by CC MacKenzie
His mouth curved.
Those eyes held hers, warmed, and it was as if something had sucked all the oxygen from the room. Again her heart went wild against her ribs. Too much coffee? More like too much male steroids.
"You don't have to like me. Don't worry about it, darlin’. I'll grow on you."
"What, like fungoid?"
Those eyes narrowed.
"Did you just call me a parasite?"
Well, well, who'd have thought the brawn might have a brain after all.
"So, you're a soldier?"
"I was, among other things."
She just bet she knew what other things he referred to. He was the type who went behind enemy lines. Caught a speeding bullet between his teeth. Leapt tall buildings in a single bound. A hero, maybe. But did he play by the rules? Something about the way he just stood there and watched her, patient, waiting, told her he more than likely made the rules up as he went along.
"Soldiers have a code of conduct, serve with honor. Are you an honourable man?"
"I like to think so."
"Someone who plays by the rules," she said.
"Depends on the rules," came the gravelly response along with a distinct gleam in his eye.
"Someone who's a problem solver?"
"Depends on the problem," he said. "If this interrogation is about you, I'm all in."
And so she'd dug down and found the nitty in the gritty.
He found her attractive.
Well he could fucking dream on because it wasn't gonna happen.
Not in this life.
When it came to men and sex, T.C. had two rules.
One - she had total control of the where and the when sex took place. It was on her terms or not at all.
Two - she never touched control freaks (she knew there was a double standard hiding somewhere in that thought process, but who the fuck cared?) Control freaks who took what they wanted, focused on their own need, their own pleasure, and left an empty husk behind. Call it instinct fisting in her belly, but that fist told her that soldier boy wouldn't just take more than she was capable of giving. He'd strip not only her clothes, but every single brick in the wall of emotional defences she'd carefully built over the years. He'd tear the wall down and leave nothing but her laying on her back, naked, upon a scorched earth.
And hell would freeze before she ever let that happen.
She smiled, all teeth and cold blue eyes.
"You'll never have me."
"Wanna bet?"
"I kick below the belt, soldier boy."
"So do I, darlin’."
Pulse going crazy in her neck, T.C. made a careful mental note of that little piece of information.
Sean couldn't believe he was having such a sexually charged conversation with a woman he'd just met. But then she turned her back on him - who knew a stunning ass could move like that - and tried to unravel his suddenly scrambled thoughts.
Meanwhile Theresa disappeared into what he supposed was one of two bedrooms bookending the room he stood in.
She banged the door closed.
And turned the key in the lock.
She had a temper.
A bad temper.
He could do a lot with a woman who had a bad temper.
Still feeling a little bit dazed, Sean realized he'd dropped the bottle of water on the floor when he'd grabbed her.
He picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a sip, his eyes narrowing on the bedroom door.
And reminded himself that he wasn't here to mess around with a blonde bombshell with a bad temper. He was here to keep Anastacia safe.
As he strolled down the corridor to the elevators, he thumbed through his cell, pressed a button.
"We have two of them in-situ. Everyone in place?" When he received the affirmative from Pete, his second in command, he barked the question, "Where's number three?"
"Looks like she's holed up with Pascal Wolfe."
That meant Danni Pebbles was safe.
Since details of what had happened to her were available via the usual security channels, he had a lot of background info on Danni. What had happened to the girl made his mouth go tight into a firm, hard line.
The men who had hurt her were nothing less than fucking cowards.
He just hoped Pascal Wofle took care of her.
The girl deserved a break.
Compared to plenty of information on Danni, he had next to nothing on Theresa Catliff.
Which was strange because everyone had a story, just look at Anastacia's past.
But he didn't have time to dwell on the lack of deets on T.C. She wasn't the focus of this job, he'd get to her later.
"Okay. Stay close. I want eyes on all three at all times."
This was his first big job for Nico Ferranti and Sean didn't want anything to happen to Anastacia or her friends on his watch. His cousin, Elena Kennedy, was engaged to the head of security for Ferranti Enterprises, Marc Atelier. He owed Marc for this golden opportunity, big time.
As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for ground floor, he told himself to focus purely on the task at hand. But he couldn't seem to shake the smell of the woman who'd rocked his world. It was as if her very essence had seeped into his pores. Sean was a man who understood himself, his needs, his desires. He'd been brought up by a father who'd died with honor serving his country in Iraq during the overthrow of Saddam. And he'd been blessed with a strong mother and three sisters, all of whom drove him crazy, but he loved them dearly. He liked women as a species. He liked them a lot. He wasn't looking for the one. Didn't believe in that stuff. However, he hadn't found a woman who was nearly the one either. But he was also a man who believed in the fickle nature of fate.
Who'd have thought he'd meet the woman he just knew would shape his future in an empty hotel in Paris?
The question was, would Theresa Catliff bring him happiness or heartbreak?
His mouth twitched.
Who knew?
But he was going to have a helluva time finding out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"I'm nervous."
Danni might admit to nerves, but perversely she also felt incredibly warm and safe. Beneath the sunshade they were swaying in time to slow music. For once the latent strength in a man's arms didn't worry her. She felt secure. The way she pressed herself against him to fit tight against his rock hard body felt so right. Turning her face into his shirt, she took a long inhale of the scent of Pascal Wolfe, closed her eyes and simply enjoyed a precious moment of sheer contentment. The part of her mind that was always on alert and on the lookout for trouble, whispered that it might hurt her when they made love and he entered her for the first time or she might panic again if the fear returned.
"So am I," admitted Pascal.
Danni shifted in his arms to look up into his face, saw his wonderful mouth twitch.
"Liar."
His grey eyes went so serious, she wondered if her attempted levity had annoyed him.
"I will never lie to you." The sincerity in his voice, in his face, made her relax against him. He buried his face in her hair. "You smell amazing."
"You, too," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.
"Stop thinking," he said in that master-of-the-universe tone that should have annoyed her. Instead, the tone worked its magic and her busy brain simply clicked off. She still heard the music, a low soporific saxophone, the lazy pulse of the bass, the long-drawn-out notes of piano keys. All sensible and senseless thoughts simply, stopped.
Danni didn't think anyone would call what they were doing dancing. More a clinch in a rocking embrace. He was holding her so close that she decided breathing wasn't such a big deal. Not when their hearts were battering in unison against their ribs.
He didn't seem to be complaining that her arms had a death grip around his neck. So she skimmed her fingers up until they trailed through silky hair black as night.
"Feels good," she muttered aloud.
Hi
s big body shook with laughter.
"We are a perfect fit." He dipped his head and his breath whispered against her hot cheek. "I always knew you would be right for me."
The whisper of his mouth against her flesh had her trembling in reaction.
"Sorry?" she muttered the word with no idea what she'd said or done to be sorry for.
"Together, we fit."
Now his hands molded her body from shoulder to hip and back again.
"I'm right on the tip of my toes," she whispered and wondered what the hell she was talking about.
"How tall you are has nothing to do with how well we fit in every way." Again he rubbed his cheek in her hair and inhaled. "I love how you smell, how you feel in my arms. It feels good. You feel good." Weakened by the way her heart filled to overflowing, she blinked up into his face to find her lips caught by his. Her mouth opened and he entered, his tongue sliding slow and easy against hers. A dark liquid throb low in her belly beat in time to the music. By the time he moved to stare into her eyes, she was beyond ready for the next step. "You taste amazing."
He knew there was nothing but Danni beneath the top of her dress, he was quite certain of it.
Biting off a low growl, he told himself to take it nice and easy.
But then she kissed his neck and when her tongue licked the spot, the heat in his groin scorched so bad he winced.
"I want to touch you, every single beautiful inch of you, all of you. And I want my mouth on you, everywhere. I want you to cry out my name when you climax in my mouth." He found himself stroking her hair, her back, counting her increasingly quick heartbeats going crazy against his ribs.
The shudder that ran through him, ran through her, too.
"We need to take this to bed."
The nerves in her belly did so many crazy jumps her legs went weak.
But she forced herself to shift and look up into his face.
The raw emotion in his eyes, that slashed his cheekbones, made her belly jump again.
"Okay."
When he lifted her in his strong arms, she dropped her head to his chest and closed her eyes. Everything would be okay, wouldn't it?
It had been a long time since Pascal had been nervous about making love to a woman.
A long time.
As he shouldered open the door to his bedroom, he felt the way she trembled in his arms. And knew exactly how she felt. Taking care he lay her on the bed and stepped back to simply look at her. In his bed, at last.
Her dress had slid up those smooth long, lean thighs.
Her eyes were a drowsy dark hazel in a face flushed with desire.
For him.
"Is this chemistry?" she asked.
And then she nearly killed him when she placed her arms above her head, opening herself to him in a pose that told him she'd utterly surrendered. Ignoring the buttons on his shirt, he pulled it over his head, saw her eyes go wide as they slid over his chest, down his flat belly. When his shaft jerked behind the zipper of his jeans, she licked her lips, and that was all it took.
He was out of his jeans and underwear so fast he hopped on one leg. Her soft laughter made his hands tremble as he slid protection on an erection about to go nuclear. The ache nearly made his eyes water with need.
When she held out her arms to him, he knelt and moved until she was caged beneath him, her eyes huge as she studied the evidence of his sexual desire. And then it hit him that she'd probably never seen an erect penis up close and personal. He was a man who liked to be in control in the bedroom. A man who made sure a partner's pleasure came before he took his own. For the first time in his life, he relinquished that control to a woman whose needs must come first in every conceivable way.
It cost him, but he rolled onto his back and took a couple of deep breaths.
"You are in charge. Touch me. Kiss me. Do what you want with me."
But for God's sake do it soon.
Danni pushed up to rest on her elbows and simply stared open-mouthed at him.
He wanted her to lead the way?
Seriously?
A mix of embarrassment and excitement gripped her.
Her face went radioactive as she shifted to her knees.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she whipped her dress over her head and tossed it to the floor. His eyes went black as they gazed at breasts that seemed to swell and go tight under that scorching gaze.
"Panties," he growled.
She was damp there.
And the realization he could see the evidence of her arousal through tissue thin silk that exposed everything made the room spin.
When his shaft jerked and seemed to expand, she slid out of her panties and tossed them in the general direction of her dress.
"Straddle me," he said in a voice so hoarse with need, she obeyed at once.
Her hands rested on his shoulders as his stroked her skin from shoulder to backside and back again.
"So soft, so smooth."
And when a hand slipped between her legs to find the spot and linger there, she cried his name.
"So wet, so ready. Do you touch yourself?"
She blinked through the pleasure that was winding her higher and higher.
Oh God, what was she supposed to answer to that?
The pleasure was so intense, so good, she couldn't think or even speak.
Instead, she simply nodded.
"How do you like it? Fast or slow?"
Deep dark coils of the ultimate pleasure were winding her higher and higher, so much so she couldn't think let alone speak.
"Don't stop," she begged.
His thumb pressed the spot and her orgasm hit her hard before she was ready.
As she flew apart, two fingers entered her and her body gripped them tight as if sucking them inside her.
He brought her down so slowly her forehead rested on his as she caught her breath.
"So beautiful, so responsive."
She shuddered through another wave of pleasure.
"I don't know what to do," she wailed.
He must have heard the plea in her voice, in her tone, because she found herself on her back gazing up into his flushed face.
"Will I scare you if I take you like this, or do you want to be on top?"
The genuine concern in his eyes for her, for her comfort, for her feelings and fears had her blink away the sting of tears.
"I know you won't hurt me," she said, speaking from the heart. "This isn't just about me, Pascal, it's about both of us. What happened has taken so much from me, I don't want it to take this experience, too."
His response was to kiss the breath from her body.
Who knew kisses could be so wide and varied?
The flat of his hand lay just above her pubis and now his fingers gently kneaded her womb. It was the most amazing sensation, something never experienced. It was as if her whole center relaxed into a liquid warmth that seemed to seep into her very bones. Two fingers slid into her and her pelvis tilted to help him go deep.
"So wet, so ready," he murmured.
Then he slid his hand beneath her knee and moved to hook her leg around his hip.
Eyes on hers, he shifted to slide into her.
He didn't get far.
For a second Danni panicked.
He didn't fit.
She was too small, too tight.
But then his big body trembled above her as he flexed his pelvis back and forth and all the while his hand massaged her womb, and then his thumb found her clitoris and began to circle, circle in a relentless motion that had her groan in her throat. Pleasure again uncoiled and it felt soooooo good.
"More," she moaned.
Jaw tight, eyes narrowed as he held hers, inch by slow relentless inch, he entered her.
"Take a deep breath and try to relax," he muttered between clenched teeth.
As she followed his instruction to the letter, in a swift thrust of hips he impaled her.
It didn't hurt, not really.
B
ut the shock of the move made her cry out loud.
Speaking rapid French under his breath, Pascal's muscles and tendons screamed as he held himself utterly still.
Perspiration beaded on his top lip, trickled into his eyes.
Dear God, she was so tight.
So hot, she was killing him.
He'd never felt anything like it.
Her little sobs of carnal pleasure only heightened the way her body was pulsing around him.
Strong pelvic muscles flexed and released, flexed and released in a merciless motion that had him swearing under his breath. He was never going to last. He was going to spill his seed like a randy teenager. Where the hell had his legendary control gone?
And then beneath him, she moved.
And he couldn't think at all.
At the back of his mind a voice was telling him not to rut her like a fucking animal, but he couldn't seem to help himself. The only saving grace was the fact that Danni was with him all the way. Her nails digging into his back and her screams of pleasure took the whole experience beyond sex, beyond making love. This was a primeval, even primitive, mating of a man and his woman.
His woman.
Yes, she was his.
Mine chanted the voice in time to the frantic beat of two hearts coming together as one.
Together they flew.
Together he roared her name and she screamed his as they experienced the incredibly rare pleasure of La petite mort, the little death that consumed a person during the ultimate orgasm.
He couldn't believe he was still trembling, still inside her, as he pinned her body to the mattress. He knew he was too heavy, too big, and she was probably finding it hard to breath. Since her hand was lazily stroking his ass, he reckoned she wasn't finding breathing a problem.
"I have never before experienced anything like that," he growled into her throat.
"Amazing. You were amazing."
Her voice sounded soft and sleepy and replete with sensual pleasure, and he couldn't help but smile as he pressed his mouth to the spot beneath her ear that was so sensitive, so soft.
"I am too heavy."
"Don't care."
Taking great care, he shifted until they were face to face, still joined in the most intimate way.
He knew he should withdraw from her, it wasn't safe even with a condom to linger too long inside her. Accidents happened. Before the very thought would have him moving fast to clean himself up in the bathroom didn't appeal. He wanted to stay connected to this woman for ever. Again, the thought should have him turning away, but he didn't because it felt right to stay exactly where he was.