by Cherry Adair
"But," she argued with herself, "why should I be so worried? So I want him. Big deal. Sex isn't a lifetime commitment, for pity's sake. It's just sex. Chemistry." Lily climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel. Was she that much of a coward? Derek couldn't hurt her emotionally unless she allowed him to. She put her foot up on the edge of the tub to dry her leg.
She was a mature woman.
Not a young girl.
She enjoyed sex.
It wasn't illegal to want a man when his—her—affections weren't involved. Was it?
She'd tried love. It hadn't worked out for her. So what? She didn't want to marry Derek. All she wanted was to sleep with him. Sex without love could—she assumed—be just as good as sex while in love.
Lily yawned as she dressed, another jaw-cracking yawn that brought tears to her eyes. She was torn, and all her instincts of self-preservation were in conflict as far as Derek was concerned. She wanted him, but she didn't want to want him.
Fact was, her chemicals were strongly attracted to his chemicals. Pheromones hard at work.
But you don't trust him, her brain reminded her.
Why, though? she asked herself. Sean had been the liar. She'd already established that. So why was she so determined to cling to some of those obvious lies he'd told her about Derek?
Because those lies were the only things preventing her from falling into Derek's arms and making a complete fool of herself. That's why.
All the things about him that attracted her, attracted legions of other women, too. And when a man was presented with a banquet, why make a commitment to eating one peanut butter sandwich for the rest of his life?
That was reality.
She had nothing to offer a sophisticated man like Derek Wright. The novelty of her would eventually wear off, and he'd move on to greener pastures.
"But on the other hand," she murmured, "I'm not expecting a commitment, am I? And if I control the situation, we both win. He wants sex. I want sex." Boy howdy, she wanted sex. With him. Only with him.
Right now she was a challenge for him. The one that got away. Lily suspected women rarely told Derek no. So she'd become his Moby-Dick.
Oh, God. Her brain was going to explode.
Too much thinking, not enough sleeping.
That's all this was. Exhaustion overriding common sense.
She opened the bathroom door, expecting to see her nemesis, but the room was still empty. Her stomach growled long and pitifully, reminding her she was starving for more than just Derek's touch. Walking to the window, she brushed aside the drape to look down at her team lying stretched out, sleeping in the late afternoon sun.
Volunteers and observers still milled around out there, checking in a few teams, inspecting dogs, drinking steaming mugs of coffee and apparently oblivious to the cold. It was freezing, but they didn't seem to care. Of course they slept well at night, somewhere enclosed and warm. And most of them traveled by snowmobile, vehicle or plane from checkpoint to checkpoint.
They should try a sled and team for real excitement, Lily thought, her gaze touching on each of her dogs. She grinned as Dingbat rolled onto his back—legs folded over his barrel chest, mouth open, tongue lolling as he slept. She didn't need to hear him to know the little monster was snoring. Her Arrow and Derek's Max lay curled together, their doggie breath mingling over their heads.
"Sweet dreams, kids." She let the drape drop over the window. "Me next." She removed her duffel from the bed and tossed it on the floor, then lay down with a gusty sigh. A flat surface had never felt so good.
"Come on Lily," she whispered drunkenly, "at least stay awake long enough to eat." That was her last conscious thought as her eyelids drooped.
Damn it. Getting the food, with a lodge full of people, had taken Derek longer than he'd planned. When he returned to their room, Lily was fast asleep, curled up in the middle of her bed.
He nudged the door closed behind him. She didn't even flinch in her sleep at the noise. Shaking his head, he set the loaded tray on the table between the beds.
The room smelled of Ivory soap and steam, and the faint, subtle fragrance of Lily herself. Derek took a moment to skirt his bed and lock the door, then shoved a straight-backed chair under the handle. Not as a defense, but as a habit. A puny chair couldn't stop someone from entering, but it would make enough noise to give him that millisecond of advance warning.
He considered the imminent danger, and dismissed it as negligible. For the moment. There were too many people around for his half-assed assassin to make a move here and now. Coward he appeared to be, he'd rather strike when there was no one else around.
And that suited Derek just fine. He planned on giving the bastard enough rope to hang himself. But for now, he was safe. And he'd keep Lily safe, too. He'd let her enjoy another day on the trail. A short one. And at the next checkpoint his team would be in place and she'd be airlifted back to a safety zone. Whether she agreed or not.
This wrinkle with Milos Pekovic's Oslukivati couldn't be helped. National security had to take precedence. But not even for his country would Derek put Lily in danger.
Considering how scared she was to fly, man, she was going to be pissed when he tossed her into a helicopter.
But better pissed than dead.
She'd get over pissed. Dead was forever.
He looked down at her. She was, disappointingly, fully dressed after her shower. But he'd had an enjoyable time downstairs waiting in the chow line fantasizing about coming back upstairs to find her waiting for him. Naked. In his bed. As he'd envisioned so many times before.
Her hair would be wet, tangled in sweet-smelling skeins down her back, clinging to her damp skin. Her nipples would be the same soft pink as her lips, begging the touch of his hands. They'd be hard because the bedroom was cooler than the humid heat in the bathroom. She'd raise her arms to welcome him—
Derek shook his head and ruefully smiled down at her sleeping form. Not his Lily. She'd be more likely to raise her fist at him than open, willing arms.
She just didn't trust him.
Never had.
But she would, by God. Lily Munroe would learn to trust him. And soon.
Of course, shipping her unwilling butt home was going to set his goal back a step or two, he thought wryly. But what was life without a challenge?
And God only knew, Lily Munroe was challenge personified.
She'd pulled the covers back, but hadn't had the energy to pull them over herself as she laid down. She was curled on her side facing him, the sheet and blanket crumpled at her feet. He studied her face as she slept. The long dark lashes resting against her cheeks, the snake of her braid leaving a damp trail across the front of her pale yellow sweatshirt.
He rose quietly and pulled the covers up over her. Indulged himself by letting his palm glide over her damp hair, over the sweet, warm contour of her cheek. His eyes lingered on her soft mouth and he ached.
He tucked the covers up around her neck, and she shifted slightly in her sleep. The covers rustled as she snuggled against the crisp sheets. She gave a little whimper of pleasure, and the sound shot directly to his groin. Ah, Jesus, Lily—
"What are you dreaming about, little hedgehog?" he asked, voice husky and soft so as not to wake her. "What's going through that agile mind of yours when you watch me with such distrust? When will you feel safe enough with me to stop using Sean as a smokescreen? And when the hell are you going to admit that you want me as badly as I want you?"
He brushed his fingers over her lips as he sighed. "Sleep easy, sweetheart. I'll be right here keeping you safe." From everything. Including myself.
Ignoring the sandwiches on the tray, and the Thermos of coffee, Derek grabbed up his duffel and went into the bathroom to shower.
An hour later, his heart jumped when he smelled her clean, damp skin as she came out of the bathroom. She'd woken about ten minutes ago and gone into the bathroom for a second shower. The room was almost dark; just the faint glow of the lights outsi
de illuminated it and lessened the shadows. Hands stacked beneath his head, Derek kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.
He heard the soft pad of her bare feet across the carpet as she walked past the foot of his bed to the window. Checking the dogs. She stayed there a few moments. He heard her turn, and imagined the warmth of her gaze on him.
He kept his breathing easy, and with difficulty, his libido in check.
"I know you're awake."
So much for stealth. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. She didn't smile back. "Shit. Now what? No way could I have pissed you off already," he said softly. "I was sleeping. I'm an innocent man."
She wore shiny black athletic leggings, the pale yellow sweatshirt and a scowl. She spread her feet as if getting ready for a fight, and folded her arms over her chest as she glared at him. "You're a lot of things," she countered. "Innocent isn't one of them."
"What's the problem now?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Let's just have sex and get it over with."
His heart stopped dead in his chest and he came up on his elbows. "Say what?"
"Sex." Her head tipped to one side and her long rope of damp hair swung gently against her breast. "You want it, and I like it just fine. So what do you say? Let's just do it and get it out of your system. All this sexual tension is distracting me from the race."
"Jesus, Lily." Derek choked back a laugh. "What happened to foreplay?"
"You started foreplay in Anchorage, didn't you?"
He swung his legs over the side of the mattress and rose. He towered over her, but she stood her ground, still glaring at him. It was the least loverlike stance he'd ever seen. He bit back a smile. Ah, Lily. A rapid pulse beat at the base of her throat as she tried to stare him down. The familiar shaft of longing cut through him, this time so deep he almost snatched her up in his arms.
"Yeah. I did," he said evenly. "Even though I usually prefer my foreplay to be a bit more proactive. I didn't think you noticed."
"I noticed." Bright flags of color burned in her face, and her eyes, very bright, and more green than hazel, settled levelly on his face. "Well?"
"Are you positive this is what you want? Here? Now?"
She shrugged. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't say so. You've been trying for years to get me naked. So here's your chance. Let's see what you've got." Brave words for a woman who could barely make eye contact.
Derek bit back a sympathetic smile. How far will you take this, sweet Lily? How far can I let you take this before I internally combust? A test then. He hooked his thumbs into his front pockets to keep from grabbing her. Down boy. "Quite an invitation."
She reached for a sandwich from the tray and took a bite. "Just make it relatively quick, okay?" she said, mouth full. "I really would like to get going."
Ah, Jesus, he thought, wanting to laugh. He hoped to hell they could laugh about this one day. Right now he felt as though he was dying a slow, painful death of anticipation, with a very real chance of grave disappointment as the payoff. "Never say quick to a man."
She swallowed, then shrugged. "Whatever." She took another bite, her eyes on his face as she chewed. "I don't have all day. Take it or leave it."
If he didn't "take it," he was afraid she'd choke considering how fast she was chomping down on that sandwich.
Sweet, precious Lily. So nervous. So brave.
He reached out and brushed crumbs off her chest and she jumped. Her nipples showed beneath her sweatshirt, hard little buds that made him ache. "Easy. Easy," he whispered to her, but telling himself very sternly that as much as he wanted it, this wasn't the night he'd be sleeping with Dr. Lily Munroe. She was too jumpy, and clearly running on pure bravado. Still, she'd offered to bring him a step closer to his eventual goal.
He gave her an assessing look. Didn't mean he couldn't play along. "Fine." He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it behind him on his bed. "Take your clothes off and lie down."
The pulse visible at the base of her throat hammered, and Lily shot him a startled look over the crust of her second sandwich.
Derek mimicked her earlier careless shrug. "I'd rather make love to you slowly the first time at least. But hell, I'm more than willing to accommodate you if you just want down-and-dirty sex. Get naked and lie down."
"You sure know how to set the mood."
"The mood will be long past if you don't hop to it, sweetheart. Strip."
Lily tossed the half-eaten sandwich back on the plate and wiped her hands, then licked a crumb off her lower lip. The movement shot directly to his groin. Jesus. He was ready to jump out of his skin here. He thought for a minute that she'd chicken out and change her mind as she hesitated. But damned if she didn't cross her arms and grab the bottom of her shirt.
Either she was prepared to drive him to drink by the slow-mo striptease, or she was even more nervous than he'd thought and was having a hard time baring herself to his avid gaze. Either way his mouth went dry and his body rigid as each delectably pale inch of skin was revealed as she tugged the soft yellow fleece up her body.
He leaned down and brushed his mouth against the still-damp skin of her chest. She froze. "Keep going," he told her, his voice thick as he dropped kisses across the gentle mounds of her breasts. "I'm just getting a head start while you get undressed."
He kissed the silky skin of her underarm, and let his hands learn the gentle slope of her midriff as she remembered halfway through that she'd been removing her shirt.
She got it over her head and tossed a flutter of yellow onto the bed behind her.
With leisurely appreciation his gaze traveled down her body, then up again. "Worth the wait," he told her reverently, letting his eyes feast. Feverish, balanced on a knife edge of desire, he already felt crazed with lust, but forced himself to take slow, easy breaths.
Her skin was creamy pale in contrast to the black leggings she wore. No sexy, lacy underwear for his Lily. Hell no. Just a plain, unadorned, utilitarian white cotton bra. Not a shimmer of ribbon or a ruffle of lace, just the soft swell of her breasts for decoration. Derek had never seen anything as sexy in his life.
Her nipples poked through the thin fabric as if reaching for him. Her breasts were small, plump and ripe for his touch, and flushed rosy with desire. He cupped her through her bra. Her lashes fluttered, but she gamely watched his face as he ran a thumb over the hard points.
"How's that pressure feel for you?" he asked politely.
"F-fine."
"Only fine?" He frowned. "Damn. I'm losing my touch." He bent his head and brushed a kiss to one nipple through the fabric of her utilitarian bra. She speared her fingers through his hair. Good. That's good. He drew the hard little bud into the wet cavern of his mouth and sucked until he felt her knees give. Better.
"Hard-and-fast sex can be excellent." He blew gently on the wet fabric, and she whimpered, her fingers tightening in his hair with a muffled little moan. "I have absolutely—like that? Terrific—no problem with making it hard"—he brought one hand up to cup her breast as he suckled—"and fast. If that's what you—oh, this succulent morsel feels lonely—want." His mouth clamped down gently on her other nipple and he had to hold her upright as her knees wobbled.
He licked down her cleavage, and murmured, "That's what you want, right? Instant gratification?" He skimmed his hands around her rib cage, and felt the falter of her pulse beneath her soft skin like a swarm of butterflies beating their wings to freedom. "Lily?"
Eyes glazed, lips parted, she mumbled, "Ah… I… sure. Yes."
"Then it's the do-it-your-way special coming up." He smoothed a hand up the satiny skin of her back and clicked the fastening of her bra, then brought his hands up to her shoulders and skimmed the straps down her arms. She shivered.
Electricity came off her skin in waves. For a moment he thought she'd renege as she held her arms clamped to her sides, holding the flimsy garment in place. But after a small hesitation, Lily relaxed and the bra fell to the floor.
The outside lights glin
ted in her eyes as she said impatiently, "Are you going to kiss me again anytime soon?"
"Him?" he asked absently, letting his senses fill with the sight of Lily topless. "Perfect."
"I'm too sma—"
"Absolutely perfect."
Watching her, looking into those heavy, dazed eyes, he reached behind her head and brought her braid forward over one breast. He picked it up, and painted her pale pink nipples with the paintbrush at the end of her plait. Then he unwound the rubber band at the end and used both hands to spread the golden brown, Raphaelite mane over her creamy shoulders.
Her pupils dilated as she whispered, "I don't know what to do with my hands."
His penis leaped in anticipation. "Anything you want." He took her hands and put them palms down on his chest. Her fingers curled against his burning skin, as she stared up at him, lips parted. "Kiss me."
Hooking his thumbs into the silky spandex leggings encasing her hips and legs, he gave a tug. He'd kiss her until the earth's light died. He'd kiss her until she didn't know where she stopped and he began. He'd waited so damn long for this that he didn't want to skip one infinitesimal step.
"Yeah, sure, in a minute," he told her dismissively. Oh, he'd kiss her all right. But not until her mind and body were on the same page. "If I have time. Damn, these things are tight," he gritted out. "How did you get into—ah, just like Christmas."
He skimmed the leggings down her legs, taking an interesting-looking white thong with them. Not so utilitarian after all, sweet Lily.
She was naked.
Pale and naked.
Pink and naked.
Beautifully, gloriously naked.
He wanted a portrait painted of her just like this.
Her skin was satin smooth, flawless, lickably silky, begging to be tasted. He was so hard he was in pain.
Was quick sex really what she wanted? No emotion? She'd held him off for… hell, forever. And now she wanted it fast and dirty? "Are you sure this is what you want, Lily?" he asked, watching her eyes darken and lose focus.