Out of Time

3

As soon as I turned off the bike, she was standing and removing her helmet. After I took it from her, she held her hand out to me. The image of her there, the sun setting behind her and silhouetting her perfectness, was so fucking beautiful that I wanted to take a picture of it and carry it with me wherever I went.

I was never one for taking pictures, but she had changed a lot of things about me. Now I talked and forgave instead of kicking ass and asking questions later. Now I was a fucking softie, and I didn’t even mind.

If I had a camera in my pocket, I’d have snapped it right then and there. But no one carried around cameras anymore. Not with cell phones.

No shit, Sherlock. Use the fucking phone.

“Don’t move a muscle. Don’t even twitch a finger.” I hung the helmets on my bike and took out my phone, grinning at her. “Hey. I saw you blink.”

She shifted on her feet. “Blinking is kind of essential. Are you taking a picture of me?”

“Yep.” I grinned. “Isn’t that what boyfriends do?” I opened the camera app. “Take pictures and set it as their backgrounds or some shit like that?”

She laughed and I snapped the picture. She still was silhouetted perfectly, but she was smiling. Fucking perfect. Her hand dropped. “Let me see it.”

“Nope. It’s all mine.” I shoved the phone into my pocket and grabbed her hand, hauling her up against me. She rested her palm over my heart and I smiled down at her, so fucking happy it hurt. “Just like you are.”

She opened her mouth to talk, but I didn’t let her. Instead, I trapped her mouth under mine, swallowing the words. My mind returned to the odd phone call I’d gotten earlier. I’d called three more members of my unit, and none of them had gotten a call. Just me. I didn’t know what to expect or what it meant, but I needed to tell her about it.

Where were they sending me? And why? How long would I be gone? I had all these unanswered questions in my head, and it was driving me fucking insane. If they sent me away, I couldn’t be Carrie’s bodyguard. And if I wasn’t here, I couldn’t be with Carrie.

If I didn’t have Carrie to kiss every single morning…then who the hell was I? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I had a feeling I was going to find out.

Her arms wrapped around my neck, dragging me closer, and I deepened the kiss before swinging her into my arms. As I walked up the pathway and up the stairs, I refused to break contact. I needed her as desperately as I had before I’d ever had her.

Maybe even more, if that was possible.

I unlocked my door and kicked it open, then shut it with my hip. Even though I wanted to carry her straight to my bed, I didn’t. I needed to tell her about the strange call I’d gotten first. No more secrets. No more waiting.

She tried to kiss me again, but I stepped back and unwound her arms from my neck. “Hold on. We need to talk.”

“Why?” She bit down on her lower lip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing too serious.” I cupped her cheek, running my thumb across her lower lip. I loved doing that. Loved seeing her smile, and the faint freckles that danced along her cheekbones when she did. Loved seeing her light up when she helped another person. Loved seeing her on a surfboard. Fuck, I loved her. “I got a phone call from my commanding officer. I have to report to base this weekend.”

She blinked at me. “But it’s the wrong weekend, isn’t it?”

“It is.” I hesitated and tugged on my hair. I’d have to cut it again. “I don’t know what he wants with me, but he mentioned a possible deployment.”

She lowered her eyes. “You mean war?”

“I’m not sure yet.” I cleared my throat and met her eyes. “The thing is, I called a bunch of guys from my unit, and none of them have to go in. It’s just me.”

She shook her head. “But what does that mean?”

“I have no fucking clue,” I said, reaching up and playing with her hair. I loved the way it felt against my fingers. “It could mean ten million things. I really have no way of knowing until I go and hear the news. But there’s definitely something going on.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. “Is this a bad thing or a good thing?”

“I really can’t say,” I said, shrugging. “I can speculate and freak you out with all the what ifs, but until I go and hear the news? It’s pointless. I just didn’t want to not tell you.”

“Thank you for being honest right away,” she said, after letting out a sigh.

“I won’t keep anything from you. Not anymore.” I leaned down and kissed her gently, knowing she probably needed a minute to absorb all this. “We’re in this together.”

She rose up on tiptoe and kissed me, not replying. She curled her hands into my shirt, a desperation in her kiss that hadn’t been there before. She was freaking out, and I needed to make it better. I broke off the kiss again, taking a deep breath of air.

“Ginger, it’ll be okay.”

She nodded, her mouth pressed tight and her eyes narrow. “I know. Just kiss me. I need you to kiss me now.”

Well, when she put it that way, who was I to say no?

So I kissed her.

Carrie

Okay, I was trying really, really freaking hard not to start panicking.

I mean, he’d said he wasn’t going to war, or at least his unit wasn’t, so that sounded promising. But still, he’d thrown out the word deployment. I might not know much about the military, but even I knew that meant he’d be leaving me.

And if he was leaving me, I wasn’t happy.

When he closed his mouth over mine, I shut off my mind and stopped thinking. He’d already told me all he could tell me about the call, so focusing on it wasn’t the healthiest choice. We had to wait until this weekend to hear anything more. Until then we were just sitting ducks.

And if I was going to be forced to wait, then I’d do it my way.

He picked me up and carried me to his bed. He was so hard and solid and it drove me insane every time he moved his tongue over mine like that. His teeth scraped my lower lip, and I whimpered into his mouth. His fingers moved over my butt, slipping between my legs and rubbing against the spot where I needed him most.

As he lowered me to the mattress, he started to climb on top of me, but I broke the kiss and shoved at his shoulders. “No,” I said, locking gazes with him. “It’s my turn. Just stand there.”

He stilled, instantly giving me what I wanted. “Your turn for what?”

“Control,” I said, my cheeks heating. “I want to undress you. And then I want to wrap my lips around your…your…”

When I drifted off, uncertain what to call his penis, he chuckled. “Cock. It’s a cock, Carrie. Say it.”

My cheeks heated. I knew what it was called. It just sounded so dirty and wrong. “Around your cock,” I said in a rush, my cheeks getting even hotter.

“Okay.” He fisted his hands at his hips, watching me from beneath his lowered lids. When he looked at me like that—like I was his dessert or something—it made everything inside me quiver and beg for his touch so much it hurt. I licked my lips and crawled to the edge of the bed on all fours. He twitched and took a step toward me; as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, but then he stopped.

He stood there because I’d asked him to.

I ran my hands over his chest, then up over his shoulders. Just touching him made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and I wanted to do everything to him. Everything in the romance books I read at night, and then more. Even though my mother had never figured it out, I used to sneak them out of her library after she was finished with them. I’d started it in sixth grade. Now I bought them with my own money.

And I had a lot of ideas stored away in my mind that I wanted to try out on Finn.

I climbed off the bed and rose on tiptoes, kissing him. His tongue rubbed against mine, making my stomach clench. When I slid my hands down over his pecs and abs and then up under his shirt, he groaned into my mouth. My nails scraped his skin, and I pulled back long enough to pull his shirt over his head.

I stood back and looked at him, his gaze burning into mine as I did so. His dark ink swirled up his arms and over his biceps before it crept over his shoulders and chest. I never got sick of looking at his tattoos. I loved deciphering them and admiring how they intertwined with perfection.

He looked the part of the stereotypical bad boy…when he was anything but.

He was a contradiction at its hottest. I ran my tongue over the black tattoo that swirled over his left pec, grinning when he hissed and gripped my hips. After I nipped at the skin, I pulled back enough to say, “New rule, love. You aren’t allowed to wear shirts around me anymore.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It might take some explaining when we go back to D.C., but I bet I can make it work.”

“I bet you could, too.”

I stepped closer, my leg between his, and tipped my head back to look up at him. His blue eyes shined down at me, and his light brown curls stuck up a bit, probably because I’d run my fingers through them a few times.

His hands still gripped my hips, and they flexed on me. “Ginger…” he said, his tone strained and raspy. The way he sounded, all turned on and needy, washed over me and landed somewhere in my stomach, twisting and turning into a knot. “I’m going to—”

“I know,” I said, smiling up at him. “Believe me, I know.”

I dropped to my knees and undid the button of his pants. As I unzipped his jeans, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, letting me work as slowly as I wanted. It might be torture for him, but I knew he’d let me do whatever the hell I wanted, even if it killed him.

When I pulled down his jeans and let them fall to his feet, he kicked out of them without opening his eyes. Leaning in, I cupped his erection through his boxers, closing my hand around him and squeezing. He hissed and moved his hips back, my hand tight on him. Then he arched into me.

The look of pleasure on his face almost did me in. Touching wasn’t enough. He seemed to agree. Reaching down, he yanked off his boxers, and as soon as he was out of my way, I flicked my tongue over the head of his erection.

“Jesus, Carrie.” His hands burrowed into my hair and held me in place. “Give me more.”

I groaned and took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue in circles around him. My God, he felt good there—almost as good as he felt when he was inside me. The skin was so smooth and hard at the same time…and so freaking intoxicating. I’d never get enough of him. I took more of him in my mouth, and he looked down at me—his jaw ticking and his body tightly wound.

His blue eyes burned with heated need, and he urged me even closer, his jaw flexing as he arched into my mouth. I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan. The urgent need to be taken by him was growing even stronger. Especially when I tasted the salty tang of something I could only assume was his semen. And I wanted more.

“Enough,” he said, his voice harsh.

He groaned and lifted me to my feet, crashing his mouth into mine before I could even protest that I hadn’t finished. Within seconds, all thoughts of protesting faded away behind the need to be touched. My nails raked over his shoulders, trying to get him even closer to me, and he deepened the kiss until I was flat on my back on the bed. He moved between my thighs, where I needed him so freaking much, and rolled his hips against me.

I might not have control anymore, but I didn’t care.

I just needed him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, but my stupid clothes were in the way. I pulled back and undid my pants, my hands trembling too badly to be fast.

“Hurry up,” he growled, ripping them down my legs and tossing them onto the floor. He continued removing my clothing with jerky movements, his hands steady and sure. He stopped when I was in my red bra and lacy red thong. “These can stay.”

Without warning, he flipped me onto my stomach and lowered himself on top of me. It took me a second to adjust to the new position, but then I was ready and willing to move on to the next step. Him—inside of me.

But instead of moving forward to give me what I wanted, he nibbled on my earlobe, biting down just enough to sting. I moaned, the sound escaping from somewhere deep within me. The way he felt, cradling me from behind, drove me insane with want.

“Finn, now.” I moved underneath of him restlessly, my whole body humming with desire and electric need. “Please.”

He groaned, his hands flexing on my hips, and bit down on my shoulder before licking away the pain. “Fuck, Ginger. I need you so bad.”

“Then take me,” I breathed, my fingers digging into the mattress and clinging to the comforter. I had a feeling I’d be hanging on for dear life soon. “Right here. Like this.”

He moaned. “Not quite yet. You’re not ready.”

He kissed a path over my shoulder blade, then nibbled on the spot right over my bra clasp. I let out a ragged moan I barely recognized as my own and arched my back. He needed to touch me more. Kiss me more. Do more, before I exploded.

He undid my bra and I impatiently threw it to the side, and he cupped my breasts from behind. I cried out when he rolled my nipples in between his fingers, squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure, and my stomach hollowed out.

He rolled his hips against me again, mimicking making love, and I clenched my teeth. He was driving me insane with desire and he wasn’t even really trying, damn it. I needed…needed…him. Now.

He pushed off me and positioned me with my legs spread more widely, but I was still on all fours. I felt extremely exposed in this position, but it was Finn. And with Finn, I could do anything. I studied him from my weird position, watching as desire darkened his gaze. Watched his erection grow even harder and his breathing become even more erratic.

I watched hungrily as he rolled a condom on. He watched me as if I was his reward for good behavior—and I really hoped he never stopped looking at me like that.

He crossed the room, his eyes on my spread thighs. “You might want to hold on tight, Ginger.”

I fisted my hands tighter into the comforter when he positioned himself behind me. He slid the small scrap of my lace thong to the side and ran his tongue up my slit. I cried out and dug my knees into the mattress. The shock of pleasure his tongue brought me hit me hard and fast. “Oh my God, Finn.”

“You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now,” he said, his voice so low I barely heard him. I wanted to press my thighs together to ease the empty ache I was feeling without him inside of me, but I couldn’t. Not with him in between them. “I bet you want me to taste you again. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t tease me. Didn’t waste any time. He flicked his tongue over my clit, then sucked me in between his lips, rolling his tongue perfect circles. When he scraped his teeth against me gently, I cried out and pushed back, demanding more. He gripped my hips with his hands, kneeling behind me and going down on me from behind.

The erotic image this presented made me twitch with pleasure, building higher and higher until I couldn’t stand it for another second. Everything inside of me burst into fragments, shattering into even smaller pieces until I wasn’t even sure if I existed anymore. I cried out and froze, seeing and hearing nothing. Only feeling.

He pressed his tongue against my clit, prolonging the orgasm even more, and cupped my butt. “Fuck, Carrie,” he groaned.

Then he drove inside me—hard and fast. Having him inside me felt so fabulous I wondered for a second if I was dreaming. But then he thrust back into me, and I snapped back into reality. And Finn in real life was so much better than a fantasy.

I dropped my head to the mattress when he withdrew almost all the way, closing my eyes tight and holding my breath in anticipation. When he was almost all the way out, he thrust back inside of me, then repeated the motion until I was whimpering and moaning his name.

He picked up the tempo, and tears stung my eyes. The amount of pleasure he was bringing down on me was actually making me cry. Pleasure so strong I couldn’t even freaking handle it without whimpering into the mattress as he barreled into me again and again without restraint. He withdrew, flipped me over on to my back, and drove inside me again. When he changed his angle, going even deeper, I screamed.

Actually screamed.

My toes curled and I clenched down on him, my walls squeezing. He groaned and pumped faster, his face lost in the rapture of the moment. When he thrust inside me again, he went spiraling over the edge and collapsed over me, keeping his weight on his elbows.

Once we regained control of our breathing, he rolled to the side and dragged me with him. I clung to him and rested my head on his chest, right over the spot where there wasn’t a tattoo. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he had plans for that spot, but I realized I couldn’t form a coherent word.

So I smiled instead.

“That was a nice way to forget about the stress, huh?” he asked, his lips twitching. He played with a piece of my hair, gently tugging on it. It made me shiver. “And here I was going to suggest surfing as a good method of forgetting about shit.”

I took a deep breath, hoping when I opened my mouth that something besides an unintelligible grunt came out. “We can do that in the morning. I have a late class,” I said, my heart finally settling back into a normal rhythm. And, lo and behold, I could talk. “But as far as this particular method of distraction goes? I plan on doing it again and again and again until this weekend…”

“Uh-huh. I see, I see.” He nodded and pursed his lips seriously, as if we were discussing world politics. “But then what? We just stop?”

“No, then we find out what’s next.” I leaned up and kissed him softly. “And we deal with it.”

But I really wanted to know what it was.

Sooner rather than later.