by Elle Kennedy
Her brain registered that this was Blake in front of her, but her eyes twisted and contorted his image until all she saw was gleaming red eyes and a face veiled by shadows. She slammed her eyelids shut, clamped her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out. Panic seized her body. She shuddered violently, and then…then Blake’s hand was stroking her cheek.
“I’m not him, Sam.” His gentle voice prompted her to open her eyes. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.” She did know, and yet her muscles refused to relax.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, his gaze steadily meeting hers.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then we’ll take it slow, all right?”
She nodded wordlessly. Watched as he moved closer and stretched his long lean body next to her on the bed. He kept his pants on, but his bare chest still dominated the dimly lit room, making him appear lethal and appealing all at once. His muscles bunched and flexed at each movement, oozing with strength. And his abdomen was rippled, a six-pack so chiseled pioneer women could have washed their clothes on it. He was so unbelievably sexy, so male.
When he touched her again she didn’t flinch or shudder, just held her breath and let him caress her. His hand moved lower, grazing her neck, her collarbone, gliding over the cleavage jutting from her bra.
She shivered.
He pulled his hand away. “Too much?”
“Not enough,” she murmured.
She laced her fingers through his, brought his hand back to her chest and pressed it to one swollen breast. Her panic diminished as he slid a finger under the lacy cup and brushed it over her nipple, sending an exquisite shiver skipping across her body.
He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and her breasts spilled out. As the cool air met her skin, she shivered again, but Blake warmed her right up by lowering his mouth to kiss one pebbled nipple. She gasped as his lips brushed over the tight bud, as his tongue darted out to lick and explore.
Closing her eyes, Sam tried to focus on the delicious sensations coursing through her. Tried to lose herself in the feel of Blake’s mouth on her breasts and the teasing abrasions of his five o’clock shadow against her sensitive flesh.
And then his hand slid down her belly toward the juncture of her thighs, and she froze again.
Blake removed his hand. “Maybe we’d better stop.”
Disappointment flooded her. “No, I don’t want to stop. I just need…” Her voice drifted as she realized that she couldn’t even figure out what she needed, let alone vocalize it.
“You need to be in charge,” he said in a gentle voice.
“What?”
Without answering, Blake moved over so that he was lying on his back. He propped his arms behind his head. “I could easily have my way with you right now. I could take what I want from you, kiss you, touch you, drive myself inside you. But I won’t.”
Desire and distress mingled in her blood. The former, because the sensual image he’d just provided sent a spiral of heat to her core. And the latter, because he wasn’t going to follow through on it.
“Why not?”
He looked amused at the irritation in her voice. “Because I don’t want to take anything from you. I only want to give it. So the way I see it, if this is going to happen, you need to set the pace. Take what you want, Sam. Nothing will frighten you if you’re the one making it happen.”
A lump formed at the back of her throat. God, who was this man? How did he know exactly what she needed?
“And if I can’t go through with it?”
“Then at least you got one step closer.”
The rough quality to his voice made her pulse race. She locked her gaze to his. “Okay.”
Fingers trembling, she ran her palm over his chiseled pectorals, slowly exploring the feel of his chest. Smooth. Hard. Perfect.
She bent her head to kiss his flat nipple, her own nipples tightening as she felt it harden against her mouth. Then, feeling bold, she licked his skin, reveling in the spicy, masculine taste of him.
He flinched, but kept his hands at his sides. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn’t try to touch her, or kiss her, or push her to quicken the leisurely pace she’d set, and his restraint only heightened her desire.
She quickly unbuckled his belt. Her fingers shook again as she inched his pants down his muscular thighs, over his defined calves, his hard ankles. He wore blue boxers that hugged his thighs. Sam gulped at the sight of the bulge straining against the cotton material.
Meeting her wide eyes, Blake gave a raspy chuckle. “You’ve been doing that to me since the day I met you.”
Pleasure fluttered through her like a lazy butterfly, followed by an unfamiliar emotion that swept over her body and left shivery tingles in its wake. She was surprised to feel the growing dampness between her legs, and the need to have this man inside her was so strong that her thighs started to shake.
As ripples of impatience suddenly cascaded down to her core, she tugged at the waistband of his boxers. She peeled the fabric off him, then moaned when he sprang free. He was hot and hard and when she touched his tip with her index finger she felt the bead of moisture there.
“Blake?”
“Yes?” He looked at her with such tenderness she almost burst into tears.
“I…” I need you. “Don’t have protection.”
“I do.” He leaned over and reached for the end table next to the bed. He rummaged around in the top drawer, pulled out a foil packet and handed it to her.
She glanced down at the condom in her hand and found herself smiling. “Do FBI agents always keep these next to the bed?”
“When a model is staying at their house, yeah.”
The crooked grin on his face made her heart skip a beat. She looked at the condom again, then at Blake, and finally tore open the corner of the foil.
She rolled the latex over his arousal. Biting the inside of her cheek, she slid her panties down her legs, moved over him, and straddled his naked lower body with her thighs.
Blake lifted his hands to her hips and searched her face. “Are you sure?”
Was she sure? That terrified little part of her brain told her to say no. Ordered her to run out of the room and hide from the uncontrollable desire he elicited in her.
But her body, and her heart, wouldn’t let her. She was so ready, and all she wanted right now was to feel this man inside her. Deep, deep inside her.
She drew in an uneven breath. “I’m sure.”
Without allowing herself a moment to change her mind, she slid down and captured him in her softness. Oh, God. The delicious stretching of her body deepened the ache, and the low groan from Blake told her he enjoyed it as much as she did.
“Take your time,” he whispered.
She looked down at his rugged features—his brown eyes, firm lips and handsome jaw—and knew that taking her time was not going to be an option. She wanted him. Now.
His hands cupped her bottom as she began to ride him. It was difficult, especially when her knees wouldn’t stop shaking and her inner muscles throbbed at each slow thrust. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man, and yet something about this, about Blake, was so different from any past experience. It all felt new, tender, right.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, but she quickly blinked them open. Making love to Blake was so achingly wonderful that she didn’t want to miss a second of it.
She fell against his chest, buried her head in the hollow of his neck and inhaled the heady scent of him. He smelled so good, felt so good, and her arousal heightened to a level that made it impossible to move.
She heard him chuckle again, and before she could blink, he rolled her over and covered her body with his. They were mouth to mouth, chest to chest, naked skin clinging and sliding, hearts thudding against each other.
“Better?” he rasped.
She nodded. With eyes wide open, she watched him move slowly inside her. Suddenly the pace was all wrong. As beads of sweat dotted her forehead,
she clung to him, scraped her fingernails against the strong sinew of his back, grabbed his taut buttocks to pull him in as deep as he could go. Oh, yes. She was suddenly frantic, wanting more and more of him, and she lifted her hips off the mattress so she could feel him, all of him.
He thrust into her. Again. And again. Her need rose, climbed, soared, until her eyes finally fluttered and light flashed before her closed lids. She cried out as her climax swirled through her like a wildfire, hot smoldering flames licking every inch of her damp skin. Shards of pleasure exploded inside her, and when she heard Blake’s guttural groan, when she felt him shudder with release, another wave of sheer unadulterated bliss rocked into her.
“Samantha,” he gasped out, then crushed his mouth against hers and kissed the breath out of her lungs.
She kissed him back, arched her breasts against his big, warm chest and hungrily flicked her tongue against his.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, kissing, panting, but she didn’t care. For the first time in six months, she felt whole again, and for the moment, that’s all that mattered.
She was in that house. Screwing that man. Rubbing her infidelity in his face.
He gripped the steering wheel. Dug his nails into it and imagined that it was something else he was squeezing. Namely her neck.
He’d known the roses would lead him to her. The house in which they’d shared their first encounter was in the hands of new owners but he’d decided it was the perfect setting to make his move and find out if the reporters were right about her survival. He knew showering the lawn with flowers would catch the attention of the police, as well as his prey. She’d always loved his roses, loved them so much she’d had one tattooed below her right breast, where only the man in her bed could see it.
There was a man in her bed now. The Fed whose picture had been in the paper. The reporter claimed he’d seen the cop at the hospital with the woman, and all he’d had to do was wait for the man to lead him to his quarry. Following him had been difficult; he’d almost lost him a few times in order not to be made. But he’d been trained by the best—the United States Army. General Madsen would’ve been proud, had he been alive. But his old mentor was gone now, died for his country. A country that hadn’t even given a damn about him.
He was glad Madsen was in the grave. The general would’ve been horrified to know what he’d been through. The general would’ve spit in the faces of those incompetent asshole cops who hadn’t thought his best soldier was goddamn “stable” enough to be one of them.
Useless cops. What did they know about honor or courage or fighting for your country? Apparently, all they did was sleep around on the job.
Acid burned his throat, made his eyes water and his veins bubble with poison. The wind rocking the car only infuriated him more. He should be inside that pathetically cheerful-looking brick house, lying in that bed with her. Not sitting outside in the middle of a raging blizzard and longing to have his hands on her throat.
A faint beam of light caught his eyes. Headlights. A police car approached the house, more than likely arriving to guard the filth inside.
He moved the gearshift to Drive and steered down the snowy street. His mouth twisted in a smile. She thought she was safe, that he couldn’t touch her as long as she had her big bad cop lover to protect her.
She’d always been a very stupid woman.
He turned at the end of the road and headed toward his sanctuary. She’d be joining him here, very soon. Now that he knew where she was, he could bide his time. Wait for an opening, an opportunity to make his move.
And then he would exact his final punishment.
This time he wouldn’t fail.
Chapter 10
By the time five-thirty in the morning rolled around, Blake officially gave up on the notion of sleep. He’d been lying awake for hours, debating whether to kick himself or simply bask in the afterglow of the best sex he’d ever had, and the constant battle in his brain made drifting off into slumber impossible.
He glanced down at Sam’s sleeping face and held her warm naked body close to him, knowing it was probably time to throw the FBI-conduct handbook out the window.
He’d been an agent since he was twenty-two years old and in the ten years he’d worked for the Bureau he’d never slept with a witness. And then Samantha Dawson came into his life, and suddenly all he could think about was her silky hair and smoky-gray eyes and that centerfold body that felt too damn good pressed against his.
His chest ached at the memory of the vulnerability he’d seen in Sam’s eyes before she’d turned to show him her scar.
He hadn’t lied to her; the rose on her back didn’t disgust him, didn’t make him want to run for the hills. All it did was deepen his desire for her, and as he stared up at the ceiling now, he realized why he felt so troubled.
This wasn’t just about lust. Hell, it never had been. Yes, he was attracted to her. Yes, she brought him to a level of arousal he’d never known before. But it was more than that.
Her strength amazed him. Her determination impressed the hell out of him. And her vulnerability brought him to his knees.
He wanted to take care of her. Not because she was a witness or a victim or someone he was paid to protect. He wanted to take care of her the way a man took care of the woman he shared his bed with. Shared his life with.
He hadn’t felt this way since Kate. And yet it was different. With Kate, it had taken months for them to fall into bed with each other. Months for them to reach that level of sated comfort he now felt lying next to Sam.
“Blake?”
She stirred in his arms. With her cheeks flushed and hair tousled from sleep, she looked tired and satisfied and so beautiful he fought the urge to roll her over and make love to her again.
They’d already spent most of yesterday afternoon in bed, talking and making love for hours, getting out from under the covers only to grab a quick bite before dashing right back into bed. It almost felt wrong, having time to play and unwind while he was in the middle of a case, but Knight had made it clear he didn’t want Samantha going out in public, which meant Blake had no choice but to stay by her side. Not that he minded.
“It’s early. Go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, tangling his fingers in her hair.
“Not until you tell me why you’re lying here with a frown on your face.” She yawned, then propped up on her elbow.
The sight of her bare breasts distracted him and he couldn’t help but reach out and drag his thumb over one rosy nipple.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, swatting his hand away. “Answer the question.”
He smiled in the darkness. “What question?”
“The frown, Blake.”
Sensing that she wouldn’t let it go, his face grew serious. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You. This case.”
“Will you get in trouble for sleeping with me?”
He laughed at the little girl voice she used. “Not unless I call up my supervisor and give him a play-by-play of yesterday’s events.” His laugh caught in his throat. “I need this case to be over, Sam.”
A shadow crossed her face, and she sat up. She wrapped the blanket over her shoulders and moved into a cross-legged position, her bare knees poking out of the covers.
“It’s really taking a toll on you, chasing this guy.”
“It hasn’t been that bad,” he lied.
She gave a soft laugh. “Yeah? So explain the constant headaches. Or that knot between your shoulders that years of massage therapy probably couldn’t get out.”
“As I said, I want it to be over.”
“God, so do I.” She sighed. “I want him captured, Blake.”
Before he could reply, she tossed the blanket aside and got out of bed. Across the room, a part in the curtains allowed for a sliver of dawn light to stream inside and he couldn’t help but admire her smooth, slender body. She looked every inch the model—high, full breasts; han
d-span waist; curvy bottom and never-ending legs. His body tightened at the gorgeous sight.
She headed for the foot of the bed, grabbed the shirt he’d been wearing last night and slipped it over her head. His breath hitched. Damn, there was nothing sexier than a woman in a man’s shirt.
No, there was nothing sexier than this woman in his shirt.
“I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” she said, then disappeared into the hallway.
Blake stayed in bed and closed his eyes, wondering if he should try to force sleep. If he slept, he wouldn’t have to think about how he’d just made love to the woman he was supposed to be protecting. Wouldn’t need to combat the desire that pulsed through him at the knowledge that Sam was in his kitchen, naked under his shirt.
Unfortunately, he was wide-awake and unable to get the wicked image of Sam out of his mind.
He slid out of bed, put on his boxers and headed downstairs, where he found her leaning against the marble kitchen counter as she waited for the coffee machine to do its thing.
Her gaze immediately went to his bare chest and the small smile she shot him hit him in the gut and made his groin stiffen. He could see why so many men had bought that swimsuit edition. He would’ve bought ten years of issues just to see that smile.
He crossed the distance between them and pulled her close. Her arms tightened around him. Pressing her lips to his throat, she planted a soft kiss on his skin then buried her face in the crook of his neck. “God, that smells good,” she murmured.
“Thank you?”
“I was referring to the coffee.”
He offered a rogue grin. “Sure you were.”
She ran a hand across the nape of his neck and the little hairs there tingled from the warmth of her touch. “You know, you should smile more often. You look nice when you smile.”
“I smile,” he said defensively.
“Yeah, sure.” She snorted. “Face it, most of the time you either look like you’ve got a migraine, like you’re training to climb Everest, or like you’re playing golf.”
He lifted a brow. “So you see me as a mountain-climbing golfer?” He paused. “Why golf, by the way?”