Men of Courage: Trapped! / Buried! / Stranded!

He switched to the other breast and Rosie thought it was almost too much. She’d wanted this, wanted him, for as long as she could remember.

“Take your shirt off, too, Ethan. Please.” She barely recognized her own voice, but Ethan understood. He came up to his knees, straddling her hips, and yanked his shirt up and over his head. He started to return to her breasts but she flattened her hands on his shoulders and held him back.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered with wonder. She’d seen Ethan without his shirt before. They’d played softball, gone swimming, and he’d helped her move in. Each time he’d pulled off his shirt, as most of the guys had. It had been so hard not to stare, not to let her love for him show through. All of them were impressive, but they all weren’t Ethan.

Now he was here, with her, and she intended to get her fill.

Slowly, savoring the moment, she smoothed her palms over him. He felt perfect to her, hard and sleek and hot, with soft, crisp hair lightly scattered from pectoral to pectoral. His body hair was shades darker than his blond head, a rich brown, matching his brows and lashes. A very sexy line of silky hair teased down the middle of his abdomen and disappeared into his low-riding jeans. Awed, Rosie shoved him onto his back.

He smiled up at her, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You are so pushy, Rosie.”

This time she straddled his hips—and he shut up as she settled atop his erection. “I can feel you beneath me.” Her eyes closed, her breath caught. “I can’t wait until you’re inside me, Ethan. Until I can feel all of you.”

Heat flared in his eyes and he growled, “Come here.”

She evaded his hands and moved to the side of him. “You need to take off your jeans.” She flipped the snap loose and grabbed for his zipper.

“Rosie, wait.” His long fingers curled around her wrist. She looked at his face and saw that his pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared. Arousal colored his high cheekbones.

He wanted her, and she loved him. It was more than enough.

She bent and kissed his navel.

Ethan stiffened, but Rosie continued to kiss him, each rib, across to a hipbone—the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans. His stomach tautened until each muscle was defined. “Rosie, honey…” He gasped and his hands fell to his sides.

Satisfied, she licked the hot, taut flesh of his abdomen as she carefully lowered his zipper. “Raise your hips,” she murmured, so anxious to have all of him that she couldn’t stop trembling.

He did as she asked and she worked his jeans down his muscled legs, then his underwear. It took her a moment to work off his shoes and socks, and then finally he was completely, wonderfully naked. Like a feast laid out in front of her, Ethan was irresistible and she couldn’t stop devouring him with her gaze. She heard a rough, rumbling purr and realized the carnal sound was her own.

Relishing each broken breath he took, the way his strong fingers fisted in the sheets, Rosie reached out her hand and touched him. The feel of his penis amazed her, warm velvet over flexing steel, alive, pulsing. Ethan made small desperate sounds as she explored him, but she barely paid him any mind, too intent on what she wanted.

She bent toward him again and his rough fingers tangled gently in her hair.

“You smell so good.” Nuzzling into him, she breathed deeply, filling herself with the wonderful musky male scent.

With the smallest nudge, Ethan guided her mouth to his straining erection, and she obliged, anxious to taste him as she’d so often dreamed of doing.

She wasn’t disappointed with his reaction. The first touch of her tongue on him and he froze, his powerful body shaking. “Oh, damn.”

Rosie stroked her tongue over him, licking along his length then up and over the broad head. With a rough growl, he tried to pull away. “I’m going to lose it, honey,” he warned.

“Okay,” she purred, and opened her mouth, taking him in. His taste was delicious, turning her on even more. She heard him moan again—and she sucked.

A great shudder went through Ethan; his fingers clenched in her hair to hold her closer and his hips lifted with a small, unintentional jerk. She took more of him, sucking gently, moving her wet tongue over and around and…

“Enough.” His strength took her by surprise as he pulled her away and up to his chest. “Rosie, baby, that’s enough.” Before she could protest, he turned and caught her beneath him. His mouth covered hers and he kissed her with rough determination, his tongue wild, his hands stroking everywhere.

Wanting him now, Rosie opened her thighs for him, but instead of accepting her invitation he slid down a little and again kissed her breasts. He wasn’t so gentle this time, sucking strongly at her nipples, nipping with his teeth. She cried out, stunned by his urgency, which made her own need escalate, but still he didn’t stop. He slid lower and one hand moved between her thighs.

The shock of it had her stiffening, but he didn’t seem to notice. They both paused and she heard Ethan groan as he carefully began exploring her, his fingertips gliding through her curls, pressing in, parting her. It seemed the oddest caress, so intimate, so hot and stimulating and, judging by the hungry sounds he made, Ethan enjoyed touching her as much as she enjoyed his touch. She didn’t know what she had expected, but the gentle, insistent way he continued to stroke her made her wild.

His five o’clock shadow rasped against her belly as he turned his face inward to kiss her, leaving small, tingling love bites. By slow degrees, he went lower and lower until taking a single breath was too difficult to accomplish.

Rosie struggled to assimilate all the new feelings—and then he pushed one finger into her and she jerked, her eyes rounding, her body rioting with sensation. “Ethan.”

“You’re tight.” His voice was nearly soundless with arousal. “And wet.”

She bit her lip to keep her groans to herself, but she couldn’t stop the automatic rise and fall of her hips. Ethan had large, hard, wonderful hands.

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what I want.” He worked another finger in, stretching her, just as his breath touched her most sensitive flesh.

“Ethan?” This was all very new to her, though he couldn’t know that. “I…”

With his fingers buried deep inside her, he covered her with his mouth. The scalding heat struck her first, then the gentle damp rasp of his velvet tongue. The sensation was so intense she couldn’t bear it, but she couldn’t stop him, either. No matter how she twisted, how she moaned, Ethan didn’t stop.

If anything, he pressed closer, holding her motionless with the weight of his broad shoulders, and then his mouth closed around her clitoris, suckling at her while his fingers pushed, withdrew and sank in again.

Her climax hit her without warning. Rosie had thought about this moment so many times, about how she’d act feminine and sexy and she’d lure Ethan so that he wanted to have sex with her again and again.

Instead she shouted like a crazy person, her body arching hard, uncontrollably. His hold tightened and he drove her until every nerve was alive, tingling.

As the spiraling explosion faded, she heard Ethan moan, felt his hands settle on her hips, tenderly squeezing. When she lay flat again, stunned and more or less quiet, he pulled away.

Rosie couldn’t move. Her legs were sprawled around him, her thoughts scattered. She simply hadn’t expected such a thing, such a wild bombardment on her senses.

Ethan rested his cheek on her belly and hugged her. She still gasped for breath, astounded by what had just happened, when he whispered, “I love you, Rosie.”

Her heart slammed to a halt. It took her two tries to catch her breath, to believe he’d actually said those special words, and then she started to sob. She didn’t mean to, but once the tears started, she couldn’t stop them. And damn it, she wasn’t a pretty crier. She wasn’t very quiet, either.

Ethan lifted his head to look at her, and his smile was lopsided, a little silly. “I’ve never seen you cry, Rosie.”

“Shut up.” She sniffled, wiped at her eyes and stretched her arm to the nightstand for a handful of tissues.

Watching her with that endearing grin in place, Ethan said, “So surly.”

“I’m embarrassed, all right?”

“Why?”

“I’m not very dainty about crying.” Her brother used to tease her that she sounded like a drunken walrus when she wept.

“You’re not very dainty about coming, either, but hey, I’m not complaining.” He stood beside the bed. Rosie froze in the middle of blowing her nose.

Dear heaven, he was gorgeous.

He lifted his jeans from the floor, pulled his wallet from the back pocket, located a condom and, casual as you please, opened the package and put it on. Rosie bolted upright in fascination. She’d never seen an erection in a raincoat.