by Sarah Grimm
She stood too closely to see, but she could feel. The tight knot of muscle. The tic in his left side, just below the raised flesh of a long, jagged scar. Her fingers traversed the length of the scar once, twice and then again. Beneath them, his body tightened like a bow.
“This is a bad idea,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Later she would ask him about his injury, how he got it, how bad it had been—still was, by the way his arm twitched ever so slightly. Now, she had other things to focus her thoughts on—the need to feel his hands upon her body, the heady male taste of him on her tongue.
God! Just the thought had her turning her body and pressing her chest against his until no space separated them. A soft grunt of arousal escaped him yet he kept his hands at his sides as if he didn’t trust himself to do anything with them. Beneath her palms, his body vibrated from the effort of holding himself back.
She didn’t want restraint. She wanted the fierce, mindless passion his eyes promised. Heat emanated off him in waves, chased away her chill. Greed began to grow inside her, set off a soft, wet pulse between her legs.
Her mouth skimmed across his chest, while the warm, salty taste of him seeped through her system. His breathing grew shallow, and still he didn’t touch her. In desperation she used her teeth to nip his flesh and was rewarded when her name passed his lips on a throaty moan.
“Touch me.” Her words were a hoarse whisper against his chest. “I want your hands on me.”
His arms came around her suddenly, crushing her against his hard chest. His hands trailed down her back, cupping her bottom, lifting her off her feet. Cursing, he staggered a few steps until the cool, glass-covered desk pressed against the back of her thighs. He settled her there, his hand shifting to cup her nape as he laid her atop the desk.
His mouth took hers in a hard, angry kiss. She drank in the flavor of him as she wrapped her legs around his hips, tilting her pelvis, seeking. The coarse scrape of his denim-covered erection nudged at her. Pleasure arrowed through her system.
His impatient hands tugged at the hem of her shirt, then pulled it swiftly over her head to expose all of her. His hard gaze swept over her bare breasts, lingered on her tightly puckered nipples. Anticipation tightened her stomach. Panting, eager to feel more of him, all of him, she reached for the top button of his jeans.
To her surprise, his hands swung down, gripping both her wrists. “Not yet.”
Desperate, she pulled against her manacled wrists, only to have him tighten his grip and stretch her arms over her head. “Keep them there.”
The dangerous edge in his voice heightened her excitement. Her gaze skimmed downward, over the broad expanse of his chest covered with softly curling dark hair that veed down, drawing her eyes to where his button-fly jeans lovingly cupped his crotch. At the sight of her pubic curls pressed so intimately against that part of his anatomy, she shuddered.
His name tumbled from her lips.
He bent his dark head and settled his mouth on her breast, drew in her nipple and pressed it against the roof of his mouth. Her breathing grew shallow, irregular. Electricity arced through her, connecting her breasts to her loins as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips.
Her heartbeat quickened. Her body trembled when he slid his hand down her side, across her hip before slipping it between her legs. Her vision grayed as he slid his fingers, one at first, then two, inside her. He filled her, pushing deep, deeper before withdrawing with her next breath, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful as he stroked her with those skilled fingers. The tremors vibrated from her center out, expanding and multiplying until she exploded. She arched and bucked beneath him as sensation after sensation tore through her, causing her inner muscles to contract and peak, then slowly begin to ebb.
His hoarse whisper broke the silence. “Do that again.”
Limp with satisfaction, she lay boneless beneath his weight, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. “I’m not certain I can.”
“You can.”
His knuckles brushed between her legs as he hurriedly unfastened his jeans and stepped out of them. Her heart tripped against her ribs at the sight of his magnificent male body. The glorious lassitude began to fade, letting her know he may be right, she could do that again. Only this time, she wanted him along for the ride.
She dug her nails into his hips and caught her breath. With no barrier between them, skin brushed skin, heat pressed against heat. He swore softly, under his breath, and grasping her behind her knees, dragged her to the edge of the desk and positioned himself between her thighs. She barely had time to catch her breath before he pushed inside her in one deep, welcoming stroke.
He held her legs wide, a growl of raw, animal pleasure vibrating in his throat as he thrust deeply and repeatedly inside her, all control gone. The longing inside her grew, became hunger. She met each stroke eagerly, every cell in her body focused on the feel of his flesh against hers.
The sensation was electric. Every stroke of his body inside hers pushed her closer to the edge. He hitched her legs higher, increased the depth of his penetration and she cried out with the pleasure of it. An answering growl rumbled in his throat again. He flexed his hips, pressed his face into her neck and came in a series of hard, fast, deep thrusts that completely undid her, catapulting her over the edge with him.
* * * * *
Eyes closed, Justin lay unmoving while their bodies cooled. He didn’t speak, couldn’t, past the rush of emotion flooding him. Had he ever felt like this? So satisfied, so perfectly matched?
“Hmm,” Paige murmured, her breath tickling his neck. “I guess I could.”
He laughed softly, amazed he could find humor while their bodies remained so intimately linked. With some effort, he extracted his hand where it remained tangled in her hair.
Her eyes drifted partially open and focused on the ceiling. Her mouth curved into a contented smile. “Only, maybe we could make it to the bed before the next time.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, gently brushing her hair away from her temple. He wanted to say more, but he didn’t know how to put to words what he was feeling. His chest ached, his eyes burned, and for the first time in his life he felt complete.
She arched up, caught his lower lip between her teeth. “I’m not,” she murmured against his mouth.
Inside him, need flared back to life. He sealed his mouth with hers, lifted her off the desk and would have gathered her to him and carried her to his bed had a white blaze of pain not sliced down his side. Justin bit back a groan before it could slip past his lips. He ground his molars together and drew in a shallow breath. The last thing he wanted just then was for Paige to discover his discomfort.
Wordlessly, she locked her fingers with his and led him into his bedroom to stand at the side of his bed. He blinked, momentarily blinded, as the lamp atop the nightstand flared to life beneath her touch. Slowly, his eyes adjusted. Then, he got his first good look at her.
She was beautiful—small, firm breasts, slender waist and endlessly long legs. He stroked his knuckles along the swell of her breast, admired its dusky pink nipple. She was pale and smooth everywhere he touched. He hadn’t taken the time for a slow, thorough exploration of her body. He wanted to now.
He shifted his hand, cupped it at the front of her throat. His thumb caressed the soft underside of her jaw. Justin angled his head and kissed her once, twice, a light touching of the lips. Beneath his fingers, her pulse tripped.
“Justin.” Her lips met his in a lingering kiss. Her fingers, cool against his skin, ran the length of his arms, across his shoulders and down his bare back. “Lie down on the bed, Justin.”
Silently, he lowered his frame to the mattress and stretched out on his side, propping himself up with his elbow. He’d been too rough with her, careless. This time he’d show her tenderness. Reaching out he stroked his palm down the curve of her hip and urged her closer to the side of the bed. As she shifted, he caught sight of a square, flesh-toned patch atta
ched to her lower abdomen. Intrigued, he ran his fingers over it. “Are you trying to quit smoking?”
“It’s not a nicotine patch, it’s birth control.”
Birth control.
“Oh, hell.” He’d forgotten to use a condom. “Paige.”
“On your back.”
He opened his mouth, but her gaze cut him off. Her eyes were bright and inscrutable in the shaft of light. He rolled onto his back.
A minute later, he felt his first inkling of uncertainty as her fingers circled the round puckered mark near his shoulder before moving on to the larger, angrier red gash at his side. He tensed when she knelt at his hip and with gentle strokes, began to work the knot of muscle under his arm.
“Paige, I need to tell you something.”
“Relax,” she coaxed. “You can tell me later.”
She was right. The deed was already done. “What are you doing?”
“You’re hurting.”
He didn’t argue with her. How could he when beneath her fingers his side continued to twitch? Instinctively, she seemed to know not to apply direct pressure to the hyper-sensitized flesh of his scars. Choosing instead to work her way around them, firmly pushing and prodding the tightened muscles, forcing them to loosen.
Unable to resist, he lifted his arm over his head, granting her better access to the source of his discomfort. Her cool hands quickly warmed as they moved over his skin, easing away the tension. He sighed with satisfaction as her thumbs moved deeply along his side, easing away the worst of his pain. His eyes drifted shut.
“Tell me what happened,” she said softly.
“I caught a bullet.”
Damn. He hadn’t meant for it to fall out quite so bluntly.
Her fingers paused as a shiver worked through her body. “Line of duty?”
“No. I was on my way home after a particularly bad day on the job. Out of smokes, I stopped at a convenience store. Just my luck I picked one that had just been robbed. I’d just slipped out of my car when it happened. Guy came out the front of the store, caught sight of my shield and started shooting.”
Her voice remained deceptively mild even as he reminded her why she hadn’t wanted to get involved with him in the first place. “How bad was it?”
“Broken ribs. Punctured lung. Some nerve damage. It happened so fast, I never really knew what hit me until I came to in the hospital. Even then, it was some time before I was with it enough to process the facts as they were given to me. I almost didn’t make it.”
“That day at the precinct, the officer mentioned something about two days back.”
“I’ve been back on active duty for a week now.”
“Back working with Allan.”
“Yes.”
Her hands never stopped moving, moving over his skin in long, sensual strokes. “After how much time off?”
“Just over six months.” Justin swallowed tightly. He braced for the questions and the arguments. For the censure he was certain to hear in her voice. He braced for her withdrawal, surely the reality of his having been shot would be the final wedge that pushed her from his arms.
The press of her lips against the scar at his side snapped his eyes open. His gaze settled on the ceiling above his bed as his breath backed up in his throat. She moved higher, acknowledged the scar on his shoulder with her lips and he was lost.
Alone. He’d been alone for so long. Never knew just how alone until just then. He cupped the back of her head and buried his face in her hair, drowning in its intoxicating scent as her mouth pressed against the mark of a bullet.
Suddenly, everything changed. The pain and doubt that plagued him since that day he woke up alone in the hospital remained, yet somehow seemed less daunting.
Because he was no longer alone.
“Allan doesn’t think I’m ready to come back just yet. He thinks I need more time,” he admitted quietly against her hair.
“What do you think?”
His mouth opened, then closed. His body shuddered at the gentle scrape of her teeth across his shoulder. “I think if I hadn’t returned to work, I might never have met you.”
Her face tipped. The smile upon her lips stole his breath. “I can do my job, Paige,” he promised her, determined to make his words truth. “I will do my job. I’ll find this guy before he hurts you.”
“I know you will.”
He held his breath as a whole new set of doubts assaulted him. His chest tightened—the feelings so new to him that he couldn’t put a name to them. The trembling started again, only this time it didn’t stem from the pain of his injury.
Justin brought her mouth to his, kissing her softly, passionately. Invading her mouth with his tongue, stroking hers, teasing sensitive places. She responded eagerly and his arousal pulsed. He slid his hands along the sides of her ribcage until they reached her hips. His fingers curled around the warm, smooth flesh of her thighs as he urged her astride him.
She straddled his hips without much persuasion. With her knees tucked against his sides, she pressed herself intimately against him and began to move back and forth, sliding along the length of him. She was already hot and wet and he groaned with the need to be inside her. His fingers tightened against her thighs in anticipation.
Reason surfaced. Damn it, he’d nearly forgotten the condom again. “Paige, wait.”
Her eyes were wide and smoky with desire as she stared down at him. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
Her hand slid up her right thigh, her long slender fingers flitting over the patch affixed to her abdomen. “I’ve got it covered.”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom before,” he admitted softly. “Not before you.”
The slow, sensuous curving of her mouth went straight to his brain. “Then I don’t see the problem.”
She leaned forward, used her teeth to nip at his lips, before pressing her mouth against his in undeniable invitation. He deepened the kiss, drinking greedily of her taste before urging her back a few inches. “Sit up,” he encouraged breathlessly. “Let me look at you.”
She did, staring down at him with focused intent as she lifted her hips slightly and positioned him at her entrance. She let her weight down slowly, as she sank fully onto him. Momentarily paralyzed by the shaft of pleasure that arced through him, he grasped her hips and held her in place.
“Justin,” she whispered, her voice throaty with desire.
“Tell me what you like,” he growled, the sound strangled even to his own ears. “Tell me how to touch you.”
Silently, she guided his hands up the front of her body and placed them atop her breasts. She pressed her hands against the back of his, closing his palms over her. Their hands moved together as one unit, gently kneading her breasts, squeezing and releasing. His thumbs circled her nipples, rasped back and forth over the top of them.
A moan rose from deep in her chest and she tilted her head back, her long hair brushing the top of his thighs. Her internal muscles tightened around him, squeezed him as she rose to her knees until only the tip of him remained inside her before easing down. Rising. Falling. Her hand centered on his chest to steady herself, she rode him. Lifting herself almost off him then sinking down. Eyes closed, breath panting, drawing out the pleasure she gave to him so freely. He’d never seen anything so erotic in his life. A ragged groan slipped from between his teeth. Every muscle in his body contracted.