Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  “Tell me if I hurt you. Or if you get scared.”

  She gave a husky laugh. “Yes, the naked version of you is terrifying.”

  “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to laugh at a man in bed?” But he should have known it would be like that with her. Even imprisoned, she had been all light and sunshine, the one bright spot in the darkness. And that was why he’d known he had to set her free.

  “Oh? Is that a rule? I don’t read Cosmo. Too busy with my psych textbooks.”

  He grinned down at her, propped on his elbows. “You’ll probably learn more about me in there anyway.”

  “So you’re a deviant, then?”

  Talking helped his self-control, permitting him to focus on her, not the pressure building in his balls. He angled his body, slid his hands beneath her ass, and tilted her to meet his thrust. Dear God. Taye had no experiences to compare it to, but this was the best thing he’d ever felt. She was sweet and small, hot and slick.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “I love to fuck innocent girls.”

  “Damn. And here I thought you wanted me.”

  More than anything. More than life.

  He didn’t say so aloud, but she saw. God, she always did; she always knew. The only thing he’d managed to keep hidden from her was the cost of his gift, and if they hadn’t spent the last three months apart, Taye had no doubt she’d know that by now, too.

  “Good to go deeper?”

  At her nod, he pushed, a slow and torturous penetration that threatened to melt his bones. The need to come boiled higher. Soon he wouldn’t care at all if he felt good inside her, only that she was his. Merely thinking the word nearly undid him; Taye thrust three times, four, before reining himself in, shaking from head to toe.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered. “I have toys. I used them and thought of you.”

  He remembered her saying, Sometimes I like to get off in front of the mirror, and I can see better this way. Too much stimulation, combined with the luscious heat on his cock. He lost his mind. Taye pounded into her with long, demanding strokes, angling her to meet them. In answer, she wrapped her legs about his hips and drew him deeper still. He had no yardstick to measure her expertise, but she felt perfect, each movement orchestrated to jack him higher.

  As he got closer, everything faded but the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, the apple scent of her hair, and the unearthly blue of her eyes. He fell into them, drowning, and then breathing for what felt like the first time in his life. Beneath him, she shuddered and came, his name a broken song on her lips. Only then did he let go. The orgasm cracked him wide open. Too much pleasure, too much, and he was keeping such a secret from her. He almost wept, except it would be such a fucking pussy thing to do, and it would ruin the moment. Somehow he fought it all down as he got his breath back.

  She went lax beneath him, her skin glowing with sweat and satisfaction. He rolled off, but carried her with him. They had too little time for him to take a single second for granted. After all, he had to live a whole lifetime with her in eighteen days.

  Hours later, Gillie stretched like a contented cat. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but after having mind-blowing sex with the man of your dreams, it came naturally. He was awake when she opened her eyes; the light had gone, painting the room in shadows. From what she could tell, he hadn’t moved at all, except for his hands stroking her back.

  “I thought it was the guy who was supposed to conk out and start snoring.”

  She laughed softly. “Sorry. But that was way better than when I do it myself. More relaxing, too, apparently.”

  “Good to know. Since I was winging it.”

  “You haven’t practiced with anyone else?” It might seem like a casual question, but it so wasn’t. Gillie had the same jealous, possessive feelings where he was concerned; she just didn’t light up like a broken power line when they hit. He was hers—and she felt strongly on that point.

  “No. I’ve spent all my time on missions, pretty much. Mockingbird has me working with Silas, er, Hawk. Not supposed to use his real name. He has a girlfriend now.”

  Intrigued, she levered up on an elbow. “Really? What’s she like?”

  “Kind of a hippie-chick. But nice.”

  “I’m glad. He hated himself so much for what Rowan made him do down there.”

  “We’ve freed a lot of people. It helps.”

  “Do they all go to work for Mockingbird?”

  “About half. Some just want to find a place to lick their wounds.”

  Talking about his work brought up an important question. “How long can you stay?”

  “A little over two weeks.”

  “Really?” Longer than she’d dared hope, at least for this first visit. A long-distance relationship where one partner regularly risked his life wasn’t ideal, but military wives did it. Women who married spies did it. She’d do whatever it took to be with him.

  “Yep. Can you put up with me that long? I warn you, I’m going to demand sex in payment for household chores.”

  “A blow job for a load of laundry?”

  He laughed. God, she loved the sound. It banished his secrets and his darkness, at least for a while. “That sounds fair. But you gotta swallow if you want me to use fabric softener.”

  “Deal. But you stay away from curry.”

  “You’re a sick, sick woman, Gillie Flynn.”

  “I know. It’s part of my charm.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth, marveling even now that they were naked, and there were no more reasons they couldn’t be together. “How did you talk Mockingbird into this, by the way? He’s all about the security risks and layers of protection for our true identities.”

  Not that she was living as her true self. But the question stood.

  He hesitated, and those secrets swam to the surface again. So she gave him a sharp nudge with the elbow to indicate she wasn’t having that. Not now. Not anymore.

  “Finch is going to wipe out my memory of where you live.”

  Cold stole over her, the first whisper of dread. “Can he do that? I thought he could only take specific time periods.”

  “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  Well, when he put it like that, she chose to believe in him. In this. In happy endings, and people getting what they wanted out of life, even though experience had taught her otherwise, again and again.

  “So what will we do next time? Meet somewhere? MB might not like it, but we can e-mail each other. As long as we set up anonymous accounts and don’t use names, I don’t see why that would flag the Foundation.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “It wouldn’t.”

  “Will you write me dirty letters?”

  He heaved a mock sigh. “You’ve got the real me naked in bed with you and you’re thinking about cyber?”

  “I have to plan for the future. If you do, I’ll use my toys when I read them.”

  “Dear God.” From his tone and the erection he was sporting, he acted like she might be the death of him. “I can’t go again without fluids.”

  “Are you hungry? I have some leftover soup.”

  “Not so much.”

  That drew a frown. “You don’t look healthy. Have you been skipping meals?”

  Guilt flashed across his face. “I guess. I don’t have anyone baking for me these days.”

  “I’ll make cookies while you’re here. I’ve perfected the gingersnap recipe. Finally. Only took me twenty batches. I gave away a lot of them at homeless shelters.”

  “Thank you,” he said gravely. “It means everything that you care.”

  Care? That was such a lukewarm word. People cared for their friends and for their pets. They cared about whether it would rain. Maybe it was time to tell him.

  “You know I love you.” Quiet statement, devoid of drama—it was fact, not a romantic declaration. No fireworks, no serenades. Gillie didn’t cherish some idealized vision of him. She loved his moods, his temper, his bad attitude, his hidden laughte
r, his sometimes surly nature, and the fact that he would burn the world down to protect her.

  She was prepared for refutation and for him to recite all the reasons this wasn’t real, why it couldn’t work. That had been the deal for so long. Gillie braced for more of the same.

  Instead, he said softly, “I know. And I love you . . . with all the heart that’s in me. That’s not much, maybe, but I’ll give you everything.”

  “All your Taye are belong to me?”

  Not surprisingly, he offered a blank look. That was fine. She could catch him up on dorky Internet memes; they had a lifetime, after all. The realization sent a shiver through her. No more fear. No more uncertainty. He was hers; the next two weeks were only the beginning.

  “What time are your classes tomorrow?”

  “Early,” she said. “I’ll be back by two.”

  “So . . . we have plenty of time, then.” He kissed the spot behind her ear that drove her nuts.

  “I dunno. I have a quiz to study for.”

  “Want me to drill you?”

  She flashed a wicked grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Tray in his hands, Taye stood for a moment and watched Gillie sleep. Without mascara, her lashes showed red gold against her skin. He could take pleasure in counting every freckle on her face, but that struck him as slightly obsessive. Instead he set the tray on the nightstand and leaned down to kiss her awake. Her lids flickered open; her smile sent a spear of pleasure straight through him. She tangled her fingers in his hair, giving a gentle tug. He loved seeing her like this, all pleasure and satisfaction.

  She stretched lazily. “Breakfast in bed? What time is it?”

  “I got up early.” He never slept well these days. “It’s not quite seven. You have plenty of time before your eight o’clock.”

  “I could get used to this.”

  You can’t, love. But I so wish you could.

  “We have scrambled eggs, toast and jelly, coffee, and orange juice. Am I allowed to eat in your bed?”

  “Taye,” she said with devastating sweetness, “as long as I’ve been waiting, you can do whatever you damn well please in my bed.”

  “It’s cruel of you to say that when you’re leaving.”

  “I prefer to think of it as delayed gratification. And I’m coming back. What will you do while I’m gone?”

  An excellent question. “Read. What do you recommend?”

  He couldn’t remember if he had a favorite book, or whether he had ever read for pleasure. But he was willing to do as she’d suggested—fill his head with new memories and new information to compensate for what he’d lost.

  “What’re you in the mood for?” Gillie shoveled in some eggs without the refinement that had marked her manners in the facility. Now, she could do as she liked without someone watching and judging. Then she seemed to realize and grinned at him. “Book-wise, I mean.”

  “Right. Well, I was gonna suggest you ditch today so I can spend those six hours licking you all over.”

  “The leading cause of dry mouth,” she quipped. “Anyway, I have some awesome books about demon brothers. Lots of action and sex.”

  “Sold.”

  “I’d totally skip, but I’m a TA for one of my professors, so I have to set a good example. Plus, I have work to do. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.” But her radiant expression said she liked the suggestion.

  Gillie took a bite of toast, smearing the red raspberry jam beside her mouth. Then she licked it away and he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her . . . taste that sweetness on her lips. So he did. No reason to refrain anymore. Mmm.

  Afterward, he reclined against the headboard, watching her; it pleased him to feed her. Taye felt pretty sure anything more complicated than scrambled eggs was beyond him, though. Not that it mattered. She knew how to cook. Rowan had encouraged her to live a “normal” life.

  “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I had something earlier.”

  These days, he was taking vitamins and pills in lieu of food. Proper meals just hurt too fucking bad. When the need for nutrition got to be too much, he would down a nutritional supplement and then curl onto his side for a couple of hours. Taye knew it couldn’t go on like this much longer. Sometimes he thought about asking Gillie to heal him; she could take the disease from him, but it meant pulling all this pain into her body, and for him, it wasn’t hyperbole to say he’d rather die than hurt her. He had selfish reasons for wanting to be the one person who never asked her for anything, who gave without taking.

  On his darkest days, he still thought about requesting a cure, but since there was no banishing his carcinogenic power—and he couldn’t always control it—this wouldn’t be a one-shot deal. As he pulled, the disease would return; therefore, he would be committing her to a lifetime using a power that had nearly destroyed her. After seeing what the Foundation had done to her, he just couldn’t. Death, however terrifying and unwelcome, proved a more viable alternative to hanging around her neck like an albatross. He couldn’t take the risk that she’d get tired of him, and then she’d be bound to him out of pity. Because I’d literally die without her. And how pathetic would that be?

  “So you were just joking about eating in my bed? I see how you are.” She finished her breakfast and slid off the mattress.

  With delightful exhibitionism, she stretched, showing him . . . everything. His cock hardened and the ache built in his balls. You’d think sex would relax him, but right then, gazing at her naked body, he felt frantic, as if she were leaving him for more than a few hours.

  “How do you feel about a joint shower?”

  “With or without extracurricular activities?”

  He grinned. “Either?”

  “I think I’m curious how it feels to be fucked standing up. Can you handle it?”

  “If I can’t, are you going to request a replacement?”

  She leaned down and nipped his lower lip. “Is there a union where I can complain?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Just as well,” she said, serious then. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Those casual dates you mentioned . . . did anyone ever touch you? Or kiss you?”

  She hesitated. “Do we really want to do this?”

  Bootless rage thrummed in him, nearly kindling an involuntary pull. Just in time, he locked it down, but she saw the near miss and put a hand on his arm, soothing him.

  “Okay, sorry. I’ve been touched, but not intimately. I’ve been kissed, but not well. Does that help any?”

  “Not really,” he growled. “I kind of want to set them all on fire.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who wanted me to window shop.”

  “True.” It might be primitive, but now he wanted to fuck her even more.

  He had to give her enough pleasure to last a lifetime. Taye wanted her to remember him, no matter who she ended up with, and he was vain enough to wish she’d never find anyone who could make her feel this good. Someday she’d find Mr. Picket Fence and have some kids, but part of her would always miss him.

  “Still interested in that shower? I have to leave in half an hour.”

  With a wolfish smile, he took her hand and put it on his lap. “I’m thinking yeah.”

  She fluttered her lashes, falling into the role of the ingénue with delightful alacrity. “Oh. Does that hurt you?”

  Evilly, she rubbed her hand up and down the fly of his jeans, adding just enough pressure to madden him. Taye snagged her fingers and rolled to his feet. The resultant burn in his belly would be almost enough to kill a normal man’s boner, but he’d gotten to the point where pain and pleasure mingled together; he couldn’t have one without the other. So it just made him harder. Making love to Gillie was an affirmation, the ultimate defiance of death.

  “I don’t think I can wait for the shower.”

  “You’ll have to be fast then.”

  “I don’t think I can be anything else ri
ght now.”

  Her breath came quicker now, his arousal driving hers. Her hands went to the buttons on his jeans, and she freed his cock with genuine expertise. Gotta admire a woman who knows what she wants.

  Gillie gave him a little push and he fell back sideways on the mattress. “Mind if I drive?”

  “You kidding? I get to admire how beautiful you are while you do the work.”

  Since he’d only put on jeans after getting up, it didn’t take her long to strip him naked. Despite his words, Taye sensed he hadn’t often done this; it felt unfamiliar to lay back and wait. Guess I prefer to be in charge. But if it meant he got to gaze up into her pretty face and see the joy as she opened her thighs and positioned him for her pleasure—well, he could lay quiet and let her go cowgirl on him.

  Oh fuck yes.

  She was already so wet, and she slid down on him slowly. This speed could be considered torture, in fact. He needed a fucking and she gently, slowly circled her hips, getting used to the feel of the position and seeking the perfect angle for penetration. When she found it, she cried out, her blue eyes wide with astonished pleasure. He responded with an upward thrust, giving her more, and that sparked her into motion.

  Gillie braced her hands on his chest and began to ride in earnest, dropping down hard each time, her pussy tightening as her excitement built. He framed her hips in his hands and marveled at the beauty of her. She had new scars, but he didn’t ask; he knew she’d earned them saving lives, and they only increased her loveliness.

  Helpless to resist, he stroked the rosy skin of her bare labia; he felt so dirty for enjoying the sight of her riding his cock—and that turned him on more. From this angle, he watched as well as savored each movement. She closed her eyes, her breath coming in sobbing moans, but he had to see every shift, every flicker. He had never seen anything so fine as Gillie rising over him, her mouth parted. When his thumbs brushed her clit, she came, slamming down on him and jerking with each pulse. He wasn’t quite there yet, as he’d gotten caught up in the satisfaction of watching her.