by Harper Allen
His mouth had teased her into readiness. What would it be like to have this most blatant manifestation of his maleness deep inside her?
It seemed suddenly as if thousands of tiny sparks were raining onto her skin, raising her temperature to fever-pitch, sizzling like fragments of stars in her hair, on her face, down her limbs. She swayed toward him. He steadied her.
“Will I burn, Stone?” she breathed, her lashes dipping to her cheekbones and slowly lifting again.
“Yeah, honey, you’ll burn.” His tone was broken glass. “We’re both gonna burn, little darlin’. And you’ll love it.”
“Then yes,” she said hoarsely. “I want it, Stone.”
A line of color rose and almost instantly ebbed under the hard angles of his face. His eyes searched hers. Then he drew away from her, his gaze not leaving her face.
He moved from the bed. With no self-consciousness at all he stepped out of his pants, pausing only to retrieve something from the back pocket. He tossed back a recalcitrant strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes, brought the object to his mouth, and ripped it open with his teeth. The smile he directed her way was wry.
“I’d rather feel you than latex around me, Tam. But I don’t want you worrying about anything tonight.”
She wasn’t worried. In fact, she hadn’t even thought of protection, and that had been recklessly careless of her, Tamara thought with swift compunction. Aside from anything else, she was on no form of birth control.
But McQueen was the type of man who came prepared. She should have known he would be, but that didn’t completely satisfy her curiosity.
“You carry one around just in case?” She couldn’t help the tartness in her tone. She also couldn’t seem to help the flicker of jealousy it stemmed from.
“From the time I was a way too optimistic fourteen-year-old until seven years ago.” He didn’t appear to have identified the edge of emotion in her tone, and she felt suddenly grateful he hadn’t. “I started carrying one again two days ago. And it wasn’t because I’d gotten the hots for Chandra out of the blue, either, so pull in your claws, honey,” he added with soft amusement.
He had identified it. She lifted her chin. “Good thing for you that you don’t, McQueen. You should know that I’m a very jealous woman.”
“And you should know that I’m a very jealous man,” he said evenly, his head bent to his task. His palms flat, he skimmed the condom tight along his length, and then looked up. “I’m even jealous of your memories, honey. Let’s see if I can make them disappear.”
She was still kneeling on the bed, fully expecting him to return to it. Instead, he scooped her up beneath her haunches and swung her to him. Instinctively her legs went around his waist, her arms went around his neck and her lips parted in surprise.
After everything they’d already done she would have guessed she was beyond blushing. But somehow this pose was so intimate. Her breasts were pillowed against his chest. The softness of her inner thighs was skin-to-skin with him. And if she adjusted her position very slightly, she realized, she could feel the hardness of him nudging up between her wide-spread legs.
She hadn’t known it could be done like this, Tamara thought in brief confusion. Probably it couldn’t be—not unless the man was big enough and strong enough to not only hold his partner throughout but to lift her and release her while the two of them moved toward a climax together.
Stone McQueen was strong enough. Even now with her arms clasped so loosely around his neck that it was obvious he was taking her whole weight he seemed to be expending no effort at all. She leaned back, and saw the reflection of her movement in the dresser mirror beside them.
The light cutting in from the hall grayed out the darkness in the room enough that she could easily make out his expression. His eyes were shadowed with desire—desire and something else.
“Maybe I’ve made you forget a little.” The something else was pain. It bled through the huskiness in his voice, and at it her heart turned over. “But I want it to be like it never happened, honey. I want you to remember this as the first time you were ever with a man—because I already think of you as the first and only woman for me. Do you understand, honey?”
Even as he murmured the question she could feel him raising her slightly, his outspread hands laced and clasped under her derriere, his thumbs around her hips. She nodded tensely, supremely aware that the nudging pressure she’d felt between her legs had become more intense.
He was about to enter her. She wouldn’t be able to take him. She squeezed her eyes shut in sudden panic, and all at once she felt his mouth on hers.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “I’ll take care of everything. All you have to do is guide me home, honey.”
So ridiculous, she thought shakily, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze. Didn’t he know men weren’t like this anymore? She didn’t need a too-big, too-aggressive, too good-looking hunk of male to take care of her.
“You’re so damned old-fashioned it’s sexy, McQueen,” she murmured back. “Go ahead. Take care of me.”
His mouth covered hers. She felt his teeth gently nipping her bottom lip, and then his tongue lapping at it to take away the tiny pain. He nipped her again, licked her again, and farther down she could feel herself opening as he began to move into her. She felt him lowering her, felt herself opening wider.
Wrapping her arms tightly around him, she bit down on his lip to stifle the shocked little cry that issued from her throat. She felt him pause, and then he was moving carefully upward and into her again.
Her bite on his lip had drawn blood. She was glad she’d drawn blood, Tamara thought frantically. She felt herself expanding to receive him, felt him expanding her farther, felt the pressure becoming unbearable. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps against his mouth and those strands of her hair that had fallen across her face were already plastered damply against her skin. She nipped him again, and this time she didn’t let go.
It was all darkness. There was nothing else but that and the tang of salt in her mouth and the man moving into her. She felt him fill her completely and stop.
He was in her. She was surrounding every last inch of him. He was all hers.
She released his lip. She let her breath out in a cautiously shaky sigh.
Heat pooled in her, swirled in her, seemed to spill over her open thighs and splash down between them. Heat dripped from her hardened nipples, her suddenly-swollen breasts. She felt Stone lift her, felt his biceps tauten against her, felt herself sliding slowly up along his length. She opened her eyes and saw he was watching her, his own gaze unfocused.
“I hurt you, honey.” His words were thick. “I tried not to.”
“I hurt you, too.” The tip of her tongue flicked against the split skin of his lip. “You—you deserved it.”
“Everyone’s gonna know how you keep me in line, Tam,” he breathed, lowering her onto him and thrusting into her with tantalizing deliberation. “Everyone’s gonna know that big bad McQueen has to answer to a spitfire of a redhead now.”
“And you like it that everyone will know,” she said unsteadily, feeling him filling her and then withdrawing again. She tightened her legs around him, and saw his lashes dip briefly down, saw the hard color mount in his face.
“Yeah, I like it,” he admitted on a gasp. “I love it, honey.”
This time when he thrust into her he was more forceful. She felt herself gripping the smooth length of him, opening again as he pushed inside. The heat inside became more insistent, and a soft moan escaped from her lips.
He’d promised her fire. He’d said they would burn. Desire was already licking its way through her, and with every sliding stroke it was getting hotter. Her head felt too heavy for her neck, and dizzily she tipped it backward, feeling her hair brushing damply against her spine.
“Look at yourself, baby.” His voice was so slurred his words were barely intelligible. “You’re pure sex, all open legs and wet hair and such a
sweet, soft rump. Look how you fit me.”
Through half-closed eyes she slanted a dazed glance at the mirror beside them, and saw what he was talking about. The last of her control slipped away, and she felt the fire flare inside her.
The reflection was of a massively built man, heavy muscles gleaming in the dim light, his eyes dark with need. The woman he was holding seemed to have no inhibitions at all. Her lips were parted, her legs were wrapped around him, her hair was tangled and loose.
This was what Stone did to her, she thought breathlessly, watching the dark shafting shadow move upwards to disappear between her spread thighs, feeling it moving in her. And this was what she did for him. She was the need he had to fulfill, she was the fire that was even now beginning to consume him. He moved into her again, and then again, each time harder, each time tighter, each time more aggressively, and she dug her nails cruelly into his shoulders. Even as the darkness rushed over her, she heard his voice, raw and low.
“This is the first time for me, honey.” His lashes were spiky fans against his cheekbones. “No matter what I’ve done before, this is the first time.”
She nodded mutely, feeling him inside her, knowing she was about to go over the edge. The dark lashes lifted.
“Tell me.” The words seemed dragged from him. “Tell me it’s the first time for you, too, Tam.”
“You’re the only man who’s ever done this to me, Stone,” she whispered. “And this is my very first time.”
The shadows behind his gaze cleared. The tenseness in his expression eased. He brought his mouth to hers, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.
“I want to be kissing you when we come, baby,” he said hoarsely. “I want to be as in you as I can be. You know I fell in love with you the moment I met you, don’t you?”
Her eyes flew open but before she could say anything her head was bending back with the force of his kiss and his hands were tightening convulsively into the softness of her flesh. He pulled her completely onto him, thrusting deeper into her than ever before.
It felt as if she was being consumed—as if everything nonessential was being burned away, leaving only the essence of her, the essence of the man in her, the shuddering explosions that were gripping them both. The two of them had flown straight into the sun, Tamara thought crazily. That had to be what all this heat and light was that she could feel filling her, surrounding him. They’d flown into the sun, but she wasn’t afraid because he was with her and he would bring her back safely….
It seemed like hours later that the last tiny explosion ran through her. She gave one final gasp, and when she eventually opened her eyes she saw his were still closed. As if he knew she was looking at him, his lashes lifted and he smiled faintly at her.
“I said it because it’s true, Tam,” he said huskily. “I said it because I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jack Foley had chosen one hell of a time to drop in unannounced, McQueen thought, grabbing a clean pair of chinos and a shirt from the guest bedroom dresser.
They’d been in the shower together. He’d been soaping her breasts and her eyes had already taken on that glazed look that made his knees go weak when the doorbell had buzzed. It had continued to buzz and a hint of alarm had broken through the glaze in Tam’s eyes.
“That has to be Uncle Jack,” she’d said in an appalled whisper. “He’s got a key. If I don’t answer the door he’ll imagine I’ve fallen down the basement stairs and let himself in just to make sure I’m all right.”
He’d seen her point, McQueen thought wryly. Jack wasn’t her father, but he was the nearest thing to it. Probably not even his friendship with Stone or the fact that his darling Tammy was a full-grown woman would have made much difference to him if he’d caught sight of a randy, bare-assed male stepping out of the same shower as his little girl. Tamara had raced into her bedroom and seconds later she’d reappeared at the bathroom door, dressed in a sweatsuit.
“We’ve both got wet hair. Don’t come out too soon or he’ll put two and two together, Stone.” She’d blushed, and that had made his damn knees go weak, too. “I know I’m being stupid about this.”
“You’re not being stupid, honey.” He hadn’t said what he’d really been thinking—that as soon as he could get to a hardware store he intended to buy chain-locks for all the doors in the house. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to spring this on him.”
He hadn’t been able to resist pulling her to him and giving her a quick kiss. It had been harder to resist giving her a second one, especially when he’d felt her tongue dart into his mouth and then out again, but he’d turned her around by the shoulders and given her a swat on that gorgeous rump.
“Go on and answer the damn door. He won’t suspect a thing.”
But Jack Foley wasn’t blind, McQueen thought, staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror affixed to the back of the guest bedroom door. He was going to know exactly what his adopted daughter’s no-good houseguest had been up to.
The broken skin on his bottom lip looked like what it was—a love-bite, delivered with enough passion so that it was still swollen. She’d done that to him, he thought. When they’d made love the second time he’d felt the rounded tips of her nails desperately scoring his back, and they’d left marks on him, too.
He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. He was never going to be able to get enough of her. Just before dawn she’d breathlessly told him that this time she was going to be in charge, and he’d felt her binding his wrists with a silken scarf to the bedposts behind him. What she’d done next had driven him out of his mind, and when she’d delicately nipped the top of his thighs, pursed those pink lips together and lightly blown on him he’d gone completely crazy.
The tiny marks she’d branded him with were evidence that she’d made his body hers last night, but whether she’d known it or not she’d already owned his heart.
Maybe there was a chance for him after all.
Heading down the hall toward the sound of her voice and Jack’s deeper rumble in the kitchen, he nearly fell over Pangor, who’d obviously decided to forgive and forget the indignity of being locked in the guest bedroom all night. On a sudden inspiration, McQueen scooped up the cat and continued into the kitchen.
“Old flea-bag here nailed me a good one in the mouth when I went to toss him off the bed,” he growled. “Stings like a bastard. What the hell’s the holdup with Leung, Jack?” he growled.
“And a good good morning to you, too, laddie.” Jack Foley lifted a cardboard cup of coffee in wry salute, his blue eyes narrowing as he glanced at Stone. “I brought breakfast, Stone, so sit down and grab a coffee while I bring you up to speed.”
He nodded at the open box of donuts on the kitchen table. “Leung’s a perfectionist, like I told you. He wouldn’t accept the results of the test until he’d run it three times.”
“But all three times it came back the same.” As Tamara spoke, Stone looked over at her with what he hoped was studied casualness. “The accelerant was what you suspected, McQueen.”
She was standing by the counter with a barely nibbled donut in her hand and a light dusting of powdered sugar on her top lip. Desire slammed into him, hot and immediate, along with the insane impulse to hustle her into the bedroom, lock the door behind them, and then proceed to lick not only those sugared lips, but every other part of her body. Their eyes met. He saw the heated flush that mounted her cheeks. She went on hastily.
“Leung says it’s some flawed variant of rocket fuel. Apparently if it had been the legitimate stuff there wouldn’t have been much more left of the structure than ash.”
“And neither of you would have gotten out of there alive.” Jack set down his coffee. “Leung wasn’t around when you were hunting Pascoe seven years ago, McQueen, so he didn’t make the connection. But Knopf and Trainor did.”
Stone stared at him. “How did those two find out?” It was an effort to keep his voice even. “You told me Leung would k
eep this quiet.”
“Isn’t it obvious? They saw you and me together.” Tamara exhaled. “That would have led them to Uncle Jack, and they guessed you’d go to him if you needed outside help. They must have suspected you’d found something at the site.”
“That’s the way I figure it. Then Tom Knopf put the strong-arm on Dave Leung, according to Dave.” Jack looked disgusted. “Told him he could kiss his job goodbye if he didn’t hand over the results of his tests to them instead of a maverick who’d had no business using official resources in the first place. I let you down,” he said with a grimace.
“It wasn’t your fault, Jack. I can’t blame Leung, either.” Frowning, Stone pried off the lid of his coffee container. “You said Trainor and Knopf made the connection to the fires of seven years ago. But like everyone else they don’t believe Robert Pascoe’s still alive. They’re connecting those dots to someone else, aren’t they?”
“You got it, laddie,” Jack said quietly. “They’re connecting them to you.”
“Are they crazy?”
Tamara pushed herself away from the counter, her eyes blazing. His spitfire, Stone thought as she glared at Jack. No—his partner, he corrected himself. So this was what it was like to have someone who would stand back to back with him and take on the whole world, if necessary.
He felt suddenly able to take on all comers.
“Come on, Jack, hit me with the rest of it. Maybe when you’ve got five cards in your hand you can keep a poker face, but right now I’m reading you like a book. What’s their theory?”
“Tammy’s hit the nail on the head, McQueen, crazy’s the only word for it.” Jack Foley’s normally good-natured features were tight with anger. “Those clowns aren’t just trying to pin the rooming house fire on you. They’re saying there never was a Robert Pascoe, and that you set that series of fires seven years ago yourself, including the Mitchell Towers blaze.”
He’d been half expecting it, Stone thought. But that was like half expecting a kick in the stomach—it still knocked the wind out of you when it landed.