Men of Courage: Trapped! / Buried! / Stranded!. Jill Shalvis

She sealed their mouths together and Ethan tilted his head so he could take over, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her moan. It was the first deep kiss they’d ever shared, and boy, it was good.

      “Wait.” She shoved him back and reached for the hem of her shirt. “I want you to touch me. I’ve been thinking about you touching me for days.”

      Oh, no. Hell, no. In very Rosie-like fashion, she was running the show. Ethan couldn’t let her do that. She probably had no idea that she drove him wild, that he might lose control at any moment. She’d never driven him wild before, so how could she know?

      He caught her wrists and held her still, even when she struggled against him. “Damn it, Rosie. Give me a second.” He panted, trembled, while she continued to fight him. He should have expected as much; Rosie wouldn’t accept any man’s control easily, not even a man she wanted. Above the lust, that struck Ethan as funny, and he laughed roughly.

      Rosie glared at him. “What?” she demanded, still pulling against his hold.

      “Let’s go into your bedroom.” Maybe if he could get her pinned beneath him on the mattress, he could slow her down a little.

      “The bedroom? Oh, okay.” She tried to turn and hurry in that direction.

      Ethan pulled her up short, a little desperate. “Honey, this isn’t a race.”

      She turned around and yelled right into his face, “You’ll change your mind!”

      She looked so vulnerable, so unsure of herself. He’d been a pig, not seeing what was right in front of his face. “No,” he told her very softly, smiling to reassure her. “Not a chance.”

      “Then why—?”

      “Ever since I woke up with you this morning, my imagination has been in overdrive.” He touched her slightly parted mouth with trembling fingertips. “Hell, Rosie, thinking about you, wanting you all day, has been like indulging in foreplay for hours and the result is that I’m working with a hair trigger here.”

      Her eyes darkened to a deep gray. “You’ve been thinking about me?”

      “About getting you naked and under me, yeah.” Saying it made him see it, and his stomach cramped with need. But she deserved to hear everything. “I’ve also been jealous as hell.”

      “Jealous? Of who?”

      Ethan released her and rubbed his face. The need to laugh struck him again, lightening the urgency—at least for him—just a little. Rosie could be so single-minded in her determination she noticed nothing beyond her objective. Of course, he’d been the same, blind to the fact of his friends’ interest.

      But no more.

      Ethan caught her hand and led her toward the bedroom. “Everyone. Any guy who looks at you.”

      “Really?”

      “Especially that damned Riley.” They entered her bedroom and Ethan pushed the door shut. “He knew it, too, and kept egging me on.”

      Disbelief had her wrinkling her nose. “Riley?”

      Ethan stared down at her, so overwhelmed with tenderness—with newfound love—he could have choked on it. “And Harris and Buck.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “No.” His smile came naturally. So did the love he felt for her, until it filled him up, making him feel whole for the first time in ages. Loosely looping his arms around her, Ethan kissed her temple. “I knew all along that I thought you were hot, but they think it, too.”

      She snorted. “They do not.”

      “They do.” He smoothed her cheek, her silky-soft brown hair. Rosie. He couldn’t get over the shock, or the rightness of it. “But you only want me, right?”

      She stared at him a long minute before squeezing him tight. “I’m not her, Ethan. Of course, I only want you. Michelle was the biggest fool alive to walk out on you. And as much as I hurt for you when it happened, I was so glad you didn’t marry her.”

      Ethan closed his eyes, cut by her words. He hadn’t meant to bring that up, hadn’t even been thinking in that direction. Hell, the humiliation Michelle had inflicted couldn’t possibly invade his thoughts, not now, not with Rosie in front of him, ready to take him to her bed. He took one breath, then another, but it didn’t help.

      Leaning back, Rosie saw his pained expression and flattened one hand on his chest. “You didn’t love her, Ethan. I know you didn’t.”

      “Rosie…”

      Her small hand smoothed over his chest then down his abdomen, and lower. He caught his breath.

      Still staring up at him, she touched his fly, gently, curiously. He was fully erect, straining his jeans, and Rosie traced her fingertips up and down his length. “I’m not a fool,” she said. “How could I want any other man but you?”

      “Yeah,” Ethan murmured, barely able to think much less discuss the past. “Right now.”

      Her smile affected him as much as her touch. “I’m ready.”

      She stepped back and this time when she reached for the hem of her shirt, Ethan didn’t stop her. He stood there, every muscle in his body tense, as Rosie disrobed as naturally as if she’d been baring herself to him for a lifetime. She threw the shirt aside, unhooked her bra, and still he stood there, just watching—and catching on fire.

      With slow precision, playing the tease naturally, she unsnapped her shorts, slid down the zipper, and bent to push them off, taking her panties with her. When she straightened, she was beautifully naked.

      A slight blush colored her cheeks when she lifted her face and looked at him. Shaking, Ethan closed his hands on her waist and brought her up against him.

      “Rosie,” he whispered, and he took her mouth as he lowered her down to lie flat on the mattress. He’d waited long enough.

      He couldn’t wait a second more.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ROSIE FELT HIS MOUTH on her throat, open, damp, hot. One big hand rested on her ribs, just beneath her right breast. He laid half-atop her, heat pouring off him, and he wanted her.

      She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the moment. She loved him so much she hurt with it, and now finally she could tell him.

      His long rough fingers slid gently over and around her breast, teasing, making her skin prickle, before he cupped her fully. She could feel his hot breath against her shoulder, near her ear, disturbing the fine hairs at her nape. His breathing was rough, uneven, sounding so sexy, so male. He continued to place openmouthed kisses here and there, until Rosie couldn’t catch and hold a thought.

      She was already squirming, unable to stay still, when his thumb brushed over her stiffened nipple once then returned again and again. The effect was startling, wonderful. Her heart raced and everything she felt intensified to an acute ache.

      Rosie looked at him, and all she could think was that this was Ethan, finally. He was hers. “Ethan…”

      He groaned, lowered his head and took her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth.

      An overwhelming wave of sensation made her thighs stiffen, her toes curl. “Oh, Ethan…”

      She arched hard, but Ethan held her steady. “Look at you,” he murmured, and his breath drifted over her wet nipple. “So pink and soft. So sweet.”

      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