Storming His Heart (Westlake Enterprises Book 2)

by Marie Harte

  Rafe glanced up at her face with a concentrated hunger. “Like I said, I’m no doctor. But I really think you need to be looked at.” He shoved her shirt up, exposing her from the waist down. She’d completely shaved for her date with Hank, on the off chance she got lucky. She couldn’t have imagined Rafe Savage’s indrawn breath would be her reward.

  He eased his fingers along her folds, spreading her arousal over her responsive flesh.

  “Does it ache?” he rumbled in a low voice.

  Hell yes. She closed her eyes, unable to answer.

  Then his finger found the heat of her. He pushed inside, knuckle-deep.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Damn, that’s hot,” he breathed and pulled his finger out, only to push it back in again. “You have to be really hurting here, hmm, Storm?”

  She needed to tell him to stop, to demand this man that she didn’t know leave the house and never look back. But everything inside her told her that this was the man she’d been waiting for. Never before had she lost control from a man’s touch or been so ready to have sex.

  He rubbed her clit with more and more pressure, manipulating her body as if he owned it. The ease with which he mastered her responses bothered her on a distant level. But she couldn’t think past the need to come hard all over him.

  “This is insane,” he said, his voice thick. She opened her eyes to see him gazing between her legs. “Fuck me,” he swore then removed his hand and covered her clit with his mouth.

  She cried out and clenched his thick hair, holding on as desire burst through her in a torrential wave.

  Rafe sucked and nipped, licking her like a starving man. He shoved one finger inside her pussy, then added another, thrusting them in a rhythmic pace that had her battling her climax all too soon.

  “That’s it, baby. Come all over me. Let me eat it up,” he growled and resumed his course.

  He drew harder on her clit and pushed deeper into her, sliding against a sweet spot that sparked stars behind her lids. She arched closer to his mouth and pumped her hips, needing what only Rafe could give her.

  “Yes, yes,” she gasped as she came hard.

  He devoured her response, licking and stroking with a tongue that wouldn’t quit. When the sensations became too much for her to bear, he eased off and planted kisses along her thighs.

  Storm opened her eyes, sated, confused and helplessly caught in the rich brown gaze staring back at her with what looked like possession. “I, that, I—” She had no words to express the bewildered joy infusing her tired mind and body.

  Rafe wiped his mouth and sucked the fingers that had been inside her, a gesture that had her licking her lips, wanting to know how he tasted. He stood and she unconsciously sought the erection straining his jeans.

  In a thick voice, he said, “I’m going to make us some coffee. We need to talk.” He turned and walked stiffly from the room. She heard the hall bathroom door shut, then silence.

  Storm didn’t know what to think and lay back on the bed in a daze. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she heard Rafe exit the bathroom. The sounds of the kitchen cabinets opening and closing penetrated while she stared blindly at the doorway, her legs wide open, her sex wetter than wet.

  Embarrassed she could barely remember her own name, she rose from the bed, grabbed a change of clothes and limped to her adjoined bathroom to clean up. She emerged fresh but no less embarrassed in loose-fitting sweatpants and a T-shirt.

  Rafe stood in her kitchen sipping a cup of coffee. He said nothing, but his eyes darkened as he watched her near. When she reached him, he pushed a cup her way.

  Baffled by what to say, and more, what to think, she went through the mundane process of fixing her coffee. She poured a cup and stepped toward the refrigerator when he shook his head.

  “I’ll get it. Cream? Sugar?”

  “Yeah. Sugar’s in the—”

  “Top cabinet. Go sit down. I’ll join you.”

  Both annoyed at his arrogance yet glad of it, she huffed and left the kitchen for her dining table in the open living area. At least now she felt the same aggravation she normally felt for anything or anyone connected with Westlake Enterprises. For a minute there, she’d confused incredible sex with affection.

  He joined her at the table with a tray carrying their drinks, cream and sugar.

  She frowned. “Where’d you find that?” She nodded at the tray, which had been missing for weeks.

  “Next to the fridge. Drink up.” He downed his coffee like a thirsting man, and she had the distinct notion he wished it was something a lot stronger.

  She fixed her coffee the way she liked it and took a sip, then ran a hand through her hair. It didn’t escape her notice that he followed the movement with intensity. She wondered if he imagined running his own hands through it.

  Storm stopped that train of thought and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” And why don’t I want you to leave?

  Rafe downed more coffee and forced himself to stop looking at her mouth. When he’d jerked off in the bathroom, he hadn’t been able to think of anything sexier than Storm Buchanan on her knees, sucking him off. He had the respite his body demanded, but a glance at those lips took him right back to his fantasies. Not good. Ignoring the return of his hard-on, he focused on the matter at hand—his insane urge to make sure she was okay.

  “As to what I’m doing here,” he said matter-of-factly, projecting an air of cool professionalism that had otherwise been absent. Yeah, going down on the woman is real professional. Way to make Westlake look like a topnotch organization. Christ, he was turning into J.D.

  The wariness that had been in her eyes before returned, and he knew his time was growing short. “I came across some information that hinted you might be in trouble. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  She didn’t blink, and the steely determination in her light gray eyes reminded him, surprisingly, of himself. “How the hell can you know I was in trouble? It just happened and I didn’t report it to anyone.”

  “I didn’t try to run you down, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t think you had. So how did you find out about it?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Can you at least tell me who tried to hit me?”

  “I’m not sure. Might have been a drunk driver, but I don’t think so.” He frowned, remembering the rest of what he’d envisioned. “Who was the blond guy?”

  “Oh, Hank? He was my date,” she said absently, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

  “Some date. He left you all alone with that leg?”

  Storm scowled. “He doesn’t know anything about it.”

  “Oh?”

  She blushed but her scowl remained. “Look, Savage, Hank isn’t a part of this. He’s just a regular guy. I didn’t want him involved, so he’s not. He knows nothing.”

  “How is that?”

  “Quit playing. You’re the one who thought a blindfold would be more useful on me than a gag. You know I can work with weak minds.” She paused, then amended, “Not weak, just, not strongly fortified. Shielded, you know what I mean.”

  “So Hank has a weak mind, eh? Not a great date?”

  “Well...no,” she grumbled. “The truth is the hit and run was the most exciting part of my night.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” He forced himself not to smile in satisfaction. Again, his gaze fell to her sweet mouth and lingered.

  “Er, well then.”

  He didn’t speak, wondering what she’d do if he kissed her.

  “I, um, I’m sure one of my brothers will show up this morning, uninvited. So unless you want to hang around and explain to them why you’re here, I’d suggest you go.”

  Rafe tore his gaze from her mouth. He knew she was okay, mostly. So why the hell was he so reluctant to leave? “Your brothers. Luc and Thorne. Tell ’em I said hi.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s like waving a cat under a pair of Pit Bulls.”

 
; He grinned and stood. Instead of walking to the door and leaving, as he’d intended, he rounded to her side.

  “What—”

  He bent and kissed her before he could stop himself. So sweet. So sexy. Her lips felt soft yet firm under his mouth. He broke off the kiss before he forgot himself and hauled her back into her bedroom for round two.

  “Time for me to go, Storm. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He left before he did anything else stupid, like make love to her until she couldn’t walk.

  Storm hobbled to her feet to watch him walk to his car and leave. She closed the front door, still not sure what the hell had happened to her this morning. An orgasm before nine from a man she kept running into on Buchanan business. And that wasn’t counting their play the other night, which had devolved from competitive to sexual in the blink of an eye. From not dating to mind-blowing pleasure. Her life couldn’t possibly be this bizarre. She glanced at the cup of coffee sitting next to hers on the table. The cup confirmed it. Rafe Savage was not a figment of her imagination.

  Storm spent the remainder of the weekend wondering about him. She couldn’t get Rafe out of her mind. What he’d done to her still made little sense. When had she ever been so bowled over by passion that she’d partaken in casual sex? Hell, the man had touched her intimately, made her climax and left before he experienced the same. What did that mean? And why should she care that he’d left unfulfilled?

  She could kick herself for wasting a golden opportunity. The entire time he’d been at her house she’d been too shocked by his presence to test her psychic skills against him. She’d have to try to control him at their next meeting, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt there’d be one.

  By Monday morning, her leg felt much better. She’d babied it by taking several deep, soaking baths to relieve the pain. She didn’t yet feel ready for a run, but she planned to work out later in the week. Not wanting her brothers getting wind of anything that had happened and turning overprotective, she’d practiced walking with a slow, even gait until she felt sure she could pretend all was well.

  Though the pair believed in her ability to hold her own at work, at heart they still treated her like their little sister and were ready to beat up any man they didn’t deem worthy of her affections.

  She didn’t want to worry them with the hit and run. Still, as she drove to work, she wondered who could have been behind the wheel of that car. No one she knew of had a problem with her. Miles Locklen had no idea she’d been involved in stealing back his aunt’s jewelry, and she hadn’t been directly involved in her other cases. So none of the criminals they’d put away should have a beef with her. She chalked up her hit and run to a freak accident, but she decided to meet with Rafe again just to make sure he hadn’t learned anything else of interest. Yeah, that’s the only reason I need to see him again—business.

  Trying to concentrate on her job, Storm parked and left her car. She nodded to the watchman in the lobby. They chatted for a moment before she stepped into the elevator and headed to her uncle’s floor. Normal, everyday activities that didn’t involve Rafe Savage in the slightest.

  When she entered Max’s office, he glanced up and smiled. “What did you do this weekend?” His smile faded into a frown. “You don’t look all that relaxed to me.”

  The first to arrive, she found herself on the hot seat. Max absorbed details like a sponge. She had no doubt he’d seen the shadows under her eyes that makeup failed to hide. She shored up her mental shields and told him the story she’d practiced all weekend.

  “Why Uncle Max, I’m surprised at you. You told us to have a good time this weekend. That doesn’t mean we should sleep the weekend away.” She described her date with Hank, intentionally avoiding discussion of her leg and Rafe Savage.

  “Poor Hank. Another one bites the dust, eh, Storm?”

  She shrugged. “I tried. I guess Hank and I just aren’t in the cards.”

  “Too bad.” He paused. “So, what do you think of Savage?”

  She blinked. “Rafe? Why do you ask?”

  Her uncle’s gaze burned. “Rafe, hmm?”

  Shit. Obviously, Max knew more than he was saying. But she couldn’t see Rafe telling her uncle all they’d shared. Before Max could answer, her brothers entered the office. She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to see the pair.

  “We’ll talk about this again later,” Max promised. He launched into details concerning the Raeford Hotel job. Storm listened with half an ear, because every time her uncle said Raeford she heard Rafe and saw dark brown eyes staring up at her like he wanted to devour her.

  She needed to talk to Rafe again. About the mishap, she reminded herself. No more kissing or touching or climaxing.

  Just the thought made her blush.

  “Pay attention.” Thorne elbowed her. “What’s on your mind? Hank?”

  “Sorry. Long weekend.” She managed a half-hearted grin.

  Luc and her uncle ignored her and discussed the hotel job. Thorne wore a thoughtful expression as he nodded at something their uncle said while keeping his eyes on her.

  She’d give Rafe until this afternoon. Then they would talk about what exactly had happened this weekend. If the man could distract her enough to make her think about him at work, Storm had a problem. In the meantime, she’d do a little digging of her own into her hit and run, just to be safe.

  Chapter Four

  By six o’clock Monday morning, Rafe turned the last corner of his run. He typically set out in the dark of early morning but varied his course, not wanting to be so predictable. Predictability made one vulnerable, and Rafe had learned his lesson the hard way. Today he’d driven to Emmet Park for a three-mile river run, a scenic route through the historic district and along the Savannah River.

  He’d passed a few other early risers around town, but this early in the morning, not much stirred in Old Savannah except the Spanish moss swaying on the southern live oaks that dotted the park. He picked up his pace and had just reached his end point when he felt a prickle of unease.

  A tree branch right in front of him snapped and fell to the ground. Instinctively, Rafe dropped and rolled behind a mammoth oak as the muted sound of bullets struck the trunk of the tree. He scanned the area but saw nothing out of the ordinary. He liked to run through the park because of its scenic view. Now that scenic view hid a shooter.

  He reached for the gun tucked against the small of his back. He never went anywhere without it, and he was especially grateful for that fact now. He tossed a rock away from him and darted in the opposite direction. The shooter fired at his distraction, and Rafe returned fire into a copse of large bushes before finding cover.

  Nothing moved. Silence filled the air before the sound of birds could be heard overhead once more.

  After some time, Rafe crept out from behind the tree and used the surrounding oaks and cedars for cover. Nothing stirred except for a few squirrels. The bastard had vanished.

  Swearing, Rafe swept the area and found several casings but nothing more. He studied the area the gunman had been occupying, noting the impact and shoe marks on the ground.

  “Helluva way to start the week.” He rubbed the back of his head in frustration and jogged to his car, where he’d left his cell phone. He called in the incident and returned to the scene. Things were certainly getting interesting.

  A few hours later at Westlake Enterprises, Rafe checked with the logistics coordinator on a recent case. He was just leaving when he ran into J.D.

  J.D. gave him an odd look. “Come with me and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

  “The coffee in the break room is free, dumbass.”

  “Why do you think I’m offering to buy?” J.D. smirked.

  As they walked together to the break room, J.D. nodded back the way they’d come. “So, what’s with you and Jennifer? Woman eyes you like a hungry bone.”

  “Not my problem. I don’t date coworkers.”

  “She’s not exactly a coworker.” J.D.’s amusement glowed in
his bright blue eyes. “Woman like that could keep you happy all night long.”

  Rafe considered the pretty brunette, but his tastes ran more to feisty, black-haired schemers with mesmerizing gray eyes. “Not my type.”

  J.D. chuckled. “You know, if I was to make a guess, I’d say your type runs to a hot, leggy goddess who resides on Maple. You still owe me for getting you that address.”

  Rafe grimaced. “Enjoy your coffee and consider us even.” He paused. “You didn’t mention my request to anyone, did you? I mean, I was a little groggy that night and I wouldn’t want Jurek getting the wrong impression.”

  “He won’t, not if you tell me what’s going on.”

  “That’s blackmail.” Rafe sat, irritated and amused, while his large blond friend left to find them two coffees.

  J.D. returned and handed him a cup. “Well? I’m waiting to hear all about it.”

  “You tell this to anyone and I’ll gut you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Now tell me what the hell this is all about. Curiosity has been killing me. Hey, it wasn’t Storm who shot at you this morning, was it?”

  “Don’t be an ass.” Rafe frowned. Two near brushes with death, two different incidents, two different people. But he could feel the dots connecting. “Friday night I had a vision. It woke me out of a sound sleep.”

  J.D. puzzled over that. “I thought you controlled them. Didn’t know they took over.”

  “They normally don’t. That’s why the whole thing was unusual. I saw Storm Buchanan and some guy nearly being hit by a car. That’s why I needed her address. I wanted to make sure she was okay. That and I wanted to see if I’d just had a weird dream or if it actually had to do with something real.”

  “Was she okay?” J.D. asked, concerned. Since J.D. had worked on the case with Buchanan Investigations the year prior, he’d developed a friendly relationship with some of Buchanan’s people.

  Rafe wondered how well his friend knew Storm, and why the thought of J.D. anywhere near the woman bothered him. “Storm is fine.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  Rafe scowled at J.D.’s leer. “She’s pushy, sarcastic and bossy. I doubt anything closes that smart mouth of hers.” Another image of his cock and her lips hit him. He gritted his teeth and ignored it. “Unfortunately, Storm had a huge bruise, courtesy of an out of control black sedan. The blond guy was apparently a lame date.”