Ripe anger boiled to the surface. “For your information, I wasn’t doing anything with him. He was pawing me on the dance floor and everything felt ... wrong. I needed to get out of here.”
“Are you all right?” He still sounded mad.
“Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting the hell out of this crazy party.”
“Wait.” He gentle grabbed her hand, turned her back. “Don’t go yet.”
She drew in a deep breath and his musky, manly scent sent a delicious swirl of need into her. “Something is wrong here. In this room. In this entire place. I don’t understand it.”
“Neither do I.” His hand tightened and heat lanced her to the core.
From his gaze she caught understanding—he knew what she meant and believed her. Surprise filled Melissa. “Why are you holding me back?” She moved her hand in his, but he didn’t release her. “I saw you with Jana. You were kissing her.”
His eyes flashed. “She kissed me. I didn’t even know she was going to do it. I told her to back off.” He did an up nod to another corner of the room. “She’s over there nursing a glass of punch because I wouldn’t let her get in my pants.”
She couldn’t stop her imagination from conjuring a one hundred percent naked Roarke. Heat seared, taking her breath without warning. Why did the mere thought of Roarke naked make Melissa flush like an oversexed teenager?
He came closer, almost touching body to body. His gaze danced over her face as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. “When I saw you with that peckerwood I wanted to ...”
Arousal spread and built until her breath came shorter and her mind whirled. “Want to what?”
“Kick the shit out of him.”
His chest-thumping was barbaric, but it didn’t have the effect she expected. She didn’t need any protection, but the fact he desired to keep her safe ... well, that made everything feminine inside her go biological. She understood the phenomena, but couldn’t control it. He brought her hand to his lips, and her skin tingled. Heat shot up her arm. His gaze locked with hers and she couldn’t mistake the stamp of ownership. Retired Marine or not, the man still had a protective gene. One that claimed. Promised. She’d never reacted to a man’s feral side with this intensity. Her hormones warred with caution and common sense. How could an independent woman find her blood heating to a boil over a possessive display like Roarke’s? Deep within she recognized what she saw on his face. He was a warrior claiming his woman and defying any man to take what he knew belonged to him.
“That’s ...” She began, then faded off, unable to articulate for a few seconds. “Primitive.”
“I’d never let him hurt you.”
Oh. Yes. That put the nail in her coffin. He’d said the right words, his protectiveness sending everything womanly into full raging overdrive. Around her, a saxophone wailed, and then drums magnified the beat. She felt the song in her body, moving and compelling her to comply with sexual energy. The song was sultry, a spicy chili that settled in the blood.
“Dance with me,” he said, voice husky.
The craving inside her had built so high she couldn’t resist. Before she knew it they entered the dance floor. He drew her against his hard body, one arm around her waist. With his other hand he cradled her much smaller hand against his chest. His eyes flashed fire, his nostrils flaring. He brought his mouth close to her right ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“What’s happening to us?”
“I don’t know.”
Without conscious thought, her body swayed with his. She couldn’t dance worth shit, but his body led hers, showing her a new way to move. Music poured into her body, warming it along with every solid inch of his powerful body. She felt as if she was vibrating, pulsing with a frantic life that needed to break loose and express itself. His erection pressed against her, and it sent wild thrills pin-wheeling through her belly. Her body responded to one look, one touch from Roarke, as if he’d taken a switch and flipped it on. In that moment, as the music transformed them, Melissa wanted to take him somewhere—anywhere—and show him exactly what he did to her. Her blood heated, rushing to her breasts to bead her nipples and moisten her between the legs. Oh. My. God. She’d never been this aroused in her life, and certainly not this quickly. The power of the dance echoed in her veins as the music continued to move their bodies. His fingers brushed aside her hair. He kissed her ear.
“Let’s get out of here.” His voice held molten heat.
As she took his hand, he led her away from the party. Henrietta and Bradley danced as well, smiling and laughing as if they were having the time of their lives. Henrietta saw her, and Melissa returned her friend’s wave. Good, she wouldn’t worry.
Roarke’s arm went around her shoulders as they left the recreation center into the night. She shivered in the cold, and his arm tightened. Wintry air didn’t banish the excitement skittering through her veins. Treetops swayed, their whisper as icy as the wind, as if they had a warning to impart.
They collected her personal items from the coat check. When they reached the rotunda, he stopped. “Would you like to go home?”
“No. What was happening in there, Roarke?”
He shook his head, eyes flickering with a combination of uncertainty and the hunger she’d seen earlier. “Whatever it was ... it made me want things.”
Oh, yeah. That described it. The rhythm had made her crave things as well. Hot, forbidden, delicious things only Roarke could complete and fulfill. She’d wanted him before, but the intensity of her arousal now blew her away.
“Want to go up to my place and talk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Talk? Well, if that was all he wanted, she would take it. Without another word, they went to the elevator. Inside, she leaned into the corner and he leaned into her, one forearm against the wall by her head. His heat and masculine scent teased Melissa, made her wish for longer, more meaningful touches.
“People were so strange in there. As if they were in the throes of some sexual ... thing,” she said.
“Like us?”
“Yes.”
The elevator door opened and he backed away. She followed him to his apartment, and he closed the door. Before she could speak, her back was against the door, and Roarke’s palms came down on the door on either side of her head.
His eyes held mysteries. “You’re so damned beautiful.”
His praise sent a curl of heat through her belly. She touched the row of medals on his jacket. “I have to admit it. These dress blues are hot. Something about a man in uniform.”
A smile touched his mouth. “Jana called and said it was a costume party for Halloween. Piss poor idea to tell people at the last minute. I didn’t have a costume, so I just threw this on.”
“What are we doing here, Roarke?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know is that you’re drivin’ me nuts.”
She laughed softly. “Oh yeah? Why? Because you think I have fruity ideas about the paranormal?”
“Yeah. But it’s more than that.” Fire sparked in his eyes. “I swear to God, if that asshole had laid one hand on you ...”
She pressed one hand to his chest. “Are you going all Rambo on me?”
“Fuck Rambo, darlin’. I can do better than that.”
Husky and full of promise, his voice said he spoke the truth. He slipped his palm behind her neck and gently tugged her into rock-hard muscles. His mouth came down on hers.
Chapter 15
Roarke’s kiss energized Melissa. She couldn’t resist and didn’t want to resist whatever came next. His hands traveled her back, lowering to cup her hips and bring her tighter against his erection. A long, hard invader, it promised pleasure more deep and rare than she’d known before. His kisses peppered over her collarbone to the other side of her neck, where he feasted with tender touches. Controlled passion flourished beneath his surface, ready to erupt. She knew it. She could feel it. From the moment she’d met him, Melissa
understood Roarke O’Bannion had a tumultuous side, a scary and dangerous element that drove a woman to certain madness. It didn’t matter that she’d met other men both sexy and strong; none of them had called to her in the way Roarke O’Bannion did. None of them had understood how to kiss her, how to touch her, or how to bring the fire banked inside to full burn.
He rasped in her ear, “If you don’t want this, just tell me. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
His protectiveness, even the feral territorial side he’d shown in the recreation center, aroused her fast and hard. She’d always considered herself a feminist, but this ... whatever it was ... drew on her most primal needs.
“Yes,” she said softly, daring to look into his eyes. “I want this.”
Heat raged in his gaze. He kissed her again, his big palms exploring, his touches exquisitely gentle and powerfully possessive. Their kisses came one after the other, twisting this way and that, again and again. She arched into his body, eager to get closer. She wanted to melt into him. He cupped her butt, and she gasped into his mouth with a moan. God, how she wanted to get closer. Closer. Her hands went into his short hair, the silky feel making her skin tingle. Kiss after kiss invaded Melissa until his mouth felt as if he’d always understood how to drive her out of her mind.
Feverish with desire, she fell into passion without another thought. Need exploded as she plunged into the deep end. His next kiss was hot and deep, his tongue stroking hers with slow attention, and she was frantic to have him and to touch and explore miles of hard muscle. She allowed her senses to take in everything that made Roarke who he was. He broke the kiss, but only long enough to sweep gentle exploratory kisses over her cheek and down to the side of her neck. She shivered as delicious excitement danced in her veins.
She gasped and wriggled in his arms. “Roarke.”
“God, you are so beautiful.” His voice was ragged with desire.
More heat flushed through her. A man had never spoken to her this way, with this much intensity and truth. Heat slicked between her legs, her nipples tightening into achy points that wanted and needed. She pressed into him, tested his shape and form. Hard muscles bunched under her fingers as she traced his shoulders and down over his pecs. His thighs were hard and stalwart. She couldn’t find an ounce of give in the man.
He drew back long enough to unbutton his uniform jacket and toss it aside. He went to work on the rest of his uniform, until his suspenders were down, his shirt hanging open. Roarke’s gaze burned with hunger for her, and the very look made every inch of her body tingle. Her gaze snagged on his muscled chest, on the line of dark hair that arrowed over his six-pack stomach and disappeared into his waistband. Damn the man. He was tantalizing her, teasing with small glimpses of hard male. She drew a deep breath as she appreciated his physique. The man was so ripped, so gorgeous she couldn’t catch her breath.
He didn’t speak, but prowled toward her. She stepped back, and he followed until her back came up against the wall. She smiled, wanting him to know she wasn’t backing away because she feared him.
He cupped her face and drew her into another soul-stirring kiss. All bets were off as they attacked each other’s clothes. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor. Skin, glorious skin and yards of cut muscles. Being pressed against all that deliciousness made her yearn, her body begging for more. More. She kicked off her pumps, and reached under her dress to slid her slip and pantyhose off and kick them away. Roarke clasped the bottom of her sweater dress and drew it over her head.
She had a few seconds to register modesty, to wonder if he’d find her less than beautiful. His gaze ran over her hungrily and cruised her from head to plump breasts uplifted by a black balconette bra. Standing only in that and matching bikini-panties, she shivered from the desperate desire that drove her. She reached for the waistband of his pants, but he gently caught her hands. Before she could do more than frown at the interruption, he lifted her into his powerful arms. She laughed softly as he walked down the hallway and entered his room. He lowered her on the bed and crawled toward her like a prowling lion as she scooted backwards.
Her breath caught as she lay back, and he lay half over her. Surrounded by heat and strength, she fell into the heaven he offered. His kisses overwhelmed, seduced until she could think of nothing but wanting the pleasure and wanting to please him in return. Roarke shaped her ribs and hips with his palms. Heat trailed everywhere he touched. Kiss after kiss scorched as he peppered more along the edge of her bra, a tease that made her nipples tighten into sharp points. He relentlessly pursued her needs, discovering her erogenous zones as if he’d been born knowing where to touch her. She moaned as liquid hot arousal made her writhe eagerly against his big body.
“Roarke.” Her whisper said it all, desperate and aching.
Eagerness made her shift from his embrace. She wrestled out of her bra and tossed it away. Now she was left in panties and feeling more vulnerable than ever as his gaze toured her body with clear male hunger. Her breasts were average size; she’d never considered them too large or too small. The way he looked at her, though, made her feel as if they were the most beautiful he’d seen. “You have perfect breasts.”
He brushed tender kisses all around the full globes. She drew in a sharp breath. Seconds stretched into sweet minutes as he explored. Under the soft lighting, Roarke leaned in and teased her left nipple, and she jumped a bit and gasped. He didn’t linger, but flicked his tongue over her right nipple. More whimpers of surprised delight left her throat. This wasn’t like it had always been before. Something with Roarke was so different than the quick, furtive encounters she’d experienced with her ex. Roarke had the touch of expertise, of a man who wanted to please a woman and would go out of his way to do it. He wanted to be inside her, no doubt. Yet his patience and tenderness as he kissed and licked and loved her showed so much more.
Back and forth he tutored her in the way he made love. When he drew one nipple into his mouth and suckled, she moaned and clasped his head to hold him in place. He worked his way between both nipples, cupping and shaping the globes until she ached.
He palmed her stomach, then allowed his touch to slide between her legs. When he tested the soft folds between her legs, the liquid evidence of arousal smoothed his way. She was drenched, and as he slipped one finger, then two into her core, she moaned with delight. Melissa gave into the storm as he thrust his fingers slowly. He pumped, rubbed against spots within that felt so sensitive she thought she’d explode in a firestorm. She couldn’t stop moaning, her hands clutching him, her voice pleading. He sucked one nipple and manipulated her clit with slow circles. She couldn’t restrain the moan that escalated within, heralding an explosion that grew by the moment. She wanted to beg. Plead for mercy. She was drawn on a rack, quivering with a desire for relief. He drew Melissa to the edge of screaming, his finesse driving her wild. He removed his fingers from inside Melissa, and she groaned in frustration.
Roarke slid down upon the bed, and kissed his way across her stomach, over the sharper bones in her pelvis. As he went lower, she tensed the slightest bit. Not because she didn’t want him there, but because she’d never experienced that type of loving before. Anticipation drew her tight as a bow. What if he didn’t want to taste her there?
He parted her legs and showed her how much he wanted it. He drew in a soft breath. “Christ, look at you. So damned pretty.”
His approval sent a fresh wave of arousal straight to her loins. He teased her wet folds, a tender touch. When he got down on his stomach and lowered his head to her flesh, she closed her eyes. He tilted her legs, and she bent them at the knees, feet flat on the bed. With the first swipe of his tongue, she gasped and wriggled.
“Like that?” he asked. Before she could catch her breath, he did it again.
“Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Yes.”
Then he did something she never thought any man would do. He nibbled tenderly on her clit, teasing it back and forth with gentl
e caresses of his tongue and fingertips. She writhed in his hold, eager to bring the sequence to a tumultuous close. When he slipped his fingers into her once more, tonguing her clit relentlessly, she couldn’t take it anymore. She moaned loudly as ecstasy broke over her in a wave. She quivered and shook under the dramatic assault. As she started to come down from the wonderful sensations, he left the bed. He stripped off his pants and briefs and stood in a display of masculine beauty that floored her. Yes, she’d seen that chest before, but seeing his cock standing hard and thick and ready to please made her mouth water. He grabbed a condom from his bed stand. He slipped it on, and when he came down over her, she expected missionary style sex. No. Not this time.
He drew her legs up, wedged his thighs under hers and slid his cock straight into her wetness. She groaned as his thickness penetrated and speared to the root. God, yes. Yes. That was so good. She hissed a breath as his cock filled her, stretching her inner flesh with the breadth and length. She was tight, and if she hadn’t been so aroused, his entry might have hurt a little. Pleasure came as he rested deep within. He filled her to the brim, locking them together as one. She kept her eyes closed, part of her still too shy to see all the emotions in his eyes. Pleasure overwhelmed as he started to move. She clasped the bedspread. For long moments he stroked, and she swam in a river of sensation so exquisite she never wished it to end. Stroke after tormenting stroke, her desire rose until she gasped for breath and groaned. Again and again he teased with each thrust until her moans escalated. She reached the top and burst into a million fragments. Her body throbbed and tingled around all that hard flesh. With a muffled groan he came down on top of her, his hands clasping her butt and pulling her up into his increasing strokes. His hips pumped, driving now to reach the ultimate end. With each new pounding thrust, new excitement raced through her body.
“Again?” she gasped.
“Again.” He moaned. “Again.”
Shadows Fall Page 17