Gun Shy

by Diane Saxon

  Unsure if he waited to give her a chance to change her mind, she hesitated. Desire vibrated from him and still he never made a move.

  It was for her to make the decision.

  This was a one-night stand, something she’d made clear she didn’t do, but the heat in the pit of her stomach shot sparks of passion through her veins until her skin prickled with desire and made a liar of her. She’d take him under any circumstances.

  When his gaze had met hers across the bar room, she knew what her decision would be. Knew as she stared at him what message she sent, knew as she put an extra sway in her walk that she seduced him further.

  She wanted him, but was wanting enough for her? Cautious in her past relationships, she’d always needed more, like trust, mutual respect, caring. She wouldn’t consider having sex unless she had feelings for him. She’d desired him from the first moment she’d met him. The quick kick of desire on its own would be easy enough to resist. It was more than desire though; she’d allowed herself to develop feelings for him. Could it be classified a one-night stand when she already knew him so well?

  She dipped her head to stare at her own hand as she rested it against the door. What would happen once they’d had sex? How did they go back to the friendship they’d developed? It was never going to be enough for her.

  Regret cooled the rising passion.

  She’d made a mistake.

  Aware he didn’t feel the same way, she spun around to tell him so. “Jack… I—”

  His mouth swooped down to capture hers, one iron arm snaked around her to haul her up to his height so her feet dangled mid-air, and the pathetic squeak she let out sent a rush of heat to her cheeks.

  He plowed fingers into her loose hair and cradled the back of her head as he imprisoned her against the door, the weight of his body smothering hers.

  Simple surprise emptied her mind of any protest. It emptied of everything except the warm spicy smell of him winding through her senses to whip her passion into a wild frenzy as he plundered her mouth with his. Her protest was forgotten.

  Their breath mingled, tongues tangled while his hard body pressed against hers.

  He hitched her higher, and she automatically lifted her arms to twine them around his neck. She streaked her fingertips through his thick, soft hair while her emotions whipped her higher.

  Breathless, she squirmed until he allowed her enough room to lift her legs and wrap them around his hips, bringing him closer still. His deep rumbled groan vibrated, sending a tremor through her as he settled his hips against hers and pressed his hardened desire into the softness between her thighs to drive her crazy with passion.

  His hands slithered over her back, down to cradle her backside, and she undulated against him, drawing a sharp breath as he responded to her movement with a thrusting motion of his own. The gasping sobs of desperation she could hear were her own. If they didn’t get through her door quickly, they were going to have sex in her hallway, because she couldn’t wait, and she knew damned fine he couldn’t.

  He untangled his hand from her hair and fumbled around behind her head as he attempted to open the door.

  It burst inward with the weight of them against it, and Jack stumbled into the room. A wild squeak of hysterical laughter burst from her as he staggered a few steps, his momentum carrying him forward until he came up against the arm of the sofa.

  The laughter lodged in her throat as Jack unceremoniously dropped her. Breath whooshed from her lungs as she hit the soft cushions, leaving her weak while her heart pounded in her ears. The door re-bounded off the wall and slammed shut behind them, she suspected with a little encouragement from Jack’s foot.

  Eyes wide with shock, she could barely get a hold of her erratic breathing as he stripped his shirt over his head in one swift move, without unbuttoning it. Kate dragged in a steadying breath as she took in the sight of the man’s broad, naked chest, sexy enough to make her mouth water. She’d known it was wide, but from this angle, and nude, it was immense. Muscular and toned with a fine covering of black curly hair that ran a little happy trail right to the button of his jeans.

  She raised her gaze to his and recognized the naked lust there, wallowed in it as the pale light from the moon cut a swathe across the room and illuminated the top half of Jack’s face. His eyes glimmered back at her.

  The white of his teeth gleamed in the shadows as he shot her a wild smile a moment before he launched himself over the arm of the sofa on top of her. Fear shot a scream from the depths of her stomach. But his hands hit the sofa first, and he held the weight of his body on his arms. His wicked grin sparked tiny electrical pulses to shock her system and kick her nerves into overdrive. Her already heated blood boiled as she appraised his powerful, flexed muscles, and she considered she might just have to consume him in one big mouth watering gulp.

  Still grinning, he dipped his head to snatch a hard, quick kiss before he lowered his body on top of hers. “Not yet, baby, don’t scream yet, I’ll tell you when I want you to scream.” He took her mouth with his again and lowered more of his weight onto her, pressing his hips against hers so she was left in no doubt about his need. His mouth ravished hers, and just as she thought she would never breathe again, he moved on to assault her chin, her jawline, under her ear, and down her neck in quick exquisite snatches.

  Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as every sense she had was overwhelmed by him. His firm lips cruised down her neck leaving a trail of passion to burst through her blood and fire her pulse into erratic confusion. Lost in a golden haze of lust, she wound her fingers through his hair, cupped the back of his head in her palm as she tilted her own head back to allow him better access to the sensitive pulse in her neck.

  Jack’s hands roamed over her, firm and desperate, molding her flesh as he nipped at her collarbone and weakened her. He moved his head lower down her body, and then with an impatient move, he ripped her blouse open, pushed her bra to one side, and buried his face in her breasts.

  Desperate to slow the pace and gain some control, Kate smoothed her hands over his broad shoulders, digging her fingers into his sinew and muscle. He wrenched any control she’d thought she had away from her, his warm breath firing her skin until she writhed in desperation. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucked deep, and made her body buck beneath his, coming up against the hard bulge in his jeans.

  Kate gasped as the frisson of heat exploded in her loins, and she was as frantic to have him inside her as he was to be there. Barely able to breathe, she wrenched at the belt on his jeans, her fingers a fumbling clumsiness.

  Cool air washed over her skin as Jack shoved her skirt up to her waist and grasped her leg, pushing her knee up and out so her thigh muscles stretched and burned. He swept his fingers up the length of her leg until he reached her hip, where he grasped one side of her panties and ripped, sending shock waves to spike through her system.

  “Jack…oh God, Jack.”

  He raised his hips from hers as he fumbled with his trousers for a brief moment, tore open a condom packet, sheathed himself, and then he was inside her in one deep, hard thrust, setting her body on fire. He pushed harder, deeper, his loud guttural groan filling her ears as he tucked his face into her neck and powered on, pushing her to keep up with him, demanding she move with the same lust-filled desperation as him.

  She had no idea what he said—his breath heaved in and out, his chest expanded with his efforts. He moved so his lips were against her ear, his gravelly voice whispering sweet obscenities while he moved inside her, above her, around her. She could barely keep up with him, but his need spun her higher, his passion wrapped her in a world of animalistic need as he grunted his own pleasure at each deep, forceful thrust. She arched her hips, every impulse driving her to meet his passion with a desperate desire of her own. Heat radiated from him, filled her, consumed her, and the rapture built until she believed she would explode.

  His rhythm never faltered as he raised his head, his powerful neck straining. His gaze,
a deep swirl of fathomless hunger, stared deep into hers. “Now.”

  “What?” she gasped, barely able to form the word, her vision glazed in her greed to have more.

  “Now, Kate,” he ground out.

  “What? What?” Her voice rose an octave, confused by his demand.

  “Now, baby. You can scream now.” He thrust inside her so hard and fast, she had no option, and as she opened her mouth, with every muscle convulsing, she gave into the primal urge. Hard lips covered hers and swallowed her scream.

  Her body exploded into a million pieces, hard, wracking vibrations shuddered through her, pulsating from her core through to the very tips of her fingers and toes.

  Jack’s own release as he thrust deep inside her for the last time pulsed, his breath soughed through his lungs as he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the sofa. He squeezed her tight against him, his face pressed into her neck as wave after wave of shudders wracked his body.

  She may have died. Certainly she’d been temporarily engulfed in heaven, and as she revived she realized she wasn’t paralyzed, just that she had the full length of Jack lying on top of her in a dead weight. Not that she had any objection. Perhaps he was the one who had died. Perhaps she’d killed him. With barely the energy, she raised her hands and stroked her fingers along his neck, touching his pulse briefly to assure herself it beat in the rhythm of a very loud, very boisterous brass band.

  An exhausted smile spread over her face as she skimmed her hands over his shoulders, taking comfort in the solid feel of him as she gently pressed her fingertips down his spine. She thrilled at the texture of his warm, smooth skin, his hot breath puffing fast and erratic into her neck where his lips still rested against her.

  She’d never had sex like that in all her life. Deep, rugged, and earthy. Not that she’d had much sex, especially in recent times, but there was nothing to compare with what had just happened between them.

  It hadn’t just been sex, it had been a melting of their minds, bodies, and souls into one flaming eruption. She didn’t think she’d ever lost her mind during sex—a part of her always remembered, remained observant, aloof. Even when it had been good, nothing had fried her brain cells like sex with Jack.

  As her limp mind drifted satiated and empty of all thought, she was jerked from her indulgent reverie when Jack abruptly rolled off her body and hit the floor with a thud. He leaped to his feet by the side of the sofa, scratching his head as though he tried to figure out where he was. His eyebrows pulled low in a dark scowl as he yanked his jeans back up, never taking his gaze from her. Confusion swept through his beautiful nutmeg eyes, and his long, black lashes gave a brief flutter. If he was afraid she was about to pounce, she could have explained she didn’t have the energy, but even that was too much effort.

  When he whipped around and stalked from the room, deep uncertainty quivered in her chest. He may have ripped his shirt off, leaving a tanned, sexy back exposed to her perusal, but the man hadn’t had the decency to take off his boots.

  She propped herself up on one elbow, stunned as he stumbled around in the dark for a moment, tried two different doors, and then staggered into her bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Astounded, she flopped back down onto the sofa, her mouth opening and closing like a floundering fish while shock took a hold of her heart and the fried brain cells in her head scrambled to assimilate. She’d just had the best mind-numbing sex of her life. Quick, desperate, and downright dirty. And Jack had walked away as if whatever had happened between them had been a mistake. Or worse still, the sex hadn’t been heart-stopping, but an everyday occurrence for him.

  Horrified, Kate struggled to sit up. Her frantic heartbeat hadn’t yet had a chance to calm down when the reason for it pounding so hard changed from sexual arousal to anxious humiliation.

  Her skirt was twisted around her hips, her bra tangled under her armpits. Her ripped panties hung from her knee, which lolled over the side of the sofa. He hadn’t even had the decency to tug her skirt down when he’d finished. She shot up and yanked at it, covering herself as best she could while she skimmed her gaze down her body and cringed at the wanton mess he’d left her in.

  She brought her head up at the sound of the shower running. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she pushed herself from the sofa, struggling against the wild disarray of her clothes.

  She cast a wary glance at the bathroom door before she flew into her bedroom and stripped off everything. She hauled on her bathrobe, hugging it tight around her as her mind reeled. Exhausted, she sank onto the end of her bed and chewed the side of her thumbnail while worry and humiliation turned to hurt and anger.

  What was that about? What in hell’s name was that about? How could he have down-and-dirty sex and then just get up and go for a shower? Without saying anything, without even touching her affectionately as he departed. She’d floated in postcoital ecstasy, feathering her fingers over his neck, his shoulders, his back, with the desire to do nothing but touch him while her body floated down from its heavenly plateau.

  He, apparently, had felt nothing. It hadn’t occurred to her he may be the fastidious type, after all, she’d seen him so many times dirty, sweaty, even bloody. No. She leaped to her feet. He hadn’t needed a shower. He’d needed to escape her. Well he could escape all the way out her front door with her shoe at his backside for all she cared. She paced to the doorway and then flounced back again and slumped back onto her mattress.

  It was no good being angry. She’d known what he’d come back to her place for. She’d known he only wanted sex. It was her own fault. She could hardly blame him. He’d made it blatantly clear what he was after.

  He may have only wanted sex with her, but surely there was some sort of etiquette involved. If he’d thrown a few dollars on her wanton, liquefied body, he couldn’t have made her feel more like a whore than he just had. Her head snapped up. That’s what he had done. He’d treated her like a whore, and she wasn’t going to let him stand under her shower, ridding himself of her smell now his body was satisfied.

  She flew to her feet and strode across the room toward the bathroom but then stopped for a moment while her stomach clenched with tension. Sickness rolled around inside like hot grease. Had she really been so naïve to think she could change the way the man thought?

  She suppressed the nauseous roll and raised her chin, pushed back her shoulders, and reached for the door handle. He could just get the hell out of her apartment, stark bollock naked for all she cared. He was damned lucky she didn’t have her scalpel on her, he’d really be in the shit.

  She cast a glance at her rack of shoes. She could always whack him with a sling-back. Overly dramatic maybe, but worth consideration. She sneaked back into her bedroom and pushed the door closed so she could study her shoe rack without being disturbed.

  ∙•∙

  Boneless, Jack leaned against the tiled wall of the shower cubicle under the pounding water. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Not the sex—although it had been incredible, possibly the best he’d ever had. It may have been short lived, but he hadn’t been able to control the sensations thundering through him, the deep pulsating pull in the depths of his spine, so he pounded into Kate as though he couldn’t get enough of her, would never get enough of her. He raised his head and let the water stream over his face, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Perhaps he never would.

  The all-consuming electric pulse as he’d climaxed until he was drained of everything, knowing she’d been with him all the way, hadn’t scared him.

  No, that hadn’t been his problem.

  The taste of his name on her lips, her shapely silken legs twined around his waist, her heels dug into his butt beating in rhythm with him.

  She gave as good as she got and went that extra mile. She’d left him empty.

  No, the problem hadn’t been the sex at all, but afterward he’d behaved like such a jerk. He’d almost turned tail and run. Well in reality he had, but only as far as Kat
e’s bathroom. Fear had driven him as his brain fused to leave him unable to remember where the hell he might have dumped his shirt. He’d tried two doors, but neither one of them had led outside her apartment, so he’d chosen her bathroom instead.

  With a loud groan, he shook his head and dunked it under the shower again. If he’d found the right door, he’d be running still. As it was, he’d sat on the toilet seat for an age to compose himself before he returned to her. His knees were weak, and he’d wondered if his heart would give out. What a way to die. Sitting on Kate’s toilet seat, because he was too frightened to go back and face her.

  The heat of humiliation flooded through him, igniting his veins until he nudged the temperature of the shower down a little.

  When he’d turned on the water, it had been to buy himself more time.

  Surprised she hadn’t burst through the door with a scalpel in her hand and the offer of castration on her lips, he smiled despite himself. She would want an explanation; after all it wasn’t something he could have hidden from her. He felt like such a jerk withdrawing from her. But he’d had no choice, when he’d stared down into her glazed expression and recognized the reflection of his own desire. He’d thought his chest had been about to explode with the panic circling deep inside when he realized his body had not been consumed with lust alone. Something else tugged at his heart. Something he refused to identify. And so, he’d run.

  ∙•∙

  Kate peered around the door. The shower was empty. Jack was gone. He must have sneaked through the living room to retrieve his shirt while she was in the bedroom.