by Carol Caiton
Nope. No way. He latched onto her arm and held. It was the arm with the scar.
She stopped but she didn't turn back around.
"You let me carry you all the way from the training center to the checkpoint." He smoothed his thumb over the jagged line of flesh on her arm. "That was somewhere around ten minutes, baby."
She still didn't answer.
"So does that mean you aren't afraid of me? You're not worried I'll steal away part of your soul? —Or maybe it means you're stealing part of mine to replace it."
She went still.
"And look at you now, building walls 'cause you don't want to answer me, but you still haven't pulled away."
She turned her head then and looked at him, searched his face. Yeah, he knew all about building walls.
Gently tugging, he turned her all the way back around. He let go of her arm to slide his hand up to her jaw. So maybe it was time to see if they were on the same page here. Maybe it was time to see how far this trust thing between them went.
He slipped his fingers around her throat to the back of her neck, tilting her chin up with his thumb. Her pulse started beating fast and heavy. Oh, yeah.
"Ya know," he said quietly, "we've been standing here with me touching you for a couple of minutes now. So whaddaya think? Is it because I'm such a good lookin' guy?"
A faint smile curved her lips and that's what he wanted to see. He smiled back down at her, smoothed his thumb along that incredibly soft skin and lowered his voice. "Or do you think maybe there's more to it than that?"
Her pretty smiled started to fade.
He slid his fingers into her hair and felt a tremor go through her.
That's right, baby. Feel how good it can be.
He bent forward until his mouth touched her temple. "I'm gonna kiss you in a second." He traced a path down to her jaw. "If it gets to be too much, just pull away."
He bit down on her earlobe and her breath quickened, making those sweet breasts press up against his chest, and he just about groaned.
He bit again and she gasped. Then he was the one who had to pull back.
Fuck!
He raised his head to look down at her face. Pink color rushed into her cheeks. She blinked. Then she got all flustered and lowered her eyes and damn, but she fascinated him.
He brought his other hand up to frame her face. Maybe she was just shy. Or self-conscious. She was only now learning what it could be like between a man and a woman, right? She'd never felt these things before.
Realizing that made him want to be careful, make everything good for her. Being with him like this, she was giving him that responsibility and it humbled him even as he felt the wisdom of his lifetime experience.
"If you need to cry this time, it's okay," he told her. "I'll take it as it comes, baby." And if his words had just embarrassed her, he couldn't tell because her cheeks were still pink. But he wanted her to know right now, up front, that he wasn't gonna walk out on her because of a few tears.
"Michael," she murmured.
She tucked her cheek into the palm of his hand and those angel-blue eyes drifted closed.
Oh, honey.
CHAPTER 14
Desire roared through him. Then a sort of tenderness floated over top and tempered it. So much emotion surged through him, he felt like he couldn't hold it.
"Rachel," he breathed.
She turned her head a little and pressed her lips to his palm.
Elation shot through him like a spear of lightning. How the hell was he gonna take this slow and careful when he could hardly stay inside his own skin?
He reached up and squeezed the ends of the clip in her hair and his hand shook.
"What are you doin' to me, baby?"
Then all that hair tumbled down and she was the angel he'd seen by the koi pond at RUSH . . . fresh, young, blushing, and maybe a little scared.
He swelled up so hard, he was ready to bust.
Dropping the clip into the sink, he took a deep breath. Then he sank his fingers into handfuls of curling silk and bunched it into his fists. Damn. Goddamn . . . .
"Michael." She whispered his name. Her arms slid to his waist. "Show me what to do."
Show her what to do? Hell, she was already doing it.
He buried his face in her neck, breathed in the fragrance of her hair, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Just feel it." He dragged his mouth along her jaw, pressing kisses on the way, trying to ease some of the emotion flooding through him. "Just feel it," he whispered again, "and let me take you to the stars."
Her breath jerked in with those little gasps and he squeezed his fists tighter.
"Yes," she breathed. "Take me to the stars, Michael."
Oh, sweetheart.
He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes, smoky clouds of blue now. Her breath mingled with his, sweet and moist.
"Michael . . . ."
He stopped trying to figure it out. He didn't know what it was she did to him but he'd think about it later.
Closing his eyes, he bent his head that last inch and fitted his mouth over hers, careful not to use too much pressure. Then he slipped his tongue between her lips and just about traveled to the stars himself.
He was lost in a way he'd never been lost before, feeling some sort of exhilaration he'd never felt before. He slid one hand out of her hair, around to the curve of her breast, and rubbed his thumb over her nipple.
She gasped right into his mouth and his whole body jolted.
Pulling her up hard against him, he held her there and shuddered. He was primed. So goddamn primed. He couldn't stop himself from grinding against her, squeezing that nipple, and surging into her mouth all over again.
Oh, honey. Hell, baby.
"Michael!"
He reared back, ripping his mouth away.
"No!" she cried out, grabbing onto his T-shirt. "Don't stop! Please don't stop."
He stared into her eyes. Then he bent down, swept one arm behind her knees, and picked her up. Throbbing heavily in his pants, he carried her back into the bedroom and over to his bed.
"I'm not gonna stop," he assured her. "Not unless you tell me to."
He put her down on the bed, toed off his shoes, and slid onto the sheets beside her. Purposely he left his clothes on. He knew he was going too fast for her. She'd begged him not to stop, but she was nowhere near as ready as he was.
He propped himself on one elbow and leaned over, but she slid a hand under his T-shirt and the feel of her fingers on his skin zinged right to his cock. He sucked in a breath, sat up, and pulled the thing over his head.
C'mon, baby, do that again.
And goddamn, she did.
"Michael," she murmured again, real soft. She skimmed her hand up his stomach, sifted her fingers through the hair on his chest, and every cell in his body jumped up and danced. Holy hell, he wanted those fingers all over him for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the week.
He eyed those little cuts under her bottom lip, reminding himself to take it easy. Then he tucked an arm around her, pulled her closer, and bent down to trace a line of kisses to her mouth.
"Yes . . . ."
It was a whisper of air beside his ear just before those rosebud lips touched his and it made him feel like she needed him the same way she needed to breathe. If he didn't yank himself under control, he was gonna go off in his pants and fly away without her.
He ran his hand up her arm to the neckline of her leotard, then stroked his thumb down over her breast to her nipple. When she arched her body against his and pushed her breast into his hand, he had to pull away from her mouth and clamp his jaw. Watching her face, he squeezed her nipple through the fabric and she arched again, pushing hard against him.
Fuck! Goddamn it. He fought back the growl of frustration building in his chest and broke out in a sweat. He wasn't gonna last much longer.
He slid his fingers under the flimsy material, pulled it down, and gave himself an eyeful of firm, plump breast and a pal
e pink nipple. It was tight as a bead and he sucked it into his mouth.
"Michael!" She jerked into him.
He pulled back again.
"No!" she cried out, just like before.
He took a hard breath and stared down at her. "I wanna feel you against me, Rachel. Skin to skin."
Her eyes were drowsy with passion. Her breathing was almost as rough as his.
"Yes," she whispered.
He slid the leotard off one shoulder then the other. She did one of those little gasps when he pulled it down to her stomach, exposing both breasts. But he kept going and man, oh, man, she was the most beautiful human being he'd ever seen.
He slid it down the rest of the way, dropped it onto the floor behind him, and she was completely naked. He didn't give her time to think about it, though. He sucked a nipple back into his mouth, swirled his tongue around it, and slid his hand up her velvety skin to the other nipple and tugged.
She whimpered and it was the sweetest sound he'd heard in a long time.
Trailing his hand back down her stomach, he moved slowly toward her abdomen and waited a few seconds. She had to know where he was going with this. But she didn't pull away.
He waited another second, then slid his fingers into that triangle of golden blonde curls, easing one finger lower until he found hot, wet flesh.
She stiffened. She clamped her legs together and her fingers dug into the back of his neck.
Immediately he lifted his head. But he didn't take his hand away. Not yet. He looked deep into her eyes and watched as she stared back at him. If she told him to stop, he'd stop. It would damn near cripple him, but he'd take his hand away and stop.
She was scared. It glittered in her eyes.
He waited a few more seconds. Then he stroked his finger over her. Just once. Then back again.
Her eyes widened.
"If you want me to stop, I'll stop. But I swear to you it won't hurt like it did before. I'll never hurt you like that. Never."
She searched his eyes. Her breath was shallow and quick and fear was still there. But he felt her muscles begin to relax some. Then she surprised the hell out of him by bending her knee and sliding one foot up the sheet, opening her legs to him.
Something expanded in his chest. His heart tightened like a fist. The tenderness, this power . . . . He'd never felt anything like it in his life. It built up inside until it lodged in his throat and he had to swallow.
He slid his finger through her slickness and realized she was more ready than he'd thought. She was hot and swollen and he found that sensitive spot he was looking for.
"Michael?" She started to stiffen again.
"It's okay, baby. Just feel how good it is."
But she wasn't tightening up out of fear. She arched up off the bed and flew apart right before his eyes.
"Michael!"
Yes, goddamn it! He increased the rhythm of his hand and watched her arch up even higher.
He wanted to go down on her. He wanted to show her every frigging pleasure he knew how to give. But she was going for the stars without him and he was ready to explode in his pants.
He took his hand away, tore at his jeans, and shoved them down his legs.
"Michael!" she demanded.
"Look at me, Rachel." The urgency in his voice made it rough and gritty. "Look at me, baby."
He settled himself between her thighs. Her breasts rose and fell as she pulled in air. She was struggling to breathe, same as he was.
"I wanna be inside you, baby." He reached for one of her hands and brought it to his cock, wrapping her fingers around him and holding her there. Blue heat flared up inside him like some kind of flash fire. He squeezed his eyes shut. Shuddered. Then he lifted his lids again.
She was staring up at him.
"Rachel." He could barely get her name out. "Put your leg over my waist, sweetheart. That's right."
Propping himself on one forearm, he kept his other hand over hers while he guided himself to her heat. When the head of his cock began to slide inside, he clenched his jaw and pulled her hand away.
His blood pounded in his ears. He was on fire everywhere. She was small and snug and wet and the pleasure washing over him was so intense, it ripped a groan out of his chest.
He fought for control, pushing a little deeper even as he ground his teeth together. His whole body shuddered. The need to bury himself inside her was so powerful, he couldn't stop from pulling back and pushing forward a little more. Just a little more. Then, shutting his eyes, he eased back once more, shook, and sank his cock into all that wet silky heat until he was deep inside her.
He hauled in a ragged breath. Then another. When the first rush of an oncoming climax began to surge he forced it back, fighting for control all over again. Damn it! Struggling to breath, he lifted his head, looked up—and went stark still.
"Rachel, no. Baby, don't go there."
She stared somewhere beyond him, drifting.
"Rachel." He skimmed his fingers across her cheek. "I remember it too, baby. It's always there because it happened. It's part of who we are now. But it's part of what makes us strong."
He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "It won't disappear because it can't. No matter how much we want it to, baby, it can't."
He knew she heard him. She wouldn't look at him, but he saw comprehension in her eyes. He ran one knuckle down to her jaw and kept talking.
"But we can put it away. You find a place inside. You hold it close so you can take it out when you need to. When you know you have to. But you control it. You take it out carefully. A little bit at a time. Only a little bit. And you don't let it win. You don't let it take you away. Ever. Because every time it takes you away, it's harder to come back."
A tear leaked out the corner of her eye. He knew the pain she felt, knew the nightmare she lived with.
He wiped the wetness away, rubbed it between his thumb and index finger, and saw that her eyes were focused again. She still stared at something behind him, but that empty look was gone now.
"We survived it, baby. We made it," he told her. "And what we're doing right now, with me inside your body—this is our decision, not some maggot piece of filth stealing what doesn't belong to him. You're not taking anything I don't want to give, and I'm not taking anything from your soul. Look at me, Rachel."
More tears ran down her temples.
"Look at me, baby," he said again. And this time she turned her face toward his. She choked in a couple of breaths, but she had it under control now. "That's it, sweetheart. Good. That's good."
"Michael—" Her voice cracked.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You did good, baby. You did good."
"I'm sorry."
"Shhh. It's okay." He wiped some more of her tears and she blinked a few times.
"Do you still—" She stopped. Swallowed. "Do you still want to do this with me?"
Oh, man. Oh, sweetheart. "Rachel, I want to do this with you so bad, it's killing me."
Her eyes widened. She dropped her gaze to his mouth. And then he wanted to know what she was thinking because that pink color rushed into her face again.
He twitched inside her. Her eyes shot back to his, startled first, then curious. She went still, like she was trying to take in new information and understand it. Then he twitched again. He couldn't help it. And this time, her female muscles clenched back in response.
She stared up at him. "Michael?"
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "Let's see if we can take you back up to the stars. No, baby, don't close your eyes." Bending down, he kissed her. He rocked against her and pushed deeper. "I want you to look at me. Know it's me inside you. No nightmares. No memories. Just you and me in my bed."
He stroked his hand down her side, then father, down to the curve of her ass. He withdrew a little, then, reaching the end of his endurance, he pushed deep into her heat, withdrew, and plunged in again.
She kept her eyes on his, like he told her. He s
aw the trust she gave him, saw her eyes start to go smoky with passion again, and it was one hell of a heady feeling.
His control snapped. He drove into her with deep, hard strokes, blind with need. He gripped her ass, pulled her hard against him, and slid a finger between her butt cheeks. He found her anus, moist and ultrasensitive, and pressed.
"Michael!"
She flew apart in his arms, contracting around him, squeezing him as he took her to the closest thing to heaven he ever expected to know.
Ecstasy ripped through him like a tidal wave. He pumped into her and the spasms rocked his body. He shot, hot and fierce, flooding her with semen until his vision blurred, and still it roared through him, on and on until his lungs heaved and his body shook and he threw back his head, growling from someplace deep inside his chest.
He fell on top of her. His muscles just gave out, plain and simple. He could hardly breathe, struggled to gulp in short breaths of air.
Never in his life had he felt anything like that. Or this. He couldn't move, couldn't even lift his head to see if she was okay. Hell, if she needed some space, needed to do some of that processing she'd told him about, she was just gonna have to push him off.
But she didn't push. After a couple of minutes she squirmed a little and dislodged his finger from that very personal place in her ass. But then he felt a fluttering of little butterfly kisses on his arm, on his chest, and damn if it didn't take whatever strength he did have just to smile.
* * *
Rachel looked at the puckered welt of flesh she'd just kissed. She saw another just like it a couple of inches away and covered it with her fingers. Scars. On his chest. And another on his upper arm that was almost identical to the one she had. What on earth had he lived through to have so many? She wanted to ask. But scars like these were personal. They were more personal than lying naked and making love. They went to the depth of those experiences that were better off buried, kept in that place he told her about, close inside. A place you shouldn't go to unless you had to.
He knew about building walls. And he knew about other things as well. Like the haven she used to call her soft world. It had been a long time since she'd gone there. Even that hideous black chain hadn't hurled her back. Yet the sensation of Michael penetrating her had triggered it. But when he told her it gets harder and harder to come back, that scared her. She'd never gone there as an adult. What if she couldn't find her way out again? So she listened to what he had to say. She let him pull her back. And he'd taken her with him to heaven.