Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  She broke eye contact, crossed her legs, lifted herself up onto her elbows and leaned up to kiss him, to run her tongue along his bottom lip before taking it between her teeth and tugging him until it must have hurt a little bit.

  She reached out until she found the evidence of just how very turned on he still was. She looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes and said, ‘Your turn.’

  And the look in his eyes changed. Concern transformed into heat. Desire. Self-interest. That she could handle.

  ‘Condom?’ he asked, and she pointed to the top bedside drawer. He reached out with one long arm, found what he was looking for, tore the packet open with his teeth and was sheathed and ready to go before she even had the chance to take another breath.

  And then he pulled her to him, kissing her with newfound intensity, crushing her against his broad chest, wrapping his leg around her until she felt so small in his arms. If he continued doing this to her, making her feel so powerful and vulnerable all at once, she was terrified she might start to cry.

  So she gathered every vestige of strength she had and rolled him over until she was lying on top of him, one leg casually thrown across his.

  At first his face registered surprise, but then the gleam in his eyes took on more light as a sinful smile spread across his face. He rolled onto his back until she lay fully atop him.

  ‘Helpful as always,’ she said.

  He grinned, like the wolf just before he revealed himself as a villain to Little Red Riding Hood. ‘Mmm. Though I don’t know if there is a scout badge for my brand of helpfulness.’

  She pushed herself into a sitting position, nudged herself against him until his eyes closed and his mouth fell open. ‘Next time I find myself up close and personal with a scout leader I’ll suggest it.’

  His eyes flew open and his hands snuck out and grabbed her by the buttocks, stilling her, controlling her still even while he looked beyond ready to lose all control. ‘It’s not smart to tease me about being up close and personal with another man while I have you like this.’

  ‘You don’t have me,’ she said. ‘Not yet.’

  She reached up and held her hot hair off her sweaty neck. Damien’s eyes zeroed in on her breasts and glazed over. She lifted onto her knees, and he groaned. Then she sank down over him until her eyes fell closed with bliss.

  And he began to rock. The rhythm so easy, so unhurried, she gave in and went along for the ride.

  He ran his palm down her front, moulding her left breast, then running lovingly along each rib before landing across her hip, his thumb resting at the juncture of where their bodies met. And there it stayed. Seemingly accidental, but so erotic Chelsea found her desire building with such unexpected and sudden force she fell back and grabbed a hold of his thighs.

  The change in position only made the pleasure all the greater. For her and for him. She saw it in the darkening of his eyes. The sweat beads on his brow. The tendons straining in his neck. She felt it in the grip on her hips, in the impossible deepening pressure inside her.

  The rocking soon quickened. The heat between them scorching until she too was lathered in a layer of sweat. She could taste it on her upper lip. Feel it cruelly tickling every inch of her hot skin.

  ‘Chelsea,’ he called out and it was enough to loosen any last withholding place inside her. She let her head fall back, pressed her hips into his. She left just enough room for his thumb to slide between them and as though he could read her every move he did as he was told.

  Her whole body throbbed. Ached. Needle-sharp stings pricked her all over as a draught washed across her damp skin.

  Then everything changed as Damien swelled inside her, as his thighs clenched beneath her hands and a primal roar tore through the heated silence.

  With that she too let go, every sensation shrinking to the point where their bodies met before exploding in a burst of stars behind her eyes.

  And as she finally fell apart in his arms, her cheeks burned hot with sweat and carefully hidden tears.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DAMIEN lay beside Chelsea as again she slept.

  The faded top sheet covered her body, revealing only her smooth creamy neck and her soft jaw hidden partially behind feathers of her caramel-coloured hair. He braced himself on one arm and reached out, brushing her hair from her cheek, letting it slide over his fingers, smooth as silk.

  She moved beside him. The sheet over her lithe body slid and shifted and settled until one bare breast was naked to the night air.

  He stared at it like a drowning man would stare at a lifebelt, fighting the overwhelming desire to reach out and run a hand down her side. To wake her. To take her again.

  Instead he ran a fast hand over his unshaven jaw, abrading the skin on his palm. For as it turned out the events of the evening had done nothing to quell his desire for her. It had only made him want more.

  She was on the verge of waking. He should go.

  He’d known her, what, two days? Three? They’d crammed a hell of a lot of getting-to-know-you stuff into that time, but it certainly hadn’t made him take some dramatic about-turn in his life. He’d been on the market for a fling and he’d found one. It would be cruel to allow Chelsea to hope she was dealing with any other kind of man, especially after what he’d seen in her eyes as she lay sated in his arms.

  Gathering his will-power, he slid out of her bed, found his suit trousers draped over an upholstered chair in the corner. He pulled them on for the third day running, zipped up, left his top button undone, then sat in the chair and watched her for who knew how long until she stirred again, this time her eyes flickering open.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, her voice husky.

  He clenched his hands together to stop himself from bolting back into bed with her and damning the consequences.

  She half sat up, demurely taking the sheet with her, her creamy skin lit blue by the moonlight spilling through her gauzy curtains. ‘Is everything okay?’

  Okay? No, it was not okay. Everything was moving too fast. They were both getting in over their heads. If he saw her again he’d only continue half-heartedly and end up hurting her. Unless …

  Unless he was completely honest right now. Unless the boundaries and limits were spelt out in absolute final detail. ‘I want to see you again,’ he blurted before he could change his mind.

  Her eyes softened, darkened. ‘So come get me.’

  He stuck a fingernail into the palm of the other hand to keep himself grounded. ‘Not yet,’ he said, and her eyes widened enough that he knew she was now fully awake.

  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs to bursting point before he said what he needed to say. ‘Chelsea, when I told you earlier that I recently came out of a bad relationship, I should have made myself perfectly clear.’

  She blinked up at him, so sweet, so undeserving of what he was about to ask of her.

  ‘The relationship was fine. Bonnie and I dated, exclusively, for two and a half years. We lived together for the past several months. Her parents know my parents. Our work timetables meshed neatly. I thought everything was perfectly comfortable. Until a month ago she gave me an ultimatum. Marry her or leave. It took me less than half a second to decide.’

  She watched him carefully for a few moments before saying, ‘Please tell me you left.’

  He laughed despite himself. She was such a trouper. But she also couldn’t hide the deep breaths, which proved she wasn’t as ignorant of what he was trying to tell her as she made out.

  ‘I left,’ he said. ‘So fast she barely had time to call me a heartless bastard more than three times before I was out the door.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. Sounds like you acted like a total cad,’ she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a move that was pure self-defence. ‘So why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘Because I came into this with no expectations and now, even if it does indeed make me a heartless bastard, after last night I know I’m not yet ready to walk away from you.’
r />   At that a slight smile tugged at her cheeks, at her soft lips; he did his all to not lose himself there and dragged his eyes upwards.

  ‘But one day I will walk away. It’s my modus operandi. I’m being utterly honest when I tell you that I’m not built for anything lasting or exclusive. It’s not in my genetic make-up. All I have to offer is good company when it suits us both and, I think we can agree, some pretty great sex.’

  He let that last word hang on the air, hoping it might be the thing to sway her. It sure swayed him.

  She didn’t say anything. Didn’t agree, or disagree. She didn’t cry, or rant, or toss her hair and feign indifference. She just watched him, her eyes steady on his as she let his statement sink in.

  ‘I could be making a total ass of myself,’ he said, giving himself and her one last out, ‘even bringing this up. You could well have been ready to tell me to sod off and never see you again. And if that’s the case, I wouldn’t blame you either.’

  He felt enormous relief at having set the ground rules before this went any further. Though his lungs felt tighter and tighter with every passing second as he awaited her verdict.

  Finally, she shifted, lifting herself upright until the sheet fell away, leaving her naked to the waist. Then she lifted the sheet for him, welcoming him back into her bed.

  Weak sunlight tickled the backs of Chelsea’s eyelids. A self-indulgent smile made its way across her face before she even opened her eyes.

  She stretched her beautifully aching limbs and reached out to find the other side of the bed was empty. Cool. Ruffled to prove she hadn’t dreamt the events of the night, but devoid of Damien all the same.

  She slid her naked form from the bed and grabbed her gown before heading out of the bedroom only to discover the apartment was silent. There was no gorgeous dark-haired man sitting in the kitchen nook, no newspaper splayed out over her small table, no breakfast waiting for her.

  She could picture such a scene so clearly it felt like more than a memory. Or a wish. But the reality she was given was that he wasn’t there.

  Which was fine. Really. Especially since the tenderness with which he’d made love to her when he’d come back to bed after his little speech had tempered the difficult words, and she’d fallen asleep assured that not kicking him out on his ear had been the right move.

  She ignored the nagging, dissenting buzzing in her head as she shuffled into the kitchen, where a white folded piece of paper lay atop the coffee percolator. He’d left her a note. A smile stretched across her face until she noticed the percolator was cold.

  If she was to be consistent and continue with the ‘actions speak louder than words’ mantra she was clinging to, no matter what the note said the cold percolator told her something far more potent.

  Damien had foregone his usual aromatic morning brew as he hadn’t wanted to wake her. To face her. To kiss her goodbye.

  The buzzing in her ears soon became a twisting in her heart as the enormity of what she’d agreed to bubbled over her.

  She closed her eyes and clung to the kitchen bench. ‘You daft mug. You know your feelings for the guy are already far too strong to accept something so casual. Of course kicking him out on his ear was what needed to be done. But, no, you just had to have him again.’

  Her mobile rang and she was so tense she jumped in fright, the note crumpling in her palm.

  She checked the number. It was him. She took a deep breath, put on her smoothest phone voice, and answered. ‘Chelsea speaking.’

  ‘Good morning, sunshine,’ he said, his voice thick with suggestion.

  Her uncooperative knees turned to jelly and she slumped against the kitchen bench, clutching her gown shut over her naked breasts, which were already straining as though they too were wondering why he wasn’t still there.

  ‘I’m taking you out tonight,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen how you react to a good feed.’

  She tried desperately to find a way to give herself more time. Either to come to terms with his terms or to extricate herself from this thing without looking a complete fool. And in the end came up with, ‘What if I’m busy? I might have a date with someone else.’

  ‘So you’ll cancel,’ he insisted.

  A shot of searing frustration jolted her upright. He was the one who wasn’t making any promises about keeping his goods just for her, for goodness’ sake. ‘What if I don’t want to cancel?’

  ‘I … I don’t quite know what to say to that.’

  She could feel his own impatience pouring through the phone. And this time when she chose to pay more attention to his actions than to his words all she could see was his level of care, the look in his eye when he was about to kiss her, the fact that he regarded her highly enough to be so honest with her in the first place.

  She slapped a hand over her forehead as she said, ‘Oh, relax, Damien. I’m coming out with you.’

  ‘Tease,’ he said, the lingering hum in his voice telling her he liked it.

  ‘Bossy boots,’ she shot back. ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘A little Jamaican bar around the corner from my office we often go to after work. How do you like rum?’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t mind it.’

  ‘And bars full of men in suits?’

  ‘Love them to bits.’

  ‘Mmm, I thought you might. So how about it? You, me, a hundred of my closest friends, a leather couch and a couple of rum toddies to keep us warm this cool autumn evening.’

  Right, so he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, but he didn’t mind introducing her to the people in his life. As what? She ran her hand over her eyes.

  ‘So what does one wear to a Jamaican pub to meet your closest friends?’

  ‘Ah, I’d suggest not a lot of buttons. Or layers.’

  Chelsea blinked, having had no idea that this season buttons must have been some kind of fashion faux pas.

  ‘So long as it’s easy for me to take off,’ he clarified, and her tension didn’t subside one little bit. It only morphed all too easily into a flurry of imaginings about him sliding a dress over her head versus tugging trousers over her thighs.

  I can do this, she thought. I’m strong. I can put up with a lot to have more of this man.

  ‘I’ll pick you up around eight,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  He laughed. ‘Have a good day, Chelsea.’ Then he hung up.

  Chelsea put the phone down, and realised she still had his note crunched up in her hot palm. She unfurled it.

  ‘Early meeting,’ it read. ‘Seriously. I’ll call you. D.’

  With a growl she tossed it into the sink where a few drops of moisture made the blue writing bleed.

  That evening Chelsea sat on a backless barstool, trying to keep her back straight, and running her finger back and forth through a drop of condensation that had slithered from the glass of her Jamaican Cobbler to the shiny black bar.

  It had been a long day. She’d had to contend with a phone call from Kensey, who’d pressed and pressed until Chelsea had filled her in on as much of her past couple of days as she could while keeping the conversation clean. Another from Chic magazine, pushing her interview up a week. And yet another from the bank manager wondering if she’d signed the papers as yet.

  All the while she’d managed to find plenty of time in her over-packed day to go over every second of her relationship with Damien all the way up until he’d had to sit her down and give her the talk.

  She could feel a tension headache coming on.

  She glanced over her shoulder to look for Damien, who had disappeared to find a quiet corner amongst the fake palm trees less than five minutes earlier when his mobile had rung.

  But all she could see apart from the blinding green black and yellow décor of the up-market city bar was a sea of New Uniform types. All grown up yet no less sure of themselves and their privileged place in the world. She was pretty sure Damien would never have made a speech like the one he had to any one of the glossy nymphettes gyratin
g on the dance floor. He wouldn’t have needed to. As they skimmed their hands over one young guy after another they looked as if they understood the transitory nature of affection.

  Thankfully his ‘friends’ hadn’t arrived as yet so she hadn’t had to try to be whatever he introduced her to them as being.

  ‘So sorry,’ Damien said as he came from nowhere to slide onto the seat beside hers. ‘My father after his weekly report.’

  Chelsea raised what she hoped might be a sophisticated eyebrow. ‘You’re a little old for that, don’t you think?’

  ‘He’s retired. Bored out of his mind. Mum has a bunch of cronies over for drinks every Friday night and I think I’m his way of feeling like he’s still out there climbing the corporate ladder rather than spending his days following my mother around like a good little lapdog.’

  ‘Yet they’re divorced.’

  ‘That they are. And so much happier that way. No strings. Meaning they can do whatever they please when they please. They just so happen to be pleased with one another at the moment.’

  He grinned at the idea. He actually grinned. As though he thought she was so on the same page as him about those nutty types who thought marriage and commitment were something to aim for, she’d feel the overwhelming need to grin back.

  She rubbed at her now throbbing temple.

  ‘And speaking of dear old Dad, he has some experience in banking too, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m sure he’d be prepared to look over your loan papers if you’d like him to. He’d be able to spot any dodgy loopholes in an instant and it would make him feel like he still has his finger on the pulse.’

  She continued staring at Damien as though she’d never seen him before. He was willing to introduce her to his friends and his parents even though he wasn’t willing to promise he would ever be there when she woke up in the morning. She would never inflict any guy on Kensey and her family unless it was serious.