“Wetter. That’s it. Suck them until they’re good and slippery.”
Devon rocked his hips fast enough to keep them both on the edge. The wet heat of her sex embracing his cock was so good he didn’t want it over too soon. The sight of Alisha twirling her tongue over her fingers was strangely erotic, especially since he had an ulterior motive.
“Good.” The word rumbled up from where he trembled on the verge of losing control. “Now touch yourself. Rub your clit until you come on my cock.”
Alisha’s eyes widened as she hurried to obey, the back of her warm fingers leaving a streak of moisture on his stomach. He could tell the moment she touched the sensitive bundle—the tension in her face grew, her rate of breathing picked up. Ragged and unsteady, her hand bumped his groin as they both quickened the pace. Increased the pressure. Alisha’s gaze remained pinned to his as her lips tightened into a pout, pleasure wrapping itself around her and then tearing her apart as she climaxed and took him with her.
“Alisha.”
Devon buried himself as deep as possible and froze, the snug fist of her sex constricting again and again, jolting his release through his balls and into the condom so hard he worried about blowing the thing apart.
Alisha closed her eyes, squeezing them so tight that if it weren’t for the smile twisting her lips he would have thought she was in agony. She dragged in a deep breath before exhaling like a runner finishing a long race.
He stared, unable to turn away, memorizing her face as she relaxed under him, fully sated. Her eyes slowly opened, long lashes fluttering as their gazes met. He wanted to say something. To make a joke to lighten the moment. Maybe tell her he was glad she was feeling better. Something.
Anything.
But no words came. None he could say aloud, because what wanted to escape was tender and caring, and far too close to telling her he couldn’t stand not having her in his life.
He’d gone and fallen in love, and that terrified him more than the most dangerous rescue he’d ever faced.
CHAPTER 22
The snow that had fallen overnight had already melted into slush in the heat of the late October afternoon sun. Beside her Devon tapped his fingers impatiently on the door frame, but he didn’t say anything, not even as she took the corner too fast and had to pull the car out of a skid.
The usual heart-pounding adrenaline rush that accompanied getting a call-out had to be controlled until it could be used to a good purpose. She might have good reason to be extra excited this time around, but she was on the edge of being too riled up.
Neither of them talked—it was a short enough drive to HQ that they didn’t need to chatter—and they already knew the same basics about the coming rescue. Rehashing the meager details they’d been given over the phone wouldn’t change a thing.
The familiar pattern of getting herself into the right mind-set was easier in silence, and Alisha was grateful Devon seemed to enjoy the arrangement as well. Sharing a ride made sense. Showing up at Lifeline pissed off at each other? Wasn’t a good idea.
It was just over a week since she’d been released from the hospital. She was back to full strength. A couple of hard days at the gym and training with the team had blown the final cobwebs from her system. Physically she was ready.
Mentally, she had to face the challenge and see.
She wondered if Devon still had his doubts. She’d caught him staring at the strangest moments over the past week, his expression somewhere between a frown and confusion. When she’d had the entire team’s help loading and moving her things out of her old rental he’d been especially pensive, not to mention his constant glancing around as if expecting someone to pop out and demand they stop.
Well, that behavior she understood. Vincent hadn’t shown up again. Last she’d heard he’d returned to Toronto, but it wasn’t easy to believe. His ghost haunted her at the strangest moments, the echo of his words lingering in her ears.
She pulled on the parking brake and readied to open her door. Devon caught her hand before she could exit.
The expression blazing in his blue eyes messed with her heartbeat even more than the pre-rescue excitement. “Give me a kiss before we go inside,” he ordered, “so I’m not tempted to maul you in front of the team.”
She smiled and leaned across the stick shift to accept his caress. He cradled the back of her head and gave her a brief but firm sample of exactly how talented he was with his lips.
She gasped for air when he let her go. “Well, that was nice.”
He winked and opened his door. “Watch my back, I’ll watch yours.”
“Oh, yeah,” Alisha teased, joining him outside the car, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I watch it, sugar. Trust me, I watch it all the time.”
They were both laughing as they raced through the door, Anders and the rest of the crew waving and calling out as they got into position for the updated report. Marcus stood behind the desk with Lana, the brunette waiting silently at his side.
She’d been on her best behavior since Marcus had called her out. Alisha still didn’t like Lana much, but at least the other woman wasn’t pushing herself forward anymore.
“Get ready for a slow, wet slog,” Marcus warned. “The snow above thirteen hundred feet is sticky and thick. Chances are you’ll need snowshoes or skis.”
“Lovely, Slurpee season has arrived.” The long tails of Anders’s laces dragged over the floor as he walked. He adjusted his ski pants and sat to retie his boots. “Why do people insist on going out too early in the season?”
“Idiots determined to get their trip in no matter what. You’ve got bad glacier ice and crevasses—prep accordingly. I’ll get more while you’re en route.” Marcus and Lana responded to the crackling radios in the background as the rest of the team scrambled for gear.
The rush of energy filling HQ was soothing. Packing new equipment, working to load what might be needed. Erin gave her a wink, then headed out to get the chopper in order, her bright orange ski coat visible the entire journey across the tarmac to the aircraft.
After settling into place in the transport area, Alisha took a few deep breaths before adjusting her headset and falling into conversation with the team.
Over the next hour as they flew to the base of Bow Lake, updates flooded in from Marcus. Three men had gone missing during a hut-to-hut ski trip along the Wapta traverse. They’d signed the trail book, but until they missed their expected return day, no one had known there was any trouble.
“Is there a custodian at the Bow Hut this time of year who we can ask if they made it that far?” Anders asked.
“Negative,” Marcus reported. “Not until December.”
“Drat, I didn’t think so. Okay, best tactic. Erin will start us at the trailhead. We’ll follow the usual approach to the headwall and the hut. It’s a potshot until we see how far they got, or we see definitive signs of danger zones.”
“Headwall is going to be avalanched, I guarantee it,” Devon pointed out. “But in that area the snow is so unstable at this time of year, how will we know if it’s the problem site or not?”
“We’ll check the hut. If they stayed a night like planned, there will be signs. If they didn’t show, it narrows our search zone.”
Alisha accepted the map Anders passed over, unfolding the thick paper to examine the elevation markings. The edge of the known glacier ice. On her right, Devon leaned in to draw a finger along the route they’d follow.
Maybe it was terrible, but having him there made her feel . . . more at ease. She was ready, she really was, but there was something reassuring to know he had her back. He always had, even during the days before they were working together, fighting to outperform each other at school. Even then she’d never expected anything less than his best effort in terms of keeping her safe.