by Trudy Doyle
He bends to my breast, taking a nipple in his mouth. “I love your breasts.” He suckles the other. “I love the feel of their heaviness in my hand.” He weighs it, his thumb circling the areola. Then he stretches himself out and lays his head between them, wrapping his arm around my waist. “My God, Pam, how can I ask for anything else? This is the only place in the world I want to be. You know how wonderful it is to hear your heartbeat kick up because of me?”
I’m overcome. For a woman who builds her life around words, how could anything be sweeter than that? “Roark, please—”
I want to tell him it’s enough, that it’s all for him now, but already he’s up and looming above me, and within a second he’s filling me completely. I raise up to him and he’s pounding me, his eyes fixed on mine, his hand cupping my chin, his fucking more wonderful and intense than he’s ever fucked me before.
“What are you thinking of?” he whispers.
Think? Who could think! I’m lost to a fullness beyond his cock inside me, as though he’s filling me in places I never knew could be entered. He slips his arms under my thighs and I’m tilted and even more exposed, his cock sliding in deeper and I’m filled to the hilt, his fucking becoming frantic and maybe even a little desperate, my pleasure building beyond where he’s ever taken me before.
He leans in and I’m immobile. “Who’re you thinking of?” he rasps out, kissing me hard. “Tell me Pam…who’s in your head now?”
I’m rising higher and higher and so is he, his shower dampness now replaced by a fresh sheen of sweat. I grasp his shoulders as his face is all I can see. I close my eyes and he’s there, just as clear.
Then it hits me like a blast of Arctic air, but he steals the words out of my mouth.
“I love you, Pam,” he says. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. And from now on, from right here, this is the only thing I want you to see.”
“Roark. Roark, I—” I can’t breathe, my chest is heaving and then suddenly, I can’t speak, my hips quivering with a pleasure so consuming all I can see is his face contorting as he arches up and cries—
“Pam!” before everything around me goes black.
Chapter Twelve
I love him.
I stretch my arms over my head, my legs tangled in his overcoat, my toes curling with his scent as I turn on my side. I have no idea what time it is beyond the fact it’s very, very late. I’m also very, very sore and, I smile in disbelief, very much in love. I vaguely remember this gorgeous hunk of testosterone telling me he feels the same, just as I don’t remember my telling him even once. Which makes me feel twice as shitty when I catch the note he left on the night table.
Baby—
Please come to the cafe when you get up.
I love you.
—Roark
Who else would it be? Not that I don’t love just seeing his name. Roark. The man who loves me. And, I realize as I climb out of bed (now that I’ve actually slept in mine again), he’s the man who gave it all back to me. “Well, look at that,” I say, admiring the hurricane of a room I’m left with. I slip into his coat and pad through the rest of the flat. Much the same, wherever I look. But isn’t that the way with most battlefields. I look to every spot where we made love, the pictures in my head so different now. Such a genius, that man. I hurry and dress, fairly running to Serious Joe.
I sneak in the back and as luck would have it, he’s at his desk. I slip in his office and close the door. He looks up and smiles, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m from lost and found,” I say, my hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat. “Lose something?”
His eyes smolder. “Well, now that you mention it,” he says, coming around his desk, “there’s my heart…”
He kisses me, slow and tender, the morning’s desperation lost in sweet familiarity. When he’s through I lean my head on his shoulder, turning to my next best love. “Buy me a cup of coffee, sailor?”
He kisses the top of my head. “Fresh out. Seeing we’ve been closed for two hours.”
I check the clock on the wall; it’s nearly five! I had been asleep for over six hours. “Jesus!” I say, falling into a chair. “I never realized what time it was. So why’re you still here?”
He leans against his desk. “I’m waiting for someone.”
I throw out my hands. “Well, I’m here.”
He laughs. “Someone else. You,” he says, pulling me back into his arms, “are a given. Hey, I never did get a chance to ask you. Did you finish the scene?”
I reach to the desk and take a sip of his coffee. “I did.”
“How’d it come out?”
“Pretty well, thanks to you.”
He looks at me, incredulous. “What’d I do?”
I set down the cup, touching his cheek. “You filled in all the empty spaces, and for that I’m forever grateful.”
Then someone raps on the door.
I drop back to the chair as Roark says, “Come on in,” his eyes glistening.
Ashley pops her head in, looking as if she’s surprised to see us both dressed. “There’s someone to see you.”
“Great,” Roark says, raking back his hair as he stands up. “Tell them I’ll be right out.” She nods, closing the door.
“Them?” I say.
“Yeah.” He smiles, a kind of smug satisfaction behind it. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
I follow him through the kitchen and when he swings open the door to the now empty cafe, there’s Bennie, the other guy from the stakeout. His eyes light with recognition. There’s a woman with him I’m assuming is his wife, and a child about two years old in a stroller. Whose face erupts in smiles the minute Roark bends to pick her up.
“Here she is, isn’t she?” Roark coos, lifting the child into his arms. “Here’s my little princess!” He kisses her fat little cheeks and she squeals, kissing him back, her flouncy dress bunching up as he perches her on his hip, her little head bouncing with bows and barrettes.
He turns to me. “Pam, I want you to meet little Carmen.”
“Hi!” she chirps, waving gleefully.
“Hello there, little Carmen.” I look to Bennie and his wife. “She’s beautiful.”
“And all ours—finally,” says Bennie. “Pam, this is my wife, Lucinda.”
She reaches over and shakes my hand. “So pleased to meet you. Bennie’s told me all about you.”
“Why, thank you,” I say. “So are congratulations in order?”
“That’s where I was this morning,” Roark says as the little girl pokes at his face. “Final hearing on Carmen’s adoption, and she couldn’t be going to better parents.”
“We’re thrilled to have her,” Lucinda says. “Our little Carmen Celeste.”
It takes me a moment but I make the connection, a tiny gasp escaping me as I realize who she is. This happy and healthy little girl must be the baby Roark caught from the window. I shake her plump little hand, just too stunned and too happy, too unbelieving that life could be this perfect, that even life started out so wrong could end up so right. But then again, what better proof than in this little girl squealing in the arms of the man I love, azul celeste, blue skies, the baby that fell right out of it.
So I finally tell him, mouthing the words, I love you.
I know, he answers, and doesn’t that just feel wonderful.
Carmen Celeste smiles at me, and once again, the world is righted.
* * * * *
Excerpted from Tanaka & Shields 4:
Expressway Arabesque
by Pamela Flynn
“Shields?” The pistol slipped from Jack’s hand. “Shields!” He dropped to his knees, crushing her body to his. “Oh God— If you die on me—”
“Tanaka…?” she said, breath blissfully warm against his neck.
“Christ! She okay?” Lewis, there in an instant, and Jess, always Jess.
“Yes,” Jack said, loosening his hold as she stirred. He looked to Mauthern stret
ched out on the balcony, arms twisted behind his back yet still, he could sneer. Jack felt his insides ripping apart. “Get that fucker out of here before I—”
“Easy,” said Lewis, his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “He’s going.” He fell to his haunches, intent on Dana. “How’re you doing, Shields?”
She smiled. “Aces, Lewis. Can’t you tell?”
“You need the hospital?”
She stared at him like he was crazy, pushing herself away from Jack to lean against that ridiculous round bed. “You really think I look like a need a hospital?”
“You need something, Shields, but it sure ain’t balls.”
When Dana laughed, relief spilled through Jack like a shot of cold gin.
“Well, all right.” Lewis rose, looking to Jess. “Let’s clean this place up. Get that scum out of here.” Then to Jack. “You okay, Tanaka?”
It was all he could do to nod. Lewis took it as his cue. “Seal this, then see me back at the station.”
“Right, Chief.” They left, leaving them alone, and it was then the fear really gripped him.
“So.” He leaned back, straightened. “You wore the armor after all.”
He didn’t recognize the look she gave him. “Need proof?” Dana answered, holding his hand to her heart.
Jack wanted to laugh. Scream. Shake her senseless. But that wasn’t him. So he stretched for normalcy, feeling his way back into what she knew best. “You know the rules, precious. Habeas corpus.”
“Show the body? Mmmm…” she murmured, too seductively. “You first.”
He pulled his hand back, recoiled it, more accurately. Because this time he couldn’t play. All traces of his cockiness were extinguished the second she hit the floor.
Because this time was one time too many.
“Tanaka…?” Dana said, looking unhinged, a veritable first.
God, even now, she was beautiful. Not that it wasn’t always there. Dana wore her beauty like the Atlantic sunrise right out their window: obviously, consistently, a given. And like so many other things he was feeling for her at the moment, the bare fact of it was driving him insane.
“Don’t move,” he said, coming closer.
She stared at him though she quickly acquiesced. Good. This was no time to question him about anything. She simply watched as he undid the buttons of her shirt, revealing the armor that lay underneath and the bullet compacted against her heart. His hand hovered before it, his breath catching.
“Lean toward me,” he whispered.
She nodded, doing it in half-speed, watching as Jack slipped her arms from her shirt, as he undid the Velcro and pulled the armor over her head, as he dropped the vest to the floor. Each time he touched her she shivered, trembling visibly when he pressed her back to the carpet, a bruise already forming just above the tiny rosebud at the cinch of her bra. He bent to it, her chest heaving.
“I could have lost you,” he murmured, kissing the spot.
She gasped, her hair a swirl of red silk around her head.
He pulled back, his arms caging her. “I could have lost you,” he repeated, his voice brutally thick.
“I wouldn’t have let that happen.” She was crying, so unlike her he’d never seen it before. “You know I wouldn’t let you go anywhere without me.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it—I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. God damn, Dana,” he said angrily, his face inches from hers, “I don’t know if I can live with that anymore.”
She was struggling now, choking for air. “W-what’re you saying?” Her mouth opened in panic. “You’re not leaving me, are you? Oh Jack—if you leave me I’ll—”
“Leave you? Dana, I—” He couldn’t fight it any longer, it was too much for way too long. The hunger overtook him and he fell to her, her lips, her mouth, her tongue shocking his, joining the very breath he drew. She gasped from the force of it, kissing him so fiercely he tasted blood.
“Dana…” he growled, kissing her eyes, her neck, the maddening swell of her breasts as she heaved beneath him. “You own me, precious, don’t you realize? You’ve owned me since the day I walked into the squad.” He arched up, pushing her arms over her head, shackling her wrists with his hands. “Now where do you expect me to go with that?”
“Nowhere,” she said through tears, “without me.”
Suddenly he was a force of nature, crushing his mouth to hers. Dana writhed beneath him, breaking free to tear at his clothes, his breath coming ragged as he ground his hips into hers.
“I want you inside me,” she said, her eyes intent, glistening.
“You got it, precious.” He shoved her skirt up and ripped her panties clean off. “But first there’s this thing I got to take care of.” He dipped his head, spreading her legs.
Her hips bucked the moment of impact and she groaned, murmuring his name. She tasted just like he thought she would, sweet and wild and he couldn’t get enough. He cupped his hands under that beautiful backside, an asset he’d spent too many nights thinking about, and drawing her in, reveled in it, every inch of her a wonder. Almost immediately he felt her rising, cresting, spilling over. Dana, his beautiful, feisty Shields, was already riding the wave. He pulled up and set himself loose.
“Jack!” she screamed, clutching his shoulders as he sank himself in.
She felt indescribably magnificent as he bent to kiss her while she rode out the wave, the need to be in her almost feverish. He thought of a story his grandfather had told him once, of how warriors coming back from battle would immediately make love to their women. It had to come from something instinctive, a hunger for the ultimate connection, how being close to death made them ensure life would go on. With the same fever he wanted Dana, but now it meant even more.
She was lost in a haze of passion and he opened her bra, her breasts tumbling out. If there was anything more beautiful on the face of this earth he couldn’t imagine it. He bent to her, tasting the fear still lingering on her skin and his anger rose again. He wanted to kiss her terror away, absorb it completely.
“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” he said, moving, stroking, driving himself deeper. He kissed her neck, cheek, eyes, manic to secure every inch of her, wondering how long he could stand it. “I’ll kill that bastard if that’s what it takes.”
She slid her hands to his hips. “No you won’t, don’t talk like that. It’s—”
She gasped, her neck arching. He was bearing down now, his hand cradling her breast. No more talk, his eyes told her, just this, just us. She groaned, pulling him to her and with one great heave, he rolled them over until she lay on top. She laughed, pushing herself up, straddling him.
“Top of the world, Ma!” she cried, shrugging off her bra, pulling her skirt over her head until she was naked, beautifully so.
He couldn’t speak, breathe; Dana on top of him, gilded by the dawn. Damn it all, now he knew. He was in love. Irrevocably. Irretrievably.
Finally.
He slid his hands to her hips, her skin alternately cool and fiery, her breasts shifting in a seductive cadence, her hair rioting around her head as she gathered and let loose hanks of it each time he thrust into her. She closed her eyes and, leaning forward, pushed his shirt back, digging her fingers into the damp skin of his waist, her thumbs stroking him. He sighed, long and deep.
“That’s how I feel too, Jack,” she whispered, her hips slowly undulating. “I can’t believe it’s happening either.” She let her lips grace his. “You’ve been in my dreams for so very long now.”
He couldn’t believe it. “No.”
“Oh yes.” She nodded. “Yes.” And kissed him. “Yes.”
He held her against him, his heart to hers, and took them home.
A little while later they lay on a divan, Dana atop his jacket, Jack cradling her head in the crook of his arm. The sun was fully up now, streaming a wavering golden path over the ocean, a train of arcing dolphins in the distance cutting through it. As many times as h
e’d been in Atlantic City he’d always disregarded its wildness, this nature casually aside so much man-made furor. It was much like Dana, he figured, turning to her; this beauty amid the beasts.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, his hand on her hip.
She traced a finger down his cheek, her own flushed and dimpling, the look of a woman well-satisfied. “What, my glorious Jack?”
He smiled. “You’re wonderful.”
She rolled her eyes. “I already know that. What else?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Well established. And—”
“Smart.”
She huffed. “Tell me something I don’t know! Jeez, Jack, why don’t you just go ahead and say—”
“I’m in love with you?”
She flinched. “What?”
He kissed her. “That I’ve been in love with you for a long time now, and that I’ll probably stay that way for oh…the foreseeable future.”
“Really?” Her teeth clicked. “Well. That’s sure going to lift the sexual tension right out of this relationship.”
“Oh?” He nipped her ear and she squealed. “You think?”
“Absolutely. Especially when you take into consideration that I’m nuts, have been nuts, and will continue to be nuts about you for oh…at least the foreseeable future.”
“Yeah?”
“So as you can plainly see, with me being so in love with you as well, how can there be sexual tension when…” Her hand crept into his opened fly. “When there’s more than enough sex to go around?”
He nuzzled her neck. “You have a point there, Shields.”
“I beg to differ, Tanaka. The point,” she slid her hand over him, “is most definitely all yours.”
He growled, pulling her against him. “So, where do we go from here?”
She smiled wickedly.
He lifted a brow. “I’m speaking metaphorically.” He kissed her again. “At least momentarily.”
“Well, how about this. I say we quit.”
“The squad, you mean?”