“Lie back,” he said.

Swallowing, she lay back, watching as he stood up and began removing his clothes. He tossed his jacket aside, and then his long fingers unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his broad shoulders, leaving him gloriously bare-chested. Her heart pounded when his trousers and boxers hit the floor. His impressive arousal jutted proudly, making her mouth water.

When he climbed on the bed and stretched out beside her, she tried to reach for his erection, but he gently moved her hand away. “Not yet. This is about you.”

And boy, was it ever.

Cash spent the next hour so focused on her body, on her pleasure, that Jen nearly went out of her mind. His soft lips trailed kisses over every inch of her skin, exploring, teasing, bringing her to the brink only to retreat before she toppled over it. He made love to her with his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and he did it in a slow, thorough pace that threatened her sanity. He didn’t leave an inch of flesh unexplored, and each brush of his hungry lips and flick of his hot tongue made her shiver. She was overcome with sensation, gasping for air and mumbling gibberish by the time he allowed her what she needed.

He brought her to climax with his mouth, feasting on her until she thrashed on the mattress and begged for mercy. Her body hummed with pleasure, her heart pounded ceaselessly, and she was so sated she could barely move.

“Come up here,” she whispered, reaching for him.

Cash slid up her body and cradled her cheeks with his hands. His blue eyes glimmered with need, his erection heavy against her stomach. Without a word, he lowered his head and kissed her so deeply and methodically that her brain turned to mush. Despite the fact that she’d just climaxed, tension built in her core again, a dull ache that only Cash could ease.

His powerful chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. “I need you, Jen.”

He donned a condom, gently parted her legs and slid into her aching sex.

The orgasm caught her by complete surprise. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight while a flash flood of pleasure swept her away to a plane where only sheer bliss and Cash McCoy existed. Although she was gasping and shuddering beneath him, he didn’t pick up the pace, just moved in a slow, languid rhythm that seemed incongruous considering the violent waves of release crashing through her.

When she opened her eyes, she found Cash watching her with an indefinable expression. “I love watching you come apart like that,” he said huskily.

He rolled his hips, hitting a delicious spot inside her, then increased his sinful tempo, but not by much. She was in awe of his control, the restraint he used as he slowly moved inside her. His features were so taut, the tendons in his neck strained, as if he was dying to let go but wanted to make it last. The only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing, the soft squeak of the bedsprings and the wet suction of his shaft sliding in and out of her heat.

Jen’s heartbeat vibrated against her br**sts. “You’re not talking,” she murmured.

He stilled. “What?”

“No dirty talk,” she clarified. “The room was so quiet, and I realized it’s because you’re not talking. You’re not telling me all the dirty things you want to do to me or how much you love f**king me.” She searched his face. “Why?”

His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed. “Maybe because…because this doesn’t feel like f**king.”

Before she could even attempt to make sense of that, he took possession of her mouth and kissed her, driving his c**k into her again and reigniting her passion.

They moved in perfect unison. Mouths locked together, bodies joined, chests colliding. She didn’t come again, but when Cash did, crying out her name as he lost control, the joy that skyrocketed through her and filled her heart rivaled any orgasm.

Cash made a sound of pure contentment as he gently withdrew and rolled them over, tucking her back into his damp chest.

“That was nice,” he said hoarsely.

“Yeah,” she whispered, unable to fight the unsettling feeling in her gut.

They lay there spooning, and long after Cash had fallen asleep, Jen remained awake, staring at the wall. Cash was right. This hadn’t felt like f**king, and it definitely didn’t feel like a fling anymore.

How the hell had that happened?

She stirred restlessly, knowing there was really only one question she ought to be asking herself: What on earth was she supposed to do now?

Twenty-four hours later, Jen was still riddled with confusion. She’d hoped the girls’ night would stop her from overanalyzing what had happened with Cash last night, but the loud chatter of the five women around her wasn’t achieving the distraction she’d needed.

She kept wondering if she’d misinterpreted the look she’d seen in Cash’s eyes. The myriad of emotions flickering across his face. But why even bother putting a label on it? She didn’t need to hear the L-word to know that his feelings for her had evolved.

So had hers. Somehow in the last couple of weeks, she’d stopped thinking about Cash in terms of how many orgasms he could give her or all the naughty things they could do together. Now she associated him not just with sex, but with laughter, support, joy…

He was so right for her in so many ways, except for the grim fact that if she got seriously involved with him, he’d be gone half the time. Or worse, he’d die while serving their country and shatter her in the process.

God, how did military wives do it?

All the women sitting in Savannah Harte’s living room at the moment were in love with navy men. Shelby had lucked out—her husband had resigned his commission and was now employed by a security firm in San Diego, which meant that Garrett worked nine-to-five and came home to his wife and daughter every evening. That was the boat Jen wanted to be in.