by Lora Leigh
“You were gone!” he snarled. “You ran from me, Risa, rather than giving me a chance to help you find the pleasure you were seeking.”
She shook her head, a jerky movement, as she swallowed tightly, her hands pressing against his chest.
“But I did,” she whispered. “I did.”
“You call what you gave me your release?” he bit out furiously. “You fought it. I understood why you fought it, and I understand even more now. The strength of it would have been frightening. You were with a man you did not know. Running was not the answer.”
She pulled away from him and it was all he could do to keep from jerking her back to him. Instead, he let her go. He had to take this slowly. She had already been hurt by one man; he wouldn’t add his name to her pain. He’d plotted out his seduction of her, and he would seduce her. She would come apart in his arms the next time he managed to get his dick inside that hot little pussy, and she would come apart with everything inside her. He’d accept nothing else. But he knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. Fear still held her back. Her own demons held her back.
He watched as she pushed her fingers through her hair, feathering it around her shoulders and face like multi-hued strands of silk. Turning back to her, he watched as her light blue eyes seemed darker, the shadows under her eyes more pronounced. She hadn’t slept in two nights. She had lain on her side of the bed and done no more than doze. She was killing them both and seemed unaware of it.
How did she affect him this way? There was something about the pain in her eyes that made him want to kill. The unsmiling curve of her lips made him hungry to kiss her, to make her smile. The mischievous tilt of her nose made him wonder at the many ways she could make a man insane, if she were to just be herself.
“Running was the only option,” she finally stated proudly.
Pride kept her shoulders straight, her head high, no matter what was thrown at her.
“How can you consider that an option?” he growled back at her. “Running is a coward’s way out, Risa. If there is one thing you have never displayed in the six years you’ve tried to rebuild your life, then it’s cowardice.”
Her smile was mocking, bitter. The pain that filled her eyes, her expression, tore at the heart he thought had already been ripped from him years ago.
“No, Micah,” she whispered, her voice laden with the haunting pain that filled her eyes. “You’re wrong. It took me six years to try to take a lover. Six years to get up the nerve, for that damned Whore’s Dust to make me desperate enough to try. I failed. Evidently I failed more than I thought I had. You see, I thought I had orgasmed.” Bitterness shaped her lips. “I guess I didn’t. And we both know you didn’t. So evidently, I’m a bigger coward than you believed, because I’ll be damned if I can face allowing it to happen again.”
She swung away from him again. She ran from him again. She closed herself in that bedroom, and it took every ounce of his control not to follow her, not to rip that damned door from its hinges and show her exactly what happened when she ran from her man.
Her man. He was losing his damned mind. Micah Sloane was no more than a man. The man who faced her daily was a dead man. Dead men didn’t claim a woman. Dead men didn’t dream of holding one forever. Dead men didn’t talk, and dead men didn’t dream. Because hell exacted an incredible price for allowing a dead man to walk. And that price might very well be the life of the woman he knew a part of him was already beginning to claim.
He breathed out roughly and reminded himself of his seduction schedule. He wouldn’t think about claiming or loving. He couldn’t. He would think of healing and protecting. That he could do. He could heal her, he could protect her, and he could destroy that last demon intent on taking her life.
He was two days into his campaign to seduce his lovely little lover. Getting her used to his body at night, lying against her, touching her, letting her feel his heat. The couple thing today was inspiration. He remembered his mother mentioning that when a man was seeking a bond with a woman, then he should develop friends who already had that bond, and have outings.
She hadn’t been pleased with the shopping.
He moved to the fallen bags and picked them up. He straightened them on the couch and noticed a scrap of violet lace that still lay on the floor. She had looked at this particular piece and he had seen the need for it in her eyes, despite her protest. With each piece he had bought, he had seen her curiosity build.
His Risa wanted pretty clothes and pretty underthings. He had seen that the night he had taken her to his bed. She had worn silk and lace beneath her dress. Silken stockings and a lacy thong. Pretty, feminine, and delicate. As she was.
And just as damned fiery.
She was killing him. He’d once heard his father say that Micah’s mother had caused him to grow gray hairs when he was trying to get her to commit to him. Micah wasn’t after the commitment, but he could definitely feel the gray hairs coming on.
ORION SMOOTHED his hand over the metal table, his eyes narrowed as he tested the strength of it. Risa Clay was a little thing, but his employer had assured him she had some strength when attempting to escape. Fear could provide an amazing amount of power, even to a fragile, delicate little woman such Risa Clay.
Patting the metal table in satisfaction, he then turned his attention to the metal bars attached by chains to the roof. He pulled himself up, but he couldn’t quite touch his chin to it. He chuckled a bit; he was obviously losing a bit of strength himself.
Ah well, it happened once a man passed that forty mark. But it didn’t take strength to do his job. It took cunning, calculation, and patience. He was still at the top of his game there. Perhaps even more than he had been in his youth. With age and experience came wisdom, he decided as he dropped from the bar and moved to test the tilt of the table he had found. He would have preferred to do this deed in Risa Clay’s home, but her new bodyguard had changed Orion’s original strategy.
He never bought the articles he needed in a way that could be traced. He stole them for the most part. This table had come from a junk dealer’s yard. Orion and managed to slip in and take it with no one the wiser. The bar was taken from the apartment he had leased. It was the clothes rod. A simple metal bar, clean of prints and ready for use. Everything in his little lair was clean of prints. He made certain it was spotless and prepared. He didn’t want the poor little thing to die in filth. She wasn’t pretty, she was really rather ugly, but from all he’d gathered, she was a kind girl. One who tried to do nothing but live her simple life.
Hell, she didn’t even cheat on her taxes.
That was frightening. Perhaps she deserved to die. Anyone that conscientious needed to be taken out before she could breed and make more moralistic little bastards for the world to deal with.
He had enough to deal with himself. The bounty on his head by several government agencies was causing him a bit of concern. His last hit, an American scientist who had nearly cracked a cure for a particularly nasty man-made virus, had caused several governments a bit of worry.
That job had netted Orion several million when it was finished. He had enough to retire in peace now, buy him a nice little island somewhere, and import several luscious little girls to take care of his needs. He wouldn’t have to work. Wouldn’t have to balance his play any longer. He could retire.
This would be his last job, he decided. The excitement had fizzled; it didn’t pique his interest as it had before. Now, it was simply a job.
When had this begun?
Ah yes, six years ago. Ariela Abijah.
He shook his head. Mossad hadn’t taken kindly to her death, and neither had her son. The boy had nearly caught up with him. If it hadn’t been for a bit of luck, then David Abijah would have managed to capture him on the merchant vessel Orion had used for his escape from Russia several years after he’d killed Abijah’s mother.
Thankfully, luck had been with him. David Abijah had fed the fishes that night. He was no longer a problem that Orion h
ad to deal with.
But yes, this was the reason the excitement had faded. Abijah had tracked him tirelessly, especially after his father had thrown himself on a suicide bomber.
Orion shook his head. He hadn’t enjoyed killing the boy. There had been something in those black eyes that touched Orion. A strength, a flame of determination. A look very similar to the look that had been in Ariela’s eyes.
The memory of that look rather reminded him of the man Risa Clay had moved into her apartment. He hadn’t seen his eyes, but Orion had seen his face clearly. There was a stamp of determination and arrogance on it that had sent a chill up his spine.
What a bit of timing there, he thought angrily as he tapped his latex-covered fingers on the metal table.
The little wretch hadn’t even looked at a man in the six years she had been out of the asylum; now, she had a lover—a very experienced, intuitive lover. One who had disposed of the bugs Orion had placed in her apartment. After a single night at some club, a friend of a friend had managed to pick her up, and to move in with her.
He’d learned that much. And she had Navy SEALs for friends. That had caused him a moment’s hesitation when he had identified them. Retired SEALs, but SEALs were SEALs until the day they died. Perhaps even beyond. They were like a plague that refused to go away when they were riled.
He’d nearly backed out of this deal, but he’d never backed out of a deal with this particular employer. It wasn’t possible.
Shaking his head, he moved to his opened laptop and once again clicked through the digital pictures he had taken of them.
The man wore glasses; Orion had yet to see his eyes or snap a picture of them. The identification program Orion used didn’t work very well with glasses. So far, it had pulled up only five pictures and two were of dead men, Abijah being one of them.
He was going to have to talk to the programmer he had bought it from. Or perhaps not. It was his last job; he was going to make certain of it.
He stared at the couple again, tilted his head, and stared at the woman. Was that a flash of prettiness in her face as she stared up at the man who walked with her? She looked furious, yet there was a hint of prettiness there that Orion hadn’t seen before.
It had to be a trick of the light, he thought. He’d seen many pictures of her, and never had he seen this, this something that made him wonder if she wasn’t so very ugly after all.
Not that she was dog ugly. She was very, very plain, he decided, looking at her closely. And when had he decided she was simply plain rather than ugly?
He must definitely be getting on in age. He shuddered at the thought that he could be so old that his eyes were giving out on him. The eye doctor he saw once a year had assured him that his eyes were fine. Twenty-twenty vision, the doctor had promised him. Orion had never had trouble with his vision.
He clicked through a few more pictures, tilted his head again, and frowned deeply. Yes, there it was. One he had snapped as they moved through the mall. The man had his hand at her neck, as though he were rubbing it. There was a hint of sensuality in her face. A certain tilt of her eyes. Her too-large mouth seemed sensual rather than out of place here. Even with her baggy clothes she looked almost pretty.
He shook his head. What new phenomenon was this? And what did it matter? He’d make his move soon. A rather public one, simply because it wouldn’t be expected. No one could anticipate his next move. He’d made certain of it.
CHAPTER 10
“I HAVE THINGS I need to do,” Risa announced the next morning after breakfast dishes had been cleared away and an uncomfortable silence had descended between them.
“Things?” A dark brow arched as Micah watched her from the easy chair.
He was entirely too confident, too arrogant, she decided as she eyed him. And too damned sexy. The blue cotton shirt he wore did nothing to hide the power beneath it, and the jeans and boots made him look much too male, too virile.
“Yes, things,” she told him. “I need to go to Grandmother’s and discuss some last-minute details for the party she’s having in a few weeks. I’m handling the arrangements this year for her, and I want to make certain everything runs smoothly.”
“Your grandmother could come here,” he suggested, his gaze running over Risa’s body.
He was always doing that. Looking her over, his black eyes gleaming with an intent she didn’t understand. But her body responded to it. She almost sighed at the rush of desire that washed over her and pulsed between her thighs.
“I need to go to the house, Micah. I shouldn’t have to argue over that. It’s a simple enough trip and one you should be able to arrange.” Besides, her grandmother was worrying and Risa needed to reassure her.
“Come here, and we’ll discuss it.” His hard hand patted his lap as he stared back at Risa with an edge of amusement. “You can convince me you need to go to her, rather than her coming here.”
She blinked back in surprise. Was he teasing her?
“There’s nothing to discuss,” she stated stiffly, forcing her hands not to form fists as she fought he need to do as he asked.
“There’s actually a measure of risk involved in the trip,” he mused. “Sit down here and we’ll talk about it.”
He patted his hard leg again.
“Stop playing with me, Micah,” she demanded, frustration clawing at her now. “The situation is difficult enough; there’s no sense in adding to the complications.”
His eyes gleamed with laughter, and with lust. She wanted to sink into that link, holding it inside her. But the memories of the single night they had shared sliced through her mind and filled her with shame.
She couldn’t handle a man like Micah, she had decided. He was obviously more exacting in his sexuality than she had heard of men being. What happened to the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sexuality that men were supposed to possess? When had the rules changed?
“I like adding complications, Risa, they make life interesting,” he told her. “Now, you can sit down here and let me pet you a little bit while you explain this need you have to escape the safety of your apartment, or we can stay here.”
“Or I can walk out and go anyway,” she pointed out with a tight smile. “You’ll still follow, your friends will follow, and I’ll still be protected without having to humiliate myself to do it.”
“You would of course have to get past me to get out that door,” he pointed out. “How do you intend to do that?”
With a baseball bat, probably. That was most likely what it would take, and she didn’t own one.
“Micah, please don’t be difficult,” she protested, trying to restrain her anger. “Nothing will be solved or gained by sitting on your lap and playing this asinine game you’re intent on playing.”
He stared back at her archly. “Much will be gained, Risa. Just to begin with, our pleasure. Orion will be thrown off balance, and we’ll be much more relaxed.”
She felt her hands fisting into the loose material of the T-shirt she wore as she glanced at his lap and swallowed tightly.
He had an erection. It wasn’t hard to detect. His explanation the day before for his reasons for not releasing the night they were together made sense, but still her mind wanted to reject it. Nerves and fear gathered in the pit of her belly each time she thought about that night, each time she remembered the waves of sensation that she had fought.
They had been frightening. The thought of experiencing them again was both terrifying and exciting. Unfortunately, the thought of disappointing him again held her back. She couldn’t control that pleasure, and the thought of not controlling her body, of once again being helpless beneath the tide of sensation, had the power to send her into a panic.
“We discuss it here.” He patted his lap again. “Or we stay inside today. Your choice.”
Her choice. Was anything about this entire situation her choice?
“This is insane.” Her voice was hoarse; her gaze flicked again to his erection.
Risa felt the
flesh between her thighs pulsing, her juices gathering on the bare lips beneath the new panties she had slipped into and worn.
His brow arched again.
“What—” She swallowed tightly. “What are you going to do?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “What would you let me do?”
A shudder raced down her back.
Micah saw the widening of Risa’s eyes, the hunger that darkened the light blue irises, and had to stifle a groan as his cock throbbed with the need to be buried inside her again.
He could make it better for her this time. He swore he would. Not today; it was too soon. She wasn’t used to his touch yet, wasn’t used to his hand upon her body, or the needs that burned between them.
A woman’s body was the finest work of art. It was created for pleasure. From the top of her head to the soles of her feet, a woman was a man’s greatest temptation. He would fight wars to protect her; he would give his life to see to her security. She was man’s greatest strength, and his greatest weakness. She was created as his other half, and Micah had never understood that completely, until Risa.
“What I would let you do isn’t the point.” His body tensed further at the throb of hunger in her voice. “We both know this doesn’t work for me.”
“Nothing has to work, love,” he promised her, his body tightened as she seemed to try to take that last step to him. “This isn’t about having sex. It’s about touch, nothing more. It’s about learning your lover’s body, your lover’s touch. Wouldn’t you like to learn my touch, Risa?”
Her eyes dilated; the most incredible flush washed over the creamy flesh of her face and neck. A hint of color, a mere suggestion of the fire that blazed in her body.
And he knew that fire. He knew the heat of her tight pussy, the stiff points of her hard little nipples, the taste of her. She was an aphrodisiac to his senses, and his hunger for her refused to abate.
“Come, Risa,” he whispered as he gauged the weakening need that filled her eyes.
He held his hand out to her. “Come to me; feel your lover’s touch.”