by Dena Christy
“We got the last room. There is some sort of convention in town, so everything is booked solid. It must be some convention if people are desperate enough to want to stay here. Looks like we’ll be bunking together.”
“I’m sure the room will have twin beds. Places like this usually do.” Eric walked beside her to the door of their room.
“You mean you don’t want to share a bed with me? I’m hurt.” She pushed out her bottom lip, and he rolled his eyes as he took hold of her arm.
“Come on.” As they walked the rest of the way to their room, he scanned their surroundings, taking note of the easiest way to get back to the truck in a hurry. At the room door he put the luggage down and took the key from her. After unlocking it, he used his sense of smell to check the room. It smelled clean at least, and thankfully it was empty. There didn’t appear to be any danger, and he let her walk into the room. Light flooded the space as he picked up the luggage and followed her.
“Wow, Eric, looks like we’re back in the seventies,” Samara said, laughing as she walked over and sat on the edge of the queen-size bed that stood in the middle of the room. He dropped the bags with a heavy thump when he saw the delighted look on her face.
“Looks like it isn’t your lucky day. Guess we’ll be sharing a bed after all.” She smirked at him. He grabbed a pair of jogging pants out of his bag and made a beeline for the bathroom. The door closed firmly behind him.
The thought of her alone with him, in a room, with only one bed, jacked his body up to the point where sweat beaded on his forehead. If he didn’t go insane with lust before the night was over he’d be very lucky.
He turned on the shower, got in and turned the water to cold. Icy needles blasted his skin and he stood under the spray until he got under control enough to be able to stay in the same room with her. He turned the water back to a more moderate temperature, and washed the events of the day from his body. Shutting off the water, he stepped out and dried himself, the towel abrading his skin with his brisk motions.
Looking in the chipped mirror above the avocado-green sink, he could see the rough stubble bristling his chin, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He pulled on his pants and walked back into the room where she was bouncing on the bed.
“Just testing it.” She grinned at him, and he closed his eyes to keep from looking at her jiggling breasts.
“Well, when you’re finished let me know. The shower’s all yours if you want to wash up.” He peeked at her with one eye, and to his relief she stood up and went to her case to grab some clothes and a bag of toiletries. He sat down on the bed and watched her walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Lying down on the bed, he got under the covers. He turned off the light, closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to come quickly. It didn’t.
Tonight was going to be the longest night of his life. He could hear Samara turn on the shower. The sound of water running conjured images in his mind designed to torture him. As he lay there listening, he imagined what she looked like, standing naked in the shower with water and tiny soap bubbles skimming her flesh.
In this particular fantasy, she still wore the gold chain around her waist. And he was in the shower with her, washing her. He could feel his soapy hands gliding over her skin, exploring every curve and hollow. Perhaps while his hands soaped the round globes of her ass, he would put his lips on her breast. The thought of her nipples tightening in his mouth, and the sounds she would make while he sucked her, had him whimpering out loud. The noise jolted him. He shifted on the bed, disgusted. He was acting like a horny teenager alone with his first woman, for shit’s sake.
“Grow up,” he growled as he rolled over and punched his pillow, trying to get the image of her perfect female form out of his head. He was not going to be able to share a bed with her if he didn’t get a grip. The cold shower had certainly been wasted, considering the state he’d worked himself into.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the water shut off and his mind got out of the shower. After a few moments the bathroom door opened, and a warm cloud of Samara-scented air filled the room. He ground his teeth. The rustling of clothing sounded in the silent room, and he was thankful that at least she was dressed. If she’d climbed into bed naked, he’d have taken her. Right after he had a heart attack. Bad enough that she was in the bed beside him, smelling of shampoo, clean skin and warm woman, without her being naked too.
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have the whole bed to myself?” Samara’s cheerful, tormenting tones broke through his contemplation of her naked body.
“What are you talking about?” Jesus, don’t encourage her. Now she’ll never quiet down and go to sleep.
“You’re hovering at the edge as timid as a virgin at a prison rodeo. You can move over if you want. I promise your virtue is safe with me.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened, and for a moment he thought the bone lying underneath his muscles and skin would snap. He kept his mouth shut. It was not necessary to justify her remark with a rebuttal. Besides, rising to the bait would only compel her to keep jabbing him with the verbal stick.
“Go ahead and stay over there then.” He heard her turning over so her back was to him, and he silently mouth the words thank you. “If you fall out of bed in the middle of the night, don’t blame me.”
Now it was going to bug him if he stayed where he was. He tried to move over subtly, making his way closer to the middle of the bed, until he felt the roundness of her butt against his lower back. He eased away so he wasn’t touching her and lay there for several minutes, trying to sleep. His awareness of the body beside him kept him from relaxing.
“Can you think about baseball or something?”
He jumped at the suddenness of her voice.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, what are you on about now?” He turned on his back and glared at the ceiling.
“The sexual energy coming off you is making it impossible for me to sleep. Unless you want us to burn it off together, I would appreciate it if you could think of something unsexy so I can get some rest.”
“You wouldn’t have so much trouble sleeping if you’d give your mouth a rest.” He wished she wasn’t so in tune with emotions. She could practically tell what he was thinking and was mentally feeling his raging hard-on.
Taking a deep breath, he took her advice and thought about the antithesis of sex. He thought about his high school math teacher, a rather ugly woman with large, low-hanging breasts. She was a gravelly-voiced creature who preferred to go by the name of Norman outside of school. Speculation had been rife among his friends about what gender she actually was, but they were all too leery of getting too close to her to find out.
Thinking of the enchanting Norman seemed to do the trick, because after a few moments he heard Samara’s deep, steady breathing. Finally. Now if only it were as easy for him to sleep with the warm female body in bed next to him. Sleep eventually claimed him and he dreamed about a scantily clad Samara who told him, as she stripped, to call her Norman.
SAMARA STIRRED in bed the following morning, reluctant to open her eyes. The curtains, opened a small sliver, allowed a thin shaft of early morning light to penetrate the room. She was truly a creature of the night, and the thought of getting up early for the second day in a row didn’t exactly inspire her. A warm, heavy weight lay over her waist, and at first she couldn’t figure out what it was. Reaching her hand down, she discovered a warm male arm, Eric’s arm, and she smiled to herself. Looked like Eric had gotten over his fear of touching her at some point during the night.
She snuggled back against him, enjoying the feel of his firm, muscular body pressed against her back. His legs had curled into hers, cradling her while her bottom rested against the juncture of his thighs. And from the feel of it, something was definitely stirring there.
The comfort she drew from his presence in the bed beside her surprised her. This was a new experience for her, having never actually woken with a man in her bed before. She’d nev
er wanted any of her partners to spend the night with her. Once the sex was over and she’d got what she needed, she only wanted to be alone so she could sprawl out and sleep. She could see what she’d been missing. Of course, she had no way of knowing if this reaction was for Eric alone, or if any man would do. She wanted him, but considering his reluctance last night to share a bed with her, she didn’t think she would be getting any, at least not from him, any time soon.
His arm tightened as she shifted against him, drawing her closer. His breath, warm and moist against the back of her neck, raised goosebumps on her skin. Lips pressed against the skin of her shoulder. Did he know what he was doing? She didn’t want to ask, only wanted to ride with it and see where it took her. His stubble was rough against the tender skin where her shoulder joined her neck. She bit her lip to prevent any sound from escaping. Slowly drawing away, she turned to face him. He captured her lips, and she was lost. Desire flowed through her veins like a drug, giving her a high she only ever experienced in his arms.
He turned her onto her back, and she clung to him, not wanting this moment to end. It would once he realized what he was doing. Then he’d be back to brooding Eric, but at least she was going to get a taste of him again before that happened. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth. She tunneled her fingers through his hair, the short, silky length of it sliding against her fingers, caressing her. His mouth left hers to trail along her cheek and down her throat. She bit her lip as a shiver went through her. Jesus, he felt so good. He couldn’t stop what he was doing. A simple touch and caress had never felt so wonderful, and they hadn’t even gotten to the really good part yet.
His hand slipped under her top, easing it up over her breasts. She held her breath as his mouth hovered above her nipple, so close that his breath skated over her skin. Not close enough. She arched up, brushing her hardened nipple against his bottom lip. A growl sounded low in his throat, a wild sound that had moisture pooling between her legs. She held still. Nothing could break the spell, not when he was so close to doing what she needed him to do. He sucked her nipple into the warm recesses of his mouth.
She arched up higher, wanting him to take more of her flesh in his mouth. She longed to be devoured by him until they were both mindless with need. He sucked harder, and she managed to swallow the sound of satisfaction building inside her. Nothing must interrupt him now that he lay fully on top of her. His cock was hard against the juncture of her thighs, and she opened her legs wider so she could cradle him. Oh, to be able to rip the clothes from his body and hers! She didn’t dare for fear he would realize what he was doing and stop.
He rubbed against her and found her sweet spot. Unable to hold back a groan, she slid her pelvis up and down the length of his clothed erection. He ripped his mouth away from her breast, his breath hissing in through his teeth as he ground against her. He drew back, looking at her, his face tight, feral. He bared his teeth as he continued to rub against her. Was it possible for any other man to turn her on as much as he did?
“That’s it.” The sound of her voice seemed to jolt him. She held her breath as she continued to move. Please don’t stop. He couldn’t stop now. She was so close.
“Fuck,” he growled, his movements growing harder and jerky as her arousal spiraled higher. She grabbed his face, bringing her mouth crashing into his as raw power surged through her when she came. He thrust against her a few more times before shuddering. He pulled his mouth away and rested his head against her forehead while their labored breathing filled the room.
He drew back to look at her, and Samara’s hands fell away when she saw the cold mask he always wore descend over his face. Well, that certainly didn’t take long.
His erection had hardly subsided before he threw up his wall. He rolled off her and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. She inched away from him, feeling for the first time in her life dirty and ashamed of engaging in a sex act. Why couldn’t he say something, anything, to take away the chill that had intruded into the room?
“This can’t happen again.” He raked his fingers through his hair. And he still refused to look at her.
She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turned down as her eyes bored into his back. “Yes, I know. Rule number three.” Disappointment bit into her, coming out in her voice. What did he want her to say? He didn’t have to make her feel like she’d forced him. He turned his head sharply at her, and she couldn’t stop the disgust she was feeling from curling her lips. “I didn’t start this, so if you want to get pissed at anyone, get pissed at yourself. You started the whole thing. Maybe you should man up and take some responsibility for yourself instead of making me feel like I raped you.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Just because he wanted to be an insensitive prick didn’t mean she had to stoop to his level. She was a succubus, a creature who was supposed to be happy to take any kind of sex she could get. She shouldn’t be showing him how much his attitude hurt her.
His face hardened further as he turned away. Obviously that hadn’t been the right thing to say, and regret chased away the disappointment churning inside her. She didn’t want to spend the next two days in the car with this between them, especially not since they had to look like a loving couple when they got to Horn’s compound.
“Eric.” She reached out to touch him. “I didn’t mean that, we are both responsible for what happened. I could have stopped you, but the fact is I didn’t want to.”
“Forget it.” He shook off her hand as he stood, his cold mask still firmly in place. “I’m going to shower, change and see about getting something for breakfast before we head out.”
He walked to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. There was no mistaking how he felt about the whole encounter. She blew out her breath, shifting with a grimace when she felt her damp pajama bottoms clinging to her. She sat up, pulling the fabric away from her skin and thought about what had just happened. No matter what he said, this would be happening again. The attraction between them burned too hot for this to be the end of it. It would only whet their appetite. If he wanted to delude himself into thinking they could just ignore it and it would go away, then that was his problem, not hers.
She decided to call Hadria while he finished in the bathroom. She dialed her friend’s number using the motel phone. Alex answered it on the second ring.
“Is Hadria there?”
“No, she’s gone out for a while. Can I give her a message?”
Samara hesitated for a moment, knowing she wasn’t really supposed to be making contact with anyone while she was on mission. She’d only wanted to vent to Hadria about what a prick Eric was and now she realized that she was bending the rules a little by calling her.
“I just wanted to check in with her and let her know that everything is fine so far,” she said in a tone that didn’t invite Alex to linger for a chat.
“Where are you?”
Samara hesitated for a moment, and Alex’s laugh rumbled over the line. “You know she’s going to ask me.”
Samara chuckled, knowing that he was right. Hadria would only pester him for an answer, and Samara decided to take pity on Alex and not make him go through one of Hadria’s interrogation. “I’m at the Maple Ridge Motel, just outside of Sudbury. Eric and I are going to head out shortly. Let her know I’ll check in with her tomorrow.”
“Will do. Take care of yourself, Samara.” She heard the click on the other end as he disengaged the call, and she returned the receiver to its cradle. Sighing, she tried to block out the sound of Eric in the shower. Things were going to be awkward between them for a while, until he got over his loss of control. The ride in the car today was going to be fun.
“Shit,” she said as she shoved the phone away.
CHAPTER 7
It was late afternoon and Samara was fidgeting again. Eric looked over at her in what seemed to be her favorite position: bare feet on the dashboard and a lock of hair in her hand, which she would
braid, unravel and braid again. The tension in the truck when they had started off this morning had been almost unbearable, but as the day wore on it dissipated. It helped that Eric stopped more frequently today so she could get out and move around, since he knew how hard it was for her to be cooped up in the car all day. She seemed to appreciate it and his consideration of her had gone a long way to smoothing things over between them, for which he was grateful. He realized that he had handled things this morning in the worst possible way. His lust for her had caught him off guard, and once he saw where things were heading, it had been way too late for him to stop. She’d been in his head, and the only thing he could think to do to get her out was to lash out at her. He’d felt like a royal prick after, but didn’t know what to do or say to make it right. Perhaps there wasn’t a way, and at least if she thought he was an asshole, she would keep her distance. That would be best for both of them.
He watched her continue with the methodical braiding of her hair, and an image of her doing the same thing when she was a kid struck him. Although he couldn’t see a family of succubae going on a road trip, but stranger things have happened.
“Did you never go on long car trips when you were a kid?” he asked out of genuine curiosity, which surprised him. He hadn’t been interested in anyone else’s life for a long time, but he wanted to know her. Deep down there was a part of him that longed to know everything about her, about what made her the woman she was.
“Long car trips hadn’t been invented when I was a kid,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair before she started braiding again. “Even if they were, my mother was definitely not the happy family type.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, trying hard not to be enchanted by her habit of playing with her hair when she was bored.