Author's Notes: Olga's lovely screen caps, as well as watching (okay, rewatching!) the "good parts" of Lawyers, Guns & Money and Pas de Deux suggested a PWP missing scene... Not to mention a couple of "nudges" from Laurel! {g}
Special thanks to Tulip for the quick beta! I owe you!
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'I'm gonna kill him!'
Sarah Mackenzie stood there for a second, just staring at him, the towel that she'd been using to dry her hair dangling from one hand.
'Un-fucking-believable!'
After everything they'd been through in the past three days, particularly today, and now Clayton Webb was standing there, trying to pull his "Need to know" crap on her again. Her eyes narrowed in irritation as she directed a searing glare in his direction.
'Damn him!'
And there was that incredibly annoying smirk on his face again. She'd swear that he was deliberately trying to push her buttons, or push her right over the edge into insanity. First, there'd been that incredibly tense meeting that morning with Raul Garcia, which neither one of them had been completely certain that they'd come out of alive; then Clay had decided, without consulting her, to "plug a leak" on the way home by putting a bullet into the head of their driver, and alleged leak, Alvaro. Not to mention having to hike half the way back to town in all that heat and humidity, finally snagging a bone jarring ride with a friendly, if unwashed, farmer, in a truck with no suspension system or air-conditioning.
And now Clay had the gall to insist that she stay here in the hotel, while he went to confer with Ed Hardy, the CIA Section Chief in Ciudad del Este.
'After everything we've been through, and he's still trying to lock me out. Thanks a lot, partner! The man *must* have a death wish.'
As he turned towards the door, Sarah picked up a can of Sprite off of the nightstand and threw it, hitting Clay squarely in the middle of his back. She hadn't thrown it hard enough to hurt him, just hard enough to get his attention. He whipped around, annoyance written on every feature, along with a look of smug superiority that she'd been the one to cave in to the simmering tension first.
As Clay opened his mouth, to undoubtedly voice some arrogant, annoying comment about her loss of control, Sarah did what Marines are supposed to do: she acted. Giving a low growl, she sprang, knocking him down to the carpeting. They hit the floor together with a muffled thud, and Clay let out a low gasp as he tried to catch his breath. Sarah's fist hit him in the chest twice before his instincts kicked in and he grabbed her wrist, stopping her assault. They were literally nose to nose, their lips a scant inch apart, only the cloth of Sarah's thin robe and Clay's summer-weight clothing separating them. They stayed motionless for about ten seconds, before all of the tension -- sexual and otherwise -- which had been gradually building between the two of them for the past eight years, and heightened by the past three days' contact, let loose.
As if a dam had burst, they exploded into motion, writhing around on the floor, their bodies entwined, their hands grabbing at each other, suddenly frantic with the need to act. Staring up at the woman pinning him to the floor, Clay moved first, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible, practically molding Sarah to his body, suddenly needing that physical contact with her.
In the second that he moved, Sarah knew that this was going to be one of the few times in her life that she wouldn't regret losing control with a man. In the past, her lovers had generally gone wrong in one of two ways: they'd either tried to physically dominate her, trying to compensate for the way in which her physical strength and ability intimidated them, or, they'd gone to the opposite extreme, and treated her as if she were some fragile little butterfly. She could already tell that Clay wouldn't make either mistake; he'd made it abundantly clear earlier that he wasn't afraid of her, and while he was careful not to hurt her, he wasn't afraid to use his physical strength to try and gain an advantage over her.
The first kiss between them was forceful -- brutal and wet, with tongues plunging and exploring. Sarah responded in kind to every move Clay made, wordlessly letting him know exactly what it was that she needed and wanted from him. After what seemed like an infinity, his mouth finally left hers, moving over her cheek to her ear, then down the length of her neck to where her robe exposed her shoulder.
When he finally spoke, it was to whisper her name, "Sarah." He said it so quietly, so reverently, that she couldn't tell if it were a plea, or a prayer, but whichever one it was, it sent a shockwave of feeling straight to her center.
Clay's long, elegant, usually nimble fingers were suddenly clumsy as he clutched at her robe, loosening it, trying to remove the obstacle it posed to his exploration of her body. He snatched frantically at the thin silk that covered her chest, his lips following the path of the fabric along her shoulder, then back across her collarbone and down, exposing her generous breasts, with their erect nipples, to his hungry eyes.
Oddly enough, the sight of her naked breasts seemed to calm him somewhat; instead of frantically grasping at her, Clay's hands tentatively reached out, gently cupping their weight, reveling in the sensation of her nipples as the heat in them all but burned the skin on the palms of his hands. Although she enjoyed the gentle touches Clay was giving her, Sarah ached to be touched more intimately. Reaching down with one hand, she pulled at the belt on her robe until it opened, then threw the silky garment out of her way, and waited for his reaction.
"God, Sarah," he whispered breathily in her ear. "You're just as beautiful as I always knew you'd be..."
At his words, Sarah released the breath that she hadn't even been aware that she'd been holding. Silly or not, she'd been wondering if she would please him.
Clay continued to stroke her breasts, delighting in the soft, silky texture of her skin, the weight in his hands, before beginning to tweak her nipples into erect peaks with his fingers. Sarah's hands clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, letting herself get lost in every sensation that was being created through the touch of his hands, his fingers, and, finally, his lips and tongue. His hands moved around her back to glide up and down her back, over her ass, gently squeezing and massaging the flesh they found there. When he finally closed his lips over one aching nipple and firmly sucked, Sarah could hear herself let out a small whimper. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, almost making her lose her balance, as he continued to caress her, his actions eliciting soft moans that she unsuccessfully tried to still.
Sarah's own fingers pulled at Clay's shirt, sending the buttons at the neck flying, then pulling it up and over his head, sending his hair into wild disorder. She then turned their attention to the rest of his clothes, removing his shoes and socks, and his pants, along with his briefs, in short order. Freed from the confining clothes, Clay's cock sprang proudly erect. As insecure and anxious as he'd been over professional matters the past few days, there were no traces of those insecurities now; he demonstrated none of the anxiety that she'd felt at being exposed to his gaze, but merely waited, unashamed and unabashed, letting her look at him as he had looked at her.
Although they'd shared a hotel room and a bed, they'd given each other as much privacy as possible, each dressing and undressing in the bathroom. Glimpses caught of the other in partial undress had been ignored, or, if not totally ignored, had been viewed surreptitiously, out of the corner of an eye. But now what she saw when she looked at him surprised her, just a little. Clay's body was not that of a paper-pusher, or a desk jockey. Instead, what Sarah saw was the trim, fit body of an athlete, a man who obviously spent a great deal of time working out, the well-honed body of a soldier who kept himself in top physical condition. It was a surprisingly muscular body, with elegant lines that made her unconsciously lick her lips in appreciation.
"God, you're beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.
There seemed to be no further need for words; their groans and gasps as they began an exploration of each other's body seemed to say everything that was needed. When Sarah leaned down for another kiss, her nipples sank into the light dusting of hair on Clay's chest, enjoying the sensation that movement created. As her body moved, one of Clay's thighs and his cock slid almost effortlessly between her thighs; their hands clutched at each other, and their mouths fused, as if they might not ever separate again. Sarah sighed reluctantly when they ended the kiss; kissing was good, touching was good, but now she wanted more.