her lust, at least temporarily. If they were doing this, they needed to be smart. She wasn’t currently on any form of birth control—hadn’t refilled her prescription when the last one lapsed—and she doubted Jesse wanted to risk pregnancy any more than she did.

  She looked up to find his eyes closed. His hips rocked into her hand. She forced herself to let go before things got any hotter and they both lost their minds.

  “Jesse,” she breathed, “we need a condom.”

  His eyes popped open, and he stared at her for a second before closing his eyes again as if in pain. “Goddammit.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Don’t move. Stay right there.”

  Cursing himself for not taking the offered condoms earlier in the evening, Jesse leaped off the couch and hiked up his jeans. He didn’t bother with the button or his shirt, and beat feet to the main hotel. The guys were no longer sitting around the fire. Everyone must have turned in for the night. He went through the glass doors near the bar and took an elevator up to the fourth floor. Two doors down from the room Connor was sharing with Jeremiah Wolfe, he thumped his fist on the door and waited impatiently for it to open. Jean-Luc poked his head out.

  “Jess?” He glanced up and down the hallway. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Nothin’s wrong. I, uh, uh…” He stuttered to a halt. Shit. When he’d bolted out of Lanie’s arms, his only focus had been on getting protection and he hadn’t considered how awkward this conversation was going to be.

  Jean-Luc yawned, scooped a hand through his wild hair, which did little to tame it, then leaned a shoulder against the door jamb. “Then what’s up, mon ami? You look like you just swallowed a crawfish while it’s still pinching.”

  He tried to see over Jean-Luc’s shoulder into the room, but it was dark. “I, uh, didn’t interrupt anythin’?”

  “Besides my beauty sleep?” He lifted a shoulder. “I told ya. That voodoo lady cursed me. Lost my mojo.” His gaze traveled down. “But looks like you found yours finally. Congrats. You might wanna…” He mimed zipping up.

  Jesse glanced down at himself. His fly was just barely zipped enough to cover his still semi-hard dick. Thank Christ he hadn’t run into anyone during his mad dash across the beach or in the elevator. He hurriedly finished zipping and buttoned up.

  “Should’ve taken the rubbers I offered earlier.” Jean-Luc laughed and waved him in. “I gotchu, mon ami. I’ll hook ya up.” He switched on a lamp, and surprisingly, he hadn’t been lying about being alone. His bed was rumpled, like he’d been tossing and turning, but empty. He grabbed his suitcase, hauled it up onto the end of the bed, and unzipped it.

  “Here, take ’em all.” He handed over a full box of condoms. “Someone might as well get use out of them.”

  Jesse took the box, and although he wanted to run back to Lanie’s bungalow, he couldn’t when Jean-Luc looked so damn miserable. “Hey, Cajun, you’re not cursed.”

  Jean-Luc zipped up the suitcase and returned it to its spot on the floor before straightening. “I haven’t gotten laid in four months.”

  Well, shit. That had to be some kind of record for the guy. “Really?”

  “F’true. Even worse, the few times I had the opportunity, I lost all interest as soon as the woman started stripping.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “I’ve been magically castrated, and I plan to track down the priestess as soon as I get home and make her reverse it.”

  Jesse gaped at him. “C’mon, pal. You’re almost as smart as Harvard. You don’t actually believe in that shit, do you?”

  Jean-Luc just stared at him, unblinking, for three long seconds. Then he turned away and grabbed the TV remote. “Better not keep Lanie waiting. She might change her mind, and then you’ll be in here watching late-night infomercials with me. And although I’m awesome company, I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Lanie’s not going to—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Jean-Luc was right. If he hung around much longer, she could very well change her mind. Or he could talk himself out of it.

  He glanced toward Connor’s door and almost started having second thoughts, but fuck that. Now he’d had a taste, he wasn’t getting Lanie out of his system until he had all of her. And why couldn’t he indulge and take a bit of pleasure for himself? It wasn’t selfish to want one night.

  He looked at Connor’s door again. “Hey, could you, uh—”

  “I’ll watch your boy, mon ami,” Jean-Luc said and grinned. “Now go have some fun for once.”

  He all but tripped on his own damn feet in his haste to get out the door. “Don’t tell anybody about this.”

  “Lips are sealed,” Jean-Luc called after him.

  Yeah, right. Come morning, all of the guys would know where he’d spent the night. Jean-Luc gossiped like a little old lady at a bingo hall, but he was beyond the point of caring. All he wanted was to get back to Lanie and find solace in her arms.

  When he got back to the bungalow, Lanie wasn’t on the couch where he’d left her. He skidded to a stop and scanned the floor for her clothes.

  Had he lost his chance?

  No, he hadn’t. Her bikini top was still in a pile on the floor, exactly where it had fallen when he’d pulled the piece off. He blew out a breath in relief, glanced around the cabin, spotted the bottom half of her bikini over by the bedroom door, and turned in that direction. She was going to be naked in there. Ready for him. His mouth went dry. His cock became hard enough to drive a fence post and rubbed uncomfortably against his zipper with each step.

  Lanie was on the mattress, propped up on pillows. Still naked, though the details of her body were obscured by the filmy white mosquito net draped over the bed.

  He took a step forward, but stopped as a small voice of reason in the back of his brain reminded him that sex with this woman—a woman he admired and cared about—would only end in pain and heartache. Hell, it might be the last push to tip him over into the darkness he always teetered on the edge of. He didn’t have it in him to claw his way back from that again.

  Did he dare risk it?

  She shifted on the bed and let out a soft, sensual moan that sent a jolt straight to his cock. Behind the net, he could just make out the dips and curves of her body and all that lovely dark skin.

  Oh Christ, he wanted her. He wanted to touch every inch of her. Taste every inch. Part her legs and get lost in the softness that lay between.

  Lanie crooked a finger. “Are you going to stand there all night, cowboy, or are you going to come over here and fuck me?”

  Fuck her. Yes, that was all this would be. Fucking. A raw, physical, carnal act that had nothing to do with emotion or love. Other men did it all the time. All he had to do was keep the act separate from his emotions, take pleasure in her without falling in love.

  She moaned again and all the blood left his brain.

  Frustrated by the mosquito net blocking his view, he stal
ked forward and ripped it open. He about swallowed his tongue when he spotted her fingers dipping slowly in and out of her sex.

  “Lanie.” His voice came out strangled as he watched her fingers disappear between her folds. “You didn’t wait.”

  “You took too long.”

  …

  He’d only been gone ten minutes, but she’d nearly second-guessed this whole thing. She’d gotten up from the couch after he’d gone, and paced. Worried.

  Wanting him as much as she did felt wrong. Selfish, somehow. And more than a little self-destructive. But that didn’t stop her from stripping and climbing into bed to wait for him.

  And now here he was, staring at her like he wanted to devour her. She opened her legs wider and let him look.

  He knelt on the end of the bed, dragging his fingers lightly from her calf up to her knee. “I want my mouth on you.”

  “Yeah?” She laughed softly, breathlessly. “What a coincidence. So do I.”

  He settled between her legs, and his breath caressed her sex as he inhaled then exhaled slowly. She groaned and arched toward him. “Jesse. Please.”

  He nuzzled her, parting her folds with his fingers before his tongue licked out and circled her clit. She shuddered as he alternated between teeth and tongue. He took her to the edge of pain, then he’d soothe her back to pleasure, again and again until she was shaking from the intensity of it. Her body flamed to life in a way it hadn’t in a very long time. She dug her fingers into his hair and held him there while he continued his delicious torture.

  The orgasm struck like a lightning bolt, leaving her numb down to the tips of her toes. She might have cried out, probably cried out, but she wasn’t sure. Couldn’t hear anything through the thundering of her heart and buzzing in her ears.

  Jesse crawled up the length of her, tracing his lips over her stomach. He stopped long enough to lavish attention on both breasts, teasing until her nipples stood at peaks. Finally he covered her, his bulge pressing rhythmically to the spot between her legs he’d already sensitized. He propped himself up on his arms and grinned down at her as she shuddered.

  She reached between them and tugged at the front of his jeans. “Why are you not naked yet?”

  “As soon as these pants come off, I’m gonna be inside you, and it’ll be over.”

  She smirked up at him. “No staying power, huh? I’m surprised at you, cowboy.”

  “It’s been a very long time.”

  “Then you need to practice.” In one deft move, she sat up and flipped their positions. It was her turn to prowl down the lean muscles of his body. “Let me help you with that.”

  She unzipped his jeans and his cock sprang free. She sucked him in, just for a second, swirling her tongue around his tip until his fingers dug into the sheets beside him. Then she released him and tugged his jeans down his hips. She was nearly tempted to leave them on just because he looked so damn good in them, but he looked even better naked. The gangly kid she’d once known had muscled up and filled out, his size finally matching his height. He was probably still considered too thin by most standards, but so was she. And she knew they were going to fit together like they’d been made for it.

  Once she had his jeans off, she searched his pockets and found a foil condom packet. She held it up. “Only one?”

  “There’s a box in the living room.”

  “Now you’re talking.” She grinned and ripped the foil open. He reached down and stood himself up so she could roll the condom on. Then she positioned herself over him. She didn’t move slow or easy. It wasn’t what she wanted. She took him all in at once, rocking hard against him until they were both panting.

  “Goddamn.” He gasped and sat up, digging his fingers into her hips, trying to slow her down. “Lanie, I can’t—”

  His protest was drowned out by her second orgasm. Not as powerful as the first, but it lasted longer, hitting her in waves. Her head dropped back as she rode out the pleasure with rolls of her hips. Jesse scooped a hand behind her neck and nibbled his way up the tendon along the side.

  “Fuck me,” he said right by her ear. “That was hot.”

  He flipped them again, and stood, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He dragged her legs up over his shoulders and entered her again. The change in angle produced all new sensations and sent little shocks of excitement tingling through her. He was so much deeper now, moving hard and fast, and the whole bed shook under them. She was surprised to feel yet another orgasm building low in her belly, but knew she wouldn’t get there again before him. She was okay with that. She was worn out, wrung out, sated, and she loved watching him move over her. The muscles in his arms and belly flexed and quivered with every thrust. When he tensed with his orgasm, his jaw clenched and his eyes closed. His head tilted back, and sweat-damp hair fell across his forehead.

  He was right. Watching him come undone…that was hot.

  Shuddering, he collapsed on top of her, half on and half off the bed. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “Sorry. Told you it’s been a while.”

  She rubbed a hand down his back. His muscles were still quaking. “If you think that was something to apologize for, I can’t wait to see what else you got, cowboy.”

  He huffed out a laugh and levered himself up. His blue eyes sparkled in a way she’d never seen before. “Give me a minute and I’ll show you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Friday, July 24

  12:35 a.m.

  Trinity Sands Resort

  Main Building

  Some vacay this turned out to be.

  Jean-Luc turned off the TV as a ridiculously happy hype man tried to sell him on the virtues of Sauna Pants. Because, yeah, some couillon thought it was a good idea to turn your shorts into a working sauna. Who doesn’t love sweaty balls?

  Merde.

  He was going to jump out of his skin if he stayed in this room watching infomercials a second longer. He tossed the remote aside and rolled off the bed. After the intense week of training, the rest of the team was probably asleep, so he wasn’t going to have much luck talking any of them into looking for trouble. In truth, he should be as exhausted as the rest of them. Jesse, out of some twisted need to prove himself, had tortured them throughout the week. At times, only the thought of this weekend island retreat—and maybe a chance to break the voodoo curse—kept him going.

  And yet here he was, alone in his room watching infomercials. It was like the gazillionth level of hell.

  But, c’mon, he was on a Caribbean island. There had to be good times rolling somewhere around here, despite the late hour.

  He snagged a clean New Orleans Saints T-shirt from his bag and pulled it on. He’d showered earlier and his hair was still damp. He scooped it up and tied it back from his face as he slid on a well-worn pair of flip-flops. He wasn’t usually one to rock the man bun and beach bum look, but tonight he wasn’t expecting to impress anyone. Not with the fucking curse following him around like a fart cloud.

  No, he wasn’t even going to try prowling for a woman tonight. He’d hit up the bar, have a drink or two. Maybe he’d wander down to the nude beach for a night swim. He just needed to move, or he’d spontaneously combust from boredom.

  His mamere had always said boredom was a dangerous thing for him, which was why she’d encouraged him at age eight to learn a language besides his native Cajun French and English. He’d chosen Spanish and had been fluent within a year. The rest, as they say, was history. The more languages he’d learned, the more he wanted to know.

  But Mamere was right about him and boredom. He was well aware it made him reckless, stupid, and got him into trouble more often than not.

  “No trouble tonight,” he promised her spirit, because he felt her with him as surely as the curse hanging over his head. Hell, she’d probably asked the voodoo queen to magically castrate him. He had fucked his way through the female population of New Orleans in the months after her death. She’d probably been appalled by him.

  He rubbed a hand over hi
s face to push back the rush of tears that thought brought to his eyes. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. Six months—no, almost seven since she’d died at age seventy-five from a brain aneurysm. Nobody had seen it coming. Edmee Cavalier had been the definition of health—until she wasn’t.

  He missed her.

  And now his mood was even darker than it had been moments before. Maybe he should go back to his room. Exhaustion had made him maudlin and he wasn’t fit for public consumption tonight.

  He stopped just outside the hotel’s side door and scanned the outdoor bar. The place was nearly empty. A few people still hung out around one of the many fire pits, and only one woman sat at the bar. The woman from the lobby, he realized as he approached. The cute blonde who had barely glanced at him before shooting him down.

  And, yeah, that had stung. He was still getting used to this whole rejection thing. He didn’t like it.

  But no meant no. He’d respect her wishes and leave her the hell alone.

  He chose a seat at the other end of the bar and flagged the bartender. He was in a coconut kind of mood and hummed the piña colada song to himself as he waited for his drink.

  “You’re off-key.”

  His gaze wandered back to the blonde. Focused on the screen of her phone, she wasn’t looking at him, but she had to be the one who had spoken because there was nobody else around. “No, I’m not.”

  “Are, too.” She hummed the chorus, proving that, merde, he had been off-key.

  “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent singer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  There was something intriguing about her. She wasn’t qualifying for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition anytime soon, but he didn’t put much stock in that narrow definition of beauty anyway. All women were gorgeous in their own ways, and she had a clean, au naturel thing going for her. Her face was without make-up and ever so lightly freckled. Her nose had a slight upturn at the tip. He’d noticed in the lobby that her eyes were blue, but more sapphire than the gunmetal-blue peepers he saw in the mirror everyday. Earlier, she’d worn her hair in a ponytail with pieces arranged artistically around her face, but now it was all loose, hanging straight in a sharp bob that ended just above her petite shoulders. Instead of the blouse and skirt she’d had on, she now wore a white tank top, jean shorts, and sandals. All of it very practical, no fuss or frills. She ignored her drink, which had been sitting there for a while judging by the pool of condensation around the base of the margarita glass, and kept checking her phone with a frown. Twice she tried to call someone, but whoever was supposed to be on the other end didn’t answer.