Code Name: Blondie

by Christina Skye

  Life with her will never be boring.

  Max froze. He did a mental freeze frame and went back over that last thought. He had to be crazy even to imagine there would be time together for them. This was it, all they would ever have.

  He tried to forget the image of her body in his bed at night, her sleepy face on his pillow at dawn as he brought her awake with his mouth and tongue.

  “What’s w-wrong?” She pressed closer, wriggling to draw him deeper inside her, her face dazed and urgent.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  But everything was wrong. This was sex and nothing more. It was simple, dead-perfect screwing. Period.

  His mind knew that. The cool voice in his head swore it was true.

  But his reckless body and pounding heart had a whole different take on the situation, dragging him into dangerous, unknown places where his emotions colored every movement, every breath. He fought the pull of her sigh, her skin, but nothing worked.

  He wanted a future with her, damn it.

  He wanted more time. But he wouldn’t have either.

  So he shoved away his useless hopes like cold cobwebs. His breath was raw as he drove away everything but reading her heartbeat while his hands tightened in her hair, cushioning her head against the wall as he pushed home, as deep as he could go.

  Once and then again. So slick and so beautiful. Tighter than he had expected, Max thought dimly. She looked dazed by her response, which meant that this kind of pleasure was new to her, too.

  The thought fisted in his chest in a way that was dark and primitive. He wanted to feel her naked need. He had to know she’d carry this memory of him always.

  His slow withdrawal made her nails dig into his back. She hissed a protest, then sighed when he caught her hips and stroked deeper, stretching her until she took him inch by inch.

  Her body tightened. She gasped his name, and he drank in every raw sensation, lifting her up onto a narrow ledge in the wall, pulling her legs around his waist while he watched her slow return to full awareness.

  When her eyes opened, he whispered dark praise in a voice that sounded like a stranger’s and he took her there, every pounding stroke driving her against the cool stone wall until they were both sweating, both frenzied. Until there was no separation and no holding back.

  Their hands met, fingers locked. Skin to skin with no barriers.

  The air was charged around them and time seemed to shimmer. Then Miki’s body convulsed again, and this time she dragged him along with her, her voice low and urgent. In that moment Max was warrior and protector. His blind mating drove him deep, hot and thick inside her.

  He was careful not to call it love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  TWO MINUTES PASSED. Neither one had the energy to move.

  A few lifetimes later, Max ran one hand down her back. When he pressed against her, his desire was unmistakable.

  Miki stared at him. “You can’t be ready to do that again.”

  His smile belonged on the face of a jungle predator. “Of course I can.”

  Miki stared at him blindly. Her legs hurt. Her body was on fire.

  And she had never felt so good. Memories of Max’s hands and the slick friction of their wet bodies made something dark stir inside her, making her want more. She locked her legs and drove her body against his, the hard wall at her back and his harder muscles beneath her legs. The man was huge and built, with a sculpted body that left her throat dry. He was big everywhere, and she was dazed by his intensity, dazed by the slick, stroking fingers that shot her up again, into a blinding release.

  Dimly, she realized he’d lifted her onto some kind of ledge while his mouth skimmed hers. She tilted her head and sighed when their tongues met in hot, delicious friction. He muttered when she tightened her muscles around him. Sweat dotted his skin when she pushed her body against his, rewarded by deep, pounding contact.

  This time she was too stunned, too lost, to cry his name, but it rang through her thoughts as they fell together, hands locked, his eyes on her face as if some unspoken question had finally been answered.

  EXHAUSTION.

  Bliss.

  Complete insanity.

  Miki winced as a piece of stone dug into her back. Moving would have been a good idea, but her muscles refused to respond.

  She wouldn’t call it surrender. The experience had been less and far more, a bonding of blood and heart born of sweat and sex and honesty. She’d never felt anything like it before. He was stronger than any man she’d ever met, but he had been careful and protective, cushioning her hips with his open palms and her back with his arm. He’d made her feel protected and at the same time possessed. If the whole experience hadn’t been so overwhelming, Miki would have been irritated that he had read her so well.

  As it was, she was too tired to smile and too sated from sex to argue with him about anything.

  Rough fingers cradled her neck. Slowly they opened over her cheek. “Anyone here among the living?”

  “Jury’s still out on that.”

  “Any broken bones or torn ligaments to report?”

  Miki assumed he was joking, but she realized there was uncertainty in his voice. She slitted open one eye, trying to focus despite her exhaustion. “I’m fine. Just as fine as I can be without any functioning muscles. Give me a few centuries to catch my breath.”

  He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “As long as you don’t try to move. I want to feel you against me.”

  Miki flushed as she savored the intimate friction of their cooling skin. There was no mistaking the way his body tightened in response to every movement she made. “I’ve never been touched like that,” she said un-steadily. “I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much. I doubt that makes any sense.”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “Are you agreeing with me or disagreeing?”

  Still no answer.

  “Max, there are things we need to discuss. I don’t know anything about you.”

  His mouth hitched in a crooked smile. “You seem to know all the important things.”

  She winced a little, trying to pull away, her hand braced against his chest. “I’m not complaining about the sex.” She swallowed, feeling the brush of his body inside her, the heat beginning to build again. “Max?”

  His smile was slow and predatory.

  “No way, not again. That was it. I am beyond dead. Let’s forget this.”

  But she couldn’t hold back a sigh when he ran his fingers over her tight nipples. Where did the man get his skills? He was a menace to women everywhere.

  “I could get you into the mood.” His hand slid down, teasing the slick folds hidden beneath damp curls. He feathered over her until she closed her eyes on a low sigh. “It would be my pleasure.”

  As sanity returned, Miki glared at him, one hand planted in the middle of his chest. She’d never had sex remotely this good, and he was ready to do it to her all over again.

  So why was she stopping him?

  Shut up and let him screw you senseless a dozen more times. You can act tough and independent later, when you’re both done with each other.

  But too many questions sprung to mind, leaving her wary. He still hadn’t explained why his big dog was so smart. He hadn’t explained why he was really here, because a petrochemical engineer this man was not.

  Most of all, he’d never answered her questions about that strange way he had of touching her skin, almost as if he could see inside her.

  “Any particular reason you’re glaring at me?” His voice was rough as he caught the tender curve of her ear in his teeth.

  Fire shot to all the wet places Miki was trying to forget. In spite of her resolution, her hand opened and brushed the soft hair covering his chest.

  If she dropped her fingers just a few inches, she could recall what velvet felt like, wrapped around forged steel.

  No. Where was her willpower, her dignity?

  “Okay, let’s stop here.” H
er voice cracked a little. “We need to talk.”

  He moved her backward against the wall. “Stop what? This?” His fingers teased, slipping in and out of her until she was wet and panting. “I never can stop with one dessert.” His fingers slid inside her.

  Miki’s eyes fogged over. She thought her jaw might have dropped. Meanwhile, his fingers stroked deeper and his palm opened, kneading her until she moaned.

  Somehow he knew what she was feeling, Miki thought. He knew where her skin burned and where her nerves ached for release.

  He knew, even though it was impossible.

  “No.” She stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe what?” His eyes darkened. “I’ll stop anytime you want me to, honey, even though I’m ready to drive you up against the wall a dozen more times. But if you want me to stop, I suggest you quit moving your gorgeous butt and pushing against me. I suggest that you stop raking my chest with your nails, too.”

  “I am so not,” Miki rasped.

  But she was. When she looked down, she saw exactly what he’d described. “Get out of my head, will you? Stop—stop reading me. I can’t think when you touch me this way.”

  Something flared in his eyes, and then it was gone, his face showing nothing but cool control. “It seemed to me that you were as hungry as I was to do this all over again.” He eased away from her, the movement careful but unmistakable. “Apparently, I misread the situation.”

  Miki wanted to grab him and pull him back. Her body felt painfully cold without his.

  All the more reason to wise up and stop this invitation-to-disaster sex. Even if it was the best sex she’d ever had—or was likely to have—it had to end.

  She took a long breath and then looked around for her clothes. “I don’t want you to think I do this…this. I mean, there have been men in my life. None of them like you, of course. But sometimes when things clicked, we—”

  “You don’t have to explain.” His voice was rough. “We’re not involved. What you do with your life and who you have sex with is entirely up to you.”

  “Then how come you make it sound like I’m supposed to explain? Believe me, I don’t do this and I didn’t plan for this to happen.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get out of this damned, moldy place or off this little island alive. Maybe one of those creepy commando types will come back with his friends and finish us the hell off in our sleep. And I mean for real this time.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Just because you say it can’t?” Miki spun around, furious at herself. She wasn’t going to whine and she wasn’t letting her heart get involved. Too many heartbreaks in her past had convinced her there was no point in getting serious.

  “You’re absolutely right,” she said tightly. “We’re not involved and I don’t have to explain anything to you. I will definitely have sex with whoever I want.”

  He sighed, and she thought he muttered something that sounded like women.

  Instead of arguing, he bundled her into his arms, tucked her head beneath his chin and held her—just held her, not saying a word.

  There was too much comfort in being held snug against his powerful body, guarded and cherished.

  She had never learned how to lean; she wasn’t docile and she didn’t trust lightly. Yet though his face told her nothing, she trusted him, certain that he would protect her with all his strength and skill.

  She twisted in his arms, feeling his pulse pound against her chest when she pulled his head down and kissed him. If she was going to die tomorrow she wanted reckless sex to be the last thing she remembered.

  He muttered something that sounded like too late, but he didn’t stop what she’d begun. He pinned her to the wall, her wrists spread as he pushed inside her, slow and hot, until Miki forgot her uncertainty in the drum of their joined heartbeats. Shuddering, she drove her hands into his hair, telling him what she wanted.

  His jaw hardened as he gave it to her, without questions or reservation.

  Everything fell away, her body caught in pleasure so fierce that there were no words left and thought became a dim memory.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THERE WAS SEX—AND THERE was sex, Miki thought.

  Miki had never learned to trust easily, yet here she was, putting her life into his strong hands. Hell, she had put her body into those strong hands, and the results had been spectacular, even if she was a little achy from the workout.

  It beat being hacked into little pieces by a man with a serrated knife and rattlesnake eyes. She knew clear to her bones that Max would never let that happen to her. He took his promises seriously.

  So this was what a hero looked like. A lot of men claimed to be heroes and swaggered through the role, but Max didn’t swagger or bluster, and if he made a promise, he kept it.

  Miki frowned at his muscled chest. Promises were dangerous. A keeper meant long-term commitment—and responsibility. She didn’t believe in breathless vows of loyalty or forever. She’d seen her own parents start out happy before they took a sharp slide into armed aggression. One day they were discussing paint samples for their adobe garage, and the next her dad was chasing her mother around the back yard with a pair of gardening shears. After that he’d packed up and vanished.

  She was nine years old at the time, and Miki hadn’t heard from him since, but she didn’t miss him in her life. She had written him out of her script the day he threatened her mother.

  And men had fulfilled her low expectations ever since.

  Until now.

  “Something wrong, Blondie?”

  “I never liked that name.”

  His fingers traced her mouth. “Too bad. It definitely suits you. You’re sharp and funny, full of guts, and you take shit from no one. I’m glad to have you watching my back, Blondie.”

  She blinked at him. He thought that about her? He actually thought she was brave? Heat melted into the dark corners of her chest despite her resolve to keep things cold and impersonal for both their sakes. She was smart enough to know that his job was highly classified and extremely important, which meant he wouldn’t hang around and let the dust settle after they found a way out of this place. This time was all they had.

  A wave of heat, a spike of insanity and some unforgettable sex.

  Miki told herself she could live with that. There was no point in believing there would be more. She’d learned to be tough, guarding her heart behind sharp wit and cool laughter. She’d force herself to do that again to protect herself from Max and to keep him from feeling guilty when he left.

  She wiggled a toe and sighed at the tug of unused muscles throughout her sated body. She had to admit, the man was a walking advertisement for hair-curling sex. After that kind of earth-shaking response, how was anyone else going to stack up?

  She was curled against his chest as he leaned forward, his hands braced against the wall while he held her up. The jerk wasn’t even breathing hard, while her whole system was nearing cardiac arrest. Miki flushed at the long welts her nails had left on his chest. She had done that during their wild sex? She didn’t remember that at all.

  The marks didn’t seem to bother Max. In fact, nothing seemed to bother him. He was always cool, always prepared for any threat or challenge. She wondered if he enjoyed taking risks because it kept life from becoming boring.

  She frowned, forcing her mind back on track. She needed him to know that she wouldn’t hold him or try to plan for a future that was impossible. “Now that we’ve finished whatever that insanity was, we should talk.”

  He wrapped her gleaming hair around his fist and let it slide over his wrist. “That thing we just had was stupendous sex, honey. There was nothing insane about it. I’d say that was once-in-a-lifetime stuff.”

  Miki kept her eyes on his chest. “Whatever.” She wasn’t going to fall apart and turn emotional. Putty wasn’t her style, unless it was a hair product. She cleared her throat, looking away from the lean, naked bo
dy that still mesmerized her. “I made something for you.” She pointed to a white shape on top of their fallen clothes. “There was some fiber in your big pack and I figured you could use a second pair of gloves, given your…situation. The sensitivities, I mean. Your black pair is getting a little worn.”

  Max’s eyes darkened. “You knitted something for me?” He lifted the half-completed glove and ran it slowly through his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t look so bowled over. Hasn’t anyone ever made you a gift before?”

  His jaw tightened as he touched the rows of neat, even stitches. “No,” he said after a long silence. “You’re the first.”

  “Didn’t your family ever do that kind of thing? I mean, bake cookies, build pots, hammer crooked bookshelves that broke the first time you used them?”

  “No.” He was staring into the darkness, his eyes hard. “I was adopted. Mostly I spent my time in foster homes, one step ahead of trouble.”

  Miki felt a stab of pain at the cool, flat way he spoke about what must have been horrible memories. “Max, I—I’m sorry.”

  “For what? I got food and clothes and a roof over my head. I had no reason to complain.”

  Miki held his face between her hands. “It takes more than food and a roof to make a child happy.” Her voice was fierce and she couldn’t help hating the parents who had left him to face a world of strangers. “I wish I’d known you then. We could have gotten into trouble together,” she said, smiling gently.

  “You and me together at fifteen would have started a forest fire, honey. Just as well that we didn’t meet until we were grown. I doubt that I could have resisted your smile and your body.” He frowned as he stared at his watch on the floor. “I’m having a hell of a time resisting you now. So what was it you wanted to discuss?”

  He seemed uneasy talking about himself or his past and Miki didn’t push him. She sensed he had already told her more than he’d intended.

  She tried to ignore his body, but he was seducing her again. When she reached for her clothes, she was stopped by his arm draped across her shoulders.