“I know.”
He sensed her hesitating, then smiled to himself when the mattress dipped as she slowly rolled onto her belly.
Yeah. He’d gotten through that without derailing them. Thank God, because he was about to explode. He got into position, nudging her legs wider and nuzzled her graceful back. Pressed hot kisses against her spine. A silent apology.
Apology accepted, if her deep, shuddering intake of breath was any indication.
“Noah?” Her fingers dug into the crumpled sheets, bunching them.
“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I’ve taken the edge off. I’ll do it right this time. Arch your back more.”
She didn’t argue. Just did it, and moaned softly as he nudged his cockhead against her slit, prodding himself into that tight, quivering clasp. Thrusting slowly, deeply inside, with a rasping groan of pure delight.
“Right,” she said, breathless.
She rocked back to meet each swiveling shove. He loved the sounds she made. She seemed so surprised by pleasure. Tension released inside her with every stroke of his dick, letting him deeper and deeper inside with each stroke. He ached to get rid of the condom and feel her, skin to skin.
She gave her pleasure to him like a gift. He stared down at his stiff, thick phallus pumping rhythmically into that snug, flowerlike opening. She was so generous, coming for him with crazy abandon. Letting him in so completely. Her depth and openness were insanely beautiful. He felt drunk on it.
He licked the sheen of moisture on her back. “You’re so sweet,” he murmured. “So hot. I love how deep you take me. Like being licked all over.” He reached around to caress the tight bud of her clit. She shuddered, panting sharply in the silence and moving eagerly against his petting fingers, whimpering with each heavy stroke.
Erotic heaven.
Who knew how long it would last. He had no data to compare this to. No clue what it might morph into without warning.
So he gave into it, steering her deeper into a dreamlike state of intense, shivering pleasure. Each sensual moment wonderful in itself, then softly giving way to the next one, just as fine.
She came twice more before he dared to ask. “Turn over now,” he urged. “Please. I want to come while I’m looking at you.”
Her body tensed. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t. Don’t take it personally. This is incredible. You’re the best.”
He swallowed his frustration. Dragged his aching dick out of her snug clasp.
“Maybe we should take a break,” he said.
She twisted around to look at him, alarmed. “Don’t you need to come?”
“I won’t die if I don’t.”
She reached down, gripping him. “But I want you to. I love the way it feels.”
“If I follow the rules. Your rules.”
She let go of him and edged away warily. “You’re angry at me.”
He shrugged as he peeled the condom off. “Don’t worry, I’ll still make you come.”
“You think that’s all I want?”
He got up and stalked into the bathroom to ditch the condom. Not without effort. His dick was absolutely unconvinced. Incredulous, even.
He headed back out, spurred on by a fresh surge of frustration. “Why do you hide from me?” he asked her. “Whoever you’re running from, I’m not him.”
She tossed the coverlet aside and got up, going over to the window. She stared out at the dark waters of the lake. “What do you want from me, Noah?”
The question was rhetorical, but the true answer just fell out.
“I want in.”
That was the truth. He wanted into the heart of her mysteries. To unravel her, master her, keep the keys, know the codes. All for his own greedy, possessive self.
The stab of visceral emotion triggered a sudden stress flashback. All at once, he felt the tight straps that the Midlands researchers had used to restrain him, cutting into his wrists and ankles while they fucked around with his brain.
No. He fought down the hot flare of rage. He could not do this to Caro. She had her own demons to fight.
He rubbed his face, breathed in the chill of the ice cave before he dared to speak again. “Do you want me to fuck you again?” It came out like a snarl.
She’d tell him to get lost. It was what he deserved, for being such a jerk.
She just stood there, straight and dignified, silhouetted against the faint light from the window. With his infrared implants and his AVP, he saw every eyelash in fine detail, as well as the haunted doubt in her eyes, even in the darkness—but she couldn’t see his face.
Which was good. He didn’t want her to see that look in his eyes. That oh-please-God-I’ll-do-anything-to-touch-you-again look.
She gazed out at the wind-whipped trees. Her pose was regal. She glowed with bright cobalt blues, edged with a haze of gold. The darker it was, the better he could see an energy sig.
He came up behind her. The warmth of his body made contact with her slender back. He pressed a slow kiss on her shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered.
She turned slowly, laying her hands on his chest, gently trailing over his scars. To his utter surprise, she sank down with a dancer’s sinuous grace, and gripped his stiff penis. She kissed and licked his cockhead, sucking him deeply, eagerly into her mouth. Using her hands to grip him, caress, squeeze, stroke as she did so.
He was almost afraid to touch her. The sensation was so intense, he could lose control of the strength of his grip. He hung onto himself, stroking her hair slowly.
So good, that honey-sweet suckling kiss, enveloping his shaft. He couldn’t decide which erotic spectacle drove him crazier: taking her from behind, or having her kneel, voluptuously sucking his dick with that soft, full, luscious mouth.
Her excitement spurred his own. Her skill was unbelievable.
He didn’t last long, overstimulated as he was. He felt the energy tightening inside him. Tried to ask if he could come in her mouth.
Too late. The storm broke. He was tossed, wrenched by a violent orgasm.
He poured himself into her with a shout, his explosion melding with colors that had no name but Caro.
He somehow stayed on his feet, trying not to sway. Grabbed her upper arms, and lifted her to her feet. Drawing her into a never-let-you-go embrace.
They stayed that way for a while. Lost in bliss.
The intercom buzzed. She pulled away abruptly, startled. The moment was broken. He missed it already.
“Delivery,” he reassured her gently. “From the restaurant. No rush. First the gate, then the driveway. But I have to push the buttons.”
She hugged herself, shivering.
He pulled his big fleece robe off its hook, and draped it around her. “After we eat—how about a bath for two?”
She nodded. The robe was huge on her. The hem brushed the ground. She looked stunning in it. He threw on sweat pants, a T-shirt, and started the bath before going to pay for the food.
Coming out, he saw Caro looking out at the lake again, drawn once more to the sight of the glittering dark water. He cast a worried glance her way, wondering what she was thinking.
He hoped he hadn’t pushed her too hard.
Chapter 12
“Before we get too distracted,” Caro mumbled around her bite of roasted rosemary potatoes.
“Yes?”
“Do I hear the tub faucets running? I’d hate for your bathroom to flood.”
“Not a problem.” Noah piled more food on his own plate. “There’s an automatic water-level and temperature sensors. Not bathtime yet. Have some more steak.”
She swallowed her bits. “Mmm. Am having.” She stuck her fork into a juicy pink-centered slice and lifted it to her plate.
The food was incredible. She hadn’t tasted such savory flavors in so long. She’d gotten used to a constant gnawing feeling, and the juicy steak and fresh salads and sides overwhelmed her senses. The bread was crusty and golden, hot enough to melt the fresh butter. It made her feel almost fa
int.
For a few minutes, there was no conversation. She just stole appreciative glances at his big chest in that T-shirt, admiring the faint jut of masculine nipples. She herself was swaddled in yards of fleece. Except for bed-tousled hair and her face, there wasn’t much of her to see.
Although she looked forward to getting naked again. Tonight, she wanted to at least play at being whole. Just a normal woman, doing things normal women did. Hooking up with an interesting guy, taking him to bed, seeing where it went.
She’d spin this hot, lovely thing out for as long as she possibly could.
It was going to have to last her.
She had nothing to share but her body. Nothing any sane, healthy man would want, anyhow. If he knew the horrors inside her head, he’d be gone in a panicked flash.
He served her a large slice of an apple puff pastry. Cream sauce trickled down over the cinnamony apples inside. It smelled so good, tears sprang to her eyes. When pastry made you weep, you were in very bad shape. But she fully intended to devour every flaky crumb.
“Can I ask you a question?” she ventured.
His gaze flicked to her face. “For a price.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Never mind.”
“All right. I’ll give you this one for free,” he conceded. “But the next one you barter for. And I drive a hard bargain.”
“This, from the guy who paid three thousand bucks for a belly dance.”
He laid his hand on hers. “Worth it,” he said. “Just for a chance to talk to you.”
She almost laughed at that ridiculous statement, but stopped herself. Something in his eyes silenced her. He wasn’t bullshitting. She knew that vibe. He was for real.
It felt more like he was calling to her, on some level. From someplace very far. She saw the silent longing in his eyes. It pulled at her from the inside.
Oh, please. Get a grip. She was getting mushy and needy. Hormone overload. She tried to bring it back to light banter. “So talk is what you had in mind?”
He grinned. “I won’t apologize for what I had in mind. What’s your question?”
She had to think for a minute to retrieve it, she’d gotten so distracted. She looked around the muted elegance of his dining room, at the feast on the table. “You said you grew up poor. How come you ended up living in a mansion and driving a Porsche?”
He shoveled some of the pastry onto his plate. “Big question. Long answer.”
“You don’t have to answer. I know, it’s not fair.”
“Really not.” He ate a bite or two, and pushed his plate away. “But so what.”
“Hey, nothing you could say could make me judge you,” she said. “We all have to start somewhere.”
I’m not sure you’d really want to know how I got started.” His voice sounded flat.
Yikes. She’d hit a nerve. Caro set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about—”
“My parents were con artists. Mostly small time. My dad taught my mom everything he knew. They were a team. I got taken along when they needed a prop.”
“What for?” She was genuinely shocked. “How old were you?”
“Really little. Who wouldn’t trust a nice young couple with a cute kid? Little budding confidence man, that was me. They were training me up to be just like them. Lucky me.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I, ah, don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. I’m not proud of it. It’s just the way it was for me.”
Caro nodded mutely.
“So this went on for years. They had my brother and little sister. Sometimes we made money, but we still had to get out of town fast. I pretty much grew up on the road. We stayed in one dive motel after another. Cigarette burns on the sheets. Dirty bathrooms. Broken locks.”
There was faint bitterness in his voice. He stopped talking and just looked at her.
She didn’t reply. He could have been describing the life she’d been living for the last several months.
“Sorry,” he said. “You asked.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” she murmured.
“Oh well. You got the short version. No happy ending, though. One day, a guy my dad had swindled caught up with him. Clubbed him practically to death in a supermarket parking lot.”
She flinched. “You saw it?”
“Yes,” he said. “We had goods that fell off some truck. You do a return for cash—go in just before the place closes, say you lost the receipt. They pay up to get rid of you. Liquor store, here we come. Only we never got there. The guy must have been following us. He waited for us to come out, and jumped my dad with a baseball bat.”
She hated to ask, but she had to know. “Did he hurt you?”
Noah’s hand drifted up to a patch of thickened scar tissue that showed in the vee of his T-shirt. “He shattered my collarbone when I tried to stop him.”
“Oh, Noah.” She gripped his arm. His muscles were tightly contracted.
“It took my dad almost a week to die,” he said. “He had skull fractures, major brain damage, internal injuries. He never woke up.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “He was a hard-drinking liar, thief and cheat. No great loss.”
“Still. It had to hurt.”
“At the time, not that much. Not at all now.”
“What about your mom?”
He shrugged. “She took off a few months after that. Just couldn’t deal. We woke up one morning, found her gone. I was seventeen. The others were younger.”
Caro was silent for a while. It was a lot to take in. “So what happened to you guys after that?”
“We ran wild. Too bad there’s no such things as do-overs. I think about what I did back then sometimes. Can’t make amends for any of it.”
She nodded. Asking anything more seemed wrong.
His gaze met hers. There was a dark fire in the amber depths of his eyes that made her uneasy. “I’m done talking now.”
So that was that. “OK. I suppose you have your reasons.”
“I do. And you don’t get to ask what they are.”
She was taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?
“I spilled my guts,” he said. “I just told you some of my deepest, darkest secrets. That’s never happened with any woman I’ve ever been with.” His hand went up to the twisted scar, rubbing it as if it ached. “But did I rack up any points with you? Nope.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by points,” she said warily. “I appreciate your honesty. And your trust.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But you won’t return it.”
Caro stared down at her plate. “You really don’t want to know my secrets.”
He reached across the table and lifted her chin so that she had to look at him. “Actually, I do.”
“Noah, please, don’t start in on me again.”
“Don’t tell me no. You’re in danger. I see it on your face. Beautiful as you are, you have the look.”
“What look?” she demanded, shaken.
“It’s hard to describe,” he said. “Like a photographer messed with the contrast. It’s mostly in the eyes. It sharpens some things up, washes other things out. It happens to people when they’re under constant threat of violence. I’m familiar with it.”
“How?” Her voice sounded shrill, inside her own head. “Familiar how?”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen it in the mirror. I’ve lived on the run. My guess is that you’ve been doing it for a while now. But I get the feeling you’re running for your life, and not just from the law. From something or someone really evil.”
She lifted her head defiantly. “Sounds like it’s happened to you.”
He hesitated for a long moment. “Yeah. It has.”
That wasn’t possible. He hadn’t said those words. Unless she’d hit the jackpot on a bizarro dating website. Enjoy long walks on the beach? Check. Love big dogs and little kittens? Check. Shady
past? Hidden trauma? Check. Check.
She wanted to scoff, but a flash of insight told her that he was revealing a painful truth. There were those scars. He’d explained one, but he had hundreds more. Each inflicted by . . . what had he just said? Something or someone really evil.
But whether or not he was comparing his life to hers, she hated being forced to think about what she was up against. It made her angry . . . at the moment, at him.
“Well, you’re wrong,” she said. “You’re wrong about all of it.”
“OK,” he said gently. “If I am, then you can relax. Your secrets are secure.”
“Somehow I doubt it,” she snapped.
“OK if I change the subject?” He didn’t wait for her to say yes, just pushed up the sleeve of the oversized robe. “You didn’t do this to yourself. And before you get mad, that was a statement, not a question.” He ran his finger over the jagged scar that extended from her lower arm down to the palm of her hand.
She tried to pull away, without succeeding.
“This is healed, but not old, like my scars,” he murmured. “Too pink. Someone cut you recently. Last year sometime. You didn’t get stitches, but this cut could’ve used some.”
“Stop it, Noah.”
But he couldn’t help himself. It was his nature. Under any other circumstances, the focused quality of his attention would be a delicious ego-stroking thrill. As it was, it was killing her.
If he looked too hard, he’d see what she saw whenever she closed her eyes.
Slippery hot blood everywhere, the pressure of the box cutter against muscle and tendon, locked into her memory forever. Gouts of blood, spurting. The sight of Dex in Mark Olund’s grip, his eyes wide and horrified as Mark pressed his mouth to his head. Beginning to feed . . .
And Tim, who had made the mistake of trying to help her.
She got up. “You won’t stop pressuring me. I’m sick of begging you to. Call a car, or else I will.”
“No.” He tugged her wrist, pulling her right off her feet and onto his lap. “I’ll shut the fuck up. I promise. You can’t leave. It’s the middle of the night.”
His arms were so strong. He smelled so good. He’d made her so hungry for him. Damn the guy. Not fair.
Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) Page 13