Black Satin (LS 675)

by Donna Kauffman

  “Felicia!”

  That stopped her, but only for a second. It was clear from his twisted expression and frantic thrashing that he was reliving something horrifying. His jaw was clenched, his face a mask of agony. She knew she’d be no match for him in this state, but she had to try. She couldn’t let him do this to himself.

  He moaned again. It was an inhuman sound. Dear Lord, what was he seeing? She leaned over the bed, as close as she could without getting clobbered by one of his arms, which he flung out in irregular intervals.

  “Cole!” She shouted as loud as she could, hoping to get through to him. “It’s Kira. Wake up!”

  He kept writhing. He flipped over, the sheets binding even tighter around him. She grabbed at one and tried to untangle him from it. The white cotton mattress sheet had pulled loose and twined around his ankles. She yanked at the elastic edges until she managed to free one corner, then another. “Cole, it’s me, Kira. Wake up.” She calmly repeated the words over and over as she continued to try to free him, hoping the soothing sound would somehow help to quiet him and make it easier to shake whatever demons were controlling him.

  She grabbed at the darker sheet twisted around his thighs and middle. She paused in surprise when she realized it was made of satin. Cole groaned again and flipped over just as she yanked. He landed on his back, no longer bound.

  The satin sheet dropped to the floor. He was naked. Completely, gloriously, naked.

  He groaned again, and she felt hot shame burn her cheeks. He was still in the grip of his nightmare, and she was standing there gawking. But she didn’t know what else to do. Dump cold water on him? Just then he stilled, and she reacted instinctively. Taking advantage of his somewhat vulnerable position, she climbed on top of him, pressing heavily on his shoulders in an effort to keep him still long enough to wake him up.

  Even in her anxiety to wake him, she couldn’t ignore the feel of him. Or the impact the contact made on her. His skin was hot and damp against her palms, his deltoid muscles bunching tightly under her grip. She knew she had only seconds to get through to him before she risked being tossed across the room. She leaned close to his head, which was turning restlessly back and forth. Finally she pushed her face into the sheet next to his neck, using her head as a block to keep him still. She turned her lips next to his ear. “Cole, it’s Kira. Wake up. Please.”

  She found herself instantly sitting upright, astride his hips, looking down into eyes so dark, they were almost demonic. His grip on her arms was painfully tight, and even now, he was preventing her from touching him.

  “Cole! It’s me, Kira. You’re having a nightmare. You’ve got to wake up!” She could hear the desperation in her voice. He continued to stare at her. But he didn’t move. Or let go. She licked her lips nervously, tasting the salt from the sweat on his neck where her lips had pressed. Was he awake? Did he know who she was? “Cole?”

  It was the plaintive note in her soft voice that penetrated the violent red fog surrounding him. Cole grabbed for it like a life raft in a sea suddenly churning out of control. Even as he held on he couldn’t shake the horrific vision that continued in front of his eyes, as if it took some sort of savage pleasure in making him a helpless witness over and over again.

  “It’s Kira,” he heard her say again. But her voice wasn’t the same now. Not soothing like before. Something had scared her. He had to get to her! Save her. No. No, it was Felicia he had to save. But she’d been blown up. Along with the children she’d been trying to save. They were all dead. He knew it, because he’d seen it. Again. And again.

  The scene in front of him began to shift and blend until he became so confused he felt as if his skull would split open from trying to sort it out. He only knew he should have saved them. But there was nothing he could do. It was too late. He screamed out in frustrated anguish.

  “Cole! Wake up!”

  Images flew apart and slammed back together, but this time he controlled them. The horror vanished as he focused on the silvery eyes in front of him.

  Kira.

  Confusion crept back in. She was here. With him. In a bed. His bed. Her clothes were on. His were not. What was happening? Like sand through a sieve, these facts slowly filtered into his fractured mind. He frowned. A whole new set of problems surfaced. And he’d never been more shaky or vulnerable.

  “Kira?” His voice was barely more than a croak.

  “Thank God.” She let out a very relieved sigh, her smile at once beautiful and reassuring. She pulled lightly at his tight grip, and he released her arms immediately. Her hands hovered for a moment, as if she didn’t know quite what to do with them.

  “Put them on me.”

  She stilled. Her gaze trapped in his. “What?”

  “Your hands.” His voice was gravelly, but he pushed on, knowing it was too late to do anything else. “Put them on me, Kira. Touch me.”

  Still she sat there, frozen, staring at him as if questioning whether he was experiencing another dream.

  “Please,” he whispered.

  She choked on a sob; he could see the shiny tracks of her tears on her cheeks. Her body began to tremble as she slowly lowered her hands to his bare chest. He sucked in his breath as she let them skate lightly over him, leaning over to touch his face. His breath came out on a low groan when the soft fabric of her shorts rubbed against him.

  She shuddered in response, her thighs and knees tightening against his sides as her body sought comfort.

  The instant her fingers touched his lips, he surged into a raging erection. He clutched the sheets in order to keep from bucking against her, knowing if her muscles contracted against him, it would be over.

  He kissed her fingertips, and she began to cry freely. She ran her fingers over the contours of his face. His eyes; cheeks; the thin scar on his forehead. Her touch was exquisite in its ability to heal as powerfully as it excited. Her stomach was pressed against his ribs now, her breasts brushing his chest, making his nipples harden almost painfully. “Put your mouth on me.”

  Her gaze shot to his. He almost pulled her into his arms then. The look in her eyes was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He tightened further at the desire and excitement, felt blessed by the caring and concern. But there was something else, some inner light that fused the fractured gems into shining diamonds until they sparkled so brightly, he knew he’d die if she took it away.

  “I want to,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted to for a long time. Needed to. I … it’s just … I can’t seem to stop shaking.”

  “May I hold you?”

  She didn’t seem surprised by the request. He sensed she knew what he was really asking. He had given her the right to touch him. But he wouldn’t touch her unless she did the same.

  “Please.”

  He groaned, unable not to as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest. When she stretched out her legs along his, he rolled over, pulling her under him until she was tucked in the crook of his arm. He lifted his hand to touch her hair. “So beautiful.”

  Her lips parted, and he found it near impossible to resist the invitation. But there would be no hurrying this. He wanted each moment to stand apart from every other one. To carve every detail into his mind, to have something precious and good in his heart to go along with all the darkness and decay.

  He traced her cheekbone, her lips, then her shoulder. Their eyes remained locked. His need to cherish fought with the need to be cherished. But she was here, beneath him. And it was a damn good start.

  She slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers were clumsy, but he let her do it alone, unable to move as he watched her. Light cotton gave way to pink silk. His fingers twitched against her shoulder, but otherwise he kept still. He throbbed against her thigh as she snapped the front clasp open. Well, most of him kept still.

  Her breasts were perfection, softly rounded and as sun-kissed as the rest of her. He ached to take the dusky coral tips into his mouth. She didn’t give him the chan
ce.

  Looking up at him, she deliberately put her palms on his chest and pushed gently. Her nails pressed against his flesh at his intake of breath. She kept pushing until he was on his back, and she leaned over him, flipping her hair over her shoulder so she could still look at his face.

  Cole’s breath lodged in his throat as she slowly let her eyes sweep down the length of his body. Her hands followed slowly, torturously.

  “You’re going to kill me, you know?”

  The smile she turned on him was positively wicked. And as quickly as that, he felt the mood change. The tension hadn’t diminished, had in fact been knocked up a giant notch. But it was as if they’d silently agreed to let go of all the questions and concerns that had led them to this point. For now they would simply revel in the wonder of discovering each other.

  A slow grin curved his lips. He even began to chuckle when she shook her hair out in a dramatic flair while flinging her shirt off. His laugh ended on a choke as she slid her hands around him and began to stroke. “Dear Lord,” he murmured, “there is a heaven.”

  She bent over, her lips poised just above him. “I hope so,” she whispered. “You’ve seen enough of hell.”

  Before he could answer, she took him in her mouth. Any vestiges of the ghoulish nightmare he’d relived again and again over the past week evaporated in the hot wetness of her mouth. He took as much as he could, but by now he knew that this night could end only one way. If he was going to climax, then she would be right there with him.

  “Kira.” She didn’t stop. He touched her hair. “Kira.”

  She finally released him, but he couldn’t stop the sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. She smiled.

  “What?” She shifted her weight so she knelt beside him. Her hands never stopped touching him. She caressed, teased, even tickled.

  He let her explore, let her strip away every barrier, reveling shamelessly in every second of it. When he thought he’d die from sensory overload, he said, “Take off your shorts.”

  She’d been massaging his calves, and his question apparently caught her off guard. She looked up at him for a moment, then said, “No.”

  Now she’d caught him off guard, but before he had time to recoup, she climbed on top of him and scooted up until the fly of her shorts was barely inches from his chin.

  “You do it.”

  “Always the risk taker,” he said with a lazy smile that barely curved his lips.

  Kira trembled at the wicked gleam that entered his eyes. He gripped her hips, and suddenly she was on her back, and he was astride her thighs. His fingers were hot against the sensitive skin below her navel as he slid the button free and dragged the zipper down. He moved backward down the bed, pulling her shorts and bikinis off as he went.

  Upright on his knees, he stared down at her, his grin now as deliciously wicked as the look in his eyes. He flung her shorts aside in the same dramatic fashion she’d discarded her shirt earlier. He was boldly magnificent; his skin, the same golden color everywhere, still glistened from his nocturnal battle. She’d dreamed so often of finally touching him that she was a bit awestruck at how far the reality had surpassed the fantasy.

  It seemed as if she’d wanted him like this forever. Open and ready. Wanting her and willing to finally do something about it.

  He bent and pressed the tip of his tongue on the inside of her calf. She arched instinctively, and he groaned in approval. “Grab the sheets, Kira,” he murmured against the inside of her knee. “Hold on.”

  She was already clutching them. His tongue traced a slow, erotic path up along her thigh. “Cole, please.”

  He switched to light, teasing kisses. “Don’t you believe in fair play?” He lifted his head slightly, looking straight at her as he added, “Sweet lips.”

  His tongue dipped into the curve between her legs, and she moaned. “Ohhh, yes.” He continued his sweet assault until she was writhing against him. “Cole.” Her voice was ragged, insistent.

  He slid her legs from his shoulders and moved up between her thighs. “I will, sweetheart. But first I have to taste these.”

  He lowered his head and laved first one beaded nipple, then the other. It was exquisite. It was torture.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips and pressed upward. He responded by pushing partly into her. When he stopped, she groaned loudly.

  “I know, baby. But we can’t—” He broke off as her muscles began to clench. “I have to …” His jaw twitched. “Protection,” he managed to say through gritted teeth.

  “The pill,” she responded on a gasp, finally understanding. “It’s okay.”

  “Thank God,” he responded, and pushed fully into her.

  Kira cried out in pleasure, her hands tight on his shoulders. They’d waited too long, pushed it too far to go slowly. Cole moved deeply inside of her. Her heels dug hard into his back as she matched him thrust for thrust. She buried her face in the center of his chest and moaned as he thrust harder, faster.

  “Cole, Cole …” Her voice was ragged.

  “Yeah, baby, I’m right here. Oh, Lord—” He broke off, groaning, as her nails scored his back.

  Speech became impossible after that. The pace intensified until it became frenzied. Cole grunted and growled as he pushed into her. Over and over. He was primal, powerful. His scent, his sounds, his motions, drove her wild. He reduced her to her most basic need. And her need was him. All of him.

  Pleasure coiled so tightly inside her, she felt spring-loaded. Peaking would be a violent whiplash of a ride she wasn’t sure she could survive. She didn’t care. She couldn’t wait. But he kept on, harder and harder. Faster and faster. And she stayed with him. Civility was a pretense long forgotten. Wild and untamed, they were both fighting for breath. Fighting to get closer. Deeper.

  And when he reached the very core, pushed beyond the point she could contain him, they both screamed in their release.

  Kira clutched him as tightly as he held her, not letting go for the long minutes it took for the near-violent convulsions to slow to an erratic shuddering of muscles long spent.

  When Cole could think straight, he rolled to his side and pulled her against him, her face against his throat, his buried in her hair. He lifted a trembling hand to push aside the damp strands clinging to her cheek. The curve of her neck was tantalizing, yet so slender and fragile. To look at her slim body, he could barely believe her capable of the near-animalistic mating that had just taken place.

  “You okay?” he whispered when he could.

  She tilted her head back to look at him, eyes shining, her lashes wet. “Oh yeah,” she whispered back. “The very best I’ve ever been.”

  He grinned at her heartfelt answer. “You can say that again.” She grinned back, but he could see the questions behind the smile. His stomach tightened. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He just wanted a few more hours. With her. Like this. “In the morning, Kira,” he said softly.

  She started to speak, but he pressed a finger against her lips, suddenly desperate to keep her here and not much caring how he did it. “Sleep with me. Keep the dreams away.”

  Her eyes softened, and she nestled almost instinctively against him, tugging his body around hers while wrapping herself around him. He should have felt like a bastard for playing on her need to care and nurture. But he didn’t.

  Probably because he’d meant every word.

  He reached behind him to the floor for the sheet and drew it over them. She sighed as the slick material caressed her skin.

  “Cole?” Her voice was sleepy soft.

  He knew just how she felt. He tightened his hold on her. “Mmmm?”

  She yawned. “White cotton and black satin?”

  He understood. Unfortunately he wasn’t about to explain. So he told her what he could. “I did some work for an emir once. He loved the stuff, had it everywhere. I sort of got used to it. Satin feels good, helps me sleep. But it’s too slippery to lie on.”

  “Oh.”

  She didn�
��t say anything after that, and eventually he felt her muscles relax as she drifted off into sleep.

  Resting his head on hers, he shoved aside the rest of that story, especially the part about the emir having been one of the biggest dope dealers in the Middle East. Instead, he thought about what had just happened between them.

  But the ramifications of their actions were just as overwhelming, especially with the damp night air intoxicating him with the scent of her mingled with the scent of him. His body tightened, and he lay back slightly, folded her more closely against him. Twining his ankle around hers, he pulled her leg between his thighs. He stared down at her sleeping form. What was he going to do about her?

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed his lips against her hair. “And what are you going to do about me?”

  Kira could have sworn it was crickets singing that woke her up. She forced her eyes open, but Cole had pulled the shutters over the windows earlier that morning, and the room was still cast in dark shadows. She smiled sleepily and flopped back on the pillows, forgetting about the crickets as she recalled how easily he’d persuaded her to pretend it wasn’t morning yet. In fact, he’d successfully used that same argument twice. She was alone now, though, and she missed him.

  “Cole?” No answer. She wasn’t alarmed; he didn’t feel gone. Not bothering to analyze that highly scientific response, she sat up, stretched, and pulled the sheet around her. He was right; satin did feel wonderful. And decadent. Sort of like its owner. She grinned and called to him again, a bit louder this time. Still no answer. “Okay,” she muttered to herself, not really annoyed. She swung her legs over the bed and stood. Not finding anything immediately visible to wear—Lord knew where her clothes had ended up—she simply wrapped the satin sheet around her, toga style, and shuffled to the door.

  She found him sitting at the bar. His back was to her. She was about to speak when she noticed what he held in his hand. Damn.

  He pivoted in the chair until he faced her. She took her time before looking at his face. He was bare-chested, wearing only a faded pair of black gym shorts.