But she moved to the opposite side of the pool, afraid to be near him. His cologne was too enticing, his body too hard and inviting. Then she wondered, was she really ready to be intimate with this man? She barely knew him. Her body screamed yes, but her sensible mind cried no.
Her gaze wandered around the pool. She was afraid to look at him, at those eyes, those spectacular, magnetic eyes of his.
"What are you doing over there?" he asked softly, as he resumed his former position.
"Avoiding foreplay," she said, smiling slightly.
He chuckled. "How come? You might like it."
She finally met his gaze. "Because I don't know you."
Laughing now, he replied, "You know more about me than I know about you."
"That's true," she admitted, "but don't you go with a lot of women? That scares me too."
His face was serious now. "I can see why you'd think that, with the tours, and the women hanging on me. But that's not the case." His eyes seemed to change, and they took on a new intensity. "I need an attraction, before I can act on sexual impulses. I need that gut feeling that I want this woman, not just in bed, but the totality of this woman, her life, her dreams, and even the way she looks so beautiful in the morning."
The man was powerful. She almost felt him pulling at her from across the pool. And his message was clear. He wanted her. She'd never seen desire like this in any man. He wanted all of her, every bit, and to Ellen, the prospect was frightening.
More frightening than the emptiness she'd felt with Charlie, more frightening than being alone.
"Come here," he commanded softly.
Ellen felt herself moving across the pool, almost in a dream state, as the water swirled around her.
Dropping down next to him, she started to shake. And, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders, he said, "Are you scared, Ellen?"
"Yes," she whispered. He pulled her against him, and she felt the hard planes of his chest, as they leaned against the wall together.
"Of what? Me?"
She smelled his cologne, and it swirled around her senses like an erotic cloud, as she replied, "Of this. Of being engulfed, of losing control."
"Well," he said slowly, "I guess you can't ever know if you're really in control unless you lose it once in a while."
She smiled, and lay her head back against his arm. "Interesting," she whispered, "I never thought of it that way." Closing her eyes, she felt his lips brush hers softly.
He slowly moved out in front of her, while his arm still protected her neck. She felt a surge of water, as his body came tightly against hers, hard, muscular, and she could feel his masculine firmness below, against the silky fabric of her bathing suit. His free hand slid across her breast, then down to her waist, pulling her even closer.
With his lips against hers, he whispered, his breath warm, his voice husky with desire, "Lose it, lose that control, Ellen."
His kiss was light, casual, teasing, then more insistent. His lips, those famous lips, were soft, gentle, as he prodded her mouth open and slipped in his tongue.
Ellen felt on fire, with his kisses, the feel of his half-naked body against hers, and she sucked his tongue hungrily, wanting more and more of him. No man ever made her feel sensations like this...not in high school, not Charlie, not anyone.
His hand slipped to her buttocks, and he pressed her closer, closer. His hair swirled softly around her, as she felt his desire pulsing. She felt as if she would melt into him, drown in the force of him.
Then, pulling his lips from hers, he whispered, "I knew you'd be like this."
She opened her eyes, slowly, and gazed at him. "Like what?" she said.
"Incredibly," she felt him pulse, "incredibly sexy," he whispered, as his lips came softly on hers again. But it was a light kiss, and he pushed away from her, with a rush of water, and moved to the other side of the pool.
He placed his arms over the sides, and sat, staring at her heatedly. The water came in and cooled her hot body, and she felt an acute disappointment. Why had he moved away?
"Is," she said hesitantly, "did I do something wrong?"
A smile tugged at his lips, as he replied, "God, no, you felt wonderful. I just don't want to rush you." The smile faded, "You excite me too much. I was losing control. I see what you mean. It is frightening."
She raised her eyebrows. "How about that dinner, then?"
Grinning now, he replied, "Lead the way, sweetheart."
Once in the house, Ellen padded to the refrigerator and brought out two steaks. She'd wrapped her towel over her shoulders, and it hung against her breasts. They still felt tight, and almost uncomfortable, as the nipples brushed against the silky bathing suit she wore.
The air in the house was silent, yet still somehow held an excited, anticipatory feel.
She sensed, rather than heard, Derick come up behind her, as she reached up to retrieve a can of seasonings from the cupboard. When he pressed against her, she felt his hard desire. His hands rested on her breasts momentarily, and she knew he heard her sharp intake of breath.
Slowly turning her to face him, he touched both ends of the towel around her neck. "You don't have to hide them, you know," he whispered, as he drew her closer, pulling on the towel. While one of his hands wrapped around her waist, the other slid across her breast, in a light, teasing touch.
Looking up at him, she finally understood what he'd told her before. It was happening, and it was wonderful to know a man wanted you, needed you, hungered for you.
Pressing her back to the counter, with his hips flush against hers, and his leg edging between both of hers, he bent his head to kiss her. But this kiss was different than before; harder, urgent, insistent, it almost demanded a response.
Rising on her tip—toes, she wrapped both her arms around his neck, and bent her body against his. Unafraid now, she met him eagerly, willingly.
Breaking the kiss, he whispered, "Yes, I want you, Can you feel it? Even when we're not touching like this can you feel it?"
She nodded weakly, as she struggled to open her eyes.
"Good." He moved back slightly, and the heavy disappointment settled inside her again. She wanted him now. Here and now.
But he just smiled, and looked down at her, again tugging at the ends of the towel around her neck. "Let's eat," he whispered softly.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day, seated next to Derick, Ellen watched the long motorcycle procession from her vantage point in Limpy's truck, as two by two, the hard-looking bikers rode down the highway. She noticed they were careful to obey speed limits, and she mentioned this to Limpy. He'd taken Sandy's place, driving the truck, when he discovered Derick was to ride along.
"Yeah," he said, "who wants to fuck up the weekend, man. If a few get busted, all of us gotta mess around gettin' them out. It just ain't worth it."
"It's happened before then?" she asked curiously.
"Yeah. We was ridin' over to Tahoe. Got stopped in King City. Butthole of a place, too. Rinky-dink little town, and a asshole sheriff. Max mouthed off to the guy. Said he wasn't sorry afterwards, either." He paused for a minute then laughed. "You know what we did?"
"What?" Ellen asked, as she felt Derick nudge her.
"We found out where the guy lived. Went back a few weeks later and fucked up his house bad, while he was out bustin' some other poor sucker. Serves the guy right."
Breaking and entering, Ellen thought. Add it to the list, along with vandalism.
But when they passed Thousand Oaks, Ellen saw Chloe glance quickly in the direction of her house. She knew Chloe was getting anxious, but Ellen knew also, with their Mexico trip a mere four days away, it wouldn't be long before the D.E.A. could move in.
And she doubted whether Nick would remember anything by then. They'd probably have to hog-tie him, and take him somewhere until he did remember. It was tough. What a bad break for the case, and for Nick himself. She only hoped that Max would relent, and take Chloe to the factory. They had t
o know the location, it was critical. Everything rested on that one thing. And with Chloe's testimony, Max and crew would be put behind bars for a long, long time.
"Penny for your thoughts," Derick said softly, "you have a really strange look on your face, sweetheart."
Ellen had been intensely aware of Derick's presence all morning, his thigh brushing hers, his arm over the back of the truck seat, occasionally gripping her shoulder when they hit a bump.
And a smile started on her lips, as she thought of last night, and how he'd chastely kissed her on the cheek before they both retired to separate bedrooms. This man was very different than he appeared to his fans. Totally different.
Now, he leaned his head over, and whispered in her ear, "Are you thinking about the same thing I am?"
A pleasant sensation began inside her, and traveled down her body. She laughed, and replied, "Maybe."
"I love your laugh," he whispered, "it's low and sexy."
His tongue grazed her ear, and she closed her eyes. This man was positively intoxicating.
His thumb came up and pulled at her lower lip slightly, and her mouth opened in response.
"I love your lips, too," he whispered, "soft and kissable."
And, as last night, she felt an intense heaviness settle between her thighs. Yes, she wanted him. But would he want her, when he found out what she really did for a living? And even if they started a relationship, how would they ever keep it going? Questions ran through her mind like speeding freight trains. Doubts plagued her.
Maybe she should lose control, for once in her life, and not be sensible for a change. Give in to temptation. And Derick was certainly tempting.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, as she leaned her head back against his arm. His eyes studied her, roved over her face, stopping at her lips. Then, they moved back up and settled on her eyes again. Without breaking the gaze, his lips touched hers in the gentlest of kisses. And the sweet feel of that one kiss created more of a sensation than she'd felt with her husband in years of marriage. Her whole body cried out for him.
As she turned, and settled her eyes back on the road again, she wondered if this was love, or lust. Whatever it was, she liked it.
Trying to calm herself, she watched Nick, who rode with Chloe directly in front of them. His thick, black boots were thrust out on the pegs of the bike. He wore a Nazi helmet, and, of course, the colors on his leather coat proclaimed loudly to the world who he was. Or, who he thought he was.
And her heart ached for Chloe, who sat behind him, leaning on the sissy bar, her long braid blowing in the breeze.
Chloe felt Nick lean back against her. Her hands came up under his jacket, and she splayed her fingers over his hard stomach muscles. She'd missed him in her bed. Every night now, he slept in the living room. They hadn't made love since the one night he'd taken her so savagely against the wall.
Did he still love her? And was something inside him, some little inner voice, some conscience of the former Nick, telling him that this new person he'd become should stay away from her?
They exited the freeway, and started up a huge grade. As Nick kicked the bike into a lower gear, Chloe watched the view. As they rode higher and higher, she saw greenish—brown hills, and homes scattered here and there on the mountain, dotting the parched landscape. And, an entire city sprawled below, with people living normal, quiet lives.
But the uncertain future yawned before Chloe, empty, barren without the real Nick to share it with her. And she blinked back tears of frustration.
When they arrived at the crest of the grade, the view of the mountains beyond nearly took her breath away, as they seemed to go on forever. Varying shades of blue and purple, high and awesome, they towered above the small city below like a protective barrier, like an ancient reminder that some things were simply unconquerable.
They began a steep descent into a valley, and rode far, far back into the mountains. For miles, the bikes made clouds of dust on the winding, dirt roads, and Chloe was glad for the protection of her black helmet.
It was parched and dry, and Chloe wondered where the water was. From all appearances, this place was a barren wasteland, nothing like the pine-filled camp sites Chloe was used to. And the thought of camping brought memories of her dead husband, as they had camped together many times before his illness struck. But for once, for the first time in five years of mourning him, she didn't cry.
They arrived, finally, at the huge, group camp spot. Chloe slowly got off the motorcycle and stretched. Nick still sat, looking around, and he took off his helmet and shook his hair out.
"I feel like I'm still vibrating!" she laughed.
He grinned at her. "Nothing like the feel of a Harley between your legs."
She stood very still. That was what she'd told him, the first night they met! Yes, it would all come back to him. She grinned happily, as he dismounted, leaned back against the bike, and pulled her against him. With his legs pushed straight out, he pulled her into the V they formed.
"I love it when you smile," he breathed. His arms wrapped around her waist, and his lips came against hers hard. She received his tongue, and welcomed it, feeling as if she'd been in a place as barren as the landscape they'd ridden through. And, Nick was her water. Nick was the deep stream to drink from, as his kiss wound around her senses, drowning out everything going on around them.
Pulling from her slightly, he whispered, "Been a long time, Chloe."
She nodded, and her fingers ran across the hard leather of his jacket, as she looked into his eyes. "Too long," she replied. A breeze blew, bringing with it the smell of exhaust, mixed with sage, and the sound of laughter and more motorcycles approaching.
Limpy's truck rolled up, and club members climbed into the back, eager to unload the beer. Ellen stepped out, after Derick, and waved to her.
She broke from Nick's grasp, and ran to Ellen. "Have a good trip?" she yelled breathlessly.
"Yeah." Ellen replied, "You guys are quite a sight rolling along the highway. Hot Damn! It's warm up here! Hi, Nick."
Chloe felt Nick's arms wrap around her, as she talked with Ellen. She felt the wide, very muscular planes of his chest, as he'd taken off his shirt and jacket now. His lips grazed her ear.
"Nick! Stop, I can't concentrate!" she said, as she giggled.
"Want to see the water?" he asked, his voice sending tremors through her body.
"Water? I can't believe there's water up here. Ellen, let's go see the pool."
Ellen looked down at Nick's bare feet. "I see you're all ready to wade, Nick."
Chloe laughed, as she looked down at the feet, but suddenly felt herself lifted up effortlessly into Nick's strong arms.
"What are you doing?" she squealed.
"Well," he drawled, as he walked towards a slight incline, "I'm taking you to the water..."
They came up over a rise, and there, almost hidden from the camp spot, was a wide, sparkling clear pool of water. Thick, green bushes surrounded it on either side, and a large, flat rock on the far side rose into the steep side of the mountain. The shoreline was sandy and inviting.
"Nick," she breathed, clinging to him, with her arms around his neck, "it's beautiful."
"How'd you like to see it close up, Chloe?" he crooned, as he continued walking towards the water.
"Nick!" she protested, "Put me down! You wouldn't dare!" She kicked her feet in mild protest, but she was enjoying the feel of him too much to do anything but squeal.
"Oh, but I would." he replied softly, wading in up to his knees, as she struggled and laughed.
The shock of the cold water hit her, as he unceremoniously dumped her in. She came up sputtering, swearing, glaring. "You prick!" she yelled, "You didn't tell me the water was this cold!"
Looking down at her breasts, which were clearly exposed now, her large, dark, nipples showing through the pink tank—top she wore, he murmured, "Now that's nice."
Pulling off her boots, with much effort, she threw them on the sh
ore. Then another shock hit her. His hot chest came hard against her cold one, as he grabbed her around the waist with one hand, and jerked her up against him.
"Yeah," he breathed, as his mouth hovered above hers, and his free hand held her face, "now that's what I wanted to see."
Rolling his tongue into her mouth, then out again, he laughed softly as she closed her eyes. "Want to go under, Chloe?"
She nodded. His mouth pressed against hers urgently, as she felt his arm tighten on her waist, he pushed her back, and they fell into the chilly water together.
She felt him push off the bottom with his foot, and they were gliding underneath the water, slowly, still joined in a kiss. He brought her up to the surface, and they finally broke from the kiss. The water was chest—high, and they both stood on the sandy bottom.
Still wrapped in his arms, she pushed her hair back, and spat, "Bastard!"
"That I am." he replied, his lips twitching. She could feel his harness pressing against her, and the slippery water made their bodies glide together delightfully. Drops of sparkling water cascaded off his hair, down the planes of his handsome face, and she wished the others weren't around. She wanted him, with a growing need. It had been so long, such a long, lonely time.
Grinning now, he said, "Let me unbraid your hair. I want to see it all around you."
She turned, swirled in the water, and he caught her around the front with one hand, while his other hand undid the braid. When he was finished, and as his hand gently untangled her hair, he pulled her closer.
Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, "We haven't done it like this yet, have we?"
"Like what?" she replied. But then, his hardness came against her buttocks, and his hand cupped the zippered front of her jeans.
Rubbing her, still kissing her neck, he replied, "From behind."
She shook her head, and a languid sensation crept over her, as his other hand came up and rubbed her breast. Her nipples were already hard from the cold water, but now they tightened even more from his touch.
Nicky's Fire Page 14