Fierce Love

by Danielle Stewart

  “Who gives a shit?” James growled as he slammed himself into her bent over body, one hand running up her spine to bend her farther. She gave in to his touch and lowered her upper body to the bed as his hands roamed over her. “Nothing in this room is as soft as you are. All I’ve been thinking about is getting back inside you. You’re so fucking tight.”

  “I can’t close my eyes without picturing your shower,” she gasped out through a moan as he pushed her legs apart.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, grabbing the small slit on the back of her skirt and tearing it with a forceful tug. She jumped in protest, but he guided her back down. “I brought you a change of clothes. I hope that shirt isn’t anything special because those buttons don’t stand a chance.”

  Libby couldn’t reply. Words voided her brain as he slipped her panties over her thighs and down to her ankles. “Leave those heels on,” he demanded as he worked the panties off over them.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said in a husky voice as she arched her back, her body begging him to invade her, own her. “I just want you.” The click of his belt releasing and the whoosh of his pants falling to the floor filled her with desire, as though a flame had been lit too close to her, and she couldn’t move away.

  Libby filled her hands with the luxurious sheets and braced for the pleasure of his hardness filling her. But it didn’t come. In one swift motion he flipped her over, yanked the rest of her skirt off her body, and moved as promised for the buttons on her blouse. With enormous and powerful hands, he ripped her shirt open and exposed the soft silk of her bra.

  “You are so fucking incredible, Libby. Every inch of you.” Skillfully flicking the clasp, he flipped open her bra, and it sprang away from her body. His hungry mouth came crushing down on her breasts. Prickly pleasure moved through every nerve as his hand parted her legs. “You’re so wet. I need to fuck you.”

  “Fuck me,” she echoed.

  Grabbing her two legs he lifted them to his chest and crossed them at her ankles, her shiny black stilettoes resting by his cheek. Was this even a position? She cursed every boring selfish man she’d slept with before James. He pulled her ankles up an inch until her wet hot core was perfectly aligned with his stiffness. With a firm thrust he entered her, and in an instant she realized the sheer brilliance of this position. Everything about this encounter was as mind and body melting as the last, but one thing was different. In the shower the steam had created a barrier between them. His face had been buried in her neck as he thrust her to pleasure. But now his eyes were fixed on her. James was staring into her soul, willing her to come at the exact moment he did. “Libby,” he panted. “Libby.” His movements grew frantic, his muscles tightening. The faster he moved the closer to pleasure her body came. But nothing in this moment, not the pressure of him filling her or the way he tweaked and teased her peaks came close to the intensity of his eyes on her.

  “You’re everything,” he whispered before slamming his eyes shut and bringing them both to a spiraling pleasure, like water being sucked down a drain.

  James released her legs, parting them on either side of him but staying buried deep in her. Collapsing on top of her, he braced his elbows to keep from crushing her. They lay nose to nose, panting and staring as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

  “Shit,” he finally muttered, looking at her as though something had shocked him and he couldn’t recover.

  “Shit,” she parroted back, somehow knowing exactly what he meant. Shit, this is different than anything I’ve ever known. Shit, how am I ever going to let you go? Shit, I’m falling in love with you.

  CHAPTER 17

  “I have to go to Peru,” James whispered in Libby’s ear as he tucked her tight below his arm. The words didn’t have any punch to them, but she felt like a blow had hit her.

  “Okay,” she replied, swallowing hard. “For a long time?”

  “A week, maybe two. There’s a bioengineer there, and I need him here. He’s one of the best there is, and if he’s on my payroll it will be another powerful talking point for my conversation with Asher Barrington.”

  “So you’ll be gone for a little while,” she said, nodding as though it were no big deal, as though the idea of being away from him right now didn’t tear her up.

  “Yeah,” he said, rolling her over so he was looking in her eyes. For some reason his face looked completely calm, totally unaffected by this very big deal.

  “Should I be reading between the lines right now? Are you trying to make your escape?” she gulped out, as she tried desperately not to sound desperate. Futile.

  “I’m not running,” he promised, pushing her hair out of her nervous eyes. “I want you to come with me. I don’t want to go even a week without you.” Kissing her lips gently, he ran his thumb down her cheek.

  “Really?” she asked, pulling back from him so she could read his eyes. “I thought this was getting kind of heavy for you, and you might bolt.”

  “I thought so too.” He shrugged and laughed when she shot him a look. “But no signs of running yet. I want you with me.”

  “Then I’ll come,” she sang with a smile.

  “Again? Getting greedy aren’t you? How many times have you come already today?”

  “You’re awful,” she cut back with a roll of her eyes. “I want to go with you. I just need to make sure my mother is taken care of. My friend, Jessica, can pop in and see her. She’s recognizing me less and less now anyway.” Sadness fell over her face, but she shook it off quickly. There was a time and a place for that, but finding out you’d be going to Peru with a man like James deserved some unadulterated excitement.

  “It’ll give you plenty of time to research this OSHA headache too. Anytime you can work with your toes in the sand is a good day.”

  “Of course,” she assured, burrowing her face and kissing his bicep, not wanting him to read the lie that darted across her eyes.

  “That was a great lunch,” he said, pulling her hair off her neck and kissing it passionately.

  “We didn’t eat,” she countered, feeling immensely hungry now.

  “I ate,” he joked. “That second time around I ate quite a bit.”

  “You’re filthy.”

  “You’re delicious.” He leaned in and nibbled her earlobe. “You didn’t believe I could like the taste of anything more than that expensive chocolate. Now you know why I say it’s my second favorite meal. But I’ll order you something now. I can’t have you burning all those calories riding me and not replenish you.” James got up and grabbed the hotel phone, flipping through the menu he ordered what he thought she might like. She took her chance to change the subject from OSHA.

  “How’s your dad doing?” she asked, watching him freeze like a deer who’d heard a noise in the distance.

  “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “I’m just wondering. Have you been in to see him?”

  “Why?” he repeated now a more serious tone.

  “Your Aunt Marissa called me. I’ve been avoiding telling you, but she was very persistent.” The words spilled out quickly as guilt overtook her.

  Before she could muster a proper apology, James was laughing. “The woman is incorrigible. I should have known she’d get creative with her requests now.”

  “But have you seen him?” Libby pressed.

  “No. He’s not conscious. Why would I go see him if he doesn’t even know I’m there?” The good-humored smile slid off James’s face, and Libby wondered how far she should press him.

  “My mother doesn’t know I’m there most days. But I go. I’m hoping it brings her a little peace.” Her voice was small, like the shuffling steps of someone sliding on ice that might not hold their weight.

  “It’s different for him. Like I said, he’s in a coma.”

  “How do you know he can’t hear you? Have you ever been in a coma?”

  “No,” James admitted reluctantly, “I haven’t.”

  “So if you could bring
him a little comfort, if he could hear you, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

  “I know JW. He’d want this company to take priority. The best thing I can do for him is preserve his legacy and make sure West Oil has a future. I can’t do that in a hospital room, crying over his bedside. It’s not what he’d want.”

  “You took an hour to come here with me. Why can’t you take an hour to go see him?”

  “If you don’t know the answer to why I’d rather use my hour here with you, then we need to talk. You’re missing something.” The smile was back but it was forced and more of a catalyst to change the subject than anything.

  “All I’m saying is, if my father were still alive I’d give anything to just sit in the same room with him. If you decide you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” he said unemotionally.

  “Do you hate him or something?” she asked, her inquisitive eyes raking over him. A part of her wished James would profess a dark rage toward his father. Some kind of statement that said, JW was a bad man, and I’m nothing like him.

  “I don’t hate him. I just can’t for the life of me understand him. Every step of the way he and I have argued. My mother used to make us stop playing board games because they always spiraled into disastrous arguments over who deserved to win.”

  “And it didn’t get better as you got older?” She traced a finger over his smooth tanned chest and blinked up at him curiously. Her heart was holding out hope that James could draw some thick black line that would separate him and his beliefs from those of his father. Surely James wouldn’t sit in a room across from a newly widowed woman and convince her she deserved next to nothing for her loss. Right?

  “He’d tell me all the time I wasn’t cut out for this company. He was always pushing me away. The older I got the more we fought. After my mother died he bought me a plane ticket, fired me, stuffed some money in my bank account, and shipped me off to New England. He leased an apartment for me. Said goodbye and never flinched.”

  “Why would he do that?” Libby asked, feeling like she was riding up the side of a rollercoaster, charging toward the crest. The ride down would be the exhilarating truth that JW was a mean old bastard, and James hated him for everything he stood for.

  “I’ve considered a lot of possibilities. Maybe he thought I was going to push him out of the company before he was ready. Or there’s a chance my mother dying just broke his heart, and he wanted to be alone.”

  “Have you ever asked him?” Libby questioned, rolling to a sitting position and staring at him straight on.

  “You’re adorable,” he said, tapping her nose with a hint of condescension. “I’ve never asked my father a single thing related to an emotion or a feeling. It’s not what we do. We shout. We debate. But we don’t get deep and emotional.”

  “You should still go see him. Not for him, for you. If he doesn’t wake up, if this is it for him, you’ll have to carry that around with you for the rest of your life. I don’t want to see you do that.”

  “What makes you think you’ll be around to see anything for the rest of my life?” he asked, and she knew it was only to watch her squirm. To deflect and unsettle her.

  “Shut up,” she dismissed with an awkward laugh. “I know you’re already getting the itch to leave. You’re a runner. You have that skittish look in your eyes.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised with a seriousness that bordered on ferocity. “Well, I’m going to Peru. But you’re coming with me.”

  “I’ve never been there,” she said in a tiny whisper. She almost, without thinking, told him she’d never really been anywhere. She’d never left the United States before. But that was not the history she’d told him. Every time she remembered the depth of her lies, she felt her intestines twist into knots. She needed to tell him the truth. This had to end.

  But wouldn’t it be better after Peru? Wouldn’t the trip tell her whether or not there was really something between them? Something she could count on. Something deep enough to weather the truth.

  CHAPTER 18

  “How’s the pressure?” the woman asked in her heavy accent as she kneaded deeply into Libby’s tense back.

  “Amaz—,” Libby started but the word faded into a breathy intake of sheer pleasure. How had she made it her entire life without a hot stone, deep tissue massage? The past few days had been about indulgence. About self-serving pampering that she’d never experienced before in her life. Each day was punctuated with the sensual lovemaking that kept her soul buzzing. This was heaven on earth.

  “Mr. West will be in any moment to complete the massage,” the tiny-framed woman sang as she swirled her elbow under Libby’s shoulder blade.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Libby hummed, the blood draining from her brain as she enjoyed the release as stress fled her body like a losing army.

  “Here he is now,” the woman explained and, as her hands left Libby’s back, Libby moaned in protest. “Enjoy the rest of your day.” There was a hint of a knowing smile on her face as she snuck out of the bungalow. Normally Libby would be blushing with embarrassment that someone might know what she and James were about to do. But much of her modesty had been left behind on this trip. There was no point in it. She deserved passion as much as anyone else. Why be shameful about something that felt so amazing?

  Before she could lift her head off the massage table, she felt James’s warm large hands slide from the top of her butt, up her spine, and to her shoulders. Her muscles had been reduced to mush by the steady hands of the masseuse. All she could do was moan now. No words formed in her brain.

  “Are you relaxed?” he growled into her ear.

  “Yes,” she hummed in a voice she hardly recognized. “This has been the best five days of my life.” She regretted the honesty of the words the second they left her lips. She was always worried about putting pressure on James, making this feel too serious. Though her heart was swelling for him, she knew a man like James would feel like screws were tightening down on him if she came on too strong.

  “Good,” he said gently, helping her roll over onto her back. Unlike the masseuse, he didn’t bother methodically holding the blanket to cover her naked body. He did just the opposite, pulling it down and completely exposing her.

  “You think this table can hold both of us?” she asked, grabbing his hand and sliding it down to her wet and ready folds. She’d given up being coy, waiting for him to position her.

  “I don’t plan to find out,” he said, lifting her under her legs and behind her head, carrying her new-bride style out the door of the bungalow that led to the beach.

  “James,” she protested, covering her body. “I’m naked.”

  “I know,” he grinned, looking over her body. “I want to fuck you in the sun. I want to have you in the sand.”

  “But the beach . . . there could be people out here.” She considered jumping out of his arms and hustling back into the bungalow before anyone could see her.

  “There’s no one else on the beach for a mile in either direction.” James squeezed her tightly to him, still cradling her naked body in his arms effortlessly.

  “How do you know?” She made a move to cover her body, but as she looked out in either direction she could tell it looked deserted.

  “Because I just paid a lot of money to have the beach cleared,” he explained as he laid her on a blanket that was being kissed lightly by the waves. On the blanket were two glasses of wine and a plate of fresh-cut, vibrant-colored fruit.

  “You paid people to leave the beach?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “No, I paid people to leave the beach and paid a few more people to make sure none of them come back for a while.”

  “You are something else,” she said as she accepted the glass of champagne he was offering her. The sun was setting lower, but the heat of it still beat down on them. The sand below the blanket was hot, cradling her body.

  James unbuttoned his linen shirt and lay dow
n next to her.

  “No fair,” she said, gesturing at his pants. “You can’t have more clothes on than I have.”

  “I’m leaving my pants on because it’s the only thing that’s going to keep me from fucking you while I play.”

  “Play?” she asked skeptically. “What are you going to play with?”

  “I’ve always loved playing in the sand. It’s hot and soft.” He grabbed a handful of the white sand and with his other hand laid her flat on her back. Like it was pouring from an hourglass, he let the fiery sand escape his grip and pile just under her breasts. The tickling warmth ran through her body.

  “So I’m your toy?” she asked, reaching her arms out and clutching at the blanket on either side of her as he spread more sand over her body.

  James took his sand free hand and reached for the plate of fruit. A cube of luscious watermelon perched on his lips as he leaned down and kissed her with the sugary cold fruit ready for her to taste. Everything here was like a high resolution version of the things she’d experienced before. The watermelon from her supermarket in Texas wasn’t this blood red. The sand at the beaches she’d been to weren’t a bit like this cloud-colored pillow.

  “You’re going to like this game,” he assured her as he reached for another fruit, a cut strawberry this time. James ran it over her nipple, the cold fruit sending her back arching. Leaving it on her peak he leaned down and nibbled her and the fruit together.

  “You should take your pants off,” she pleaded, reaching for the button.

  “Not yet. I want to fuck you as the sun sets,” he explained. “I want this day to end while I’m inside you. I want the day and night to start and end with us together.”

  Libby opened her mouth to reply but there were no words to capture what her thudding heart was trying to explain in a frantic Morse code. As James reached for another fruit, she braced her body for more pleasure.

  “Do I get play or just be played with?” she asked, eyeing the fruit and coming up with her own ideas of what she’d do with it to tantalize and tease him.