by Julia Harper
“Hardly knew?” His head reared back.
Zoey winced. Poor choice of words. “I thought we were over all this. You seemed to understand my reasons just this afternoon.”
“Yeah, but then apparently I’m nearly a stranger to you.”
Zoey inhaled slowly. Someone had to keep their temper in this discussion. “I didn’t know you when I got into your car. That’s what I meant. Now—”
“Now you think you know me?”
“I-I don’t . . .” She took a breath. “Yes. Yes, I know you.”
He actually laughed, and it sure wasn’t a sweet little chuckle. This was more in the line of an evil cackle. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I—”
He ripped his sweatshirt off over his head.
For a moment Zoey was stunned by his bare chest. He was muscled, his skin smooth and dark, with only a thin patch of black, curling hair between his pectorals. She was nearly overcome by an urge to lean forward and lick a dark, tight nipple. Her eyes snapped up, shocked.
Just in time to see him shove his face into hers. “You lie to me, you don’t trust me, and now you’re parading around in a towel like I’m some sort of neutered—”
“I told you, I didn’t want to get my shirt wet. And it’s not as if I’m acting like a slut—”
“No, you’re acting like a woman who wants to be fucked.”
“Oh!” She narrowed her eyes to slits. “That is so typical of a guy—”
He snorted.
“Like I’d be coming on to you in the middle of a goddamned blizzard!”
“If you’re not coming on to me in a goddamned blizzard, then why’re you prancing around half-naked?”
“I’m not prancing around,” she ground out, “and I’m not half-naked, and for future reference, if I were going to come on to you, I’d be a whole lot more obvious.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
“And what’s more obvious than this?” He hooked his finger in the top of her towel and flicked it contemptuously.
“This!” And she flung the towel to the floor.
His eyes dropped to her naked breasts.
Her nipples tightened in the cold air. Wait. Okay, maybe her last action was just a little hasty. Zoey started to raise her arms to cover herself, but he caught her wrists.
“Don’t.”
Suddenly the cabin was very, very quiet. She could hear the fire snap, she could hear the wind blowing outside, she could hear Pete’s gentle breathing.
And none of it mattered.
At the moment the only thing that mattered in the entire world was Dante’s dark eyes, drinking in the sight of her naked breasts.
“Dante,” she whispered.
He didn’t look up. “You have the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen. It’s almost incandescent.”
“I don’t—”
His eyes flicked to hers, and she saw that his expression hadn’t softened. If anything it had become harder, more intent. He looked like a predator sighting prey.
“Hush,” he said low. “You set the rules, you made the move. You can’t back away now.”
She hadn’t known she was making rules, at least not consciously. How had she gotten here? She wasn’t sure she was ready for this. If they could just slow down . . .
She opened her mouth to say just that, but he murmured, “Hush,” again.
And then he lowered his head to her breast.
She gasped. He tongued her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, shockingly hot after the chill of the cabin air. Oh, God. Maybe she should just stop thinking altogether. He sucked strongly on her nipple, and if he hadn’t been holding her by her wrists still, she might’ve staggered. The shock streaked right down her belly, almost painful in its intensity, to land at her most vulnerable point. She contracted internally, nearly groaning.
And then he licked across her chest to her other breast and she did groan aloud. His tongue was so hot, his fingers so hard. He took that nipple into his mouth and sucked again, and she felt herself melt at her center.
He pulled away to stare at her and she looked down. Her nipples stood out, red and shining with his saliva, and the sight was incredibly sexy.
Incredibly erotic.
Dante obviously thought so, too. “You’re beautiful,” he said, and his voice was a deep growl, so removed from his usually cultured tones that it was shocking. “Lie down on the sleeping bag.”
She blinked and sat, feeling dazed. This was surreal—it couldn’t be happening.
He stood over her and toed off his shoes, stripped off his socks, and hooked his thumbs into the sweatpants he wore to skim them down over his hips. He straightened and looked at her. He hadn’t worn the tighty-whities she’d gotten him at the Kmart so long ago, it seemed. He was naked under the sweatpants, and his cock was red and erect and obviously meant for her. She stared, taking in the elegant, narrow line of hair that arrowed down from his navel, his black, curling pubic hair, and his penis, long and hard, glistening just a bit at the blunt head. She swallowed and didn’t know if she was breathing anymore.
“Take off the long johns.”
He waited, poised, until she obeyed, then he bent and reached for the pocket of his trench coat.
Zoey watched, terribly conscious that she lay before him naked. Her skin felt oversensitive, like she was newborn, without defenses or shell. He ripped open the condom packet he’d taken from his pocket and unrolled it over his penis. She felt her eyelids drift lower as she watched him handle himself, felt the moisture between her legs. She shifted, deliberately opening her thighs, posing for him.
He looked up and said almost casually, “I may not be able to last long the first time. But I’ll make sure you come.”
She swallowed. She’d never heard a man so self-assured, so certain that he could give her an orgasm. In any other circumstances she might laugh at his arrogance, but right now . . . Right now she believed him.
He knelt between her legs and looked at her without touching. His gaze moved from her knees, up over thighs, to her center. She knew she was wet with moisture for him. His gaze lingered there and his nostrils flared before he continued up over her belly to her breasts and then her face.
“Open your legs more.”
She swallowed. Without clothes, he could’ve been from a different time, a different place. His face was dark, his cheeks flushed high up under his eyes. His arms had beautiful biceps, his shoulders broad and delineated with lean muscle. His thighs were covered in curling black hair, and where they touched her thighs, the contrast in their skin tones was stark.
She looked at his face again and his eyes held hers, demanding, almost desperate. It was this last that made her spread her legs apart further, until the tendons in her thighs ached. He might be the conqueror, the one issuing orders, but her very submission compelled him. She was just as much in control as he.
He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the sleeping bag near her shoulder. With the other he held his cock, and she felt it nudge against her slippery folds. His eyes looked into hers, and he thrust. Deeply. Strongly. Completely into her. His pubic bone settled against hers and he filled her to the brim.
She gasped. It was so intimate, so real, and so sudden. He hadn’t wasted time on preliminaries, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared. At least mentally. Physically she was more than ready.
He watched her face as he shifted, settling his hips more fully on hers. Both of his forearms were braced on either side of her now, his upper body held barely off of hers.
He raised his eyebrows, his face entirely serious, maybe a little cruel, and he unconsciously repeated her thoughts. “Ready?”
She gulped and ran her fingertips along his ribs, wrapped her legs around his hips. “Yes.”
He nodded, his teeth gritted, no longer capable of speech, it seemed.
And then he hammered into her. His body moved fast, his cock sliding in and out in a desperate pace, and she gasped. H
olding on, trying to keep up, unable to control the sensations washing over her body. His hips thrust against hers, hitting her hard, giving her no time to assimilate the feeling.
“Dante,” she gasped.
He hung over her like a dark god, his eyes intense, his mouth grim. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, and he grunted on each thrust, his breath fast and hard as he labored.
“Dante.” She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t restrain herself. It was too late. Everything was out of control.
So she set herself free. She hitched one leg up over his hip, almost to the small of his back, and made herself completely open to him.
Completely vulnerable.
His pubis rubbed roughly against her clitoris with each thrust, his penis invading and withdrawing again and again, until she no longer thought, no longer felt, she only flew. Higher, higher, until warmth spread from within her, growing in a cumulus cloud of pleasure, widening, overcoming, consuming everything in its path.
“Dante!” she cried, and somewhere close she heard his breathing catch.
She opened her eyes and watched as he shook, his head flinging back, his eyes blind.
And he came within her.
Chapter Fifty-three
Saturday, 7:37 p.m.
No one ever thought about the weather.
Rutgar grunted as the Mercedes-Benz SUV tried to spin off the road. The road was very difficult now. The plows still plowed, but the snow blew over the road within minutes of being cleared. And the plows could dump a mountain of salt and sand and it would not make a difference. Some things man couldn’t control, and very bad weather was one of them.
So he was pleased to see the exit sign. Even with four-wheel drive, he did not want to stay on the road any longer tonight. It was good to reach his destination.
He had been lucky this morning. He had recognized the purple minivan with the big painted daisy. Neil had given the van’s description to Tony the Rose. Tony the Rose had given the information to Rutgar. So when he saw the van, he’d known that it was connected to the Indian woman. How, he wasn’t sure. He’d followed the purple minivan before confronting the driver. And this strategy had proven to be prudent. He’d seen the red-haired woman bring two babies into the motel. Later he’d watched as she came back to the purple minivan with only one baby. The dark-haired child, the Spinoza offspring.
Having to give up his prey at the rest stop had been frustrating. Very frustrating. For some time afterward, Rutgar had been gripped with a terrible rage that made it impossible to think. But when his anger had cleared, he’d seen that he already had a ready-made plan. He would go to the motel. The motel where the other baby had been left.
He didn’t know who stayed at the motel, but he could guess. And even if he were wrong, it would make very little difference. The inhabitants would be made to tell him where the redheaded woman had gone.
Rutgar pulled off the road and killed the engine. He had planned for possible bad weather. In the back of the black SUV there was freeze-dried food, water, a kerosene stove, a winter camping tent, and the warmest down sleeping bag available. The catalog he’d bought it from said that the sleeping bag was the same one mountain climbers took up Mount Everest.
Not that he’d need it tonight.
Rutgar pulled on down mittens over his fingerless gloves, drew his hood tight, and climbed from the SUV. He waded through the drifting snow to the back of the truck and opened the tailgate. Inside was his gun box. He flipped it open and looked for a moment at his guns. They gleamed in the truck’s overhead light.
Then he selected the Glock from the gray foam padding. He put one clip in his pocket and loaded the other in the gun. He put the silencer attachment in his pocket, as well. It was not good for aim, but if he was close, perhaps it made things easier. He put a double-edged army knife in his left pocket and slung the sniper’s rifle over his shoulder. Then he closed the tailgate and looked at the building across the road. Only one room was lit. The natural place to start.
Rutgar smiled a small smile and loped across the road.
Chapter Fifty-four
Saturday, 7:42 p.m.
He slumped over her, his cock still buried deep inside her, and let her warmth seep into his bones. Maybe into his soul. The fire was hot on his left side, in contrast to the rest of his bare back, which was chill from the cabin air. He didn’t care. Her breasts were soft, her hips were soft, her belly was soft. He could stay here forever.
“Is the baby still asleep?” she murmured.
She sounded sleepy. Satiated. He felt a grin stretch his lips. He’d done that to her, reduced her to mumbled syllables. She’d nearly screamed his name at her peak, and it was a sound he wasn’t ever going to forget, no matter how long he lived.
“She’s asleep,” he whispered into the hair at her temple. It was slightly damp—with sweat, he was pretty sure, not her bath.
“That’s good.”
It must’ve been lemon-scented dish soap, because her hair seemed to smell of it. He nudged aside the tickly curls, burrowing his nose into her neck. She smelled of lemon and vanilla, and him. That brought another smile to his lips. He hoped she smelled of him all over.
“I came,” she said now.
He raised his head high enough so that he could look into her bright blue eyes.
She was flushed, whether because of what she’d just said or because of their exertion before, he wasn’t sure.
She cleared her throat. “You said you would make sure I came. I just wanted you to know that I did.”
“I know.”
“Oh.”
She looked embarrassed, so he kissed her, and then realized that he hadn’t even kissed her during their lovemaking. Well, he’d make up for it now.
Her mouth was warm and soft, and it opened easily beneath his. He took the invitation and ran with it, thrusting his tongue into her warmth, wanting to explore all of her. To inhale all of her. She moaned a little beneath his mouth, and he felt his cock twitch with renewed life. That reminded him of the condom. He licked around her lips one last time, then gingerly rolled off her.
“Cold,” she whimpered and drew a blanket over herself.
“I know. I’ll be right back.”
The tiled floor was icy on the soles of his feet. He hurried across it, conscious that he wasn’t at his sexiest, buck naked and shivering.
When he returned from the bathroom, Zoey was curled on her side under a pile of blankets. He checked Pete—still asleep in her little cocoon. She’d flung a pudgy arm over her head, and he carefully tucked it beneath the blankets again. Then he grabbed a couple more condoms out of his overcoat pocket and dived beneath the covers with Zoey.
She squealed.
“Shhh.” He glanced at Pete, who was fortunately still asleep.
“You’re cold,” Zoey grumbled.
“And you’re warm. Deliciously warm.”
He pulled her soft heat into himself and curled his longer body around hers. She fit perfectly—round hips against his groin, the soles of her feet pressed to his calves, and her head just under his chin. He looped his arm over her shoulder and palmed a warm breast. Perfect. How could this woman, who seemed so totally different from everything he’d thought he’d wanted, be so perfect?
“So, have you been carrying condoms around in your coat pocket all this time?” Zoey asked slowly.
He raised his head to peer at her. Her eyes were shut, and her expression didn’t look particularly concerned.
He let his head flop back. “No.”
“Then . . . ?”
“Got them from Tom’s bathroom cabinet earlier.”
She snorted. “Good thing they were there.”
He circled her nipple with his middle finger, feeling the texture. “Oh, I think I could’ve figured something out if we didn’t have them.”
“Humph.” Her voice was muffled because she’d drawn the covers up over her chin. “You sound pretty certain of yourself.”
He pinched he
r nipple between finger and thumb, and her words ended on a gasp. His eyes closed. Desire crackled through his system, sudden like summer lightning. He wished he could make a clever comeback right now. He wished he was the kind of guy who could talk in bed, say sexy things. But he wasn’t. What he felt—especially what he felt with Zoey—was too strong, too intense, too intimate.
He pushed aside her hair and kissed the nape of her neck, open mouthed. At the same time he trailed his hand down her belly to press her back against his erection. She probably wanted nothing more than to sleep right now, but he couldn’t help it. The urge was on him, strong and hard, and he couldn’t speak.
She twisted suddenly in his arms and pressed her wet mouth to his. He was grateful, so grateful, that she was responsive. He kissed her with urgent desperation, as if he hadn’t just come in her minutes before, and for a moment his own intensity startled him. Then she was pressing her tongue into his mouth, and the thought was caught in the whirlpool of his emotions and swept away. She bit his lower lip. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all he could do was try to control the raging lust that shook his body. Try not to frighten her with his own animal nature.
“Shhh,” she murmured.
He felt her push him back, lay him flat, his bare arms outstretched and helpless outside the covers.
“Shhh.” She climbed on top of him, pressing her palms into his chest. Her mouth was hot on his face, his throat.
“Shhh.”
She’d found one of the condoms, and he watched as she sheathed him, her beautiful breasts swaying as she leaned over his groin, the touch of her fingers almost too much to bear. She straightened and looked at him, her sky blue eyes fathomless and mysterious. Did she know? Did she know he was completely in her power? Helpless to deny her anything at this moment?
She must’ve sensed a little of that, for she smiled slowly, her mouth curving at one corner. Then she grasped his hard cock and placed it at her warm, sweet entrance. She pressed down.
He closed his eyes. He wanted to thank her, to tell her how grateful he was that she was allowing him in, letting him make love to her, but then she seated herself fully and the wonder of her tight softness enveloping his cock blasted all intelligent thought from his mind.