by Juno Rushdan
She might kick him out, had every right to, but he sensed she needed him and maybe he needed her too. Exactly what for, he wasn’t certain.
When she disappeared on the train with Novak, he’d almost lost his mind. The thought of that creepy animal hurting her or—good God—worse had filled him with a terrifying sense of loss and an overwhelming need to hurt the Ghost.
Swallowing his taste for violence, he kicked off his boots and stripped.
Being in this grinder of danger and the revolving close brush with evil had a way of clarifying one’s priorities. He didn’t come to Maddox’s place for sex, though a physical release after a hard day would be nice, and she was the only lover who kept pace with his appetites and satisfied him on a level that’d have him sounding like a Hallmark card if he examined it deeper.
Years ago, she’d always been eager to have him, to experiment sexually, which had just been the icing. The cake had been her generous heart and sense of adventure, how she didn’t care he came from dirty money and made him feel as if he could walk on water when she looked at him with that sparkle of awe in her eyes.
And she had really loved him, so much it’d left him breathless.
There was no way back for him and Maddox. Might not be a way forward either.
All he knew was to heal their wounds, they needed the salve of remembering what it was like to belong to each other. They’d found that for a dazzling moment in the parking lot. The intensity of it, the searing heat, the soul-deep comfort had startled him senseless.
They needed that feeling again, a sense of connection, but this time without the physical. She had a tough, grueling job and after such a rough day, he wanted to show her tenderness and the warmth of being there at her disposal.
To give her whatever she needed—a decent meal, a glass of wine, a hug, an understanding ear to listen to her frustration over losing Novak, even space and some alone time. He crossed his fingers she didn’t need the latter, but he’d give it.
He brushed his teeth, appreciating the feminine sight of makeup and frilly skin care products neatly organized on the counter, and stepped in the shower—not giving a damn about presumption.
Hot water soaked him, loosening his tight muscles.
He eyed the vast assortment of pricey-looking Lush products from gels to scrubs to shower bombs. Selecting one at random, not caring if he smelled like a bouquet of flowers or a damn sugar cookie so long as he was clean, he scoured off the defeat of the day, letting it rinse down the drain.
Smiling, he remembered how Maddox used to talk to herself in the shower—full-blown conversations. Her quirky way of working through a problem, preparing to tackle something tough. He used to joke that she was a total nutjob, albeit his nutjob, and she’d countered that it was a sign of higher cognitive functioning.
Bet as a super spy, she nixed having out-loud conversations with herself.
Steam had engulfed the small bathroom by the time he stepped out. Grabbing a towel, he dragged it over his head, through his hair, and down the length of his body.
Damn, he was starving. If she didn’t get back soon, he’d be tempted to eat without her. Which would make him a royal asshole, since she was working to stop a psychopath with a vendetta. Seeing her in action and understanding what she was fighting for made him fall a little deeper in love and in lust. Her prowess was an undeniable turn-on, but his objective tonight was clear.
Throwing the towel on his shoulder, he sauntered into the living room.
The distinct click of a round being chambered in a gun stopped him cold.
* * *
Maddox crept into the living room, holding her Maxim 9. Her heart tripped into her throat, body drawing tight.
Cole. Naked.
Sleek with ripped muscle. A living, breathing weapon. And wet.
Her mouth went dry.
She lowered her gun, clearing the lump from her thickening throat. “Is this going to become a habit? You breaking in?”
“Not if you give me a key.”
She threw him a sideways glance. Cole stood in all his unabashed glory with a towel draped on his shoulder. And every inch of him was indeed glorious.
She caught sight of lit candles in the living room. The smell of Chinese food pierced the haze of arousal twisting through her. Decanted wine sat on the counter.
What was next? Barry White? “What is this? A date?”
“I hate labels. Too restrictive.”
Fathomless dark eyes searched hers. Damp hair black as night. Those wiry muscles. The delightful length of him.
The tug of war between wanting him and being furious with him was exhausting.
“Labels are good.” She took off her jacket and holster. “It’s important to define things. That way, you take medicine and not poison.”
“This isn’t a date. We both just need to decompress.”
Sounded like an idea she wanted to indulge in. She was strung tight as piano wire with tension and needed to loosen up. They’d been in a real pressure cooker for the past two days. Her body screamed for an outlet, the kind of release only a man like him could give.
“I thought we could take a breath, eat together,” he said. “Maybe talk instead of fight.”
Or maybe like last night in the parking lot, neither talk nor food was the four-letter word at the top of the agenda. “Candles. Dinner. Wine. None of this stuff is involved when I screw someone.”
He flinched. “You used to appreciate a little romance.”
She’d lost her appreciation for many things after he had left. “Well, things change.”
“It’s just stuff, Maddox. Candles to help you relax. Blow them out.” He shrugged defined shoulders. Bare shoulders. Everything was bare. “Food to bring your blood sugar back up. You get so damn cranky when it drops, but chuck it in the trash.”
Smelled too darn good to throw away. Better than something from her freezer.
“I thought the wine would please your tongue.” He licked his lips.
And she wet hers, looking at the length of his arousal. Wine wasn’t the only thing that would please her tongue.
“It’s a nice Brunello,” he said, “but you can pour it out.”
With her government paycheck, she couldn’t afford such a splurge. The wine was a keeper.
He wrapped the towel around his waist, covering up the sight of his beautiful cock.
Maybe they weren’t on the same page.
“I didn’t come here to screw, Maddox. Sorry I gave the wrong impression.”
Yep. They definitely weren’t on the same page. A problem she’d have to remedy.
“What do you want?” he asked. “To start with.”
A graphic list formed in her head. For starters, she wanted the flirty dirty talk he used to pour into her ear, making her wet with his foul words and raunchy descriptions of what he planned to do to her. She wanted his mouth on her breasts. She wanted his rough fingers in her hair. She wanted his hard, hot body grinding all over hers. Oh yeah, she wanted.
“A glass of wine?” he clarified, casting a glance at the counter. “Some food? A foot rub?”
She chuckled. “Since when do you give foot rubs?”
Folding his muscled arms, he looked downright delicious. She was tempted to lick him all over, and before the night was over, she just might.
“As you said, things change.” He held her gaze.
“It’s been a long, sweaty day.” She hadn’t showered since 6:00 a.m. in the locker room. “I’ll get cleaned up first.”
“No need on my account. I’d prefer to smell you as you are.” His fiery gaze held hers captive, making her tingle with awareness. “But whatever makes you comfortable.”
She narrowed her eyes, wondering what happened to the brazen man who would’ve had her cornered and stripped naked by now. The man who turned h
er on like a faucet, taking her from zero to abso-fucking-lutely ready and wet with a few dirty words. The man who took control and drove her wild, the one she’d craved for years and needed tonight more than anything else.
Why in the hell had he gone all soft and sensitive?
She strode up to him and yanked his towel off, letting it drop to the floor. Staring at his erection, she backed up to the wall in the living room. “How about that massage?”
A wild playfulness she recognized danced in his eyes.
He knelt on the floor in front of her and unlaced her tactical boots, removing them along with her socks. He propped one of her feet on his thigh and massaged the knots of tension from the soles. His hands were so talented, his fingers so skilled, so darn good, she sighed.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“I’ve learned lots I intend to show you.”
He rubbed the other foot, his gaze holding hers, softening her in ways she didn’t quite like. They could have sex without it meaning anything. If she wanted to satisfy a basic, primal need without the entanglement of messy emotions, then she needed to eliminate the intimacy of foot rubs and kisses and treat him the way she did other men who’d passed through her bed. Men she didn’t see twice.
Like meat.
“That’s not the body part in need of a good…hard…rub,” she said.
“No?” He inched higher, kneading her fatigued muscles one at a time, turning her stomach to warm jelly. “Better?” He gave a devilish grin that would’ve been irresistible if it hadn’t been infuriating.
She gritted her teeth. “Warmer, but not quite there.”
“Tell me what you need.” His fingers worked up to her tense thighs. “I can’t give it unless I know what it is.”
On the inside, she squirmed with impatience, but she wasn’t about to show him how desperate she was to have him. “Take an educated guess.”
“I’ve become many things over the past few years, but a mind reader isn’t one of them.” His grin spread to a taunting smile. “Guessing is like gambling. I prefer certainty.”
She’d forgotten how much fun foreplay and sex had been with him, the erotic games they’d enjoyed, how they’d tantalized and excited one another.
Maybe remembering wasn’t the best idea.
Without fanfare or the hint of a seductive striptease, she took off her pants and underwear and kicked them to the side, exposing herself to his heated gaze.
She leaned over, bringing her mouth close to his. “How’s that for certainty?”
“Warmer, but not quite there.”
A small smile escaped her, and to her surprise, the tension in her shoulders eased.
“I’m going to need something verbal.” His rough tone tickled an itch she hadn’t been able to scratch for almost a decade. “Explicit. I need one hundred percent confidence what I think you mean isn’t a figment of my own naughty desires.”
Did he really expect her to crown him the winner of this tête-à-tête and say the words regardless of how hot it was making her?
“What do you need from me?” He kissed her inner thighs, spreading them wide, teeth scraping her skin, making her nerve endings thrum. “Hmm?” He hummed as he palmed her where she was growing wet and hungry to have him, and she shivered. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”
The hard heel of his hand rubbed against her and his fingers teased, featherlight.
Her sex clenched in happy anticipation, but he dropped his hand.
Whatever game he was playing, more than sex was at stake, and she refused to let him get the best of her as he’d done last night. “I’ll tell you, but first I need you to say, I win.”
“All right. I. Win.” He gave a slow, smooth smile and winked.
To hell with it. If giving him what he needed to hear was going to give her what she needed to feel, so be it. “Yes.” A heated whisper. “And more. Okay?”
He flashed a triumphant grin, sexy as sin, and molten liquid pooled low in her belly on the wave of her own victory. This was a win-win where no one had to lose, but his smile was a tad too smug.
“Bite me, you egomaniac.”
“I’d rather eat you.”
Her toes curled into the carpet.
“Would you like that?” he asked, low and husky, his darkening eyes searching hers.
She clutched a handful of his damp hair, bringing his head back and chin up. “I’d like fewer questions and more action.” Their gazes held, challenging and smoldering. The draw to him was primal. “Rough, naughty action.” She let him go with no care for being gentle.
“I like it when you’re bossy and explicit. It’s really hot.”
His head dipped to the soft notch between her legs. He clutched her hips and smelled her, long and deep. Crazed butterflies took flight, winging about her belly.
“You smell so good, makes me want to taste you everywhere. Spread those gorgeous thighs wider for me.”
Loving it more when he was bossy and explicit, she did as he told her with a little thrill uncurling inside.
Then his mouth was on her so fast, she didn’t have a chance to take a breath.
She arched off the wall from the shock and pleasure.
This time, he didn’t tease. He licked and suckled and dragged his tongue along her seam, pressing all the right buttons. He was great at this and used to do it a lot when they’d been together. Not just because she’d loved it, but in his enthusiasm, he’d showed how much he really enjoyed it. A tough warrior yet a generous, attentive lover.
She writhed and whimpered, her fingers clutching his hair as if to pull him away while her palms cradled his head closer.
He brushed his lips across her inner thigh, nipping at her flesh.
“More,” she breathed, barely able to utter the single syllable.
“Say the magic word,” he ordered in a sinful tone that had her melting.
He was driving her crazy with desire. She’d say anything, even throw a pretty on top.
“Please.”
His husky laughter sent delicious vibrations over her. His fingers slid inside, stroking and scissoring. He threw her leg over his shoulder, and his hand gripped her bottom, urging her onto his greedy mouth.
She was at the brink, close, but not close enough. He latched onto her clit with his mouth and sent his wicked tongue over it, silk and sandpaper at the same time, and sucked hard. It tipped her over the edge and her body let go in an uncontrollable shudder.
He dragged her quivering body to the floor and trailed a path with hot kisses on her hip bone, stomach, breasts, throat.
Before his lips reached her mouth, she rolled on top of him and skimmed her cheek across the line of soft hair from his belly button to the patch of dark curls between his legs. She took him in her mouth, determined to give as good as she’d gotten. The scent of him, the familiar taste permeated her senses. Hearing his gritty, guttural sounds filled her with a joy she’d never experienced with another, the power rush of owning his pleasure, absorbing the raw urgency in each blunt fingertip pressing against her scalp.
“God, you’re incredible.”
Breathing him in, she swallowed more of his length, letting him tickle her throat. She remembered the way he liked it. How much pressure, when to squeeze the base of his shaft or to use no hands, taking him deeper, how to turn him inside out and have him cry her name.
“Maddox,” he said on a hiss, as if hanging on by a thread. He hauled her up and reversed their positions, tucking her beneath him. “I need to be inside you.”
“Condom,” she breathed, dizzy with excitement.
“I’m good. Clean.” He stroked her hair and stared in her eyes. “We should’ve had this conversation already. I’d prefer to feel you without one.”
She always used a condom with meat, but this was different. This was Cole. She year
ned for the full sensation of him, the variances of texture—each ridge and bulging vein, his unfiltered male heat, the feel of him coming inside her. There was nothing better.
He cupped the side of her neck, awaiting her decision. “I’ll grab a rubber.” He went to get up, but she held him in place.
“I’m good too.” Clean. On birth control—a set-it-and-forget-it IUD. “Without is fine.”
She guided his swollen flesh, glistening from her mouth, between her thighs and rubbed the plump crown back and forth across her opening.
He buried himself inside her in a single powerful thrust. She gasped at the forceful entry and wrapped her legs around his hips. His iron-hard thickness throbbed inside her. The sheer fullness of the penetration nudged her toward the threshold, but his self-control was phenomenal.
“Oh, I’ve missed this,” he said in a pained way, like waiting another second to slide inside her would’ve killed him. “Missed you.”
He lowered his face to hers.
“Don’t.” She turned her head to the side. “Fuck me hard and dirty, but don’t kiss me.”
No condom meant heightened pleasure, but kissing meant opening a door she wasn’t sure she’d be able to close, and he’d made it clear he didn’t want to step over that threshold.
Cole went stone-still for so long without his chest rising and falling on a breath that she looked at him.
“I can’t treat you like some whore, let you suck my cock and not…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat and swallowed hard. “I can give you what you need, but I can’t do it without the intimacy of kissing you.”
She was torn between rolling away from him, losing out on an amazing orgasm that she desperately needed, and hitching to get closer by bringing her lips to his.
“But last night…” She let her voice trail off at the sting of remembering how he’d looked at her, how he’d wiped the kiss from her mouth.
“I handled things wrong. Hindsight is a twenty-twenty bitch. Please don’t deny me. Please.” This time, he was the one to beg.
A woeful glint in his eyes killed her resolve, pulling emotion she’d rather bury to the surface. With his face centimeters from hers, his expression earnest, and him deep inside her, there was only one response.