Lincoln eased over to the bed where Angeline had sat. “Are you still hurting over the past?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “When I wrote those songs, I had to put myself back into the heartbroken woman I used to be. It’s exhausting.”
“Why do you keep doing it?”
She gave him a quizzical look. “Have you seen what’s in my closet?”
“Is the payoff worth the torture?”
“Not so much anymore.” Angeline sighed. “I’ve been talking with Jolene—”
“Jolene McKenzie?” During his last deployment, Lincoln had seen the popular country-pop recording artist performing at a USO holiday function. “The woman who gave the acceptance speech, you know her?”
“Yes.” Angeline gave him a funny look. “I know quite a few recording artists. It’s my job to write songs for them.”
“I didn’t realize... Never mind. So, you were talking with Jolene?”
“She’s young and doesn’t want to get typecast as only singing one type of song. She wants to expand her repertoire and so do I. We’ve been brainstorming ideas and I’ve given her a few sample pieces.”
“And?”
“She likes them.” Angeline smiled. “And I like writing them. It was hard at first. My brain kept defaulting to all the hurt and turmoil I’ve lived. After a while, though, writing more upbeat music and lyrics became easier.”
Lincoln grazed his knuckles over the skin of her cheek. Such a delicate appearance she had. Fine-boned and slender, she looked almost fragile. All the years he’d carried her photo, he’d thought of her as an ethereal beauty. One that might shatter at the touch.
But Angeline wasn’t like that at all. Sass fired her soul and though she might look breakable, she had a will of steel.
Lincoln leaned in, brushing his lips against her mouth. She opened for him to deepen the kiss. She tasted of popcorn, chocolate and hope.
Her fingers slid past his ear to cup the back of his head and he felt her essence ebb inside him. His inner wolf howled in tandem with his heart’s declaration. Mine, mine, mine.
Both admitting to the mate-bond growing between them made courtship easier. But Lincoln wanted to be careful. Mate-bonds didn’t guarantee a conflict-free relationship. And he didn’t want to rush getting to know Angeline. Really knowing her. The preconceived notions that he’d had needed to be unscripted so that he could see the real woman, not the fantasy.
Most important, he never wanted to cause her the pain that she drew upon to write those haunting, achingly beautiful songs.
Without breaking their long, deep, sweet kiss, she drew him down to the bed with her.
Desire had been coursing through his veins prior to the kiss and his body was already hot and ready for coupling. Settling over her body would be a bit tricky. Though he could never be totally unaware of his prosthetic, most of the time he could ignore the feeling of the artificial limb cupped to his stump.
However, in the current situation, he found the prosthetic distracting him from a pleasurable experience.
“What’s wrong?” Angeline whispered against his lips as her eyes fluttered open.
She had been straightforward and honest with him, he could do no less.
“I should probably take off my leg,” he said.
“Okay.” Her hands fell away, allowing him to change positions.
“This will be the first time...since losing my leg.”
“Um, are you forgetting the full moon?” She playfully poked his arm.
“I was standing. This is different.” Rubbing his hand against his jean-clad thighs, he felt the upper edge of the prosthetic cup snuggled high on his stump. “Things might get awkward.”
“No, it won’t. We’ll figure this out, together.”
Lincoln bent down to untie the laces, then pulled off his shoes.
“That’s so cute,” she said, looking at his feet. “You have a sock on your prosthetic.”
“I feel weird wearing only one sock.”
Obediently, he lifted his arms for her to pull off his shirt. Next, she straddled his lap and kissed him, possessing his mouth as her fingers laid claim to his shoulders and glided down his chest to his jeans. Deftly, she undid the button and inched down the zipper, then she slid her hand inside his boxers to stroke his shaft. His body ached as much as it hummed from her touch.
She urged him to lie back on the bed. Though his vision clouded with lust-laden lashes, he couldn’t take his gaze off the sparkle in her eyes or the soft, genuine smile curving her luscious mouth. She was his. Not because some instinct demanded her to be but because she’d made the active choice to follow where the instinct led.
As she eased off his lap, her fingers curled around the waistband of his pants. Adjusting his weight, Lincoln lifted his hips, allowing her to slide down his jeans and boxers
in one swoop.
“My God, Lincoln. How many times have you been hurt?” Her gaze seemed to bounce from one scar to another. Not counting the ones on his stump, he had twenty-seven.
“That’s really not what a man wants to hear when he’s naked in front of the woman he wants to have sex with.”
“It’s startling.” An apology shimmered in her eyes. “I mean, I got a glimpse before, but I really didn’t comprehend...”
“I’ve been a Dogman a long time.” Lincoln pushed up on his elbows. “Battle wounds are par for the course.”
Her bright blue eyes blinked back tears. She hurt for him—he could see the pain twisting her features.
“These scars aren’t worth your sorrow, Angel. They healed and I’m still living.” He sat up. “I don’t regret any of it.” Especially because the path he’d chosen had led him to her.
He clasped the cup of his prosthetic. “Should I take this off? Or get dressed?”
Angeline took his face in her hands. “I’m not put off by your scars. And I want you. Very much.” She kissed him hard and passionately, breaking away to remove her sweater and yoga pants. The black lace bra and panties against her pale skin made his mouth water even as his throat dried.
“Your turn.” She pointed a slender finger at his leg.
Carefully, he worked off the prosthetic.
“Can I hold it?” Angeline held out her open hands.
Gently, he entrusted her with the state-of-the-art limb.
“Wow! It’s—”
“Expensive,” he interrupted.
“I was going to say heavy.” She carried the prosthetic to the dresser and propped it against the drawers.
“It shouldn’t weigh more than my natural leg would.”
“Have you seen your leg?” She sashayed toward him. “Tree trunk size and solid muscle.”
He scooted farther onto the bed as she stalked up his body, then straddled him. Her sizzling kiss short-circuited the higher functions in his brain, reducing his ability to talk to a series of grunts and groans and growls.
Her lips trailed down his throat. The floral scent of her hair was as feminine and intoxicating as her touch. She kissed each and every scar on his chest and arms, making them more than worth the pain he’d suffered obtaining the wound.
Following the dark line of hair below his belly button, she licked, nibbled and kissed his skin all the way down to his groin. Never in all the nights he’d been alone had he dared to hope for a moment like this with her.
Maybe he had died in that explosion and been found worthy of a little piece of heaven.
The tip of her tongue traced the seam of his sack to the top of his cock. The anticipatory tension inside his groin coiled tighter, making it difficult to breathe normally. His pants sounded as ragged as a man dying from thirst yet inching his way toward a lush, beautiful oasis.
That was what she was to him. Hope. Soft and wonderful and incredibly beautiful.
Taking him into her mouth, she laved her tongue over his slit and down his shaft. His mind turned into a quagmire of images and instinct, all driving him toward claiming his mate.
“Mine,” Lincoln said in a harsh, hoarse whisper.
Angeline ignored the declaration in favor of savoring the salty, masculine taste of him. Beneath her hand, the taut skin of his stomach trembled.
He was close, so close, and she took pleasure knowing she had brought him to the pinnacle of agony and ecstasy. She wanted him to teeter there a little longer, to share the experience of aching and clenching with need.
Men, always in a rush to the finish line, often missed the softer nuances of coupling that a woman wanted.
Slowly, she eased his shaft from her mouth and kissed a trail from his belly button to the hollow spot at the base of his throat. A sigh drifted on his long, drawn-out breath.
Though his lashes fluttered, his eyes did not open. Large, calloused hands gripped her hips and the contact unleashed a flood of hormones in her body already raging with feminine desire.
She looked down Lincoln’s body, his bronzed skin marred with scars but no less beautiful. His loss of a leg didn’t diminish his vitality or lessen her want of him.
His long, thick shaft pressed intimately against her lacy panties. She rocked back and forth, teasing him.
“Angeline.” It sounded like a croak.
She did it again and again until his eyelids lifted and he seared her with his molten gaze.
“Now that you’re awake...”
He growled, menacing, with a slight undertone of desperation.
Reaching behind her, Angeline unhooked her bra then took her time drawing her arms out of the straps before lowering the cups to expose her breasts. Lincoln seemed to stop breathing. His chest stilled completely and not one muscle in his body flickered.
Slowly, she leaned over him and softly touched her lips to his mouth. As they kissed, Lincoln slid her panties down her hips. Easily, she maneuvered out of the undergarment one leg at a time. Completely naked and straddling him, she watched his gaze follow his hands over every curve.
He brought her forward to take her breast into his mouth. Her growl competed with his as he fast-flicked his tongue over her nipple. With his arms wrapped securely around her middle, she couldn’t escape the unbearable pleasure.
Though his hold did not lessen, she felt his hand move down the curve of her ass and his fingers caressed her inner thigh before teasing and sliding against her folds.
“So wet,” he panted against the valley between her breasts as his mouth moved from one to the other.
The response on her tongue became a deep feminine groan as his finger traced her opening before pushing inside. Dropping her head, she rested her forehead against his shoulder as every muscle in her body went slack except for those in her lower belly. Those grew tighter and tighter, coiled and primed for release.
Lincoln grinned, damn him. Though he had every right. Turnabout was fair play and she had teased him to the point of ecstasy. Only she’d stopped at the pinnacle, hoping to prolong the moment. From the rhythm and pressure of his pistoning fingers, he had a different agenda.
Each time she tried to call his name, a passionate groan escaped. With her muscles refusing to cooperate, she simply indulged in the pleasure each stroke provided.
“Oh, God.” The words were a chant in her mind.
“Want me to stop, Angel?”
“Do and die.” She barely managed the thought before shattering in sheer ecstasy. Buoyed on the feeling, she barely noticed Lincoln rolling her onto the mattress.
He crouched over her; a wildness in his eyes she’d never seen made him all the sexier.
“Grab a pillow and put it under my leg,” he said hoarsely.
It took a moment for her brain to process the words before her arm reached over to do as he’d asked. As soon as she did, some of the strain eased in Lincoln’s shoulders.
Angeline molded her hand around his shaft and guided him inside her. Though it took a few positional adjustments for him to comfortably thrust, the trials and errors were worth the effort. They sighed in unison as he filled her.
His essence entangled with hers, heightening the sensation of completeness. She’d never expected to experience that feeling again, especially with another Dogman.
Lincoln had expressed his intent to retire from the Program and she found herself less afraid to open her heart to him. They had a long way to go, though, before they committed to a mateship but the getting to know each other part was rather fun.
“Mmm.” His lips whispered along the curve of her neck, turning her insides giddy.
“No biting,” she gasped.
A wolfan bite during sexual intercourse established a mate-claim and was binding until death. A mate-claim did not guarantee that a mate-bond would form. And some couples, like Tristan’s parents, never became a cohesive pair after the claiming.
Lincoln licked a spot that instantly became her new favorite, causing her hips to arch and her fingers to dig into his back.
“Same goes for you, Angel.” Lincoln’s voice floated through her mind.
Peeking open her eyes, she realized how close her teeth were to his shoulder. Moving away from the danger zone, she captured his lips in a breath-stealing kiss that broke only when her head tipped back from the force of the orgasm pulsing through her body.
Wave after wave battered her senses, drowning her in an ocean of pleasure. Only Lincoln’s strong, steady presence kept her from slipping into oblivion.
He shuddered against her and stilled, except for the rise and fall of his chest with each panted breath.
Her breaths easing, she brushed her fingers through his dark, wavy hair and tried to imagine how different the texture would feel if shorn in a military buzz cut.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. “Hello, Angel,” he softly growled. The gleam in his gaze was possessive and smugly satisfied.
Mine, mine, mine. Her heart thumped the declaration with every beat. Though neither had physically claimed the other, she sensed the power of the mate-bond stitching them together mind and body, heart and soul.
“That was fun.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth.
“Fun?” His brow scrunched though humor lit his eyes. “Admit it, that was pretty amazing.”
“I admit nothing.” She made a turning-the-lock gesture over her lips.
“My training included techniques used to make people talk.” Settling on his right side, he drew his left hand from her hip across her ribs and traced the curve of her breast, causing her to suck in a breath. “Shall I continue?”
“Please do.”
He chuckled and Angeline reminded herself that unless she wanted Lincoln reading every thought that crossed her mind, she needed to remember to shield them from him.
Using the pad of his thumb, Lincoln strummed her nipple until it tightened into a sensitive bud. “Still not talking?” he teased and then lowered his head to suck her peak into his hot, moist mouth.
The comfortable ebb of satisfaction that had lulled her into a relaxed state suddenly churned with want and need and the knowledge that Lincoln could quench both.
Teasing and tormenting, his tongue flicked against her nipple a dozen times before he sucked it long and hard, driving her to near madness, and releasing it only to start the cycle again. On the fourth round, his hand slipped down her abdomen and between her legs, parted in welcome.
Gingerly, he fingered her folds. She wanted to stroke his shaft in tandem, but the way he was positioned prevented her from reaching his groin. Since his face was practically planted in her chest as he continued to lick and suck her breasts, she gripped the back of his neck, massaging the thick, corded muscles beneath her palm. A slight shiver rolled across his shoulders but didn’t impede the attention he showered on two particular parts of her body.
Once more on the cusp of ecstasy, she arched her hips. A few more strokes would send her plunging over the edge. Only he stopped.
“Lincoln?” His name tore raggedly from her throat.
Silently, he cocked his head at the open bedroom door.
“Okay,” she nearly panted, “I admit it. Sex with you is downright amazing. So, can we get back to it?”
“I need to answer my phone!” The urgency in his voice made her heart race.
They both sat up. He swung his leg over the edge of the bed and looked toward the dresser where his prosthetic rested.
“I’ll get it.” She scrambled off the bed and dashed into the living room, following the sound of the ring to the satellite phone on the coffee table. Someone from the Program was calling.
Her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach, she grabbed the device, rushed into the bedroom and handed it to Lincoln.
“Adams,” he answered, his voice tight and his body rigid.
Angeline placed the prosthetic leg next to Lincoln on the bed. Then she quickly gathered her clothes and went to dress in the bathroom. Playtime had ended. And more than likely, her days with Lincoln were numbered. He’d warned her that he’d have to return to the Program for a while. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Program would really let him go.