JOSS: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security) by Glenna Sinclair Page A

of my panties. I closed my eyes, as I felt his hands slide under the back of my panties, encouraging them to move, to expose the rest of my body.
    I’d never been shy about my body. A recruit can’t be shy during boot camp. Deployment is even worse. There were no boy’s rooms and girl’s rooms in Afghanistan. And giving birth is hardly an experience that lends itself well to modesty. But there was something about the hungry look in Carrington’s eyes that made me wish I was wearing more, that it would take him longer to get to the truth of my nudity.
    The man was on his knees in front of me, and I was worried what he’d think about my naked body. No man had ever gotten on his knees for me. Not Ash. Not Kirkland. Not even Esteban.
    He kissed my lower belly again, sending jolts of pleasure bouncing around my frazzled nerve endings. Then he turned me, as he tugged my panties off my body. I stood there, my naked back to him, my arms still crossed over my breasts. And then his hot breath was against my ass, his lips barely brushing my flesh as he created a heated trail slowly down the back of my thigh all the way to the sensitive place behind my knee. I bit my lip, bending my knee a little as the tickle confused my nerves, making my muscles tighten deep in my lower belly. Then his lips were against my ass again, his mouth moving slowly down the back of that thigh until, again, my knee moved and my belly tightened.
    His mouth worked its way back to my ass, his heated breath hot against me. Then he pulled himself to his feet, kissing every inch of my back, from my hips upward. When he reached the back of my neck, I thought I would fall over; my knees were so weak, my need so desperate. He slid his arms around my waist, and it took me a second to realize that his shirt was gone. I could feel the full length of his bare chest against my back. I turned, forgetting about modesty in my need to see him, to see the beauty of his bare flesh.
    Apparently, my hypocrisy knew no boundaries.
    I ran my hand slowly over his chest, watching my fingers move over the peaks and valleys of his pecs. His hands rested lightly on my hips as he watched me, his breathing growing a little harder as he did. And then his palms moved over my ribs, sliding slowly upward until he was holding my breasts in his hands, my nipples hard pebbles that were painfully in need of his touch, of the pressure of his movements. I looked up at him and our eyes met. I’d been afraid earlier to look at him, afraid that it would be Esteban’s face my mind would expect to see there. But that wasn’t what happened. I saw Carrington’s clear, emerald-like green eyes, and my heart was happy for that. But then came the guilt that it should have been harder, that I should have felt more loyalty to my husband, that I should have been overwhelmed with guilt and grief in that moment. And then I was. With guilt, anyway.
    But now…I wanted to stare into his eyes forever. There was something so reassuring in the way he looked at me. I knew I would have regrets later, that I would be overwhelmed with more emotion than I could even begin to fathom at this moment when I was alone and left to my own thoughts. But right now, I just wanted to stand there with this man I hardly knew and lose myself in his eyes.
    He kissed me, a different sort of kiss than the ones he’d offered me downstairs. He was gentler now, his touch less desperate and more savoring. I returned that kiss with the same sort of patience, wanting to remember the way this felt, the way he smelled and tasted and…I just wanted to remember everything about him.
    He picked me up, his hands cupping my ass now. We fell back onto the bed and kissed for a long time, our hands exploring places they’d already met, places they had yet to meet properly. He stretched out beside me offering me access to every inch of his incredibly fit body. I nibbled at his throat, the space just above his collarbones. There was a very fine layer