‘Harris, I need you,’ she said. ‘Harris, I need you.’ Over and over again she said it in tight little breaths as he opened her with a scissoring of his fingers, opened her where she thickened and swelled against his touch, where the soft glide and slip of her invited him deeper. And God, he wanted to go deeper, way deeper than her body would allow, way deeper than he could ever go just holding her in his arms.
Kendra told him his problem was that he was too intense, that he wasn’t ever willing to keep it simple with women, to keep it uncomplicated. Jesus, she was so right! And the very thought of what Stacie kept hidden from him made him ache, not because she kept secrets – everyone had secrets – but because he could see they hurt her. He could see what she kept hidden wounded her deeply and yet she kept it, held it, locked it away.
He lifted her right foot to rest on his shoulder, forcing her to lean back on the tiles and open still further. Even over the scent of shower gel, even in the rising steam, he could smell her scent, he could smell her desire. He buried his face in the warm wet of her and she gave a little jerk and a sigh before curling fingers in his hair.
She let out a little cry. ‘Harris, oh God, that’s …’ Her words trailed off and the curl of her fist tightened next to his scalp as he bore down on the rise of her clit, alternately sucking and kissing, then licking a path around her hardness with the press of his tongue. He felt the tension tighten her whole body around him. Her grip in his hair was nearly painful. Her body went rigid and her back arched against the wall as she convulsed against his mouth. And, in the spasms that racked her, her foot slid off his shoulder and she slipped to the floor next to him, pushing and shoving him back until he sat flat on the shower floor with his spine resting on the decorative glass blocks of the wall, and he was thankful it was a big shower.
That was his last coherent thought that didn’t involve Stacie’s deep, expressive mouth wrapped around his cock. She did things with her tongue … while she cupped and stroked his balls, she did things with her tongue, opening her throat until he was deep inside and then pressing all of her tongue up against the length of him, flat and slick and tight, tighter than he could have believed possible. Then, somehow, she moved it, shivered it, and lapped at the whole of his length. And God, the sensation made him insane. He ground his ass against the floor of the shower and pushed her hair to one side so he could watch, so he could see Stacie Emerson sucking his cock. Jesus! Stacie Emerson was sucking his cock! And it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. And she was getting him there in a big way, in a big hurry.
He tried to pull away. He tried to suggest they go back to the bedroom so he could get a condom, but she only tightened her grip around him, and fuck, he realized she was playing with herself, stroking the flat of her hand between her legs in that amazing place where his tongue had just been, where his face had been only minutes ago. And that did nothing to slow progress.
‘Stacie, I can’t … I need to …’ But she sucked harder and lifted her bottom until he could make out the movement of her fingers snaking in and out of her and circling over her clit, and there was no way he could hold back any longer.
He came hard, crying out something strangled, something incoherent followed by her name as he jerked and banged his already addled head against the wall. Not that he noticed anything but how Stacie took him, shivering out another orgasm against her fingers. She took him, all of him, swallowing down everything; she took him until he was completely spent. It was only then that he realized the shaking of her shoulders had nothing to do with sexual release; that she wept in great, wracking sobs. He scooped her onto his lap, into his arms, and held her, feeling miserably helpless in spite of their lovemaking. He held her until she relaxed, until he relaxed. And they clung to each other until the pelting water of the shower turned tepid. At last she breathed a shaky sigh and stood, offering him her hand.
‘Come on,’ she said. All at once her voice was neutral, as though nothing had happened. ‘We’ll catch a cold.’
She had just reached for the towel, standing there in the harsh light of the bathroom all goosefleshed, nipples and areolas impossibly swollen, and Harris couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t enough. Jesus, it was never enough. He scooped her into the towel, and lifted her into his arms, still drenched and dripping and leaving wet tracks on the wood floor in the hallway as he carried her to his bed.
Ignoring her protests, he wrestled her into the mattress, making a halfhearted attempt to dry her, but there were places he wanted to leave wet, very wet. It was when she kicked and writhed in a ticklish shudder that the towel fell away, and he grabbed her ankle and ran his tongue up the instep of her foot, settling his lips around her big toe.
This time the shudder was followed by a tight gasp and a moan, and her legs fell open to offer him exquisite views of what lay between, what he could never get enough of. His cock tightened and jerked and stretched toward her in spite of the fact that he’d come only minutes ago, and he felt full all over again. He made his way to suckle and lick each of her toes in turn, with her lying there unselfconscious in her vulnerability, in her exposure, grinding her bottom against the mattress and arching her back in turn. The gasps and groans had made way for soft purrs and delicious mewling sounds that pushed his cock beyond half-mast to full wood. As he began the torturously delicious tongue-bath up her ankle and onto her calf, she slid her fingers down, first to cup her pubis, then to tweak her clit and dip into her swollen depths. But he pushed her hand away.
‘That’s mine,’ he managed, nipping at the sinuous muscle of her calf. ‘Don’t touch it. This time it’s totally mine.’
‘Oh God, Harris,’ she moaned, reaching to rake grasping fingers through his hair in an effort to pull him up to her. ‘Then hurry up. I can’t stand it. I need you in me.’
He shoved her hand away and continued his ascent up the inside of her knee and onto her thigh. The ocean heat scent of her made him feel like he would burst if he didn’t enter her soon.
‘Harris, pleeese,’ she gasped, practically bouncing off the bed when his still-damp hair grazed the splay of her. And then, always the proactive type, she arched and stretched and writhed her way up the bed, the hand not still trying to find purchase in his hair, fumbling for the drawer of the bedside table. She wriggled and bucked until she could almost sit up, with him moving to grasp her hips as he licked and kissed and nipped ever closer to her wet, slick heat.
He heard the rattle of the condom wrapper. And then she shoved it at him. ‘Put it on, Harris,’ she hissed sucking a tight breath as he nipped her clit. ‘Put it on now and fuck me. Now!’
He was desperate to be inside her. His ascent of her body was at least as torturous for him as it was for her. The agony was like a sweet, tensed fist cupping and squeezing the weight of his need, and his erection ached with the fullness that tightened every muscle of his body, that made breathing an unbelievable effort. He sheathed his cock a little more slowly than he would have liked, arousal making him awkward and uncoordinated.
‘Hurry,’ she moaned. ‘Please hurry, Harris. I need you!’
There it was again. Stacie Emerson needed him. It did things to him when she said that. The condom in place, he obliged her, moving in between her thighs, giving her delicious slickness one last long slurp with his tongue before rising above her and sinking into her velvety, warm depths.
She rose up to meet him, her legs sliding into place around his waist, slipping against the water droplets that still sheened his hips and back from the shower. Only a couple of hard thrusts and she came again, hands fisted against his upper back, face buried against the curve of his neck. This time her shudders were ones of pleasure and they belonged to him. Because he’d just come so recently, he was able to slow his pace, revel in the tensing and straining of her body, suss out just what he could do to make her come again and again. Her grip around the length of him was a deep, suckling pull that tightened and tugged with each thrust. Even when he held still to kiss and caress her b
reasts, to thumb the demanding rise of her clit, even when he held her still, pinned beneath his weight, unable to thrust, the tight grip and release, grip and release of her strong inner muscles had him on the edge again.
With each of her orgasms building on the one before, each causing her spasms against his cock to clench still tighter, it wasn’t long. It wasn’t long until a particularly hard thrust sent them both over, gasping and convulsing and spilling into each other, grasping at each other as though their very existence depended on it. And even though he didn’t want to think about it, even though at the moment he wanted to chase all of the nightmares Stacie had endured away from her and leave her with only good dreams and good realities, he knew that Jamison wasn’t going to go away and Stacie would never be safe as long as he was in the picture. He pulled her to him with such force that she groaned. He’d keep her safe. He wouldn’t let what happened to her in New York happen again. Ever. He’d keep her safe here with him.
Neither of them spoke. Instead, they shoved and pushed their way under the blankets and slept the sleep of exhaustion.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘Stacie, wake up.’ Harris kissed her ear, and her hand moved to her face as though she were swatting away a fly. If circumstances were different he’d have loved nothing so much as to watch her sleep, but this was a special day. He’d woken to the email he’d hoped for from Doug, over on the Crooked River, so watching her sleep would have to wait for another time, and he absolutely planned to make sure it happened.
He kissed her again and pulled back the covers, a mistake on his part because seeing her naked in his bed made his cock stir and tighten in his walking trousers. But thoughts of what he’d like to do to her there in his bed would also have to wait.
‘Hey, sleepyhead. Get up if you want to see the mountain lions.’
‘Wha …?’ She fought her way from the tangle of sheets to sit naked on the edge of the bed. ‘Mountain lions? Really?’
‘Doug’s emailed to say he’s spotted the female on her territory, and just yesterday he spotted a big male. Love’s in the air. Come on. We don’t want to miss our window of opportunity.’ Before she could ask he said, ‘I hope you don’t mind but I had Flannery send someone to your flat to pack up something suitable for you to wear.’ He nodded to the bag he’d just brought upstairs. ‘Now, get a move on. I’m making some sandwiches and coffee, and we’re off.’
In spite of the short notice, Stacie was downstairs and ready to go in less than ten minutes. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of the blond sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee opposite Flannery.
‘Stacie, meet Dianna. She works for me,’ Flannery said. ‘She’ll be you today and tomorrow if need be. Kenny over there, who you’ve already met –’ the man drinking coffee and gazing out the picture window gave a nod and a wave ‘– he’s all set to be Walker while you two are off cougar-spotting.’
Harris filled the Thermos and shoved it in the side of the backpack. ‘We’re officially not leaving the cabin today. Now hurry up, we have a long drive.’
Stacie took it all in with very little effort as though the plan made perfect sense to her. Outside, he shook his head as she started to climb into the Jeep. He nodded to one of Flannery’s black SUVs instead, and she let out a wicked chuckle. ‘Harris Walker, you’re a deliciously devious man.’
‘Anything for mountain lions,’ he said, opening the door on the passenger side and motioning her in.
It was still dark outside when they pulled onto Highway 26 heading toward Central Oregon. In fact, it would be dark for several more hours. Harris loved that Stacie seemed as bright-eyed and excited as he was about the chance to see the lions. He shot her a glance from behind the wheel. ‘You know there are no guarantees. Cats can be really elusive. We may end up having nothing more than a long drive and a hard hike.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said, offering him a cup of coffee from the flask. ‘I’m up for a road trip and a hike. In fact, that’s exactly what I need. I’ve already emailed Jenny to let her know I won’t be in. What has to be done at the gallery today she can take care of with the help of the two interns. They’re working on the Japanese exhibit. Carla’s interviewing Ellis this afternoon for the film loop. After that, she can begin the final edits. Oh, there’s lots to be done and we’re getting down to the wire, but I’m pretty anal, so we’ll be ready.’
He sipped his coffee and nearly burnt his tongue. ‘Then you’re OK with this?’
‘I’m better than OK, Harris. I told you I wanted to watch you work.’
‘This is not an Armageddon shoot,’ he said. ‘It’s not like the photos you’ll be displaying.’
‘That’s even more important,’ she replied. ‘I told you I wanted the good things, the hopeful future, the treasures that are worth protecting, to be a part of the exhibition as well. You and Kyle and the photos you take are the conscience of the Northwest. You’re able to show people what’s at stake in a way no one else could. That’s what you did for Ellis in Valderia, and that’s what you do in every issue of Wilderness Vanguard and in every photo you take.’
Harris felt himself smiling in the darkness. It delighted him that his efforts to take her mind off the Jamison situation had worked so well. It delighted him even more that she understood his passion so much better than he could have ever imagined. ‘I take the pictures for my own pleasure,’ he said. ‘Well, at least that’s how I started out. The oil slicks, the clear-cuts, they came from just feeling that people needed to know. Those I don’t enjoy. Those make me sick.’
‘They should make everyone sick. Why haven’t you ever exhibited any of them before?’ she asked. ‘OK, I know you didn’t want to work with me, and I understand why, but I’ve studied all your exhibitions to date, and there’ve been a few. Why none of the Armageddon photos?’
His grip on the steering wheel turned painful, and he handed her back the coffee cup, not wanting any more. He found it difficult to speak. ‘I told you, Stacie, they make me sick.’
For a long moment, she studied him. He could feel her gaze more than see it in the dim light of the dashboard. ‘What? You mean those shoots literally make you ill?’
‘Sometimes I get headaches, sometimes I throw up. I always have nightmares.’ He felt cold, and the coffee felt like acid in the pit of his stomach.
Stacie reached her hand across the seat and laid it gently on his leg. ‘Harris, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
His hand closed around hers in a tight grip. ‘I wasn’t really … looking forward to talking to Carla Flannery about my work, and I really didn’t want you to see me … like that.’
‘And yet you went through with it,’ she said softly.
He nodded, not knowing if she could see him or not. ‘It’s a good idea, what you’re doing. It’s a brilliant idea, and the reason you’re doing it’s a good thing.’ He glanced over at her. ‘But for me, it won’t ever be an easy thing.’
Again he felt her gaze on him. ‘For you, Harris, for a man of your passion and your love for nature, how could it ever be easy?’
For a long time after that they rode in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Harris watched the road unwind in front of him as they made their way off the flank of Mount Hood, thick with conifers and rhododendrons, and descended into the dryer woodlands that dropped them down onto the Warm Springs Reservation. At some point, Stacie drifted off to sleep, her head resting against the window, her breathing even and relaxed. Harris hoped her dreams were pleasant ones that had nothing to do with the nightmares of her past or the situation she now faced. But when she uttered a startled cry and convulsed hard against the seatbelt before fighting her way up into the waking world, he figured that wasn’t the case. ‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes! Fine!’ Her rapid, panicked breathing told him otherwise, but he let it go. ‘Where are we?’
‘Just passed through Prineville.’
They ate the first of the peanut butter sandwiches before they p
arked the SUV and headed up a dry canyon on foot, leaving the whisper of the Crooked River below them in the greying dawn. The packs were heavy. Most of the weight was water, since there were no sources beyond the river. The ascent ahead of them was strenuous, and the day, though still chilled with the desert pre-dawn, could turn warm.
‘My cat has several daybeds up here,’ Harris said. ‘Doug knows her haunts pretty well by now. You won’t see any footprints, though; cougars are light-footed, and this canyon is mostly rock. It was nearly two years ago I took the photos, and mountain lions breed only every other year, so if Doug’s right, then we might see the male too. The pair’ll stay together anywhere from three to ten days if mating. Otherwise, they’re solitary, except for females with kittens.’
They’d been walking at a steady ascent for nearly an hour when they heard the first scream. Stacie gasped and let out a little yelp. She was nearly on top of Harris when the second scream erupted and echoed through the canyon.
‘That’s the male?’ she whispered, the beat of her pulse metering her voice.
He shook his head, slipping a hand in hers to give it a reassuring squeeze. ‘That’s the female calling the male. She’s ready to mate. Terrifying sound, isn’t it?’
She nodded as it came again. ‘I’ve heard about it, but I never imagined …’ Her voice drifted off.
‘Come on.’ Harris motioned up the trail, easing open his camera case. ‘If Doug’s right, this route should put us up above the daybed with a good view.’
As the cry came again, Stacie didn’t hesitate, but nodded toward the sound and followed Harris up the trail.
The sun was just staining the sky pink when they topped the rise that overlooked an outcropping of rocks opposite them on the other side of a narrow canyon. And there on a ledge were the two mountain lions. Harris could feel the tensing of Stacie’s body in the excitement he knew she felt because he felt it too. From the looks of the situation the female had been calling for a mate, and the male, who crouched on the outcropping just above her, had just arrived. Harris breathed deeply and slowly to steady his hands as he aimed the camera. He was so engrossed in the cats that it took him a second to realize Stacie had her own camera, and he couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride at just how calm she was, already shooting next to him. But then he reminded himself she’d grown up in the Russian wilderness. Beneath the big city veneer, she was made of stern stuff. He leaned close to her. ‘This is my cat all right. See the little notch in her left ear, some old injury.’ His voice was less than a whisper, but she nodded that she understood.
The Exhibition (An Executive Decision Trilogy) Page 23