Rescue Me

by Allie Adams

  “Back on the boat.”

  “But what about Mr. D's?”

  He loved his gyros, too. It was the same every time they came to the market. He loved Greek food and the gyros at the market were beyond compare.

  “I'd rather eat at Ms. D's.”

  Oh, God. His voice, so low and smooth, strummed across her senses. She let out a shaky breath. Maybe they should just go. If he kept devouring her with his eyes and dropping hints in that sexy voice, she wouldn't make it back to the boat. She'd attack him right here in front of everyone.

  “I want a gyro.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, although begrudgingly.

  After lunch they spent the rest of the day walking from vendor to vendor, both eagerly anticipating returning to the house. They purposely prolonged the trip back, building the sexual fervor into a wild frenzy that left her quivering and wet.

  By the time the vendors started to close up, she had a new supply of emu oil and lip balm, and of course her rose. He had the fresh fish under his arm.

  “You ready?”

  Oh God, yes. “So soon?”

  He pointed toward an ominous group of black clouds moving in. “See those clouds? We need to get back to the house before that storm hits. The temperature must have dropped ten degrees since we got here.”

  Not to her. With him so close and all those innuendos, she had a fever. “What happens if we're on the water when it's storming?”

  Spencer already had them out of the market and halfway back to the boat when he stopped and turned back to her. “Ever see A Perfect Storm?”

  She frowned. No, she'd never seen the movie, but the picture on the front of all the posters said enough. Her stomach flipped at the thought of being on the boat during a storm. “That's not funny. We aren't a fishing boat out in the middle of wherever they were.” She trembled at the thought.

  Spencer pulled her to him. “I know how much you hate the water. Let's just get back to the house before the storm hits so you don't have to know what happens when we are out in the boat in the middle of a storm. How's that sound?”

  She relaxed ever so slightly, knowing that Spencer wouldn't do anything to put her in danger. “Sounds good to me.”

  SIXTEEN

  “I was going to grill the fish, but now that it's raining, I think I'll broil it instead. What do you think?”

  She shrugged, not knowing the difference between the two. “Whatever.”

  “I forgot who I was asking. Ms. Box Nuker. How about you take wine duty?” Amusement laced his tone. Spencer kicked his lips into a grin and chuckled.

  That she could handle. She knelt in front of Spencer's chilled wine collection and made her selection, pulling out a nice Chardonnay to show him. He nodded his approval and she corked it to pour them each a glass. After handing him his wine, she sat down at the breakfast bar to watch him cook another one of his masterpieces.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Spencer stiffened as he skillfully sliced onions into giant rings and placed them over the fish in the pan. “Do I have to answer?”

  “Generally, that's the way it works.”

  “Does it have to be the truth?”

  “Spencer.”

  His eyes glimmered as he smiled, but Kat saw the caution in his expression. A rare tenderness clouded them. “Go ahead.”

  She had the urge to tell him how much she truly loved him. It made no sense, considering where it got her the last time. A broken heart, new address, and lonely bed.

  With a sudden declaration that shocked her, she let out a breath and said, “It doesn't matter.”

  He finished with the onions and moved on to the lemons. “After all of that, you chicken out?”

  Was that challenge she saw flickering in his gaze?

  “I've just had so much fun today. I don't want to ruin it.”

  “So don't.”

  “It's not that easy.” She wished it were. She wished their relationship was one for the greatest romance novels, one that would have people comparing theirs to and trying to match. With a weary sigh she then took a long drink of her wine.

  His expression turned somber and he set down the knife. “Why can't it be? Why not accept what we have? Why try to analyze it? Or complicate it?”

  “Because I want more.” She wanted the fairy tale. Marriage. Kids. A white picket fence. Hell, she even wanted the dog. With Spencer she wouldn't have any of those things.

  He shook his head and muttered a curse as he picked up the knife and slammed it down to smash a clove of garlic. She flinched from the force of it. When he pulled the knife back up the poor garlic was nothing more than a flattened patty of mush.

  She regretted saying anything. They were having such a great time before she had to go and open her mouth. “I'm sorry.”

  He let out a rough sigh. “I'm trying, Kathryn. But I have to be honest with you.”

  That statement gave her a sharp chill. “Okay.”

  “You terrify me,” he admitted. Smack! Another clove of garlic perished under his wrath.

  He had to be making that up. Nothing scared Spencer Allen. He was the most powerful man she knew. Fierce. Passionate. Deadly. And she loved every single trait. “I don't understand.”

  “I did everything wrong before. I'm scared out of my mind that I'm going to screw up again. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, then and now. I don't want to lose you.” He kept his gaze focused on the cutting board.

  Her heart raced at his declaration. Just when she didn't think she could love him more, he went and said something like that. She'd never seen such vulnerability shadowing his eyes, darkening his expression. He scraped the garlic off the cutting board and spread it over the fish.

  “Spencer?”

  He grimaced and kept his attention on the fish as he rearranged the onions.

  “Spencer, look at me.”

  After he clenched his jaw as he washed his hands, he looked at her. Pain and passion mixed with fury in his expression, but he didn't glance away.

  She held his gaze. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “Neither am I.”

  They stared at each other for an eternity, taking in their vow to each other. She then picked up her wineglass and held it out. “To us, then. Come happiness or misery, we are here for the duration. Let's hope it's not the latter.”

  “Amen to that.” He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers.

  “Do you know what day is coming up?” She decided a change of subject would do them both good. As she lifted her eyes for his answer, she saw how closely he studied the way she cleaned the wine from her lips. The heated look on his face told her he wanted to gather the rest. Her heart fluttered as her stomach tightened. She wanted him to gather the rest.

  “No.” He continued to stare at her lips. She brushed a hand on his arm, loving the way the little hairs tickled her fingers.

  “Valentine's Day.”

  “Really?” He did a terrible job at feigning surprise. “I had no idea.”

  “And I thought if you weren't already taken, you'd like to be mine.” She tossed him a playful grin.

  Spencer spiked his brow. “Isn't it the guy's job to ask the girl?”

  “Welcome to the new century.”

  He walked around the breakfast bar and wrapped his arms around her from behind before nuzzling his lips against her neck. He danced them across her flesh as he brushed them back and forth. Back and forth. Goose bumps peppered her skin.

  “I guess I'm old fashioned. So how about this…” He moved his talented lips up to her ear and nipped with his teeth. “On February Fourteenth, no matter where we are, what we are doing, we stop and spend the day together.”

  “What if we're in the middle of a search?” She shuddered when he darted his tongue out and traced the ridge of her ear.

  “There's no radio communication after dark.”

  He had a good point.

  “Come on, baby. Make that promise with me.”
<
br />   That fervent growl in his voice had her ready to agree to anything. “It's a promise.”

  “I love...” He trailed off and ran his lips along her jaw line. As he went to work on her other ear, a heated shiver hit her.

  Wait. What was he about to say? She wanted to ask him, but the sweet torment consumed her and she stifled a slight moan.

  “Right now, you are all I want to think about.” His lips played on her neck again.

  Kat's body tingled, humming with desire. The moisture between her legs grew to a full-blown heated pool. Aching to be touched, her nipples peaked, painfully brushing against the fabric of her bra. She wanted him, wanted to please him, wanted him to please her.

  He reached around and cupped her breast, scraping his thumb across a waiting hardened nub. She shuddered out a breath and mentally begged him to do it again.

  “Cold?”

  She shook her head. “Excited.”

  Chuckling, he skated his lips across the sensitive spot behind her ear. “You know, most people try to deny their body's response by saying they're cold. But not you.”

  She spun around on the stool so she could face him. “Honesty is the best policy.”

  He stilled his motion as his face lost all expression. He seemed to battle some internal war and when his eyes clouded over with mixed emotion, her desire turned to concern.

  “Spence? What is it?”

  Dropping his gaze to the buttons on her shirt, he undid the first one. Just that fast, the look of doubt in his eyes disappeared, replaced by a darkening hunger. “You told me you wanted to try new things, right?”

  Dare she trust that look? He obviously didn't want to talk about whatever had him so distracted. Instead of pushing him, which would end up ruining their evening, she played along. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You've never undressed for me.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I do every night.”

  He undid another button. Cool air caressed her skin. It sent goose bumps dancing across her flesh and pulsing energy spiraling through her insides. “Not like that. I want you to undress for me, not because we both happen to be in the same room.”

  Her body tickled with excitement. “You mean like a striptease?”

  He nodded and smiled as he reached for another button.

  She slapped his hand away and motioned toward his expensive leather couch. “Have a seat.”

  Grabbing his wine, he sauntered over to the couch and sank down, an anticipatory curl on his full lips. The silence filling the air gave her pause. He seemed to sense her unease and brought up his finger to stop her before she could protest. Jumping up, he went to his CD player and pulled some out of his collection. “Would you rather have Michael Bublé or Joe Cocker?”

  “Michael Bublé,” she answered, unable to resist his rich baritone. “Feeling Good,” she added, knowing the rhythm of that song would get her in the mood. She already throbbed in anticipation. It wouldn't take much to set her off. Feeling good, indeed.

  As the music started, she moved her hips. He hurried back to the couch and took his seat for the show.

  One button. Sway the hips. Don't feel ridiculous for dancing in front of a plethora of windows where God only knew who else could see her.

  The drumbeat started and she closed her eyes.

  Another button. Tease him. Pretend to be a hell of a lot sexier than what stared back at her in the mirror every day. Another button. Swinging with the music, she unbuttoned the last one and threw her shirt open, only to abruptly close it, eyeing him seductively in the hopes she was doing this right.

  He adjusted his groin, pushing the bulge down. Apparently she was doing something right. She smiled and shot him a wink.

  Sucking in her bottom lip, she held it between her teeth as she danced to the music, slowly letting one shoulder bounce to the beat and out of the cover. Once one side slid down, she followed with the other so that the shirt hung at her elbows.

  Another smile before she turned her back to him and removed her shirt completely, throwing it toward him. She totally missed and threw it clear into the kitchen. Good thing she wasn't working for tips.

  He laughed gruffly, and she giggled in return. Stepping to the beat, swaying back and forth, she hoped it looked as sexy as it made her feel. She eyed him over her shoulder and allowed a bra strap to cascade down her shoulder. When the other fell, she puckered her lips and threw him a kiss.

  “Ah Jesus,” he rasped. “This is... It's even better than I could have imagined.”

  “Take off your pants,” she purred in a throaty voice.

  He kicked off his boots and removed his pants, but left the boxers and socks. She snickered. He seemed strained as he demanded, “I want you naked from the belly button down.”

  “You, first.” She stopped swaying and waited.

  He arched a dark eyebrow in challenge. “Or what?”

  She spiked her eyebrow. “Socks. Off. Boxers. Off. Now.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He lost the rest as ordered. His erection bobbed, nodding for her to continue.

  “Would you like me to keep going?”

  “Oh my God, yes.”

  Reaching around, she unhooked her bra and held it in place as she whirled around so she faced him. Stepping toward him, staying in rhythm with the beat, she moved back and forth right in front of him. He reached out to her, but she smacked his hand and retreated a step.

  He groaned.

  Running her tongue along her top lip, she pulled her bra and dangled it in her hand. He held his hands up like a kid at a baseball game, trying to catch the homerun.

  Oh, he'd get a homerun all right.

  Tossing her bra at him, careful to cover her breasts, she turned around and smiled when he uttered a breathless protest. Unbuttoning her jeans, she then unzipped them and slowly pushed them down her swaying hips. As the top of her jeans dropped to her thighs, he let out a growl.

  “Jesus, Kathryn. Where'd you learn to dance like that?” His tone, so thick with lust, came out pure gravel. It made her feel so sexy, so liberated, knowing she had this reaction over him.

  “Catholic school.” She turned to face him, her arm still strategically placed to cover her nipples. They puckered against her forearm and it increased the ardent need pulsing inside her. With her other hand she worked her pants down to her knees.

  “Drop your hand.”

  “No.”

  “Please?” His request came out as a strained whisper.

  She did. When he sucked in a breath, her nipples hardened further and sent shots of tingling shockwaves pouring through her system, rushing her core. The flood of her juices had her wet and eager for more than a dance.

  “Get out of your jeans, babe.”

  Kat tried to continue to sway to the beat as she kicked off her shoes. Her heart flew to her throat when she lost her balance, promptly falling flat on her ass and even skidding back a few inches.

  Ouch.

  So much for being sexy.

  Pushing herself up, she cried out in surprise and awakened lust when Spencer jumped on top of her, crushing her body with his. As her laughter blended with his, he covered her mouth and invaded hers with his tongue, kissing her with such unbridled passion her breath hitched.

  She opened herself up for the conquering, her body quivering as the glory of his touch caressed her. A rough hand closed over her breast, kneading it gently and scraping his thumb over an aching nipple. His engorged cock pushed between her legs, tapping against the soaked material of her panties.

  The jeans around her knees confined her, stopping her from spreading her legs for his capture. Kicking her shoes off now that she was safely on the ground, she wiggled out of the jeans and tossed them aside, pulling her damp panties with them.

  Sweet pleasure washed over her when he dipped his a hand down, spreading her swollen lips. Delving deep, he thrust a finger inside. Her body immediately fisted around him, the walls of her pussy clenching tight.

  With a fina
l kiss and lick of her lips, he pulled away and kissed a path down her chest, pausing only briefly to feast on her breasts. He trailed his tongue around her nipples, barely whispering a breath on them before he continued.

  She whimpered in protest when he didn't pay nearly enough attention to her breasts.

  “You are so wet,” he drawled his explanation for completely ignoring her painfully hard nipples. “I'm dying to be inside you.”

  Thinking of how he wanted her to take control, she weaved her fingers in his hair, stopping him before he could get lower than her belly button. “You have to work your way down.”

  He stopped, panting. “Oh yeah? And what is it I need to do first?”

  She pulled him up to her nipple. He took the hint and captured it with his mouth, sucking greedily until tension twisted around her womb. He then started in on the other one. Not once did he ever stop fingering her, building her taut pressure deep inside her core.

  Flexing her muscles, she lifted her hips to meet the pressure of his fingers. When his thumb covered her clit, stroking it in lazy circles, she trembled and let out a moan.

  Pumping his fingers, he pushed two inside, expanding her, the friction so great she shuddered.

  “Let me taste you,” he muttered against her flesh, raking his teeth across her hard little pebble.

  “Aren't you doing that?”

  Pulling back, he stared at her with clouded eyes, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

  “What do you want?” She knew, and having him admit as much had her spasming in anticipation.

  “I'll show you.” Spencer pulled her up and then dragged her to the couch, while at the same time kissing her with such ferocity her entire body hummed. His talented tongue took control, leaving her helpless but to follow his every command. He cupped her face and increased the intensity of the kiss. Kat whimpered when he sucked her bottom lip and took it between his teeth.

  He lowered her and pulled away. Meeting her eyes, he sank down in front of her, his nose directly in front of her drenched pussy. Nudging her, he drew in a deep breath. “I love your scent.”

  Laying her head back as she reclined on the couch, she fought to keep her breath steady.