Into the Crossfire

by Lisa Marie Rice

  She leaned forward, kissed his chest right over his heart. She could feel its slow, regular beat.

  She tipped her head back to study his face and told him the stark truth. “I was so rattled by you, by what was happening. It just scared the hell out of me.”

  Nicole rose on tiptoe, cupped his shoulders, lifted herself up against him and bit his lower lip until he let her in. It wasn’t a slow kiss. She took it straight from zero to a hundred in a second.

  She was naked and could feel everything that happened to him as she kissed him. At first he froze, surprise coming off him in waves at the unexpected kiss. She was plastered against him.

  The sudden sharp breath, the heavy erection trying to rise under his jeans against her lower belly, such a powerful movement it made her vagina contract in desire. His hands on her hips moved to her buttocks as he pulled her tightly against him, positioning her to rub against his penis—and he froze. Carefully, as if he were handling something full of nitroglycerin, he eased back and away, the only connection between them his hands still loosely at her hips.

  Nicole’s eyes fluttered open, the heat that had flared up so fiercely and brightly slowly dissipating.

  “Sam?” she whispered. He was pulling away? But he was aroused, massively. She had felt it against her own skin.

  “No.”

  “No?” she echoed hollowly.

  “Not right now. Not yet, anyway.” He looked down at her, at the drops of blood on her white shirt on the floor. “You need to be ready.”

  Ready? She was ready all right. Blood pooled heavily between her thighs, her breasts felt full and heavy. She didn’t need any foreplay.

  “I’m ready, Sam.” If Nicole hadn’t felt the words leave her lips, she would never have believed that that throaty, velvety voice laced with sex could possibly be hers.

  “Mmm.”

  Shifting sideways, Sam did something complicated to the complex shower control and a rush of hot water came flowing out, steam billowing out in the room, shrugging off his shirt. “First things first.”

  He bent to kiss her cheek.

  He was moving slowly. Last night, half the time he had moved at warp speed. So this was going to be his show and he was going to take it slow. Okay. Some of that sexual tension relaxed a little. They were going to make love, but clearly not right away.

  He picked her clothes up from the floor, put them on a chair together with his own shirt and rose, big thigh muscles flexing, jeans clinging to him like a lover. Oh wow. Who knew she could be so susceptible to beefcake? Who knew that his enormous chest could take her breath away, that watching his thigh and stomach muscles contract as he rose slowly from a crouch could make her own thigh muscles twitch?

  He shot out a hand to test the temperature, grunted, then eased her into the stall as if she were the queen of Coronado Shores.

  Ah, the hot water pummeled her sore muscles. It felt wonderful. She turned under the showerhead, face uptilted, eyes closed, savoring the sensation.

  She opened her eyes and saw that he was getting drenched. He still had on his jeans.

  Nicole gave a half laugh and pointed at his jeans. “Shouldn’t you take those off?”

  Sam’s dark eyes gleamed as he opened a bottle of shampoo and poured a little into his hand. “Nope. Denim chastity belt. Best in the world. Worked in high school, works now. Boner’s got no place to go. Now turn around and tilt your head back.”

  She obeyed, sighing with pleasure as his strong fingers began working up a lather. A strong scent with a deep note of sandalwood washed over her. Sam’s shampoo. She remembered smelling it in his hair as she ran her fingers through it, then clenching her fists in his hair as she started coming. Scent memories are locked into the most primordial part of the brain, she knew, and this one nearly knocked her off her feet as she remembered the hot feelings connected with this smell. She moaned.

  “What? Did I hurt you?” His large hands stilled. Oh man, this was embarrassing. She was being turned on by his shampoo.

  She leaned against him heavily, head tilted back onto his shoulder. “No,” she said, as the water rushed over her. “You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Good,” he grunted. His strong hands went back to kneading, fingertips digging in, somehow knowing exactly where the knots of tension were. She could feel every inch of him against her naked back. The dark swirls of chest hair tickled her upper back and she could feel his tight abs contract as he moved to pour more shampoo into his hand.

  His penis was huge behind the wet denim, hard and hot enough to radiate heat through the stiff material. She wiggled her bottom and felt him surge against her, fingers stilling in her hair.

  That denim was less of a chastity belt than he thought. She wiggled again, rolling against what felt like a moving hot steel rod in his pants.

  He made a noise deep in his chest and she smiled. She held all the power here and it made her feel…whoa. Ten feet tall.

  The man who’d held her prisoner against his body had used his strength against her. It had been a terrifying, horrific experience and, deep down, a humiliating one. Nicole had never been manhandled before, never physically forced to do anything.

  The intruder had overpowered her with contemptuous ease, and it burned. Everything about the experience had been—I’m stronger than you and you will do what I want. Brutal and primitive.

  Sam’s body language was exactly the opposite, though he was even stronger than the intruder. Sam was the strongest man she’d ever seen. She’d held him in her arms all night and she knew how deeply powerful he was. If he wanted to, he could force her to do anything, bend her completely to his will.

  But with every move, he gave all the power to her. Even now that she was being deliberately provocative, rubbing herself against his arousal, she could sense, could feel his self-control, so deeply a part of him.

  “Close your eyes.” She could feel the vibrations in his chest of his deep voice through the skin of her back. She obeyed, and he pulled her gently right under the showerhead until all the shampoo was rinsed away.

  The water stopped. “Stay there.”

  Nicole stood watching as he got two big, blindingly white towels from a cabinet and held them, waiting for her to get out.

  “No conditioner?” she asked as she emerged dripping. He looked blank. “And moisturizer? I don’t think I’ve ever taken a shower without moisturizing.”

  “Ah…” Panicked, Sam looked around, as if conditioner and moisturizer could suddenly, magically appear.

  Most of Nicole’s previous lovers had been good-looking, vain metrosexuals who used the same products she did from the same houses, only the male version. Her last lover, Sergey, had had every Clinique men’s product on the market and Nicole had never had any problems with sleepovers. All she’d needed to bring with her was her toothbrush.

  Sam had towels, soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste in view and she somehow suspected that was it. Looked like she was going to have to stock Sam’s bathroom with some essentials.

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “Be prepared to have your bathroom full of creams and lotions. Do you think you can handle that, big guy?”

  His mouth lifted on one side as he wrapped her hair in a big towel. “Honey, I survived Hell Week. You have no idea what I can handle. Hold out your arms.” She obeyed as he gently patted her torso and arms dry.

  “Tough guy, huh?”

  “Hmm?” He’d been staring at her breasts and suddenly lifted his gaze to hers. She nearly stepped back at the blazing heat in his eyes. Though he was almost smiling, the skin over his cheekbones was pulled tight, his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I guess I think I’m pretty tough.”

  Nicole reached out her hand and curved it over his penis and squeezed. “Not that tough, big boy.”

  Sam’s big body froze, breath hissing in as if she’d done something painful to him. The big column of male flesh she could feel beneath her hand was moving, becoming even longer, thicker. A little moan escaped his lips and
his penis leaped once again under her hand.

  He looked like he was one second from coming. Nicole nearly laughed out loud.

  This was so delicious.

  Everything in her life was so…wrong. Her father was gravely ill, dying a painful death. Her company was trying to take off, but kept sputtering when she had to take attention away from it for her father. Some unknown assailant had trashed her office, searching for God knew what and would presumably keep searching until he found it or she was hurt, whichever came first.

  It didn’t get worse than that.

  And yet right now, all those terrible problems were like flies buzzing in the distance. Her battered mind and body just gave up on all her anxieties and worries and urged her to live this moment. This magical moment out of time when a big, tough warrior was handing over his body to her for her own use. Giving himself over to her.

  Sam kneeled again to dry the rest of her off and she rested her hand on his shoulder for balance. Oh God, the feel of him was so wonderful. She knew from experience that there was no give in him at all, anywhere. She curled her fingers into the bare skin of his shoulder and it was like trying to make an impression on a piece of warm steel machinery. The heat coming off that big body was amazing. It chased out any residual chill of the attack in her office.

  She watched as Sam slowly stood, one big hand drifting up over her body as he did so. He was masculinity personified, and yet his movements were also so graceful. He rose with the grace of a world-class athlete, a man whose body would never let him down.

  He looked her up and down, hot eyes moving over her slowly, the gaze so intense, it felt like hands caressing her body. Every cell in her body felt full, replete, warm, the aches and pains completely forgotten. Amazing. Sexual desire for this man was better than a day at the spa.

  Nicole stretched up to put her arms around Sam’s neck in hopes of getting one of those amazing kisses of his, the one that was way sexier than even intercourse with other men, but then gave a little yelp as he picked her up.

  “What are you—” she began, then stopped. It was clear what he was doing. He was carrying her to bed. Fine. Perfect. In bed with Sam was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Nicole could almost feel what was coming next. Sam laying her down, then coming down on top of her, his heavy weight grounding her, his legs opening hers.

  She frowned. Those wet jeans would have to go, though. Wet denim, in bed. Gah.

  He lay her gently on the bed and stood for a moment, looking down at her. She smiled and held up her arms, expecting to feel him settling on her, fitting himself to her. Her skin tingled in anticipation.

  And yet he was simply standing there looking at her, the dummy. What was he waiting for?

  He walked to the end of the bed, tugged her legs until they were almost off the edge and kneeled.

  He wanted foreplay? Nicole had never been so aroused in her life. Well, except for last night. She didn’t need foreplay right now. As a matter of fact, she probably wouldn’t need it ever again. Sam’s very presence was potent foreplay, calculated to drive any red-blooded woman’s hormones to fever pitch.

  Nicole started to tell him that when she felt his mouth on her, right on her most sensitive tissues and the only thing that could possibly come out of her mouth was a sigh.

  He was kissing her there, exactly as he kissed her mouth. As if he would die if he didn’t get more of her, right now. She was so incredibly sensitive, she could feel his mouth and tongue all through her body. He nipped her very lightly with his teeth and she jumped at a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

  Her arms were up around her head, back arched with delight, her entire being concentrated on the wet aroused tissues between her thighs. He was French-kissing her, thumbs holding her open for his mouth. The sight of his dark head between her pale thighs was intensely erotic.

  He gently bent her left thigh with his hand to give him better access and when he gave another long, languid swipe with his tongue, her thigh started trembling.

  She looked down at herself, at the heavy heartbeat she could see in her left breast. She was already close to orgasm after only a few minutes. The big room was utterly silent except for the delicious sounds his mouth was making against her. Even the sea had stilled. She couldn’t hear the waves—or maybe her heartbeat was drowning the sound of the ocean out.

  He stopped just as a long tremble ran through her, the beginning of that luscious free fall into blinding pleasure. Sam lifted his mouth from her, though his eyes remained fixed on her sex. His dark skin was flushed, mouth wet from her body, face tight with arousal.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said hoarsely, his finger tracing the lips of her sex. The callused skin of his finger was intensely exciting. “Here, too. All pink and puffy, and here—” He ruffled through the hair of her pubis and laid his hand on her lower belly. “Here you’ve got this Snow White thing going. Ivory and ebony. Amazing.” He lifted her leg higher and took her foot in his big hand. “Even your goddamned feet are gorgeous.” He brought her foot to his mouth and nibbled on the instep, sharp little bites that raised goose pimples all over her body.

  Oh heavens, they were right! Feet were erogenous zones!

  She’d never believed it up until now, until Sam Reston nibbled and bit his way over her foot and toes. She’d have thought his mouth would have tickled, but it wasn’t ticklishness she felt, it was pure sex and it shot straight to her groin.

  One particularly sharp nip and her vagina clenched, along with her stomach muscles.

  He saw it. Of course he did, he was incredibly observant. His eyes shot to hers then right back to her groin.

  Sam didn’t grin with triumph at arousing her so intensely that she shook, as any other man would have done. Instead, his mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed and fixed on where he was touching her. Gently, oh-so gently, the tip of his finger sliding around and around her opening, so that she started squirming. Needing his touch to be stronger, to be there—

  An electric current ran down her spine when he inserted a big finger inside her and her vagina erupted in convulsions so strong it was as if her entire body were having an orgasm. Her open thighs trembled and her whole body shook, clenching tightly against his finger.

  Nicole’s eyes had closed but she saw lights against the lids. Short, sharp pants that were almost moans came out of her throat, the contractions going on and on as he kept his finger inside her, thumb slowly circling her clitoris that had become so sensitive it was almost—but not quite—painful.

  He kept her going for what seemed like forever and when the contractions started dying down, he bent and put his mouth to her again, lips and tongue tasting and feeling her climax.

  It was so intense she struggled against it, but his big hands pressed on her hips, just over the hip bone, holding her down, his hold gentle but implacable.

  She couldn’t move, she couldn’t pull away, she could only feel the keen edge of pleasure lancing through her like shards of steel, held hostage in a place out of time, her body not her own as it convulsed, again and again.

  Finally, her body subsided. Sam pulled away and looked at her gravely. Every inch of her skin was covered in sweat, so sensitive she could feel the weight of the air. She was panting, throat dry from pulling in air that never seemed to be enough.

  Oh God, it had been way too much, way too intense. He laid his hand on her belly again, big hand covering her almost from hipbone to hipbone, the weight and warmth grounding her after that incredible experience.

  She was wiped out—utterly exhausted, incapable of movement or thought. She held his gaze as she blinked once, twice, then couldn’t lift her lids again.

  She turned her head and went out like a light.

  Well, so much for relaxing her, Sam thought wryly. He’d relaxed her so much she’d gone straight to sleep. Now what the hell was he supposed to do with his boner?

  He winced as he stood up. His cock was stiff, his muscles were stiff, he could har
dly breathe from tension. He walked around to the side of the bed and just looked at her, the delicate lines of her, like a dream of a woman instead of a real woman.

  She’d fallen asleep with her legs open and he could see deep pink flesh peeking out from the dark cloud of soft hair between her thighs. She was soft and wet, he knew that because he’d felt it, with his tongue and his hand. She was ready for him and Christ, he was ready for her. He could feel his cock weeping beneath the denim, aching for him to stretch out on top of her and slide right in. Exactly as she was, long delicate arms arched over her head in a pose of sensual abandon that would rouse a man from the dead.

  And he was far from dead. He felt alive in every cell of his body, and every cell wanted her, right now.

  She’d welcome him. He knew that the way he knew the sun would rise in the east tomorrow morning. When he mounted her, she’d smile, eyes closed, and her entire body would welcome him. Long legs twined around his, arms crossed over his back, mouth open to him.

  He shook with desire. His entire body felt parched and cold, deprived of something only she could give him. He’d just wanted to relax Nicole a little, give her a little pleasure, reassure her that he could control himself.

  Before he jumped her bones.

  He’d obviously been way too good at his job. She was completely out, not even a flicker of her eyes under her eyelids.

  For a second, he was tempted to shuck his jeans, stretch out on the bed, roll her a little toward him, lift her leg over his hip and slip right into her. Ah, yes. She was wet enough, from his mouth and from coming. It would work. She’d wake up with his cock in her, moving nice and slow and easy, no better way to wake up.

  He put his hands to the brass button of his jeans, then stopped.

  She’d fallen into a very deep sleep, the sleep of the exhausted. There were faint purple stains under her eyes. Her cheekbones were sharper than usual and it seemed to him that her slender torso had become even more slender. Could she have lost weight in twenty-four hours?